#this is not normal circumstances though i am so stressed about even just buying groceries lately fdsjkl

[dandyshucks]

ouhhhh the neighbour doesn't have any supplies of her own for crochet and I'm teaching her and my mother today starting in just over an hour

and i am ... not selfish with my supplies but i am unemployed and living off a very tight budget (cannot purchase any more yarn for projects unless i manage to do some pretty spectacular savings on my groceries for the month which is... not very doable) so I'm a tad worried she's going to be good at crocheting and want to Make Something with the yarn that i do have fjdskl and I would normally be totally fine with that but considering there's basically nowhere in town to buy yarn (i've had to buy online) and shipping is $20+ lately, that's not exactly a great thing for me right now 🧍‍♂️

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Two Points Higher | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 5380

A/N: I started binging Criminal Minds last week and I’m already on season 5... Spencer Reid is precious and my asexual heart needed some platonic fluff so I wrote it myself. 

Warnings: fluff, interrogation, mentions of murder

Having Spencer Reid show up at your office was not an unusual occurrence. Having Spencer Reid show up at your office in the middle of the night with another FBI agent on his heels was.

“See I told you they’d be here,” Spencer almost tripped over a box of records by the door with the speed of which he burst in.

“I get it, I’m married to my job,” you rolled your eyes, not looking up from your computer, “what’s up?”

“(y/n), this is Agent Derek Morgan,” he gestured to the man behind him as he spoke. Spencer pulled up his usual chair in front of your desk and started rummaging in his bag.

“If you can find a seat you’re welcome to take it,” you smiled at Morgan, who was watching Spencer intently.

“We need your help,” Spencer pulled out a stack of photos.

“Spence, I have work to do,” you chided, though you pushed aside what you were working on to take the photos from him.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Please?”

“You’re not really asking,” Agent Morgan finally cracked a smile at your comment, “I don’t see how I can help you though, these are neat crime scene photos but I’m not in the FBI.” As you observed the images Spencer stood up again, haphazardly pulling books off of your shelves and piling them on his now vacant seat.

“You missed it. Look again,” you scanned the images again, scrutinizing every detail. This time you noticed it, pulling each image closer to your face to really take in what you were seeing.

“Those are my labels. Why are my labels on human bodies?” Spencer pulled one last book off the shelf and started thumbing through it.

His voice was soft this time, as his eyes met yours, “we don’t know.”

You didn’t normally see Spencer when he was working a case like this, something about him seemed different.

“How can I help?”

“The rest of the team is on the way. Have you talked to anyone about your collections recently? Told them how you label and research?”

“The only one I’ve talked to about it is you, but it’s not exactly an industry secret. Anyone who has looked at the exhibits has seen my labels, people just don’t usually care about them.”

Spencer and Morgan exchanged a look, then Morgan stepped out to make a phone call while Spencer filled you in on the next course of action. The rest of the team would be using your office as a field station while they tried to figure out why the unsub would make exact copies of  your labels.

“Have you known Reid long?”  A blonde woman who Spencer introduced as JJ asked.

“Since preschool,” you recalled.

“(y/n) was the only other kid in class who could read,” Spencer commented from the adjoining collections room where he was poking around for signs of entry.

“Spencer was the only other kid in class who could remember dinosaur names, we made quite the pair until he graduated.”

“You only graduated two years after me.”

“Enough to get you ahead by two doctorates and a bachelors,” you shot back.

“What’s in the water over in Vegas?” Morgan commented, shooting Spencer a look when he started rattling off the exact contents of the water and how it definitely did not affect the development of your brains.

It was already the early hours of the morning, so it was decided that any investigating would wait until a more reasonable hour. The team mostly acquainted themselves with your space, finding places to work, sleep, or follow up on leads. Even Spencer was moving around, restlessly conversing with his colleagues. You kept to yourself at your desk, busying yourself with the bone you were looking at. The research was comfortable, though the background noise wasn’t.

“You should get some sleep,” Spencer said quietly to you after a few hours, leaning over your shoulder to observe the notes you were making. It felt oddly normal, considering the circumstances.

“I’m on to something here, I want to finish this first,” you turned to the next page in your notebook.

“I’m going to go nap in the other room then, wake me up if you need anything, ok?” you looked up at him with a soft smile and nodded. He went into the break room across the hall, laying down on the old couch. You watched after him for a minute then turned back to your work. A few minutes later, JJ sat down in front of your desk.

“Do you spend a lot of time together?”

“If he’s not working with you, he’s with me. I’m almost always here which is why he knows where all of the good sleeping spots are,” you smirked.

“What are you working on?”

“We don’t have any records on this bone, so I do the research and get as much information as I can about it. My official title is ‘Collections Curator’ but Spencer says I’m just as much a profiler as he is.”

“Have you ever thought about joining the Bureau?”

“Spence tried to convince me… once,” you chuckled lightly at the memory, “I like my job, it’s a lot lower stakes than what you do. I don’t need a gun, just some research material and my brain.”

“It does seem… still down here,” JJ observed.

“Our collections are stored down here so it’s all climate controlled. These rooms were free so I asked if I could trade my upstairs office for a collections research suite. Did you know that 80% of a museum’s collection isn’t displayed? The exhibits you see upstairs are only 20% of the entire collection,” you stopped talking when you noticed a change in her expression, “sorry, I’m rambling.”

JJ smiled kindly, “I can see why you’re friends with Reid.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without him growing up. It’s easier to be a kid genius when there’s another kid to be a genius with, makes you feel less alone. He’s always been more competitive though, tougher, too.”

“Why am I not surprised you’re also a genius?”

“I try not to flaunt it, unlike Spencer. If it wasn’t for his eidetic memory we’d have the same number of degrees,” you smirked.

“He’s different with you,” Morgan had stepped into the room and was poking through your stuffed shelves.

“Like I said, it’s easier to be a genius when you have someone else who gets it. Spencer and I don’t talk about what you do in the field, but I see what he looks like when he comes back from traveling. I do my best to make this a space where he can be a genius without all the crime and someone that he can just be himself with.”

“Having a support system is good. He needs one.”

“You said he’s different with me, but he’s also different with you. His behavior is consistent with when he was trying to plan a surprise for my birthday last year, except its a stressful secret not an exciting one.”

“I need to hear the birthday story later, when this is all over. You’re good at noticing details,” Morgan commented. You noticed the way both Morgan and JJ shifted nervously.

“I have to be, that’s how I do my research. One detail can open up a whole string of possibilities, but you all know that. At first I thought it just had to do with him being in the middle of a case, I’ve only seen him a handful of times when he’s working.”

“But?” Morgan’s question was leading, they knew you knew they were hiding something.

“This is the first time he’s ever come into my office wearing his gun.”

There was a pause during which you noticed both agents’ eyes soften.

“I’m no FBI agent, but if dead bodies were showing up with museum labels specific to one curator I would start by questioning the curator. None of you have acted like I’m guilty at all. Why?”

“Reid gave us your alibi and confirmed it all in one breath. The local police still want to bring you in, but they’re having trouble finding you. Reid knew where you were and wanted to get ahead of them, solve this before you were falsely accused.”

“They probably ended up at my apartment. I spend most of my time here, but I keep that lease for storage and other things. Not many people know I practically live here. Do either of you want coffee?” you took off the latex gloves you were wearing as you stood up. They shook their heads with a murmured ‘thanks’.

They started whispering behind you as you walked across the hall to the room where your best friend was spread out on the couch. You paused as you passed him, gently brushing a piece of hair from his face before continuing on to the kitchenette. Leaning against the counter, your gaze fell once again on Spencer as you waited for the coffee to brew. He slowly stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before standing up and joining you by the counter.

“You’re still working?”

“Have to make progress on my own projects while we’re waiting, before your case consumes my workday,” you bumped your elbow into him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, someone is using my specimen labels for murder victims. That’s not ok, my labels should be for museum collections only. I appreciate you telling me. I don’t appreciate whatever secret you and your team are keeping from me.”

“It’s characteristic for unsubs like this to have a fantasy… an unhealthy idolization that’s expressed in the victimology,” he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously. You thought for a minute as you poured a cup of coffee for yourself and your best friend.

“You think the unsub fantasizes about me.”

“We don’t know for certain. Two of the victims seem random, but three of them have an uncanny resemblance… and the labels…”

“Is that why you came to my office instead of just calling me for more information?” you leaned into his side, gripping your coffee.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” he pressed a kiss into your hair and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s not your fault this is happening. You live your life and I live mine,” you took a sip of your drink.

“You only leave this basement to buy groceries and do laundry. Statistically you’re only seen by a small fraction of people in this city and somehow you’ve been targeted by someone who’s now going around killing people.”

“Statistically, the unsub could have seen anyone who lives in this city, including me. It’s not your fault,” you repeated, “you could have told me though, genius.”

Spencer cracked a tired smile, “didn’t want to scare you more than necessary.”

“You’re a better person than me.”

“You’re smarter than me,” he retorted.

“That’s why you’re a better person. That’s how you can do the job that you do. If I had to interact with strangers every day I’d implode.”

“Spontaneous implosion isn’t possible,” you rolled your eyes at his comment. Before you could respond he spoke again, “I love you.”

His words caught you off guard, not because you didn’t return the feeling but because they never needed to be said. You knew from the way his eyes lit up when he read your notes and how he always made you another coffee when he got one for himself. You had spent practically your whole lives together and you genuinely cared about him in a way you knew was reciprocated. You considered this boy family more than most of your blood relatives. Still, with everything going on it had to be said.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

You stood with his arms around you until the coffee in your hands went cold.

“I need to make sure your friend Derek isn’t messing up my office. Sorry I woke you up,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping away. When you made it to the hallway you started walking down towards the largest collection room instead of your office.

“Agent Hotchner? Do you have a minute?” You knocked on the doorframe of the large room that the agent had set up in.

“Of course, is everything ok?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Spencer. I know he’s supposed to be protecting me, but he’s also my best friend. He would put himself in danger- he’s expecting to put himself in danger for me. With all due respect, sir, I know you’re trying to do a job but please promise me that you’ll keep Spencer safe too.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” he said as you sat down in front of him.

“I don’t usually get myself into situations this stressful. My brain is rationalizing by flagging you as an authority figure. I know you’re not my boss but it’s easing my anxiety to think of you as one.”

Hotch looked at you calmly, a small smile on his lips, “I should have known Reid’s best friend would also be a genius.”

“My IQ is two points higher than his…sir,” it felt odd, joking with this man during such a stressful time.

“Reid is family to us too. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Spencer said that the unsub had a fantasy about me, and that’s why he was using my labels,” since your conversation with Spencer, your brain had been reeling for information.

“He asked that we didn’t tell you,” you sighed at his words.

“Of course he did. Now that I know, what information do you need? How can I be more helpful?”

“Reid asked you some questions when he got here,” you nodded, “if you’re up for it, I’d like to get the team together and ask you for more details.”

“Anything that helps,” your answer was definite, so Hotch rounded up the team with the exception of Spencer.

“Shouldn’t Reid be here?” Emily asked when you were all crammed into your office.

“I don’t want him… interfering. I don’t like biased research,” you told her.

“Then I guess we’ll get started. How exactly do you create the labels for your specimens?” Derek started the questioning.

“They’re printed on a specific cardstock that I get on special order. They’re all made down here, by me. I’m also the only one who handles the specimens, I don’t even let Spencer touch them.”

“Are there any other employees that work down here? Custodians, other curators?”

“What are you doing?” Your answer was interrupted by Spencer standing in the doorway holding two cups of coffee, in your respective favorite mugs.

“We’re doing research,” you spoke before any of your friend’s colleagues could.

“This looks like an interrogation,” Spencer came to stand behind you protectively, setting both cups down in front of you.

“I asked for this meeting, Spence. I want to help.”

“You should have told me,” he leaned closer to your ear, talking quietly so the rest of the team couldn’t hear. You didn’t usually see your friend this upset.

“Nobody comes down here regularly except for Spencer and I. It’s not open to the public, so anyone else needs a personal invite. Usually that’s when we’re changing exhibits, but everyone who helped me most recently has done it before. If it was one of them they would have killed before the first victim, right?” Derek nodded.

“Nobody else has been here in the last two months?” he repeated. You laughed half heartedly,

“I don’t have much of a social life. The only people I talk to are Spencer, the cashier at the grocery store, and Tim if I see him,” you added the last one as an afterthought.

“Tim?” Spencer stopped fuming by your side when your words piqued his interest.

“He teaches a museum history class at the community college in the city. They come by once a semester and tour the museum. You met him, remember?” Spencer averted his eyes from his team.

“I wouldn’t count that as a meeting,” you fought back a smile, recounting the way Spencer ran past the group of college kids as he tried not to let his severe hangover make him late for work.

“Tell me more about Tim, are you close?” Rossi refocused the meeting.

“No, just friendly. We email to schedule the tour, but it’s always professional. I see him at the grocery store most weeks, but it’s usually just an exchange of pleasantries.”

“How do you run into someone at the grocery store most weeks in a city like this?” Emily asked.

“I always go grocery shopping on Friday afternoons, from three to four. Spencer tells me I shouldn’t be so predictable but I work so much I have to schedule it in otherwise I forget. Tim must have the same schedule.”

“Have you seen Tim recently?”

“Now that I think about it, no. The last time I saw him was two weeks after the tour. He asked if I had dinner plans. That was the night we had tacos,” you bumped elbows with Spencer.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I was making dinner for Spencer. You were all coming back from a trip, Spencer always comes over for dinner when you come home. I know I’m predictable but he’s never missed a dinner.”

“What was his reaction like when he heard you were making dinner for Reid?”

“He looked a little upset. I remember noticing it and thinking it was weird, but at the time I rationalized it. I’m not great at interacting with people. You don’t think Tim did this, do you? He’s really nice, always good with the kids. He asks a lot of questions because the kids don’t- oh God,” your eyes widened when you realized what you were saying. The office exploded in activity, with every agent moving to take action. Even Spencer moved, grabbing your arm and pulling you back across the hall into the break room. You noticed the way his hand was nervously on his gun.

“What happens next?”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s him yet. Garcia will cross check him against the profile. If it’s him, we’ll find him and lock him up. If it’s not… then we’re back to square one.”

“You seem more on edge than for it to be that simple,” you observed.

“Up until the most recent tour, Tim was able to admire you from afar. He saw you every week at the grocery store, and twice a year got to come down here to your personal paradise and see what you were doing. That was good enough for him until he saw me leaving here. That was the stressor. He suspected that we were… uh…”

“Dating?”

“Yeah. He tried to confirm it by asking about dinner two weeks later. It was coincidence that I was coming over that night. That was all he needed to kill out of rage.”

“You aren’t still blaming yourself for this, are you? Tim never asked if we were together. He never asked if I was with anyone at all. If he had this could have gone a lot differently. It’s his fault for assuming, not ours.”

Spencer put a hand on your back gently, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be reassuring you.”

As you rolled your eyes and told him it didn’t matter, Morgan stepped into the room.

“We’re heading out to catch this guy. Prentiss and JJ are staying, Garcia is watching the security cameras at all the entrances. Are you staying or going?” Morgan’s question was directed at Spencer. He thought for a minute, you knew he was considering the possibilities. If he stayed he could protect you personally, and he would also be protecting himself. If he went, he could personally take down the person who wanted to harm you and could be a good lure, but there was also a chance he would be targeted.

“I’ll stay. Keep me posted,” Morgan nodded, casting you a glance before running out.

“Now we wait,” Spencer rocked back on his heels, “will you show me that bone you were working on?” You were surprised he wanted to go back to business as usual, but maybe that was just it. You both needed a distraction from all of the chaos happening above ground without you. You went back to your office where Emily and JJ were. Their conversation paused when you stepped in.

“(y/n) and I are going to work on identifying this bone, there’s coffee across the hall if you want it,” Spencer said to the women.

“Thanks for staying,” you added, earning kind sympathetic looks from them as they stepped out.

“So, a long bone?” Spencer took one look at the fragment on your desk.

“Wow, he’s a genius,” you teased, sitting down, “here’s what I’ve got so far-”

You and Spencer spent hours researching. JJ and Emily popped in occasionally, but you were too engrossed in your work to see the amused glances exchanged between them as you bantered with your best friend. Spencer was trying really hard to keep things normal for you and this side of his genius, the way you fed off of each other’s stream of consciousness, was not something his coworkers usually got to witness.  

Two hours into your work Spencer’s phone rang, causing you both to startle.

“Hotch,” he was quiet as he listened to the agent on the other end of the line, “yeah, uh, yeah we’ll be right there,” he hung up and turned to you.

“They got him, but there was no real proof. They’re interrogating him now, they want us there to help.”

“Us?” you followed him out of the office as he went to find Emily and JJ.

“He’s not talking, Hotch thinks he might break for me…”

“Or me…” you finished the thought for him. The car ride was tense, and even with Spencer by your side you felt very out of place. Spencer made sure you were next to him even through the whirlwind that happened when you got to the interrogation room. Through the glass you saw Morgan talking to Tim, though Tim wasn’t doing much talking.

“(y/n), would you feel comfortable going in and talking to him? Morgan will be there too, he’ll keep you safe,” Rossi asked.

Before Spencer could protest you nodded and squared your shoulders.

“Of course. What do I need to do?”

“Morgan will do most of the questioning. You just need to get him talking.”

You took a breath and stepped into the room, watching the relief on Tim’s face when you did.

“(y/n), I’m so glad you’re here. This is all just a misunderstanding. I’m not the guy they’re looking for.”

“It’s not up to me to decide that, Tim.”

“You’re here to tell them it wasn’t me, right?”

“They’ve already told us everything we need to know. You’re still talking to me,” Morgan said, pulling Tim’s attention away from you.

“Then why are they here? I see the way you all carry those guns around, it’s too dangerous,” Tim said.

“Too dangerous for who?” Morgan pressed.

“For (y/n).”

“So you care about them, are you close?” you watched Tim’s reaction.

“Very, you can ask me anything about them, I know it all,” he was confident in his answer. Morgan glanced at you and you gave him a small nod.

“What does (y/n) do for work?”

“They’re the Collections Curator at the museum. They spend all of their time there, except on Fridays when they go grocery shopping,” Tim was enthusiastic in his answer, and looked to you for validation. You nodded gently, encouraging him.

“How do you know that?” Morgan leaned forward a bit.

“My class has been touring the collections suite for years. That’s how we met, then I ran into them at the grocery store and we got to talking,” Morgan nodded, pausing for a moment.

“I guess you are close. Since you know so much, this will probably be an easy one. What is (y/n)’s boyfriend’s name?” you tensed, waiting for the answer.

“Spencer. He’s tall, I’ve only seen him once,” he grumbled.

“(y/n), you can tell him,” Morgan said, keeping his eyes on the handcuffed man in front of you.

“Tim, I don’t have a boyfriend,” your words were soft. Tim’s eyes narrowed.

“You do! I saw him, that’s why we can’t be together!” he started to sweat under the harsh light.

“He’s just my friend, Tim. You never asked,” you were trying your hardest to stay composed.

“I did ask! You said you were having dinner together! He was good enough for you to have dinner with, I KILLED FOR YOU. DIDN’T YOU SEE, I LABELED THEM JUST LIKE YOU DO. I DID THAT FOR YOU. HE WOULD NEVER,” Tim’s outburst caused him to stand up and lunge across the table at you. Derek simultaneously pushed you back and pushed him down, you weren’t really sure how. Tim was still thrashing around and yelling all sorts of things you were sure were going to incarcerate him, but above the noise Morgan was able to speak.

“That’s all we need. Thank you, (y/n).”

When you stepped out of the interrogation room you moved immediately into Spencer’s arms, like gravity was pulling you into the one person you felt safest with.

“You’re ok. It’s ok. We’re ok,” he kept repeating.

“Spencer,” you mumbled into the material of his sweater. His words stopped so he could listen, “he seemed so normal.”

“I know, I know.”

“Do they always seem normal?” Spencer sighed, you felt his chest move with the breath.

“No, not always.” You felt his muscles tense as he held you tighter. He went back to repeating his mantra of reassurance as you caught sight of two police officers escorting Tim out of the interrogation room.

“Reid, Hotch wants to see you,” Emily approached the two of you once the room had cleared.

“Go, I’m alright,” you told him, stepping out of his embrace. He kissed the top of your head before leaving you alone with Emily.

“You did a great job in there,” she said as you walked back to the bullpen.

“It didn’t feel like it,” you told her honestly, “I’ve known Tim for years, he was always so nice to me. He never seemed…capable… but the way he yelled…”

“I know. It’s over now, though. Is there anything we can get for you? Coffee?” you sat down at Spencer’s desk, feeling exhaustion wash over you.

“No, thanks. I think I’m just going to go back to the museum. I have some work there that needs some attention. Do you think Spencer could drive me? I’m not awake enough to take public transportation.”

“I’m driving, but we’re not going to the museum,” Spencer loped over from Hotch’s office, grabbing his jacket and bag from the back of his chair.

“What? Why not?”

“You’re coming back to my apartment. Hotch’s orders, you’re not allowed to argue.”

As much as you wanted to, you decided not to put up a fight and instead got into the Bureau vehicle with your best friend. It was quiet as he drove, you wanted to say something but you didn’t know what the right words would be to describe how thankful you were to have him in your life. The silence continued until you were inside, when Spencer offered you something to eat.

“Are you sure?” he asked from the kitchen when you declined. You were by his bookshelves, running your finger down the spines of the many books he owned. Even though most of the time you spent with Spencer was in the museum, you had been to his apartment before on multiple occasions. You had never been there long enough to read his large collection of books, though you wished you had the time because you always trusted Spencer’s book recommendations.

“I’m sure. Thanks, though,” you paused to pull a Chaucer book off the shelf, “why did Hotch want me to come home with you?”

“He wanted you somewhere safe and comfortable, where you can process what happened without being completely alone. I know you wanted to go back to the museum but I also know what you’re like when you’re working and going back to work isn’t going to help you process what just happened. I thought coming here would give you a chance to eat and sleep,” he took the book out of your hands and put it back in its place.

“Is it that obvious?” you were having a hard time keeping your eyelids open. Spencer laughed lightly.

“It is, you should get some rest. I’ll be right out here, I have to finish this report,” he gestured to the folder he had brought home. You nodded, padding over to the bedroom. As soon as you crossed the threshold you could feel your distance from Spencer, who was leaning against the counter scratching away at the file with a pen.

“Spencer?” he turned to you quickly, his eyebrows mashing together in concern.

“Is that report kitchen specific, or could you do it in here?” his face softened. He left the file abandoned where it was on the counter as he rushed over to you. He helped you into bed, before sitting at the opposite end and settling by your feet.

“I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe now,” he put a hand on your leg. The pressure was reassuring, to say the least, and you found yourself easily slipping into sleep underneath Spencer’s quilt.

When you woke, Spencer was still at the end of the bed with a book in his hands. His feet, clad in mismatched socks, were crossed by your shoulder. You gently prodded at his foot, causing him to twitch and look up from what he was reading.

“You’re awake,” he smiled, putting the book down beside him. You sat up and stretched out your arms.

“You’re still here,” you smirked.

“It’s my apartment,” his quip was light and gentle.

“You’re right, I should get back to the museum,” you started to get up, but Spencer put a hand on your foot.

“Stay here for a while. You work too much, some time off would be good for you.”

“You work just as much as I do, genius. I’m not going to loiter in your apartment while you’re off fighting crime.”

“Hotch is letting me stay home for a few days. If an urgent case comes up I’ll help remotely, but I’m not leaving you.”

“Spence, you don’t have to-“

“I want to, (y/n). You’re my best friend who just went through a traumatic experience. Your family is 2,431 miles away, but even if they were closer you wouldn’t spend time with them. You said it yourself, I’m the only one you talk to regularly. I’m not going to abandon you now.”

“Haven’t we talked about you profiling me?” Spencer blushed.

“That wasn’t a profile, just information.”

“Sure,” you yawned.

“Go back to sleep, you still have some catching up to do.”

“You’re keeping track?” you asked, though you laid back down to get more comfortable.

“It’s simple subtraction, (y/n). I don’t need a PhD in mathematics to know you have slept far less than is healthy for the last three days,” he picked up the book again, finding the place where he left off.

“What are you reading?” his eyes flickered up to meet yours again.

“Dickens, Great Expectations.”

“You’ve read that one before,” you commented, surprised he didn’t have more to say on the subject.

“I have. I thought you might like it, I was just passing the time while you were sleeping. I can read it to you, if you want. It always made me feel better when my mom read to me.”

“I’d really like that,” you settled deeper into the pillow, listening to your friend’s voice as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time since Spencer had burst into your office, you finally felt content.

[deathduty]

Murder on Aisle 5 || Deirdre & Nicole

TIMING: Sometime during Halloween. Yes, Halloween.  LOCATION: Grocery Store PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @deathduty CONTENT: Death, gore, bongos SUMMARY: You’ve gotta be kiwiing me; Deirdre and Nicole meet at a grocery store and this shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s). They make a great pear. Love each other berry much in this one in a melon meeting of fig-gin amazing circumstances. Nicole is the apple of Deirdre’s eye, and they turnip the beet. Peach out, bitches! 

Grocery shopping was one of the things Nicole was capable of doing with efficiency. In and out in less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t like to spend more minutes than necessary debating which items to buy. That way, she avoided the crowd as much as possible. She wasn’t expecting to be greeted by so much noise that day. Busy evening, it appeared. She walked faster, shoulders rising to her ears, in a helpless attempt to cancel the sounds. She’d be done soon, didn’t even need a cart. She tried to ignore the sensation in her stomach warning her something was wrong. That was just her brain being paranoid, surely. But then, as she headed for the beer section, all hell broke loose. Why would people be shouting at others to run? No. Not her problem. She had reached her quota of fucked up encounters for the month, she was not about to go and figure out what was going on. Taking a few steps back she turned around with the intention of going to a different store, stumbling into a body. “Shit!” she raised her hands with the intention to check on the woman she had bumped into, before another piercing scream filled the air. “Sorry… don’t know what’s got people so—” she began to explain, before a small crowd ran toward them, seemingly escaping from… “Ah, fuck off!” It had to be a joke. The causes of the commotion had turned around the corner, standing at the end of the aisle. Dumbfounded, she froze on the spot, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Judging by the very real blood dripping from the leg of someone who had limped past them, she had just walked into a murder party. 

Deirdre liked grocery shopping about as much as she enjoyed actually cooking; it was pointless and all she really wanted was pie anyways. Now that Morgan didn’t eat, the groceries were just for her, and deciding what kind of tomato sauce she wanted was not how she liked to spend her evenings. And she didn’t know what kind of tomato sauce she liked anyways; wasn’t there only one kind? Tomato? When people started to scream and shout beyond her, Deirdre ignored them and looked at the sauces. When she felt a scream claw up her chest, she snapped on her choker, swallowed the scream, and continued to eye the sauce. Should she just buy canned tomatoes and make sauce that way? It was better than the pre-bottled sauce, right? And It was just tomatoes in there anyway, what did it matter? But then what was the point of bottled tomato sauce if it was just tomatoes? These questions plagued Deirdre, and then someone bumped into her and she spun around, as if she’d just been interrupted from having an epiphany, which for all this woman knew, she might have been. 

“Oi, watch it, you hu—“ She couldn’t help but notice that this woman wasn’t looking at her, which was as insulting as it was curious. Deirdre turned her head, following her gaze. “Is that a banana holding a knife?” Deirdre blinked. Beside it, was a large bundle of grapes, cheap and made of cloth, holding two knives. And beside that, an apple covered in blood. Coincidentally, the apple didn’t have a knife. Though that was probably because it had sharp teeth along its center, with painted eyes above. These fruits were not like the juicy, glossy kind that littered her cart. They were big, made of fabric, with arms and legs but no hands and feet. They clutched the knives clumsily, as if their sleeves were made of wire that wrapped around the handle. Each had a black, cloth hole, and nothing staring out of it. “Looks like someone’s having a fun costume party, or they were going to,” she smiled at the woman, trying to offer another grin at the man who limped away. The apple leaned down, lapping at his trail of blood with a felt tongue. Deirdre plucked her own apple out of her cart, and threw it at the corresponding fruit costume. The carnivorous apple crumpled under the weight, though the other two fruits began their slow march towards them. “Now is the point,” she nudged the woman, “that I think we run.” 

It was the fruit flying close to her ear and hitting the apple costume that pulled Nicole out of her state of shock. Now they were real targets. “You think!?” she dropped the items she had in her hands, and hurried the woman down the aisle, ready to run for her life. She felt no obligation to stick with her, but as long as they were in the same area she assumed there was an unspoken deal between them. Such as, don’t feed the other to the flesh-eating apple, and the like. She hoped the stranger wasn’t considering her as bait, at least. Thankfully the fruits were slow, they would be able to lose them soon enough. It wasn’t so bad. Reaching the end of the aisle, she was ready to turn around the corner, when she almost crashed against another costume. As if the situation didn’t feel surreal enough, a giant, six foot operation game stood before them. Except there was no board, just the big cartoon body seemingly made out of foam, with holes where the plastic organs were meant to be. Tweezers connected by a wire to his shoulder. She saw the tweezers rise in the air, before surging forward and stabbing another running customer. 

She grimaced, eyes closing when she heard the tweezers pull something out of his body, splattering sounds against the floor. “Fuck that! Back up— back up!” Nicole shouted, though she knew the other woman didn't need to be told. They were trapped between two murderous options, and they had to pick one escape route. Looking at shelves on her side, she held onto a mop stick, ready to use it as defense. Had she had more time, she would’ve wondered why the cleaning items were in the aisle in front of the tomato sauce. They had more important things to deal with than terrible store organization, however. She was ready to swing. All they had to do was dodge one of the costumes looking for blood, and they’d be out of the way. Easy. Unless they were to encounter killer vegetables on the other side. “Killer fruits...” she panted, looking from one end of the other, weighing her options, “or real life... operation game?” chest heaving, she turned to the woman for opinions.  

Deirdre liked running. It was therapeutic, in a way. Running for the chance to not lose a limb was a little less therapeutic. “So you come here often or…?” But regardless, she grinned as though she was having fun. In a way, she was. Getting stabbed didn’t sound great to her, but watching someone else get stabbed was always a fun time. And, really, though she was trying to be more considerate of the humans...it wasn’t like she was the one stabbing them. Not this time, at least. “Oh, I don’t know,” she smiled, head turned to the side, “I think that one’s kind of cute.” She wasn familiar with what it was, exactly, but watching it pluck the heart out of some unsuspecting person and try to stuff it into its own cartoon-heart-hole, stirred some fondness. And then it started moving towards them. Deirdre glanced back, noticing the fruit were still wobbling their way, even the apple had stood up now. As it always was with these cases, she could just scream, but where would be the fun in that? “Well considering you have a stick, and I am, for some reason, carrying tomato sauce that I don’t even remember picking up, I think we could make a very strange pasta right now.” She looked back at the woman, waiting for her to laugh. “Okay, fine,” she huffed, snapping her attention between the two groups. Fruits and...what did the woman call it? Operation? “The fruits are fabric, and clearly they can just be pushed over. So that sounds boring. But that--” She turned to the board. “Looks like fun. So I’m going that way.” She threw her tomato sauce bottle at it, watching it bounce off harmlessly. “See! Fun!” And she could’ve used any of the knives she had hidden on her person, but that felt like cheating, in some way. And so she grabbed a plunger and a toilet brush (she liked the thematic bond between the two makeshift weapons). And with a grin, wide and impish, she charged and slid under and around the ‘Operation’--fearless and foolish in equal measure. “Well? Are you coming?” 

The woman was not taking the situation seriously at all, Nicole soon realized. The thought that it could all be a prank crossed her mind. Surely, any normal person would be freaking out in her shoes. Or maybe, that was just the way she dealt with stress. Who was she to judge? “Cute” she repeated in a deadpan. “Don’t think buddy over there thinks getting their organs ripped away is very cute” she looked down at him. She should offer help, right? “That’s not even the good kind...what are you doing?” she spoke with urgency, nodding at the bottle in her hand. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t find the humor in the woman’s joke. “Don’t you think we have better chances of— you know...living with boring?” she gestured vigorously at them. They had barely moved a couple feet since she had last looked. God they were fucking slow, why was she even scared? The stabbing motions from the banana still looked threatening, though. Right, the knives. Eyes widened, she watched the woman throw her tomato sauce at the costume. Was she mad? She was mad. Did she have a death wish? Most definitely. “Are you out of your mind?”. 

Nicole refrained from cheering on the woman when she ran at the operation game. She didn’t want her to think that her actions had been in any way responsible. That move had been very impressive though, she had to give her that. Was she coming? She looked behind, at the stupid wobbling fruits. It would be so easy. To swing the stick at the apple and run for her life. But then — her stomach sank at the realization—  the exit would be much easier to reach if she took the game route. Just then, she remembered she was faster than most. Right. Except, she couldn’t do it in front of the stranger. She was useless. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She decided to run straight at him, squeezing herself through the space between the costume and the shelve in the last second. Not as spectacular, but she got the job done. On the other side, she almost crashed against the woman again and, without waiting, she tugged at her wrist, pulling her to run. “C’mon”. The game followed behind, its giant tweezer stabbing aimlessly in the air.  

“Actually, as a life actuary, I can tell you that boring has no factor on lifespan.” Deirdre grinned. That wasn’t true, risky behaviours were understandably a factor against life expectancy. But she wasn’t so attached to upholding truth, or the respectability of her job. She’d rather this woman do something fun, and wild and….not squeeze herself around the Operation. “Fates, you’re so boring…” she grumbled, mad at the display. She continued to complain about it as they ran. “I mean, what was that? You couldn’t have done a roll? Or a cool shimmy? You’re clearly fit—“ she gestured to the woman’s body. “—I know you can do a roll, at least.” But there was one way to manufacture interesting displays. She grew quiet, plan brewing in her head. The exit was close, yes, but Deirdre had other ideas for them. A smirk flickered across her face before she slunk back and tripped. “Ahhh!” She yelled, realizing that her acting skills were pretty abysmal. “My ankle is—I think I sprained it! Curse me for running in heels!” Her ankle was completely fine, and she’d ran in worse footwear plenty of times. But the game hobbled closer and closer to her, tweezers snapping in the air like claws. Behind it, the gang of murderous fruit approached. “Help me, strange, boring woman!” She looked back at her newest ‘friend’, pleading at her with her eyes. If she wasn’t going to be fun, Deirdre would make her. 

“The fuck is a—” had they not been pressed by the situation, Nicole would’ve finished her question. No, really. What was a life actuary? A made up profession, surely, if she was to go by the woman’s inability to take things seriously. It all had to be a prank. And she was obviously part of it, right? She did turn a round for a moment, in a desperate search for cameras. Otherwise, who could be so terrifyingly calm in the face of danger? Her steps almost halted when she heard the woman’s words. Boring? She wasn’t technically lying, but the statement didn’t hold any truth at the moment. Was there a more entertaining way of escaping? She scoffed. “Right, sorry I wasn’t showy enough for you. Maybe if we actually... make it out of this alive— I’ll think about body rolls and… and shimmies. No me jodas”. She tripped over a pile of cereal boxes on the floor, a second later she heard the woman yelling behind her. Nicole’s head whipped in her direction, the initial concern vanishing as soon as she saw no signs of pain in her face. Confused, she stood there, wide eyes demanding an explanation. “What the fuck are you doing? Get up!” she hissed, kneeling next to her. 

Behind them, the tweezers snapped again as the Operation man held onto another organ, stuffing it in a different empty hole. Nicole swallowed. She could pick the woman up. Throw her over her shoulder. Easy. Out of spite, because she had been nothing but an inconvenience. But also, because she didn’t want her to have no organs, if she was being honest. Her eyes sized her up. How heavy could she be, really? Would that be too humiliating? Being eaten by a useless wobbling apple sounded more humiliating. Why did she care about any of that when the stranger clearly didn’t? She could leave her behind. Yes, she wanted to. The possibility was faint, but intrusive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider it. “Swear to god if you don’t—” grabbing the toilet brush that fell from her hands, she threw it at the naked foam suit before turning to the woman again. “What. Do you want. From me” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“I. Want. Something. Fun.” Deirdre’s Cheshire-like grin only grew as time ticked between them. She leaned closer, putting her face against the woman’s boundaries of personal space. Her game of pretending to be injured was too transparent, but it didn’t matter so much. She’d have her entertainment one way or another. “You’re not going to die here, love. So why don’t you have a little fun?” And if she was, well, then at least Deirdre would get a real show. “Don’t you want to surprise me?” She blinked, batting her eyelashes. She wasn’t sure how effective her pouting would be, but she tried it anyway. “And anyway, I’m too hurt to move…” Her voice dripped saccharine, and she twisted her body like the damsel she wasn’t, revealing an ankle that didn’t have a scratch on it. Beyond them, the Operation board snapped its tweezers again. At some point, one of them would have to win: Deirdre’s desire for mischief, the woman’s boringness, or the strange costume’s hunger for organs. “Maybe you can fight the costume?” She offered the idea, “or burn the store down or ooh--sacrifice someone to it!” She lit up with imagination. “Come on,” she implored the woman, “you’d help a beautiful injured woman, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind” Nicole inched closer, too frustrated to feel uncomfortable over personal boundaries. She shook her head, wanting to say no but all she managed was incoherent mumbling. She was speechless. No, she didn't want to surprise her, she wanted to go home. She blinked away the tears of frustration in her eyes. It was clear that she wouldn’t win an argument against the woman. Her eyes flicked to the ankle, anger bubbling up. She was lying. For some reason she was lying about her sprained ankle to delay their escape, why? She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do it. She had stopped thinking at all, it seemed. But something the woman had said lingered on her mind. She could fight it. Stupid? Sure, but at this point she was out of ideas. She wasn’t afraid of dying, but she would’ve hated to do it while pissed at a complete stranger. Furious eyes glanced at the woman one last time before she stood, facing the costume. She swung the stick she still held in her hand, breaking in half as it hit the operation man. 

Nicole’s eyes widened. How was that possible? Foam wasn’t tougher than plastic. What kind of deficient products was the store selling? The costume stumbled slightly to the side, not enough to topple over. She stared at the broken piece in her hand, then down to the woman who had been watching it all unfold. Yeah, that was it. She discarded her stick, rushing to the woman’s side again. “You wanted fun, right?” She nodded, waiting for any twitch of her face as confirmation, before lifting the woman off the ground without any warning. And no— carrying her in her arms felt too personal, she decided. She did not want to see her annoying face any longer. Her arm hooked behind the woman’s knees, the other securing her back and with all the strength she could muster, she put her on her shoulder. A small, rational thought in the back of her mind, worried about her display not being human enough. Fuck it. She could say she exercised. “Shit—” she grunted at the effort. Her initial idea had been fun, especially to get back at the woman. But she really hadn’t thought it through. For one, she would be dealing with the woman’s resistance, and for the other, she had overestimated how wide her frame was to carry another adult. Whatever, she’d deal with the neck pain later, the exit was her goal. “This view’s more entertaining for you, no?”

Deirdre couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face at the promise of a fight. She saw the woman get ready and swing and...break her weapon. She blinked. And then burst into laughter. “Did you see that? You should have seen the look on your face!” She was distracted now, playing the scene back again in her head. The seriousness in which the woman attacked, the sound of the plastic snapping, the awkward tumbling of the costume. She loved it. She loved it so much, in fact, that she hadn’t been prepared for the woman to lift her up and, as if she were a sheet, throw her over her shoulder. “Hey!” She wiggled, surprised at the woman’s grip. Some humans were stronger than they looked, she guessed. “Hey! You can’t carry me! I have standards!” Which typically amounted to only letting her girlfriend carry her whilst in the privacy of their own house. Being carried always made her feel like a child...and she hated feeling like a child. Then again— “No, you’re right, the view is good.” She said, looking down. “I could play your ass cheeks like bongos right now, which I have half a mind to because you’re carrying me!” She wriggled again, careful not to be too good at it, lest the woman throw her aside and she ended up with a real twisted ankle. The Halloween season was important to her, and she couldn’t let it be spoiled with an injury. “You suck,” she said, giving up on her resistance. “And I don’t even want to play your ass like a drum anymore. That’s how much you suck.” She crossed her arms petulantly, waiting for the night to be over. 

Navigating through the chaotic store aisles with a woman on her shoulder proved to be one of the hardest things Nicole had ever done. People were still running amok to escape from the murderous costumes. Between the screaming, the shoving, and the bumping into each other, she didn’t miss the fact that people were also actively running in the direction of danger. It seemed the woman over her shoulder wasn’t alone in her insanity. She scoffed at the mention of standards, making sure to slowly turn around the corner so the woman didn’t hit her head while she kept wriggling for freedom. Oh, so she wasn’t worthy of carrying someone like her? What standards could she possibly have? All she had was a worrying lack of common sense and shitty taste in tomato sauce, she had no room to talk about anything. She gritted her teeth, partly from the fatigue, but mostly to stop herself from blurting out something hurtful. The woman was probably incapable of feeling hurt, anyway. The costumes began to distance, as one turn of her head confirmed. They really were pathetically slow. The exit was close. She’d never have to see the woman in her life again. “Wha—” her brain stopped working for a moment when the woman spoke, her grip slipped. Apparently she wasn't too busy to blush from the embarrassment. 

In hindsight, Nicole would have preferred to be stabbed by the banana costume than to hear the woman compare body parts to musical instruments. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could drop her, go back, and plead the fruits to off her. Whatever worked to unhear those words. She didn't know what to say. “What the fuck” she was all she whispered, to preserve her energy. Crossing the store’s exit came with a wave of relief that made her almost drop the woman right there. Her knees wobbled, but continued until she was far enough from the crowded exit. “Yeah—” she panted, failing to lean against the wall before unceremoniously letting go of her. “Well, you suck too, ‘least we agree on that” she snarled, feeling unusually defiant. So childish. She winced, ribs burning and legs shaky as she leaned against the wall. She shot the woman a cautious look, almost expecting her to run back for more fun. “Please don’t go inside again” she was tempted to grab her wrist to stop her, but she’d had enough of touching strangers for the rest of her life.

Deirdre frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t command me, human.” Which was her affectionate way of saying that she just might go inside, there was more death sure to happen, and she wanted to watch. Not that this lady would understand, Deirdre wouldn’t be surprised if she had a night of watching the news and then sleeping planned. She struck Deirdre as just that boring. Boring enough to, with great probability, stop her from going back inside. Deirdre grumbled. “Fine!” She threw her hands up, crossing them again as she brandished a pout at the stranger. “Fine. I won’t go back inside.” From the store, bloody humans stumbled out, screaming and shivering. Beyond them, the shrill sound of sirens cut the night air. This situation would be dealt with, boringly, by boring people. Deirdre turned to the stranger, whom she ought to thank but never would. “I guess….I’ll see you around, bongo-ass?” Deirdre waved, the scene turned from the dark of night to the flashing blue-red of police. She didn’t want to be around. She patted the woman’s shoulder—as close of a thank you as she’d ever get—and turned and ran. 

The night yielded less fun than she wanted, and the costumes were gaudy if anything, but perhaps, above all, Deirdre had gotten something far more special: someone to annoy. 

[elisha-am]

Hopeful Return

A/N: also on ao3

"How would you feel if I give you your copy in person?”

“I ‘d like that. Very much.”

“Guess he isn’t coming back, is he?” Tina talked to herself with the magazine clenched in her hands, letting out a sound that’s half sigh, half humorless chuckle.

She screwed her eyes shut before the tears could tumble out.

She dropped the offending material on the dining table, glancing at the empty chair across her. Though her sister didn’t leave any clue of her whereabouts, Tina was willing to bet her Auror's badge that she was at Jacob’s, where she spent most her day off recently.

In the past few months of the No-Maj man regaining his memory —— she really wanted to question a certain magizoologist how that was even possible —— and being back to her sister’s life, all she felt was worried. Worried about what would happen if MACUSA found out, worried if her sister would be left heartbroken if the magic, figuratively speaking, wore out. Yet she had to admit that Queenie was so much happier, so she tried to be positive about it.

But today, after her heart getting shattered by a single piece of article, the thought of her sister was happily spending time with the man she wanted to be with, brought out a rare emotion in her.

Jealous.

‘How dare she get to cozy up with her man when you just lost yours.’ The monster with green eyes taunted her.

She killed it without a second thought. This just wasn’t like her. And it was her baby sister, for Morrigan’s sakes. All she had been doing after her parents’ death was making sure her sister was happy and healthy.

"And he's not mine to start with." She mumbled to herself.

Tina decided to take a walk to see if she could clear out all the ugly thoughts before Queenie got back. With the current state of her mind, she had no confidence to stop everything from slipping through her occlumency. The last thing she needed now was hurting her sister and starting a fight that might leave a scar between them forever.

Tina wandered around the neighborhood with no particular destination.

When she noticed where she ended up, she swore. Her subconscious just had to do the trick on her and led her to the magic bookstore she frequented.

And the owner, the kind and accommodating Mr. Wolinski, just happened to be outside and cleaning the storefront, which would appear like a small No-Maj grocery store until you entered the right way like every other wizardry property in the city.  He spotted her and hailed at her eagerly.

“Oh, Tina! Tina my dear! It’s good timing you come!”

She cringed, knowing what awkward situation she was about to face. If she knew back then, maybe she wouldn’t bring Newt here and introduce him in his short stay after the incident. She just thought it’d help his book sale to aquatinted with one of the biggest wizardry booksellers in North America.

“Hello, Mr.Wolinski, how’s your day?” She forced herself to smile.

“Oh never been better! Because the books of your British fella just arrived! And people are already asking ‘bout it nonstop!”

"Ah, no, Mr. Wolinski, he is not——" She tried to correct the man, but he was already pulling her into the store.

“Come, come! I saved one for you before every one of them got snatched up!”

“Mr. Wolinski——“

“Here, my dear.” He practically shoved the book into her hand, leaving no chance for her to refuse.

All her resolve to give the book back crumbled when the feeling of holding the hardcovered book with breathtaking golden cover art started to imprint on her fingers.

This was his book.

The book she witnessed him poured all his love into.

And he used the title she blurted out at the dockside half year ago. She thought it was a good fit not only back then, but now as it proudly printed on his labor of love.

“I will look out for it, Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them.”

Oh, Mercy Lewis. He might not be able to keep his promise, whatever his reason was, but she wasn’t going to break hers.

No matter it was a promise made between friends or more.

She dug into her pocket only to find it empty as she never planned to buy anything when she came out earlier.

“Oh don’t worry, we can put you on the tab! You are one of my favorite customers after all! And thanks to your British, we will have a nice flow for a while no doubt! So I can even give you a discount, good?” Mr. Wolinski assured her when she explained her lack of money.

She only managed to thank him before he was needed by other customers and excused himself. She didn’t get to correct the man about Newt being her British. Again.

She sighed and walked out of the store with the book holding preciously in her arm.

Too many on her mind that she didn’t notice she walked straight into someone’s step.

“Ah! Sorry!”

“Oh, I‘m sorry!”

They apologized at the same time, and the familiar voice made her snapped her eyes up.

The man who was the very reason for her distraction stood right in front of her, eyes widened.

“Tina?”

“Newt? What are you doing here?” With all the emotion that had been building up since she read the magazine, her question came out more like an accusation.

She watched his line of sight landed on the book in her arms, and then his face turned from shock to desperate.

“I, I thought you would want me to give you the book in person.” He started to fidget in that way of his when he was stressed. “ And I was on the way to MACUSA to see if I could catch you there. I don't think Mrs. Esposito would be too pleased to see me at your flat.”

"Shouldn’t you stay in London preparing for the wedding?” Great, all she could talk about she went with that.

“The wedding?” He repeated her last words in great puzzlement she thought he was making fun of her in some way.

“Your own wedding, Mr. Scamander.”

"My what?"Was he really going to make her said it? She knew he was somewhat oblivious, but never thought he could be cruel.

“Your wedding with Leta!” She burst out, maybe a bit louder than she intended, causing him to take a step back startled.

“I am sorry, Tina, but you are sincerely confusing me,” He said, clearly intimidated by her outburst.  “I’m not marrying Leta.”

“What? But the magazine——“

Oh for the love of Isolt, could she be that stupid?

“Tina? What magazine?”

She didn’t answer, thinking showing it to him would explain it better than words. So she took his arm, like when she tried to bring him in all those months ago, into the nearest alley where nobody was watching and apparated them straight back to her living room.

With relief that Queenie was still nowhere to be seen, Tina picked up the magazine she left on the table, handing it to Newt and muttered the page number of the articles she wanted to show him.

She only realizes he brought the case this time as well when she heard the sound it was placed on the floor. Oh well, it was going to be fun if Madam Picquery found out since she specifically warned him not to bring it into the State again. Only Merlin knew what he brought with him this time.

Her musing was interrupted by a series of mumblings that sounded like swearing.

“This article is stupidly wrong.” He said with exasperation, “You have to understand, Tina, it’s My brother, Theseus, is going to marry Leta. Not me.” He turned the magazine around and pointed at the other taller man in the picture who stood behind Leta.

She started to see it now after he pointed out, that Leta, while her hand was on Newt’s arm, was clearly standing closer to the other man; her back was practically leaning on his chest.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know how exactly that reporter could make this stupid mistake as I told him, with clear words, I am the best man, not the groom.”

Under normal circumstances, his bewilderment would amuse her, but now she just relieved that he was as upset as this whole situation and glad that he wasn’t engaged.

Something he said caught up in her mind.

“Wait, your brother? And you are going to be his best man? You are fine with that? ” She promised herself if Newt’s brother or Leta somehow forced him into this position then they were going to have some serious problem with her. She didn’t care if she had to go across the pond.

“Yes?” He frowned. “ Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

They really weren’t on the same page today.

“Um, because it’s Leta, that you and her ——“

It took a few seconds, but he finally caught up what she indicated and smiled awkwardly.

“A bit hilarious I might say. But I don’t find any reason to oppose this matter.” Newt shrugged. “My brother and Leta, they suit each other, I think, and I am happy for them.”

She knew he meant it because she heard no resentment. Some degree of sadness about a long lost friendship——maybe one day he would share what exactly happened between them all those years ago with her —— but no anger or hurt.

“Then I am glad.” She smiled for the first time on that day. “Please send my congratulations to them once you go back?”

“I will.” He gave her that crooked smile of his.

In the next few moments, in the complete silence, they just gazed at each other--he did shift his eyes away many times, but it always came back to her-- both wearing shy smiles on their faces.

“I- I recall this is why I am here.” He was the one who broke the silence and scrambled to pull a book bounded in dark blue leather and golden cover print out from his pocket.

She probably stared at the book for too long and sent out the wrong message because he nervously pulled it back.

“I’m sorry, Tina, I forget you have already purchased one so you probably don’t want this anymore.”

She quickly dropped the magazine and held on the book before he could take it back fully.

“No, Newt, I would love to have this one as well!” She added a smile for assurance. “It’s just so beautiful, making it hard not to stare.”

“Oh.” Newt blushed.

“Could you autograph it for me?” Tina asked as she caught a glimpse at the magazine on the floor, remembering the picture was taken at a book signing event, so she assumed it wouldn’t be too much to ask.

He shifted his stance and blushed even harder.

“Ah, if you don’t want to——“

“It was already signed.”

She looked at him——making him averted his eyes again ——a little surprised, and tentatively opened the book.

“To Tina,

who I would love to help me find my creatures if they escape again.

Newt.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the message he scribbled on the page.

Tina wondered how many people knew this playful side of this shy man.

She looked back up from the book and found him looking at her with a small smile.

“Let’s hope it won’t happen again, shall we?”

“I agree.” His smile widened.

“I will cherish it, Newt.” She said with the book holding tightly in her hands. Tina could already imagine herself reading it over and over again.

And then she remembered the other one book she bought earlier. She pulled it out from the pocket of her coats and hand it to him.

“Can you sign this one, too? Just your name would be fine.”

He nodded, took the book and sit down at the dining table.

She took advantage of the brief moments while he was occupied to pick up the magazine and prepare something to drink.

When she came back with two cups, tea for him and coffee for her, he had finished his small task and was frowning at his photo on the cover of Spellbound.

Her ears heated up with embarrassment. As a trained investigator, she shouldn't jump to the conclusion simply because a flimsy tabloid article said so. She seemed to lose all her judgment when it came to Newt Scamander.

"Newt," she started once she handed him the drink and settled beside him. "I want to apologize. For believed in that magazine so fast. I really should've asked you first."

"It's not your fault."

"But if you weren't here to explain, I would probably......" She didn't dare to think of the possibilities since none of them would end well.

To her surprise, he reached over and covered her hand with his.

"Tina, I want you to know," he paused, and she could hear him swallowed nervously, "I need you to know that Leta isn't the one I want to marry."

Tina gaped at him as she took in what he just said and what he didn't say. It should be too forward but at the same time, it brought longing into her heart.

They weren't even dating; all they had was months worth of correspondence. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't want them to move toward something more. Every letter she received from him, every word she laid down onto the paper in return, all stacked up in her mind and formed a picture of them.

Would she be the one? She hoped the answer would come soon, but not now.

"I will keep that in mind." She said and turned the hand covered under his, so now they were palm to palm.

"Good." he grinned.

[getoutoftheweeds-blog]

DIY Nutrition Plan - A Baseline Study of Yourself.

Since the last article went up, we have had several questions about how exactly I started losing weight.  Below is a basic outline I followed to get me going and keep me going down the path.

In case you didn't know, I used to be pretty fat.  When I stepped on the scale almost 5 years ago, I was about 100 pounds heavier.  Truthfully, I was obese.  I was “active” and mostly did things that were considered “healthy,” but I kept putting on weight.  Part of the reason I was so chubby were circumstances that I thought were out of my control.  Part of the reason was that I was ignorant.  Part of the reason was that I was ignoring the obvious.  However, I was able to get a plan together that helped me to not only lose weight, but get my life on the track I wanted it to be on.  The key for my success was getting my personalized health/nutrition plan dialed in.

Before we go too far, I want you to know that I am a regular guy, writing to regular people.  I’m not giving out advice to athletes or elite performers.  I’ve never won a race or graced a podium.  I’m no gifted athlete, but I’m also not trying to be one.  I’m focused on winning at life, not some event.  Reality is I’m just a dude who used to be fat and got his act together.  I know what it is like to be overweight.  I know what it is like to wish for a better way to live every day.  It is my desire to help regular folks live a healthy life.  Trust me; if I can break away from the chains of my old overweight life, you can, too.  You just need a plan.

There are four things you have to take responsibility for before you begin this process:

1) You are in charge of you. Only you can figure out what is best for you.  You know the dynamics of your situation.  It is your responsibility to figure out how to make this happen in your particular circumstance. 

2) Leave your assumptions behind.  If you assume you have no assumptions, you are wrong.  You will be challenged in this process.  Have the ability to be flexible.

3) Things change.  You are going to discover some things about yourself along the way.  Some are strengths, some are weaknesses.  It is your responsibility to take it in stride, change what needs to be changed and continue forward. 

4) You get to define what success looks like.  What does progress look like to you?  One or two pounds? More energy?  The ability to play with your kids or grand-kids (or great-grand-kids) without tiring out?  You set the standard and work towards it. 

With that out of the way, how do you develop a case study of yourself to figure out how nutrition, health and fitness information applies to you specifically?

 Here is how I did it:

1) Take at least a week and log all the food you eat to determine how many Carbs (keep up with sugar, too), Proteins and Fats you are consuming.  Be honest.  Are you sneaking a snack here and there?  Are you eating extra helpings at supper?  Also note how much caffeine you take in each day.  If you can spare the time, an even better option is to log your current habits for two weeks.  I use the free MyFitnessPal app from Under Armor.  You can use whatever you like.  You will start to see your patterns emerge.  A good analogy is reading a map.  If you know where you want to go, the next most important thing to figure out is where you are at.  Without that information, you will never be able to figure how to get to where you want to go.  That’s what you are doing by logging your food.

2) Log your workouts and how they make you feel immediately after, hours after and the next day.  Workouts provide a good stress to the body.  But you have to keep in mind that the overall level of stress you will face during this endeavor is pretty high.  During this process, I found it was best to keep the workout intensity low.  It is advisable to do things like walking, easy bike rides and other similar low intensity activities.  You can up your volume for these activities, but keep it at an aerobic pace.  If you don’t know what that really means, a good rule of thumb is work out at a slow enough pace that you can have a conversation.  If you have to breathe through your mouth, you are working too hard.  Remember, the point of this study is to figure out what fuels you best in day-to-day life.  The added stress from hard, anaerobic workouts will be self-defeating.  That being said, if you are going to lift weights, shoot for maintaining where you are now, not gaining.  Your body will be going through a lot, don’t set it up for failure by forcing it onto a blood sugar roller coaster.  There is plenty of time after this test to ramp up your workouts.  The whole point of logging workouts is to start to accurately identify the normal feedback your body is giving you.  You’ll discover some cool stuff.

3) Log how much time you are sitting, or otherwise not moving.  I was astonished at how little I was moving throughout the day, especially on days I worked out.  I was an active couch potato.  You don’t want to be an active couch potato.   I realized my one hour of working out is not enough to offset 9-10 hours of sitting around.  It’s better to walk a lot throughout the day than burn yourself out in an hour and have to lounge around the rest of your waking hours.  You need to be aware of your daily movement habits.

4) Log any information your body is giving you.  Do you have a headache? Did you get phlegmy after a certain meal? Are you tired in the afternoons?  How much sleep are you getting?  You feeling anxious?  Why do you think these things are happening?  These are all clues you will use as you figure out how to best fuel your body.

5) Take at least 2 weeks and consume no high glycemic foods (sugar, grain, starch, dairy or processed carbohydrates).  Before you start this part, pull up a glycemic chart.  That is super handy when you go buy your groceries for this part of the test.  There have been books that came out recently that suggest doing this test for 30 days.   That’s good, too.   I went through this process before those books were written.  Two weeks worked for me.  The whole point is to let your body switch from primarily sugar burning to fat burning.  You will feel it when this happens.  If you are unsure you’ve reached this point after 2 weeks, go the whole 30 days.  During my two weeks, I even avoided fruit and most nuts.  I did eat a few berries though.  Throughout this time, eat only real food.  Nothing processed from a box or bag, even if it is organic or all-natural.  Locally sourced, non-GMO, grass-fed, single ingredient, chemical and antibiotic free are ideal.  Some folks call this “eating clean.”  Stay away from sugar and anything with a high glycemic score; let your body switch over to burning fat as the primary fuel. You’ll be eating a lot of salads, but that’s ok.  Also, it is important to note that I never let myself go hungry during those 2 weeks.  When I was hungry, I ate.  I didn’t limit the amount of calories I could eat either.  I just stayed away from sugar, processed food and anything else with a high glycemic score.

6) After the two weeks (or 30 days if you choose), introduce different carbohydrates one at a time to determine how they make you feel.  If they cause a digestive issue, blood pressure issue, or allergic reaction; don’t eat that particular carbohydrate anymore.  Do they make you tired?  Do they make you hungrier?  You will feel a difference.  If they don’t bother you at all, you’re good.  Almost everyone has some kind of carbohydrate intolerance.  This is how you figure out what yours is. 

7) Experiment to figure out what combination of macro-nutrients (fat, protein & carbs) fuels you best.  This means that after you have figured out what foods you have a negative reaction to (and thus avoid), it’s time to figure out your optimal nutrient ratios.  I did this through trial-and-error.  Since you are a food logging pro at this point, and you know what foods make you feel good, it is some simple tweaking.  An extra salad here, a little less meat there, or even adding an extra avocado to your smoothie.  This is where you really dial in how to best fuel your body every day.  Simply sliding the scale on the amount of carbs, protein and fats made a huge difference to me.

 So, I ask you: What is your personal health plan?  Feel free to use this outline as a starting point for your plan.  Go and do your own research.  Experiment with your food and your body.  Learn to read the messages your body is trying to send you.  You may find yourself eating in pretty close alignment to some diet (Paleo, Mediterranean, whatever).  There’s nothing wrong with that.  But ultimately, what you have discovered is a way to determine what best fuels your body.  You created a personalized plan that customized to your life. 

If this process seems intimidating, you want more information, or you would simply like an update, please contact us.  I know I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for the support of friends, family, mentors and coaches.  If you need a little more help, let me know.  I am passionate about helping folks live their lives the way they want. 

If this is your first time with us, welcome!  Here at getoutoftheweeds.com, we dive deeper into the various aspects of health, nutrition, wellness and family life.  Sign up for our newsletter to stay on top of the latest and greatest. 

Also, check in often for more information about our upcoming partnerships and other online endeavors to empower you to be successful.  Lastly, if someone comes to mind who wants to get their life on a healthier track and could benefit from this information, please share it.

We are excited you decided to take steps towards your healthy future.  We look forward to hearing from you.

[prinanalogicality]

My Love

ANGST. Friends, this is going to be seriously angsty. Please check out the tags before reading this, because there are some definite trigger warnings in this piece. I want all of you to be safe and not feel triggered or attacked, so check the tags to make sure you are all right before reading this. The topics touched on in this can really upset some people. I made myself cry a lot.

I have done light research on these topics, but I am not someone who knows everything. If there are any inconsistencies or anything that I say wrong, please, call me out. I want to be correct and do this topic justice, I will gladly fix anything. This will definitely be under a read more because it is angsty, but if someone is on mobile and is having a hard time accessing the fic, message me privately (not on anon, because I cannot get it to you if I do not know who you are and cannot message you back privately.)

Also, I broke my finger but here I am, dudes. It got hit really hard and dislocated, but I popped it back and I’m here to write some heavy angst. ;) It isn’t necessary, but I strongly recommend you listen to My Love by Sia if you read this. I wouldn’t consider this a song fic, because this wasn’t inspired by the song, but I was listening to the song and it really resonated with this idea. So, if you want to intensify your emotions, please listen to the song. I weaved it into the story because why not. XXX

Okay, last thing for me to say. This may sound strange to you all, but I do not want to refer to Anxiety or Morality as anything but those terms, unless they are pet names (Sunshine, An, Mo, beloved, love, etc.). Yes, they are humans in this, but until their proper names are released, I will continue to call them by their current labels. I hardly ever say Logic in place of Logan or Princey instead of Roman. I just like to have the proper terms is all, so, if the read seems strange at all, my apologies! ( @notallpotatoesarefrenchfries & @velocifoxy )

Summary: Human!Sides. All Anxiety wants is to grow old beside Roman, but it seems that fate has different plans in mind.

AO3 link here.

Pairing: Prinxiety. Angst, with light, small mentions of fluff. Mentioned logicality.

My love, leave yourself behind

Anxiety remembers the beginning of their relationship.

He and Roman were nothing but fireworks. Every touch, every shared look, every spoken word. Everything left sparks in the pit of his stomach and a tingle in his fingertips, making him crave more, always more. There was just something about the man that made Anxiety desperate for more adventures, more life.

More time.

Beat inside me, leave you blind

Anxiety never thought that he would enjoy life.

He always pictured himself as someone who worked to survive, lived to survived, did everything to simply survive, but not legitimately live. He didn’t truly start living his life until he met Roman, a whirlwind of excitement and passion that swept Anxiety, quite literally on several occasions, off of his feet.

Morality and Logan had introduced them. They were pursuing a relationship of their own, so, of course, they had to introduce their best friends to each other in turn. Logan and Roman had grown up together, and Morality and Anxiety had. Morality wanted nothing more than for his best friend to meet his boyfriend, and he had insisted Logan do the same.

So he did.

My love, you have found peace

Anxiety knew from the moment his eyes first landed on Roman that his heart didn’t stand a chance.

He was tall. Taller than Anxiety, that’s for sure. At least 6′, broad shoulders, jawline that could slice through diamonds. Dark brown hair to match dark brown eyes that glittered with mirth. Roman was the definition of perfection, like a Disney prince stepped off of a storybook page. His body was a bonus, but what really got to Anxiety was the brightness of his smile. He smiled at Anxiety like he was the light of his world, his sun, his moon, his stars, his entire universe. It was something Anxiety never knew he needed from someone until they met, something he thrived on.

You were searching for relief

Anxiety remembers lying beneath the stars with Roman.

It was their first date, one full of ice cream, laughter, and shy hand holding. Roman told Anxiety of how he reminded him of the stars in the sky. He said Anxiety’s eyes were a green that held gold within them that sparkled and twinkled like stars, and though he never held much of an interest in stars before, he picked up a book and learned constellations. He pointed them out to Anxiety, and Anxiety had never felt more alive than he did listening to Roman speak to him, their fingers intertwined.

You gave it all, gave into the call

Anxiety was filled with a brightness that he never knew before when he was with Roman. With Roman, he felt unstoppable. All of his inhibitions, all of his inner demons. They were silenced by his prince in shining armor, protecting him from the cruelties of himself and of the outside world. He guided Anxiety into the light, to a new world of contentment and excitement. It all made Anxiety actively want to seek out new experiences, because all he wanted to do was to do these things by Roman’s side.

You took a chance and you took a fall for us

It started with headaches.

Roman would take to napping on Anxiety’s couch, head on said boy’s lap, instead of going out. It concerned Anxiety to a degree, but Roman always insisted it was nothing to worry about. Just a simple headache, and a nap should be able to clear it right away.

That is, until it ended up being a repeated occurrence.

You came thoughtfully, loved me faithfully

Next came the forgetfulness.

If there is one thing Roman was, it was a hopeless romantic. He insisted on taking Anxiety to the most grandiose restaurant at least once a month (he wanted to more often, but Anxiety resisted Roman spending that much money on him), which was typically on the month anniversaries of their relationship. He constantly spoiled his lover with gifts such as flowers or stuffed animals, even the manner in which he spoke to Anxiety reflected his hopeless romanticism.

He forgot their one year anniversary.

That was what really tipped Anxiety off to the matter that there must be something wrong with his boyfriend. Roman would never, ever forget their one year anniversary under normal circumstances, and the fact that he would forget it did not madden Anxiety, it worried him.

Initially, Anxiety’s inner demons whispered that it was all because Roman had someone new. Roman must have been having headaches from being stressed over juggling two relationships, so he forgot their anniversary. That must be it. Roman was the perfect man to the eyes of many, several people would jump at the chance to pursue a relationship with him, even if he was meant to be monogamous with someone else. Anxiety supposed he wasn’t the type to live out a happily ever after.

You taught me honor, you did it for me

Their first real fight tore Anxiety apart.

He accused Roman of seeing someone else, and he had never seen such rage within his boyfriend. Roman lashed out, throwing his mug of tea onto the ground and scolding Anxiety for ever thinking of such an outlandish accusation. It was a night of raised voices, tears, and slammed doors only to be met with impatient knocking. It took several hours for both parties to calm down enough to talk things through, and once they did, Anxiety saw Roman cry for the first time.

He wept. He begged Anxiety for his forgiveness, because he didn’t even know what was going on in his life anymore. He was forgetting meals, dates, things to buy at the grocery store. It was eating him up that he forgot the most important day for him and Anxiety, and Anxiety instantly felt an intense guilt for ever pushing his prince to the mess he was in that instance.

They ended up spending their anniversary night in Roman’s bed, curled up under the covers together, boxes of tissues at the ready as they released their emotions through binge watching sad videos on YouTube.

Today you will sleep away, you will wait for me, my love

Next came the vision loss. Anxiety had been at home, curled up on his sofa in a blanket burrito and rereading the first Harry Potter novel when he had received a panicked phone call from Roman, who was alarmed because he could barely see out of his left eye.

Anxiety’s book was immediately forgotten as he had gone to Roman’s apartment, relieved that his boyfriend had been smart enough to wait for Anxiety to come instead of rushing to Anxiety’s apartment. Roman was crying, again, hand covering his left eye and uncovering, asking no one in particular why there was hardly a difference.

Now I am strong, you gave me all

Anxiety had decided that enough was enough. He helped Roman into his car and drove him to the hospital, signed him in to be seen, and sat on Roman’s lap, because Roman had wanted to hold him close and make sure that this was real, that this was happening. Anxiety could feel the eyes of others in the waiting room, staring at a crying boy hugging another like his life depended on it, but for once, Anxiety didn’t care that they were being judged.

He flipped them all off and embraced his boyfriend.

You gave all you had, 

Roman had been called back to be seen, and from the get-go, Anxiety could tell that something was wrong. The doctor would not tell them anything, nothing at all when Roman described his symptoms with Anxiety weighing in to agree and go into deeper detail. All the doctor did was order a CT scan and that was that.

It terrified Anxiety that the doctor wanted to look inside of Roman. Roman’s head, to be exact. That was all the doctor divulged before exiting, sparing Anxiety a sympathetic glance. Anxiety didn’t want a sympathetic glance. He wanted to be told that all Roman had was a common cold and all he needed was antibiotics and he would be fine in a few days.

The waiting was agonizing. Waiting for the nurse to take Roman to his CT scan, waiting for her to bring him back once they had gone, waiting for the results. It was awful, but Anxiety had to be strong. He was there for Roman, they were sharing a small hospital bed and Roman was clinging onto Anxiety as his rock, as the one who would make him feel better. He had to be strong and supportive as Roman murmured his fears, his worries. It felt strange, the roles being switched. But Anxiety had learned from the best how to be supportive.

And now I am whole

The waiting was painful, but nothing hurt more than the doctor’s news.

Roman had two masses in his brain.

My love, leave yourself behind, beat inside me, leave you blind

The news had hurt, the news was downright torment, but all it did was make Anxiety feel numb. Roman had been clinging onto him, asking about how he was supposed to tell his friends, how was he to tell Logan, Morality, how was he to tell his family, how was he to tell his mother. How was he to tell his mother that her son, her only child, was dying.

Anxiety had listened to it all. He had been silent, taking in Roman’s words, cherishing the moments they had together. Roman’s fingers had been gripping his hips probably hard enough to bruise, but Anxiety didn’t care. Roman was there with him, it was Roman who was holding him, the man he has always wanted nothing more than to live with forever.

My love, look what you can do, I am mending, I’ll be with you

Out of everything Roman had said while rambling about his fears, one phrase stuck out to Anxiety.

“I wanted to marry you.”

That was what broke him. Anxiety felt heat behind his eyes and behind his nose, his throat was closing up. His palms were itchy, his neck was itchy, his lungs were burning with the need for air, but all he could do was tremble in his love’s arms, sobs wracking his body. He had listened as Roman’s tone of voice changed, how his words had shifted to speak positives, of how much he adores Anxiety, how much he loves him, what he loves about him, how much he means to him. Roman was the one that was potentially dying and here he was, comforting Anxiety again.

Anxiety was so in love that it hurt.

You took my hand, added a plan

Anxiety hadn’t expected the news to come back so negatively, but, more than anything, he hadn’t expected the hospital to give the way they did.

Roman had been admitted into the hospital. In order to determine the specifics of his conditions and to pinpoint the necessary treatments, the doctor had him admitted, and unfortunately, Anxiety had to go home sometime. He had to gather things for Roman - clean underwear, phone charger, etc. He also had to gather things for himself, as there was no way he was going to leave Roman’s side during this. He received a text to grab Roman’s coat that was hanging up by the front door, the brown one, and he was specifically instructed to not check the pockets. It had been a strange request, but one Anxiety followed through with anyhow.

Upon his return, he hadn’t expected Roman’s room to have rose petals leading up to the door. He hadn’t expected to enter the room to find more flowers, potted plants adorned around the room. It was a lovely sight, save for the tired form of his boyfriend on the hospital bed. He looked winded, like he had been running around - to which Anxiety would not doubt it. Roman was always a whirlwind of activity and energy.

You gave me your heart, I asked you to dance with me

Roman hadn’t said a word. All he did was rise, gently take the items from Anxiety’s hands, set them aside. He had pulled a small black velvet box from the pocket of his coat, and all Anxiety felt was that spark in his stomach, the tingling in his fingertips.

“I spoke with some of the nurses. This is pretty last minute, obviously, but hey, who knows how long we have?” Roman’s voice had been so soft, so tender. A stark contrast from his normal excitable tone. “You know, the staff here is fantastic. They ordered all of these flowers for us, I helped them with arranging them. Kinda tired me out, believe it or not.” He had let out a breathy laugh, slowly moving to kneel down onto one knee. Anxiety’s heart was racing so quickly that he could practically feel his blood thrumming through his body. “We called up our friends, closest friends, I mean. Logan and Morality, obviously. And my parents, yours. Our parents are calling up other close relatives to bring them in as well. They aren’t sure of why, but I told them it was an emergency. They’re on their way.” Roman slowly opens the box, presenting it to Anxiety, revealing a glistening black ring with several white diamonds within the band. It was show-stoppingly beautiful. “I’ve been saving up since I was a child to be able to afford the perfect wedding ring for my beloved. I hope this is sufficient.” He lets out another breathy laugh, his soft gaze meeting Anxiety’s. “This won’t be the perfect wedding that I always imagined, I know. I have only wanted the best for you, for us, but it seems that we may not be able to have that. But, despite that, it would be an incredible honor if you, Anxiety Thomas Sanders, would be so kind as to marry an old sap like me. Here, right now, today, while I can still dance with you. In this room, with those important to us, because I want to be yours and I want you to be mine for all eternity, no matter how long I’m still here. Will you?”

You loved honestly, gave what you could release

Anxiety had been unsure of when he had started crying, but at some point he had. No words needed to be said. He had simply dropped to his knees and held his hand out for Roman to slip the ring onto his finger. Roman’s bright smile lit up the entire room, filling Anxiety with the warmth that he has become addicted to.

Morality and Logan were the first to arrive. They found them, both still sat on the floor, clinging to one another for dear life.

I know in peace you’ll go, I hope relief is yours

It took about three hours for the rest of the desired family members to file in. Even in the current circumstances, Roman had been smiling and laughing, sat on his hospital bed with Anxiety snuggled close beside him. He looked so bright, so joyous, and Anxiety was angry.

Angry with the world for doing something like this to someone so great. Roman was a light to the world, someone who deserved so much life, but fate is cruel. Fate wanted to take away the happiness in Anxiety’s life.

Despite that, though, he couldn’t feel completely drained. The ring on his finger gave him hope, more hope than he could conjure up alone.

Now I am strong, you gave me all

The ceremony was beautiful.

The hospital staff had come together to bring in a priest to marry them. It was astounding, to Anxiety, how complete strangers could band together to do so much for people they do not even know. It gave Anxiety hope for the world.

Something that will always be ingrained into his memories is the look on Roman’s face when Anxiety had stepped around the corner to venture into the room, wearing a pair of ripped skinny jeans and one of Roman’s hoodies that was baggy on his frame. He had smiled more brightly than ever, it shone through the room like sunlight. It reminded Anxiety of why he fell in love with him.

You gave all you had, and now I am whole

Their kiss was the most intense, most beautifully stunning fireworks production Anxiety could imagine.

My love, beat inside me, my love

Anxiety was there for it all.

He sat beside his husband’s bed or with him on it, day by day, as Roman’s condition deteriorated through the months.

Many cases are able to go home, but with how quickly Roman’s infliction was spreading, he was kept at the hospital.

Anxiety was there when Roman cried every time he discovered more of his hair falling out. Anxiety was there when Roman would let out the contents of his stomach into the waste bin. Anxiety was there when Roman finally lost sight in both of his eyes. Anxiety was there when Roman cried, wishing he could see the stars in his love’s eyes again.

My love, leave yourself behind

The nights were hard. Anxiety couldn’t sleep, he hardly would even if he had the opportunity to. He wanted to be awake as much as possible, to revel in the presence of his husband while he still could.

He would murmur to him at night. He would tell Roman that he is so strong, but sometimes, it is stronger to let go. He would tell Roman of how he knows their love is strong, that no matter what happens, Roman will live on within him. No matter where they are, Anxiety is in Roman, and Roman is in Anxiety.

They were together for one year, seven months, sixteen days, five hours.

They were married for four months, three days, nine hours.

Beat inside me,

Anxiety was there when Roman held his hand. Anxiety was there when Roman told him he loved him. Anxiety was there when Roman offered him one last smile, one last goodbye.

Anxiety was there when Roman finally let go.

I’ll be with you

His prince was gone.

Anxiety still wears his wedding ring.

[lilmama133-blog1]

What They DON’T Tell You About Pregnancy!

Hey guys.

This entry is about the things they do NOT commonly tell you about pregnancy. When I found out I was pregnant at 18 I knew about the stereotypical pregnancy symptoms (Morning sickness, weight gain, peeing a lot, being hungry, missed period), but there’s so much more than that! I don’t think you really know what pregnancy is until you go through it. So, to any new mommys or anyone just curious here is a sneak peak to what you are in for during pregnancy. Just remember every pregnancy is different. You may or may not experience what I have with both of my pregnancies. Any serious concerns or questions please bring up with your obgyn or midwife right away!

1.) THE FIRST TRIMESTER IS THE WORST!

Okay, I didn’t know I was pregnant until around 12 weeks. I totally knew something was up though. So didn’t my boyfriend. I remember being very irritable, extreme fatigue no matter how much I slept, my back pain was the biggest issue, I was craving food but I was also newly out on my own and was living off of Spaghetti O’s and Ramen so I didn’t think much of it at the time, I lost track of my period so that did not stand out, and I was having to use the bathroom nonstop. Eventually I noticed little bumps on my nipples. Now that I look back at it, it is totally obvious. I was in denial however. My boyfriend kept saying he thought I was pregnant, but I didn’t believe him. I felt like total shit basically. I always assumed the further you were the worse the symptoms were, that was far from the truth for me with both pregnancies though. I would go to bed early, then by time lunch came around at my work I would be ready for a nap. I mostly remember the intense back pain though. This pregnancy my biggest first trimester symptoms were morning sickness, and fatigue. Morning sickness is NOT just in the morning. I was sick day and night. Saltine crackers and sea bands help! Other than that stay hydrated and ride it out.

2.) What Is “ T.M.I.”?

I used to always be very private about my body, my bathroom business, and anything personal. When you are pregnant you have to forget the meaning of “T.M.I.” for your and babys safety. I do not know the process of having a midwife, but with a OBGYN they will ask you everything and they will see everything. You will have to explain your discharge to them (any odors, coloring, excessive discharge, and the texture), your doctor will do exams of your vagina, the beginning pregnancy ultrasounds are usually internal. Internal ultrasounds are when the put the camera inside of your vagina to see the baby. It is super uncomfortable and awkward at first. Just try not to tense up, it’ll hurt much worse. If you just relax and breathe you’ll be fine. It’ll be uncomfortable but won’t hurt as long as you do NOT tense up. Your doctor will have to take swabs inside of your vagina which are uncomfortable, but do not hurt. Same rule, don’t tense up. Eventually you will get to where your doctor checks your cervix (Not until later pregnancy unless you have complications like I did my first pregnancy). This process isn’t fun. He will glove up and reach all the way into your vagina to your cervix (deep asf) and feel if your cervix is opening. He sees this by seeing how many (if any) fingers he can fit into the cervix opening. It does not feel like getting fingered because it is much deeper than that. It is uncomfortable, and probably will hurt honestly. My first pregnancy I had my mom, sister, boyfriend, a nurse, three students, and a team from a bigger hospital watching me give birth due to her being a premature. All of those people saw my vagina that probably looked like a black hole with a head coming out. My mom saw my boobs while trying to help me figure out how to pump. TMI is not in my vocabulary anymore. 

3.) You Will Have A Set Of Strict Rules!

We all know the basics,

you shouldn’t smoke/drink/use drugs while pregnant. What you do NOT know is there is much more. You shouldn’t be lifting 50lbs or more due to increased risk of miscarry or early labor. You also can NOT change cat liter. Under any circumstances! It is very harmful to your baby and could cause a fatal event of losing the baby even. What you inhale from cat liter suffocates the baby is what I was told (I have two cats) so, my boyfriend changes the cat box now. Say “goodbye” to the cold meat sandwiches and rare cooked meat. These can cause infections, also they’ll probably make you feel sick. If you can or cannot have sex will depend on your pregnancy. If you are high risk then you will probably be put on pelvic rest. Just to be safe try not to get semen inside of you, semen can weaken your cervix (causing you to go into preterm labor). It sucks having to go without intimacy, but if it is best for baby then do it. Stop drinking the soda and taking in so much sugary foods if you are! Your baby needs water. A lot of it too! Ask your OB or Midwife how much water they want you to have a daily intake of. You can easily dehydrate while pregnant, which can cause preterm labor as well. My best advice is buy a big water bottle with a straw attached and just carry it with ice water everywhere you go. Those are just some of your new temporarily rules.

To any moms who are drinking/smoking/smoking pot or using other drugs while pregnant... This is putting your baby at high risk so please don’t. I quit smoking when I found out I was pregnant. It was hard, but possible. I just slowly weaned myself off. Do not quit cold turkey because it will stress your baby, but wean off. Talk to your OBGYN or midwife about quitting. I also was a social drinker and a daily pot smoker. Though there may not be any studies proving marijuana hurts baby in the womb, why chance it? As of right now, there has yet to be a ton of research on it. Most mothers who smoke weed while pregnant also are smoking tobacco or using alcohol so the results in many studies are unclear. It really isn’t hard to quit or temporarily quit for your baby. It isn't about you anymore, it is about the baby. Most OBGYNs do drug test you by the way, do you really want CPS involved just because you wanted to smoke weed to get rid of the pregnancy migraines or morning sickness (They are mandated to inform CPS of any positive drug result, even marijuana) ? I got through it all without it even during an extremely complicated pregnancy, so can you.

4.)  Preparing For Baby Can Be Stressful

Everyone gets on Pinterest to plan their dream nursery when they find out they are pregnant, or google all of those cute baby name ideas. You have no idea though. For your first born I highly suggest someone throws you a baby shower. This way you save $ on some baby items. I got one of my strollers, carrier, high chair, pack n play, walker, blankets, and many other smaller items at my baby shower. I am so thankful for it too! Those things are expensive, girl! Ask for diapers, wipes, dreft, gripe water, and any baby soaps or lotions too. You can make a baby registry on Walmart (I did mine on Walmart and liked it) so your guests know what things you want. Walmart has a check list so you make sure you know what to ask for also. I think you can also make a registry on Amazon, Buy Buy Baby, and other online stores as well. Not to mention the gas prices to appointments, having to take off of work or school, your grocery bill may spike up, and you will have medical bills. Try to put some money away for when baby is here as well. 

5.) Self Esteem

I know you’re suppose to gain weight during pregnancy. However, I have had a rollercoaster of a time with self esteem during both pregnancies. My last pregnancy I was all belly, for this one I mostly am too but have gained a bit more than last time. Sometimes I will cry because it is hard for me to feel sexy or beautiful when I am constantly reminded how huge I am getting, and when I can’t fit in all of my clothes anymore. Not to mention the stretch marks, increased breast size, increased discharge, and not being able to do all of the fun things with my boyfriend I could before or being able to do my house chores for him. Self esteem is a massive struggle for me during pregnancy needless to say. All I can really say is know that the weight will go away if you work hard to lose it afterwards (I was back to my normal weight a few months after my first pregnancy). Other than that, try your best to eat healthy and if able get moderate exercise (I cannot since I am on bed rest). Even though I am on bed rest I try to shower and get ready everyday to help with how I feel about my appearance. Some days showering is too much and I cannot stand that long without having contractions...So, I just do it when I am able to. Just remember you will get an amazing gift out of all of this!

Well, I think those are the main things I didn’t think of/know about pregnancy. There’s more probably but that is what comes to mind at the moment. 

[paqman]

Coming Back

It's been over six months since I got back home after living in South Korea for nearly three years. There were expectations before I came back about what I would miss and what I thought I wouldn't want to experience ever again. It turns out after being back for half a year that the experiences I thought I wouldn’t want to experience ever again are exactly what I’m missing the most.

I have a full time job now in my hometown. Your run-of-the-mill; nine-to-five; take-the-bus-to-work job. It's not bad, has great benefits, and allows me to make a living where I grew up.

All these things are exactly why I hate it.

Living in a different country, for me at least, is one of the biggest challenges I've ever faced. Which means that under those circumstances, any little thing I did was a major accomplishment. Ordering food. Taking the bus. Figuring out what subways to take to get to a place I've never been to. Just LIVING IN MY APARTMENT was extremely rewarding. Sure, I can do all of those things here, but when you're doing them in a place where you're the minority, where the native language is a far-cry from your own, anything you do successfully is amplified dramatically. Pair this with the fact that teaching in South Korea was my first real job. And pair that with the fact that I had never lived on my own until then. Anything you experience in your own country after that just seems way too easy.

The day I moved into my apartment is one that I’ll never forget. I had been living on my friend’s couch an hour away, commuting to and from work for a week. I punched in the key code and with a satisfying metallic clank, the door unlocked. I stepped inside as the door closed behind me. It locked itself before uttering a quick, five note melody. I froze. The person who lived there left most of his belongings, even a pair of shoes on the floor. I thought maybe he was still there. Alas, there was no movement. At that moment I realized that the place was mine. For the first time in my life I had my own apartment and I was officially living in a foreign country.

I was 27.

The first priority was finding a grocery store and buying milk and cereal. Seriously. All I cared about was that I could have some Frosted Flakes in the morning. I had no idea how to use the gas stove, or how to turn on the hot water heater for weeks (I took quick, cold showers and wrapped myself in a blanket when the weather started to turn). So once I figured those things out, it was like leveling up my skill tree. I spent ten minutes after work every night soaking my feet in hot water because it was MY hot water. It never got old. It became the same for everything else – the laundry, the stove, the internet. It’s easy enough to do that in a country where everyone speaks your own language, but to do it in this unfamiliar, foreign place… that’s truly something to be proud of.

Teaching was not easy. It was stressful and hectic. You can read about my first week from an earlier post. Even though I got used to it after a while, teaching genuinely scared me and every day that I finished was the greatest accomplishment of my life. This isn’t an exaggeration. That’s truly how I felt. How do you even come close to topping that? There was no HR for when things got bad. No supervisor to show you what to do. No training. You got through the bad times in your own way and figured the rest out by yourself. Just the other day my supervisor at my new job told me to take a long lunch if I’d like, that she could cover for me. I should be loving that kind of thing but I don’t. I’m supposed to show up to work, get as much as a swig of water during a five minute class transition and earn my chicken and beer at the end of the day. No breaks. No covering. That’s my normal. I desperately miss the more difficult way of doing things because the feeling of success felt much more earned.

I had fantasies about what I would do when I got back. What places I wanted to drive to. What video games I wanted to play. I caught up quicker than I thought and what was once missed has now become mundane. All that’s left is a longing for a more challenging and rewarding way to live. Teaching used to be one of my greatest fears and complacency has taken its place. I miss the newness, the discovery, the fear, and the realization that I could do things my way and survive. I even miss the depression and the times I was so worried that I couldn’t sleep. I miss those things because at least I was feeling something.

Part of what I’m dealing with is “the grass is always greener” syndrome for sure. But what’s surprising to me is my longing for the difficult times. It’s not something I ever anticipated or expected. When you’re pushed to the brink, you’re forced to trust in your own decisions and abilities and when they pay off, it becomes addicting. You just don’t see it right away. When I got lost in Japan, I couldn’t wait to go back to Korea and enjoy the comfort of a warm bar with drinks and friends. Even then, though, there was an inkling – a look back over my shoulder as I left Japan: “That was a real challenge,” I thought, and I knew then that Korea was just the beginning. Whether in your own country or in a foreign one, challenging yourself pushes you to grow and discover what kind of a person you really are. I simply wasn’t aware of how powerful that was at the time, and am only seeing it now in retrospect. I’m sure in a few years’ time, I might long for this moment – when I finally was able to be independent in my own home town.

And if that’s not enough, there’s a whole lot more of this world left to explore.