#this post felt like a more coherent thought when i had it yesterday driving home from work but this is all ive got now lol

[lake-cosay]

thinking about lake getting emotional over the fact that they're alive and free and not only that but they have jesse whom they love with all their heart and who loves them just as much and they just. hold him so tight and smother him with kisses and jesse's like "are you okay you're not usually this gushy" and lake's just like "shut up i love you"

[generalllimaginesss]

Here’s a little piece based on Megan Moroney’s song Reasons to Stay.

Warnings: angsty bf! Jack, toxic relationship (you can usually tell if I’m depressed or not based on what I post lmao), but like this is really really toxic so don’t read if that’s a trigger for you. I think I made myself go crazy while rereading it.

Reasons to Stay

I asked Jesus for a sign

And today I haven’t cried

It’s only 2 p.m. but that beats yesterday

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

The status of having an NHL boyfriend was alluring to a lot of girls. The fame was something that always felt new, thousands of people, strangers, screaming the name that you hold near and dear to your heart. The money eased the fear of bills and gave a freedom the average person would never experience in their lifetime. The influence that you hold as a WAG always playing in the back of your mind anytime your finger hovered over a button to post a picture, wondering if the caption was classy enough to hold your status.

The truth is that looks can be deceiving. The girls that threw themselves at Jack made for a constant state of insecurities to pool in your brain, sloshing around anytime Jack was home late or turned his location off. The money bought things that made you smile, a Louis Vuitton here, a Mercedes there, but the feeling of being in debt to the man that let hate spew from his mouth anytime you accidentally stepped out of line pulled at your being, anxiety grasping at the freedom, one not capable of being present without the other.

Was it really freedom?

Was it the price of freedom?

Maybe.

Maybe the price was the amount of tears that flowed when he rejected an outfit for you to wear.

“You’re not leaving in that. I don’t date sluts and that makes you look like one,” his reasoning rang, slicing through your ears and bouncing around anytime you bought clothes.

Today was a good day, though.

He had kissed you goodbye, asking if you would be making dinner tonight.

He’d be home tonight, you thought, willing yourself to think positive and fighting against the urge to dwell on the fact that he had come home with a hickey the night prior. He insisted it was a hickey, but you weren’t too sure about that.

But he’s yours tonight, that’s all that matters. That keeps you going; the possibility that tomorrow he will be yours is your driving thought. So you went about your day as if the life you were living were a dream and that you were living the life as the girlfriend of a famous hockey player who made millions.

Maybe it’s normal to have to be small. Maybe you just have to compensate for the huge platform that he had. He had earned it after all.

Seriously, what did you do other than keep the house tidy and go to his games? That’s normal….right?

You just had to tell yourself that it would be ok. It would be harder and messier to leave than try to push through.

And when you’re drunk at 3 a.m.

You don’t call your ex-girlfriend

It’s been a couple months since you

Brought up her name.

So I guess that’s a reason to stay.

The guys had gone out after a win, guys only. No girlfriends or wives. That’s what Jack said, at least. They were celebrating the guys achievements, some records broken, and it was just for them.

That was fine with you. He had an amazing game: his second hatty of his career. He needed a night to let off some steam and just be a boy.

The picture of him and Nico with Jack’s ex looming in the background was just a coincidence, yeah? Jack said she was a puck bunny, so she’s probably just going from guy to guy.

As soon as he walked through the door, the smell of bourbon wafted through the air, attaching itself to every air molecule in the apartment and meeting you like a familiar friend. This wasn’t the first time he had come home in this state. It wasn’t even the 5th or 6th.

“You’re up,” Jack’s words were slower than normal, the effort to produce the words coherently proving to be more tasking than normal. He took in the view of you curled up in an Ugg blanket on the plush cushions of the couch, noticing the lines that the tears had been drawing for the past hour. He took note, but not responsibility. He told you where he was and what he was doing, no harm no foul.

“Just couldn’t go to sleep,” Your voice was weakened, something you despised about yourself. You used to view yourself as strong and independent. Sticking up for what was right was was something you took pride in, but being in a relationship with Jack had slowly chipped away at that, so nonchalantly that you were the skeleton of who you once were before you could do anything about it.

Jack’s balance teetered from the left to the right, making a ship at sea during a storm look like a walk through the park. He stumbled as he tried to take his shoes off, a cue that you learned meant you needed to help him.

He did so much for you, so would it really be awful to just help him out?

As you slipped one AirForce off, you took notice of the bruises that feathered his legs, probably from the intense game tonight.

You could feel courage bubble, coming to a boil before you made your next statement, “I noticed your ex in a picture that Nico posted…what’s that about?”

“Baby,” He slurred, attempting to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear but pulling it instead, kissing your forehead after you winced at the tension. “You’re the only one that matters,” And with that he sucked you right back into his intoxicating blue eyes. They held a secret confession of his love for you. One that only you could see and he could feel.

But you don’t try like you used to

You don’t look at me the same

You used to say you’re sorry, now

Whiskey’s what you blame

How much can a heart take

‘Til it’s really your last chance

I’m a giver, but I’ve given all I can

We both know that I ain’t one to walk away

But I’m runnin’ out of reasons to stay

Things hadn’t always been like this.

Jack hadn’t always been like this.

He used to surprise you at work with two dozen roses, or wrote sweet love notes on sticky notes and stuck them to your vanity. He used to put in effort.

He used to want you.

What were you thinking, of course he still wanted you. He wouldn’t be in a relationship with you for the whole world to see if he didn’t want you, right?

He hadn’t bought flowers in a long time, though, and the sticky notes had slowly made their way to a drawer for safekeeping, none there to replace them. The vanity was bare, loneliness radiating from it every time you passed it, the feeling resonating in your soul.

It was as lonely as you.

Jack had come home drunk again last night, the smell of the liquor laced the words he shot at you with a poison that made them burn when they hit you. Everything that came out of his mouth felt like lashes against your skin.

“You’re so fucking boring, Y/N! You think you’re so perfect and you’re not! You think you’re better than everybody around you, but you’re not! You’re a fucking bitch, you cunt!”

He went on like that for at least an hour, going on and on about how he deserved better, how he could have anybody he wanted but settled for you.

It hurt even worse because it was so untrue. You battled with yourself for years because you compared yourself to those around you constantly. Jack knew this. He had been there for your breakdowns when your family had made you feel like a disappointment, or when you never thought you would be as pretty or talented as the other girls in the hockey scene.

Did he just forget this?

How were you going to smooth this over with him?

It felt like all you did was make excuses for him just to be able to live with him.

Why?

How did he completely change you? Wreck you? He had gutted out who you once were and left the bare beams that held you up. He had conditioned you to allow him chance after chance, no matter how bad he had fucked up.

And you just let him.

As the sun played a game of peekaboo through the curtains, you had made up your mind that you couldn’t justify the way he was treating you anymore. It was wrong.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured you into the kitchen to see him shirtless, standing over the stove as he busied himself with making breakfast. His back muscles flexed as he maneuvered about the stove. He looked perfect, as if he hadn’t verbally assaulted you and your character last night.

Before you could say anything, he had sensed that he was being watched, catching a glimpse of you as he turned his head slightly to the left.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice was raspy, probably from partying for most of the night, but it sounded like he cared. It was refreshing.

“N-no. Um, I just felt like I should get up,” Reassuring him felt like an attempt to just keep the peace. Don’t say anything to set him off, don’t be combative. He’s cooking breakfast for you, so everything’s ok.

“Good. Hey, about last night…I’ll be honest I don’t remember what I said, but if it was bad it was just from me drinking too much. The boys may have gotten me to drink more than I normally do…” he trailed off as he plated the breakfast he had made for you, placing it on a placemat at the bar and pouring a cup of coffee for you, 3 creams and 2 sugars.

He remembered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You walked to the bar taking a seat.

The morning consisted of the two of you genuinely enjoying the presence of the other, catching up on what’s going on in each other’s lives and promising to not let it get this way anymore.

Before Jack left for practice, he had placed a kiss to your lips ever so gently, “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sweet.

How was this the same Jack from last night?

You were sure that you had to be going crazy.

If I go find somebody new

I’d lose your mom and sister too

You know me and how much I hate change

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

And I ain’t perfect either, we all make mistakes

But that don’t change

The Michigan sunset was absolutely breathtaking. The orange and purple hues painting a picture so perfect that it could never be replicated on a canvas. The distant sounds of the guys on the lake could be heard in the distance, the chill of the wind carrying the hoots and hollers from the water to you and Ellen, sitting on the deck attached to the back of the house.

The smell of the deck and the sound of the hundreds of frogs from the water felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Jack would probably kill me if he heard me say this, but I really hope you two get married soon. I’d love to have you as my daughter, you know? These boys are a lot sometimes…” Ellen chuckled as she nodded to the boys in the distance.

The comment caught you off guard, a response in favor felt forced, but how were you supposed to tell her that her son was making your life a living hell?

“You’d have to take that up with him,” You smiled at her, not revealing the relationship that was slowly eating away at you.

“I promised to never pressure them to do something that they weren’t ready for, so I’ll let him choose the right time. I just know we all love you. Anytime the other two call home they always ask how you’re doing. I know they talk to Jack about you, too. We didn’t think he’d ever be ready to settle down with a girlfriend, much less one as amazing as you,” She went on, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the absence of the sun left goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s getting cold out here, let’s head inside and you can help me make dinner. I believe we have some wine if you’d like some,” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, waiting for you to follow suite, you smiled.

It was almost a sad smile, grateful that even though Jack wasn’t the man he should’ve been for you, his family loved you. They made you feel safe and loved. They were a safe haven from the toxic tendencies that Jack had taken up when the two of you were in New Jersey.

“I’d love that, Ellen.”

The sound of bare feet padding rapidly against the blades of grass that ran from the dock to the deck made you and Ellen turn your heads towards the window, watching on as Quinn, Luke, and Jack were racing towards the house.

Luke won, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage against his shorter counterparts. Quinn came in second as Jack has tripped over himself.

“What’s for dinner?” Luke panted, reaching for a water bottle out of the fridge and attempting to sit on the couch.

“You’ll find out after you change out of your wet swim trunks,” Ellen gave him a stern look, him raising his arms in defense as he left to go to his room for dry clothes.

You felt an arm snake around your waist, the smell of lake water and sunscreen following behind it. At first you jumped, worried that you had done something wrong.

He chuckled at the sudden movement, not realizing that he was the problem.

“Jumpy, are we?”

You smiled, trying to not cause an issue with him.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting you to be so cold,” You felt nasty as you lied through your teeth.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to retreat to the shower to wash the day off of him. You took in your surroundings while he was away.

Quinn and Luke played the Xbox while Ellen prepared the vegetables for dinner and Jim smoked the meat outside. You had been loving this family for years now. You and Ellen had become so close, easily somebody you loved as if she were your own mother.

Jack wouldn’t be the only person that you would have to let go of if you were to leave. As much as you loved his family, it was only natural for them to take his side, something that you understood and admired. You could only wish somebody would take up for you no matter what, and he had 4 people willing to do that for him.

You couldn’t imagine the thought of having to start over with somebody new, having to meet their parents for the first time and being disappointed that they weren’t Ellen and Jim. Being disappointed that their siblings wouldn’t pay the extra money when they accidentally forgot to keep your Snapchat streak going since it was almost 4 years long. Quinn and Luke texted you almost as often as they texted Jack. You were like their sister.

The thought of starting over was enough to have tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Whatever Jack had done, you couldn’t expect him to be perfect. He’s human, after all. You’d stay if it meant you could keep the Hughes in your life.

I'm runnin' out of patience

Damn, I hate to say it

I'm runnin' out of patience and grace and at the end of the day

Findin' last resort reasons we're okay

Ain't a good reason to stay

“Jack you have purple bruises all on your fucking neck! How stupid do you think I am?!” You barked at him as he sat on the couch facing you.

“Stupid enough to think this is the first time this has happened,” His smug smirk and body language made you want to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt you for so long now.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Jack Hughes. You are the most disgusting person I have ever met and I hope your life becomes a living hell that you can never get out of,” The words came out calmly despite their harsh meaning. It was eerie, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going,” He watched as you made your way to the shared bedroom, hearing the sound of a suitcase zipper open.

He jumped up, heading straight for you, but froze as he watched you throw clothes into the suitcase. When that one became full you found another one to shove your clothes into, until the only things left were things you didn’t normally wear.

“What are you doing?” He spat, realizing that the grip he had on you was being relinquished.

“What does it fucking look like? I’m done. I’ve gone crazy trying to love you and I want out. I can’t do this anymore!” You tried to yell, but your throat constricted as it tried its best to sob. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that, though. He had put you in this state of survival long enough.

“You’re going to regret this…” He trailed off, following you as you threw everything into your car.

“Maybe so, Jack. But I will never regret it as much as I regret falling in love with you. You are an awful person, and I hope everybody will see that one day,” You slammed the door shut and put the car in reverse.

As you made your way down the driveway and street, Jack’s figure became smaller and smaller. Nobody would ever make you feel this way ever again, and you felt sorry for whoever fell into the trap that is Jack Hughes after you.

*

*

*

*

HAHA IM SO SORRY!! Also this in no way reflects who Jack is in real life because I, obviously, don’t know him personally. This was so bad though, so I’m actually really sorry.

[nerdyfangirl67]

A Piece of You - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Spencer x fem!reader

Warning: Spencer in prison, angst!, language, post prison!Spencer, PTSD symptoms, fluff ending

Word count: 5951

Short summary: Reader finds she is pregnant just as Spencer is sent to prison.

A/N: Y/F/N means your first name. Y/L/N means your last name. Y/N means your name. And Y/C/M means your comfort movie. I chose for the baby in the fic to be a girl, but feel free to change it when you read it. I found a blog post on the internet that stated Reid was in jail for about 84 days, so I added some to accommodate time for travel, etc and am going with it. I also changed a few things, like Spencer coming home without the reader knowing and I didn’t include his mother as much either, to add to the storyline. And I added/made up a few details with the whole prison call/visit things so it may not ring true. Link here: click

A warm pair of lips placing feather-lite kisses on your face pulls you away from the comforting arms of sleep. You sluggishly open your eyes, blinking the blurry figure leaning over you in the darkness of the bedroom into focus.

“Spence?” You drawl out, reaching a hand up to weave into his curly hair. “Don’t go.” He lets out a small laugh as he gently unthreads your hand from his hair. “I’ve got to go Y/N.” He says reluctantly, moving to rest his forehead against yours for a moment. You close your eyes, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. 

“I love you.” You murmur, your breath fanning across Spencer’s face. You reach up enough to press your lips against Spencer’s in a tender kiss. “Come home safe.” 

“I love you too Y/N. Go back to sleep.” He says as he brings the comforter back up over your shoulders. “I’ll be home before you know it.” 

If you had known that the kiss you’d given Spencer before he left for his trip to Mexico would have been the last you’d be able give him for the next 89 days (you had been counting), you would’ve made it more than a sleepy, wet kiss as you yearned for your bed. You would have hugged him tight, pressing your face into his chest, deeply breathing his musk in as you listen to his heartbeat. You would have pulled him in for two, three, four more kisses, murmuring words of love between each.

Most importantly, you would have told him what you had found out only the night before when he had been at work, that you were pregnant. If only you had known what was to happen, you could have saved yourself from the hell to come. 

---

No matter the case, Spencer always made sure to call, or at the very least text, you once a day. But after two days of radio silence, you were starting to worry. You had called him twice, leaving him a message each time asking him to call you when he could. You sent him quite a few text messages as well, becoming more and more concerned as time passed but you receive no call back from him.

By the fifth day, despite having sent a number of additional text messages and leaving enough voicemails to fill Spencer’s inbox, you still hadn’t heard from him. You are so worried that you can hardly focus at work. In fact, you are so distracted by thoughts of Spencer being kidnapped or him being shot and bleeding out in an alley that you got pulled into your boss’s office and reprimanded for your “airhead behavior”, as your boss had put it. When you arrive home, you are gripped with such anxiety and fear that you can only grab one of Spencer’s large sweaters and curl up in bed with it. You can’t even bring yourself to take off your shoes. 

The ringing of your phone early the next morning pulls you from the trance you had been in all night. You frantically start looking for your phone and quickly find it on Spencer’s side of the bed, answering it without looking at the number. 

“Spencer? Is that you? Are you okay?” You blurt out, not allowing the other person to talk before you are firing questions at them.

“Is this Y/F/N Y/L/N?” The voice on the other side asks quickly, stopping you. You immediately know it isn’t Spencer, just as much as you know that it isn’t someone you know. 

“Yes. May I ask who this is and what it is regarding?” You ask nervously, your heart quickening as you wait what feels like an eternity for them to answer. 

“I’m Penelope Garcia and I work with Spencer at the FBI.” She pauses for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to continue. “You were the most called number in the call log on Spencer’s phone and I felt like this is something you should know, as he seems to be someone very important to you, and vice versa.” The brokenness of her voice causes the worry in your chest to bubble up again. “Spencer is in jail...in Mexico.” 

“Wh-what?” You struggle to wrap your mind around what she is saying as you climb out of bed, rushing to find your discarded jacket and set of keys from the night before. You aren’t entirely sure why you’re rushing, or even where you’d be going, but that doesn’t slow you down. “Was there a case in Mexico? What happened?” 

“There wasn’t a case. He took some personal days and went to Mexico for some experimental medication for his mother. He...um..he was arrested for murder, but he doesn’t remember anything.” 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to sit in one of the living room chairs as you try to fight off the sobs rising in your chest. “Is he, is he going to stay in Mexico? I mean, is he, no, when will...he didn’t do it.” You stammer out, as you try to slow your racing thoughts, stop the inevitable tears from falling, and make your word coherent. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I don’t have the answers to those questions yet. But, I can keep you updated if you’d like. The team left a few hours for Mexico to help Reid. They want to get him transferred to a prison in the states.” Her voice is comforting, but does nothing to tamp down the feeling of impending disaster that is rising in you. You manage to get out a shaky goodbye to Penelope before you lose grip on your emotions.

You struggle to get a proper breath through the onslaught of tears as the reality of the situation hits you. Your phone clatters to the floor as you bury your face in your arms, drawing your legs up to yourself as you try to push it all away. Eventually the tears slow and stop. You gradually unfurl from the cramped up position you had been in. You numbly make your way to the kitchen and somehow manage to make yourself breakfast. The rest of the day passes in a hazy blur, with you almost forgetting that you were supposed to be at work (you called in sick once you remembered, but your boss wasn’t happy the call was coming in three hours late). You spend the night, clutching Spencer’s pillow and wishing that this were all a dream. You don’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning, when the exhaustion of the last few days finally overtakes you.

The ringing of your phone wakes you later that morning, serving as a reminder that you have to face the day ahead, as much as you don’t want to.

“Y/F/N? This is Penelope with the FBI. I called you yesterday about Spencer.” Her greeting has you sitting up, trying to clear the foggy cloud from your brain so you could think. 

“Penelope, have you found anything else out? How is Spencer?” You plow over any possible pleasantries as you ask the question that had been on your mind for the last day.

“The team was able to get him extradited to the United States.” She starts, her words helping to ease some of the anxiety that had built up since you had learned about Spencer’s imprisonment. “He isn’t out yet, but the team is working on his case. In the meantime, I’m setting up a visitor schedule. If you’d want to come down to Quantico, I can help you fill out the necessary paperwork and get on the schedule to see him, if you’d like.” You quickly voiced your agreement and after getting directions and setting a time, you hung up with Penelope, your mood considerably elevated for the first time in days. 

A glance at the clock has you scrambling out of the bed and to your closet. You had completely forgotten about the doctor’s appointment you had scheduled days ago, before your world had been flipped upside down. You manage to get dressed and ready to go in less than ten minutes, arriving at your appointment only a few minutes late.

Your appointment is short as the doctor just does a routine exam, confirming your pregnancy and letting you know that the baby was healthy so far. You receive a list of different things to avoid (such as caffeine and smoking) and a few different things that are beneficial to your, and the baby’s, health (such as prenatal vitamins). After your appointment, you quickly stop at the store to pick up a few things suggested by the doctor, before heading back to Spencer’s apartment, where you had been staying. Although he had never officially asked you to move in, you had been staying at his apartment most nights for the past few months and had your own drawer and spot in his closet. And with the events of the past few days, it had just felt right to stay, almost as if you had one small part of him still with you. 

 You go to bed early that night, really early, in hopes of getting the time to pass quicker. The prospect of seeing Spencer has you anxious and excited at the same time, making sleep nearly impossible. After a few hours of tossing and turning, with no sleep, you climb out of bed and get dressed. You grab your purse and keys before leaving the apartment. You walk the short distance to your car and start it. Despite knowing that you would be hours early to your meeting with Penelope, you still start the drive to Quantico and the FBI building. 

After almost an hour in the car, and twenty minutes with security (in which they had to confirm your meeting with Penelope before they gave you a visitor credential), you finally made your way to the floor where the BAU team worked. Your eyes scan the bullpen and immediately you recognize Spencer’s desk, even though you had never seen it before. You recognize the pattern in which the items are placed and the semi-clearness of his desk space; it is identical to the desk he uses for work at home. You make your way towards it, tracing a finger along the fake wood edge as you take a seat in his desk chair. Sitting here, you can almost feel his presence behind you, his voice speaking up, sharing an idea he had or some crazy fact, his fingers tapping along the edge of his desk. You take comfort in the feeling as you rest your head in your arms on his desktop. It isn’t long before you are closing your eyes and falling into a light sleep.

A tap on your shoulder jerks you awake, causing you to fly up in a sitting position and blink at the harsh light of the bullpen. “You must be Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m Penelope Garcia.” A cheery blonde, wearing a bright orange dress and matching hair accessory, as well as holding a bright pink pom topped pen. 

You stand, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit before offering a hand out to her. “Yes, that’s me.” She takes your hand but instead of shaking it, pulls you into a hug. You are taken back by her forwardness, but give her a squeeze in return.

“Let’s go see what we can do to get you on the visitor list.” She says softly, leading the way to what you could only describe as her office, although it more resembled a cave, filled with more types of technology than you would know what to do with.

Penelope gestures to a black swivel desk chair set next to the wall. “Here, take a seat. I’m going to pull up Spencer’s information and see if we can get you some visitor paperwork.” She says as you take a seat in the chair. The longer you sit there, the more nervous you feel. Unconsciously, you rest your hand on your lower stomach, right over the small bump that was starting to form. 

You don’t realize that you are zoned out until Penelope clears her throat. “Are you okay?” She nods at your hand resting on your stomach. You quickly pull it away, straightening up in your seat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

She gives you a long stare before speaking. “I have some good news and some bad news Y/N.” You nod, waiting for her to speak with bated breath. “The good news - you can call Spencer.” 

You wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “And the bad news?”

“I can’t add you to the visitor list. It seems that Spencer doesn’t want you to come see him as a visitor.” She can’t look you in the eye as she says that.

You are quiet after that, not entirely sure what to say. The thought that he doesn’t want to see you hurts. But you also know Spencer, and whatever the reason, you know he has one.

“He can take a call in about five minutes if you want to get on the call list.” She says, looking up from one of her monitors at you. You nod quickly, before voicing your agreement. The five minutes of waiting seemed to go on forever, but finally, she is patching through to a prison phone. “Here you go, he should be on the other line now.” The fact that she immediately gave the phone to you, instead of taking some of the time to talk to him, had you smiling gratefully at her. ‘Thank you’, you mouth as you take the phone. 

“Spencer? Is that you?” You ask, your heart in your throat as you wait to hear his voice.

“Y/N, it’s so good to hear your voice.” He speaks quietly, the low quality of the phone call causing his voice to crackle.

“I know you didn’t do it Spencer. Whatever they are saying, it isn’t true.” You whisper, clutching the handset close to your ear, as if that would bring him closer to you. 

“Y/N...I don’t know-” He starts but you cut him off, knowing he was going to tell you he wasn’t sure what had happened.

“I know Spencer, but I also know you. And that isn’t who you are.” You say thickly, as you fight back the coming tears. “I want to see you Spencer. Why don’t you have me on your visitor list?”

“I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to see me here.” You start to argue that it doesn’t matter, but some yelling in the background cuts you off, after which Spencer says, “I’ve got less than a minute Y/N before I’ve got to hang up.” He says solemnly, the sorrow in his voice echoing the sorrow you felt. 

You push aside the topic of seeing him, not wanting to waste what little time you had left talking to him by arguing. “I love you Spencer. Don’t forget that okay? I don’t care how long it takes, we-I will be here when you come home. You have a lot of people here in your corner Spencer. They will get you out.” You push back the tears as you talk, not wanting him to hear you cry.

“Gosh, I love you and I miss you. I wish I was th-” His voice is cut off, followed shortly by a dial tone.

You grip at the handset, calling “Spencer? Spencer?!”, wishing for him to respond.

“I’m sorry Y/N. The call ended.” Penelope says quietly. You hand over the handset, moving to sit back in the swivel chair against the wall, roughly wiping away the evidence of your tears as you do.

“What do we do now?” You ask through the tears.

“We wait. The team is working on his case and I will keep you updated on everything that happens. Do you need anything?” She asks, giving you a good look.

You are telling her before you consciously realize what you are doing. “I-I’m pregnant. I just found out and I haven’t had the chance to tell Spencer. I don’t know what to do. I want to tell him when I can see him face to face, when he can enjoy it for what it is, a blessing. But I hate hiding things from him.”

Penelope gives out a little squeal, bouncing up from her chair to hug you tight. “Oh, you are gonna have a baby Reid!” She says loudly, taking a step back from you. The look on your face must have given away the shock on your face because she is quickly apologizing. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. What can I do to help Y/N?”

“I just, I need someone to talk to. I miss him, a lot. It’s hard to be going through this alone.” You whisper, looking down at your hands in your lap. 

“Girl, you don’t have to ask. I’d love to be your friend.” She says excitedly, giving you a soft shoulder bump. “And I’m going to do everything I can to get the boy wonder home to you.” She gives you a small smile. “And your little one.”

---

The days follow a routine after that. Work, talking to Penelope, and the occasional doctor’s appointment. Penelope comes to some of the appointments as support, which you appreciate, and when you find out the gender, she insists on going shopping for baby items with you. You are able to talk to Spencer a few more times, although each phone call is shorter than the last, and leaves you missing him even more. 

Each doctor’s appointment is harder than the last. All you could think of when you hear the baby’s heartbeat is that Spencer wasn’t there. All you could think of when you feel the baby move for the first time is that Spencer might never be able to feel your baby move like that. He might never get the chance to feel your baby kick. All you can think of when you hear the gender of your baby is that Spencer might never get to experience that excitement, that joy, of imagining all the future things that might be in store for the baby. 

---

Late one evening in early May, after a long day at work (which you had spent almost entirely on your feet) and a feeling of nausea that had lasted all day, you dig through Spencer’s side of the closet and grab one of his cardigans. You pull it on, wrapping around you as well as you can with your growing belly getting in the way. 

You grab one of the many books resting on Spencer’s side table, taking it with you as you head to the living room. You pull the afghan blanket off of the back of the leather wingback, carrying it with you as you move to the dark leather couch. You get comfortable, wrapping the blanket around your legs and waist before opening the random book you had grabbed.

It isn’t long before the story has your eyelids drooping and your muscles relaxing, giving into the cloud of exhaustion that hung over you. The book, forgotten and half-open, falling to the floor doesn’t wake you, and neither does your cell phone, distant and tinny, as it rings from the bedroom. You don’t wake at the jingling of a key in the lock or the opening of the apartment door. However, the heavy thud that follows the apartment door falling shut has you jerking awake, one hand coming to rest on the swell of your abdomen, the other on the back of the couch. You struggle a bit to sit up, but when you do, after taking a moment to study the intruder, you realize it’s Spencer.

“Spencer?” You whisper, moving slowly from the couch, not entirely sure if he was real or a figment of your imagination. Either way, you didn’t want to scare him away. You stop when you are a foot from him. You search his light brown, almost hazel eyes, the pain and darkness within them, swirling around and hardening his expression. You tentatively reach out with your hand to caress his face. Your fingers slowly graze his stubble covered jaw before you move to rest it against his cheek. 

He leans into your touch, bringing his large, rough hand up to cover yours. Your eyes fill with tears, causing your view of him to become blurry and before you can stop yourself, you are throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can get. 

He is quick to return the hug, but after a brief moment, he becomes stiff, his arms sliding loosely down your back. You step back, feeling hurt and confused at his sudden rejection of your affection.

“What’s wrong?” You murmur as you roughly wipe a hand across your face, trying to get rid of the tears that were running down your face. 

“You’re pregnant.” He states, his eyes no longer looking at your face, but instead, your belly.

Your heart beats faster, a rush of excitement going through you. This was it, the moment you’d been waiting for. You’d finally get to tell Spencer that he was going to be a father.

“Spencer, it’s ours.” You answer softly, gently taking his hand in yours and placing right above where the baby typically kicked. “You’re going to be a father.” 

“I-I am?” He questions in disbelief. His hand, which had been rigidly resting on your belly, slowly relaxes just as the baby kicks. He jerks his hand away, stepping back and bumping into the door. He brings his hands up, pushing them into his hair. His fingers grip onto the long, curly locks as uses his palms to cover his eyes. 

“No, this isn’t happening, it’s a dream. I don’t deserve this.” He is rambling now as he slowly slides down the door, landing in a sitting position. His face is still covered with his hands as he continues to ramble. “This isn’t real. I don’t deserve this.” 

“Spencer?” You murmur, keeping your voice low, but audible as you kneel down beside him. You place a gentle hand on his arm, afraid that your touch might startle him. He doesn’t move as he continues to talk to himself. You bring your other hand up to cradle his still covered face. You stay this way for a long time, holding him as much as he’ll allow in his closed off position. Eventually, he stops muttering to himself and is quiet. You shift then, until you're sitting next to him against the door. 

“Lie down, Spencer.” You whisper softly, brushing a lock of his hair back away from his face when he turned to face you. You slide your hand from his hair and over his shoulder, gently pulling him down towards you. He didn’t resist, placing his head in your lap and allowing you to run your fingers through his hair. 

The two of you stay that way until your butt goes numb from sitting in the same place for so long. You squeeze Spencer’s shoulder with your hand to get his attention. “Let’s go to bed, Spence.” You say. He slowly gets up, offering you a hand as he does, avoiding any accidental brushing of your stomach as he did. You keep his hand in yours as he leads the way to the bedroom, only letting go when you move to your side of the bed and get in. He is gone for a few minutes, coming back with a low-slung pair of gray sweatpants and an old college T-shirt on. He gets in bed, but instead of wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close as he usually did, he simply laces his fingers through yours. 

Weeks pass this way, with you and Spencer going back to life as it was, or at least as much as the two of you could with Spencer’s new work schedule and the fact that you were getting closer and closer to your due date. The fact that things remained the same though, as they had been when Spencer arrived home for the first time, was what worried you.

Never once did Spencer engage in the conversations you started about the baby or the nursery you wanted in the small spare room across from the bedroom you and Spencer shared. Whenever you commented that the baby was kicking, he found some excuse to leave the room. He still only ever held your hand at night, completely avoiding your ever-growing belly both in bed and anywhere else. It was almost as if he was trying to pretend as if you weren’t actually pregnant, as if what was happening wasn’t reality.  Not only were you constantly uncomfortable, tired and just all around ready for the baby to come, but you were frustrated that Spencer still acted as if you weren’t pregnant, as if anytime within the next few weeks you wouldn’t be handed a newborn, making the two of you parents. You had finally had enough when you had mentioned going shopping for baby supplies about two weeks prior to your due date and he ignored you, continuing to wash the dishes. At first you thought he hadn’t heard you, so you repeat yourself, but when he acted much the same way a second time, you slam your hand on the table.

“Spencer, you can’t ignore this pregnancy. It may not be something you want right now, or ever, but you can’t just ignore it.” You snap at him, the irritation you had been feeling at his callous behavior finally surfacing. He doesn’t answer as he continues to wash the dishes from dinner. You can tell he heard you though, by the unnecessary sheer force he was using to scrub the plate in his hand.

“Spencer,” you pause, waiting until he is looking at you before continuing. “You have to find a way to accept it. This baby is coming.” Your tone is softer now, but your words don’t hold any less bite.

“I can’t accept it Y/N. Accepting it means it’s reality.” He lets out a harsh, joyless laugh. “And the reality is that I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a baby. And I definitely don’t deserve this life with you.” He is no longer facing you, rather his back is to you, his shoulders tensed and hunched. 

You place a tender hand on his elbow, wanting him to turn so you could see his face. Instead he roughly pulls his elbow out of your hold, flinging soapy water through the air before returning to the plate. “Spencer, look at me.” You try to speak clearly, steadily, but your voice cracks, betraying the emotion behind your words. 

He does as you ask, but his face is twisted and dark in a way you had never seen before. “Damnit Y/N. You have no idea what I’ve done or who I am.” He is yelling at you now, waving a half washed dish to emphasize his point, causing you to take a step backwards. “You think I should be the father of that child,” he gestures wildly at your belly, “when you don’t even know who I am, what I am.” He drops the plate and the sponge, letting them clatter loudly against the metal basin of the sink, as he walks towards the front door of the apartment, his hands still dripping wet. 

“Where are you going?” Your words are barely audible as you try to force them past the growing lump in your throat. 

He ignores your question as he grabs his jacket from the coat rack by the door and leaves the apartment. The loud thud of the door closings clangs against your ears, the tears you had been trying to hold back freely falling now. You were beyond angry at him, despite knowing you shouldn’t be because he had gone through hell the past few months. You couldn’t bring yourself to wait for him to come back. You were tired of the constant bickering and the numerous different times he had chosen to ignore any mention of your pregnancy or the baby.

You quickly fill your duffle bag with the things you’d need for a few days as you called Penelope. The phone rings three times before she answers with a bright, cheery “hello, Garcia.” 

“Penelope, hey. It’s Y/N. Can I stay at your place for a few nights?” You ask as you zip your bag closed. “I need some space from Spencer.” 

“Of course girl. You’re welcome anytime.” She says warmly. “I’ll get the couch made up and Y/C/M queued up on the TV.”

“Thanks Penelope. I’ll see you soon.” You end the call and upon reaching the kitchen, you find a piece of paper and a pen.

Spencer,

I am going to stay with Penelope for a few days. I just need some space.

I’ll be back in a few days.

I love you.

Y/N

You magnet the note to the fridge, where Spencer will be able to find it. You then grab your bag and make your way out of the apartment and down to your car. The drive to Penelope’s doesn’t take long, and when you knock on her door, she is there, holding a pint of your favorite ice cream and the TV remote. “Come here girl.” She proclaimed, pulling you into a side hug. 

The two of you watched feel-good movies well into the night. It is really hard for you to get comfortable, despite being on Penelope’s comfortable sofa, but you chalk it up to being 38 weeks pregnant and partaking in a ‘girls’ sleepover’. When you finally become too tired to keep your eyes open, you rifle through your bag, finding your toothbrush and toothpaste. “I’m going to brush my teeth Penelope.” You say, standing up to go to the bathroom. A wet sensation washing all down your legs has your frozen in place. The pinching sensation in your back intensifies, causing you to sit back down. “Penelope..” You call through the pain. 

“Huh? Y/N?” Penelope answers groggily, sitting up from her relaxed position on the oversized chair. If the situation weren’t so serious, you’d be laughing at the way her hair was standing up in random directions.

“Penelope, I think I need to go to the hospital.” You say, letting out a breath as the pain subsided. She is at your side within moments. “What’s wrong? Is it-oh.” Penelope stops as she sees the evidence of your leaking amniotic fluid on pants. “Let’s go Y/N. We’ve got a baby Reid on the way.” She says cheerily, helping you up. She grabs your bag, which was sitting by the door and helps you out to your car, opening the passenger door for you. The drive to the hospital goes much slower than you would like as a combination of traffic and increasing contractions makes the thirty minute drive feel twice as long. 

Upon reaching the emergency room, you are wheeled into a private birthing room with Penelope following closely behind. She stays with you throughout the next six hours of labor, leaving only once near the end. The closer the birth of your child gets, the foggier you feel. At one point, someone else enters the room, hovering near the head of your bed, but you can’t focus enough to see who it is.

After six hours and twenty-eight minutes of labor, you give birth to a beautiful baby girl. Shortly after birth, she is placed on your chest, a bright pink and green striped blanket placed over her backside. You laugh through the tears as you look into her eyes for the first time, an overwhelming feeling of love overtaking you. The hustle and clatter of the doctors around you slowly fade away as you get lost looking at the face of your newborn daughter.

“Y/N, she’s…” Spencer’s voice startles you as he trails off, causing you to take in his lanky form, framed by the hospital room door. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

“This baby, she’s a piece of you and me and if all I’ll ever get is a piece of you, then I’ll be happy. I love you and I want this life with you, but I can’t force you to love us either Spencer.” You pause, wiping away the tears falling down your face in frustration. “No matter what you think Spencer, I won’t ever stop loving you, just as this little girl won’t ever go a day without knowing who her father truly is. A kind, compassionate man who gave himself wholly and completely for the people he loved, regardless of what that meant for him. That’s who her father is.” You are looking at the baby in your arms now, her bright wide-eyed look bringing a small smile to your face.

You aren’t paying enough attention to Spencer to realize that he had come closer, almost to your bed, and was now staring at the girl in your arms in amazement. “She’s so small.” His words are thick with emotion and cause you to lift your head to look at him. His hazel eyes are glistening with unshed tears as he stares at his daughter.

“Do you want to hold her?” You question, slowly moving her towards his hands, which were hanging awkwardly out in front of him, as if he had anticipated your question. He hesitates a moment before nodding so you place her in his arms.

He cradles her against his chest, holding her as if she was made of glass. His eyes never stray from her face as they study her features, almost as if he was memorizing what she looked like in case he never got to see her again. You lean back against the stiffly starched hospital pillows as you watch them, exhaustion pulling at you.

“You would never have to force me to love her, or you.” His words snap you from the light doze you had fallen into. He is no longer standing as he watches the baby in his arms, now he is sitting in the chair next to your bed, the baby sleeping soundly in his arms. His eyes bore into yours as if he is trying to tell you with his eyes what he was struggling to with his words. 

“I have never stopped loving you.” He looks down at the baby girl in his arms, running a gentle finger over her small cheek. “I just don’t understand what I did to deserve this, to deserve you and her.”

His words break your heart and you place a hand on his knee. “Spencer, of all the people in the world, you deserve this. You deserve love and a family. You do. And I’ll be here, no, we’ll be here everyday to remind you, of who you are and what you do deserve.” You whisper, squeezing his knee as you look at him through teary eyes. 

He leans forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Thank you.” Those two words, uttered softly near your ear, hold more meaning than the typical words of gratitude and they meant the world to you. They meant he would stay, even if it wasn’t always easy, even if it wasn’t always what he felt he deserved, he would stay.

Tagging: @twilightlover2007 @brandydel @thisiscalm-andits-doctor (I added a few more of you who liked the post I made about this fic. I hope that’s okay!) @aaronhotchnerr @emofairyprincessofarkansas @sunflowersandotherthings @impala1967dwinchester 

[messy-nonbinary]

Monophobia(3/?)

Monophobia (noun) - An irrational or disproportionate fear of being alone.

TW: Dark!Loki; alcohol; drinking/getting drunk; mention of hangover; gaslighting; manipulation; Minors DNI; social media au; let me know if I need more!!

Paring: Dark!Loki x gn!reader

Summary: You decided to meet up with Loki, which leads to more drinking...

a/n- This chapter is mainly written out!! Also, sorry it took so fucking long.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

*By clicking “Keep reading” you are confirming that you are of legal age(18+) and you have read all the content warnings and are okay with the content you are about to consume. I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY CONTENT READ BY MINORS*

You woke up around 11 with a massive hangover. What were you thinking? Drinking? At least it gave your mind a distraction. You didn’t really remember much from last night other than the scolding that Wanda had given you.

You heard a knock at your door. You hadn’t even realized you were back in your room. “What?” You groaned. “Just wanted to know if you were awake.” Wade said, opening your door. He turned on the light and you hissed, covering your head with the blanket. “Wade! My eyes!”

“My bad. Forgot that you were hungover.” You peeked your head out, allowing your eyes to adjust before throwing a pillow at Wade. “Hey! I was just bringing you some pain meds!” You rolled your eyes, taking the pill bottle from him. “Thanks.” He nodded before asking if you needed anything else. You told him no and he left, taking your car, telling you he’d be gone for about an hour or two.

Picking up your phone, you scrolled through your social media checking to see if you made any drunk posts. The one you did make, you deleted and then moved onto your texts.

Before you decided to get sober, your drinking was out of control. Mainly caused by the constant partying Loki subjected you to while together. Whenever you did get drunk, you always acted a fool of yourself, it was guaranteed. It was probably due to the overconfidence you got from drinking- finally being free of all the doubts in your mind.

You stopped when you noticed the last text you sent was to Loki. “Shit..” You muttered to yourself after reading the messages.

You thought about what you had agreed to in your drunken state. Maybe you should go?

Why were you entertaining this asshole?

But then again, you couldn’t help but recall the events of last night and find yourself thinking that maybe he was right.

Wanda was extremely upset and she and Pietro went out of their way to come to your home. They shouldn’t have to feel like they have to take care of you.

They shouldn't have to worry about you every two seconds. They have their own lives to worry about. What happens when they leave you all alone? You'll have no one.

You decided that you would hear what Loki had to say.

You picked out a casual outfit and waited for Loki. He texted you, telling you he was outside. After gathering your courage, you left, getting into Loki’s car. You looked at Loki and noticed he was wearing his black suit. The look you received from him made you feel small and you wanted to curl in on yourself, like you had done something wrong. It was always like that with him.

Maybe this was a bad idea..

You looked away from him quickly, unsure of what to say. “I’m glad you decided to meet with me.” Loki said, driving off. “How have you been?” You chewed on the inside of your lip, a nervous habit you picked up whenever you were around Loki. “Well- I guess.” Loki hummed at your response. The rest of the car ride was silent up until you made it to wherever Loki had planned to drive. “Where are we?” You asked.

“My home.” Your eyes widened. You thought he was going to take you out somewhere in public, not bring you to the seclusion of his home. “I don’t- Maybe you should just take me back-”

“What? You make me waste gas to come pick you up and drive you here just so you can make me drive you back home?”

“No! That’s not what I meant it’s just-” You stopped yourself. Arguing would be futile at this point. You had agreed to go. So, you should just toughen out. “Nevermind.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt. The two of you got out of the car and Loki led you inside his home.

The inside of his home was very modern and sleek, nothing out of place. You didn’t know what Loki did for money these days, but you definitely knew he had to be doing well to afford something like this.

Loki led you to his living room, telling you to sit on the couch and wait for him. He came back with two glasses and a bottle of wine in his hand. He poured some and handed one to you. 

“Oh I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t drink.” You declined. “Oh come on. You were just drinking yesterday.” He said, eyes narrowed. “I know but-” Before you could finish, Loki had grabbed your hand and placed the glass in it. “Drink.” He demanded. “You need to loosen up.”

You stare hesitantly at the cup before eventually taking a drink. Loki smiled at you and took a seat next to you. Though a bit too close for your own comfort.

“When did you move back to New York?” You asked, too scared to ask the real reason he wanted you here. “About a month ago.” He said, taking a sip of his wine and encouraging you to do the same. At least the wine was giving you the liquid courage you needed to ask what was on your mind. “Loki, what did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” All that was running through your mind was skepticism. That’s it?

“What was with the text messages?” Loki laughed slightly at your question. “I thought I’d just have some fun. Did you not enjoy our little game that you played so well?” You shook your head. “You should’ve just said it was you.”

“I had to speak with you somehow. And if I just came right out and said it you would’ve pushed me away like you always do.”

“I don’t push you away.” You said, confused. “Of course you do. You either push everyone away or you force them to listen to your problems to no end.”

“What are you-”

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you keep acting like this and you’ll end up losing all of your friends. They don’t like babysitting you.”

Loki continued to make you doubt your relationships with your friends and you continued to listen and drink. You hadn’t noticed but you were drinking a lot more than Loki was, and before you knew it, you were drunk and barely coherent.

It was as if time was jumping and the next thing you felt was Loki carrying you, probably due to the fact you could barely walk without running into something. You felt the familiarity of the car and you felt Loki put the seatbelt on you.

He drove you back home and before telling you to get out, he placed a quick, but firm, kiss on your lips.

You stumbled to your front door, looking for your keys in your bag. Eventually you gave up, and leaned up against the door, causing a thud, before slumping down to floor. You were about to fall asleep before the door swung open, causing you to fall inside.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N!” Wade yelled, helping you inside. Once you were inside and on the couch, Wade closed the door and immediately came to your aid. “What happened? Where have you been?” In your drunken state, you weren’t thinking properly and you wrapped your arms around Wade. “Been out-” Wade tried to pry himself away from you but you held on. “You got any more wine here?”

“Y/N! No! Where were you?”

“Was with someone-” Your words were slurred but Wade was able to make out what you were saying. “Who?” Wade finally managed to escape your grasp and you fell to the couch, resting your head on the armrest. “Lokii..” You mumbled.

Wade froze at your words and immediately texted Wanda. He got you some water and convinced you to take a nap while he waited for Wanda to respond.

Monophobia Taglist:@wrendermeuseless @rocketxgirl​ 

[catrasredemption-moved]

I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do��people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

[sweetdreamhellofanight]

New Kid (part 2)

Timothy Thatcher x Reader x Tyler Rust Warnings: Smut (18+) Word Count: 2,353 Summary: Part 2 because I got too excited and couldn’t wait to post it later

“You made it!” Tyler greeted you as you entered. You smiled, but looked around him at the others. Most everyone from the locker rooms were there, but you still hadn’t found Tim. 

He had agreed to meet you there separately. No one knew about you two, and neither of you were sure you wanted anyone to just yet. 

“Course I did,” you finally said, “thanks for the invite.” 

He nodded, handing you a drink. You followed him back to where the others were, mostly from your training sessions. 

Marcel stopped by, if only to flirt with you for a few minutes while you ignored him, watching as he floundered after getting no response from you. It was only then that you smiled at him, his cue to leave. 

But as the night went on, Tyler moved closer to you, his voice softening as the conversation moved from the group to just you two, until it was just the two of you at the big table, talking quietly with one another. 

“Did Thatcher give you a lot of shit for class yesterday?” he asked, finally. 

It was the first time you two had spoken about work since you’d arrived, and it caught you off guard. 

“No, why? Did he say something to you?” you asked. 

He rolled his eyes, but smiled, 

“Just that I was slowing you down,” he said. 

You frowned, but tried to play it off. You opened your mouth to speak when you felt a hand on your shoulder, and the chair beside you screeching as it was pulled out, 

“Been looking for you, doll,” Tim’s voice came, his arm settling around you. “Rust,” he greeted. 

“Thatcher,” he replied. 

“I was looking for you, I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, turning to him. He smiled wide, 

“Saw Marcel sulking and followed the direction of his tears,” he said. You rolled your eyes, 

“You’d think ten times without a response and he’d get the hint,” you said. Tim kissed you on the cheek and made you blush. You two hadn’t had very many public dates, and even fewer public moments of affection, and part of you knew it was because Tyler was already sitting close to you, but you secretly loved it. 

Tyler moved back in his seat, focusing on his drink in hand, 

“You two were good yesterday,” Tim said, finally, looking at Tyler. 

“Too slow, apparently,” he mumbled. 

“No, she was still getting used to you,” he said. 

Color rose in Tyler’s cheeks, but you watched Tim, confused at his tactic here. 

“A few more sessions and I’ll be as good with her as you are,” he said, pointedly. 

Tim laughed, louder than he needed to, 

“Yeah I bet you will,” he said. 

“I should go,” Tyler mumbled, getting ready to stand up, 

“No!” you said, reaching out for him. 

He looked between you and Tim, just as confused now, 

“You should stay,” you said. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, eyes on Tim, now. 

“Why not?” Tim asked. 

Now he really didn’t know what to say, 

“Stay, Tyler,” you said, softly, resting a hand on his arm. He sat down, watching you through narrowed eyes, and you didn’t blame him. Even you weren’t sure what Tim was trying to do here. 

“I didn’t realize you two were...you know…” he started, pointing at you both. Tim’s arm around you tightened a little bit and you almost hated how turned on you were. 

“Only a little while now,” Tim said. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“Don’t be. You’ve obviously got her attention,” Tim said, taking another swig of his drink before setting it down, loudly. 

You eyed him and Tim only winked at you. Next to you, Tyler’s cheeks turned bright red. 

“Let’s see you try and keep it,” Tim added, pulling you by your chin to kiss you. 

The shock of how public it was, and how deeply he kissed you wore off as you felt his hand slide into your hair. 

He tugged on it and you had to stop yourself from moaning right there in the middle of the bar, but Tim pulled back before you could go any further. 

“I’ll be in the car,” he said quietly, his hand still gripping your chin, turning it towards Tyler who sat there, his face hard to read. 

You swallowed hard, staring at Tyler now. Behind him, you could see Marcel watching you from the other side of the bar, shock coloring his face, and you smiled at him. At least he’d noticed how Tim had kissed you. 

And now you knew exactly what to do. 

You leaned forward and kissed him softly, relieved when he kissed you back, and surprised at how enthusiastic he was, at that. 

“Come with me,” you whispered against his lips, taking him by the hand. 

***

Tim made you drive back. 

Which was a mistake he realized only when you practically sped through the streets. But it wasn’t your fault because all you could think about was getting home, and getting them both inside with you. 

Your head was spinning, even in the elevator ride up as Tim held you tight by the waist, standing between you and Tyler, the tension seemingly only rising in you given the way Tim was whistling. 

He was enjoying this too much and it was driving you mad. 

Finally, inside your apartment, only after Tim took the keys from you since your hands were shaking too much, you slammed the door shut and stared at the two of them. 

Tim was calm, hands in his pockets, making himself comfortable on your couch, like most evenings. 

Tyler was trying to stay cool in front of you two, hands folded behind his back, 

You took a deep breath and got ready to speak but Tim spoke first, 

“I’ve got all night, doll,” he said, “start with him.” 

It seemed, for a moment, Tyler stopped breathing, but he straightened his posture even more, somehow, and nodded.

You smiled at Tim first. There was something new about him tonight, the way he was so ready to share you with someone else, to just watch you. He was being cockier than usual, more commanding, and all of it washed away the worry you’d been holding onto since the bar. 

You took a step towards Tyler and extended a hand to him, 

“Come here,” you said, quietly, leading him to the couch. 

You sat with your back to Tim, and with Tyler in front of you, you had to get on your knees to reach him. 

You were gentle with him. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him, so you were soft with a hand on his cheek, with your lips ghosting over his, 

“Ready?” you whispered. 

His eyes closed and he nodded, sighing into you.

You kissed him first, again, but this time he was rougher. 

Back at the bar he had been hesitant, almost scared to kiss you back but now, he cupped your cheeks and kissed you harder. It caught you by surprise how rough he was that you nearly fell on top of him. His hands moved down your sides, hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You brought a hand in his hair, pulling it out of the loose bun, running a hand through his soft, silky hair. 

Behind you, you could feel Tim’s hands on your waist, pulling you back, 

“My turn,” he whispered, pulling you towards him. Tyler gasped at the sudden movement, while your moans were muffled by Tim’s mouth, his hand snaking its way up your shirt. 

Tim bit your bottom lip and sucked on it, but you pulled back just long enough to say,

“Shirts off, both of you.” 

It was as though they were both competing with each other now, taking their shirts off quickly and tossing them aside. 

You stood and led both of them to the bedroom, Tim in front of you, while Tyler tried to get your shirt off. 

Tim pulled you in first, kissing you just as hard as before, with Tyler brushing your hair to the side and kissing your neck, unhooking your bra in the process. 

You made quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside as you got their jeans off. 

“Here,” Tim said, tossing a condom at you, “don’t want him thinking this is gonna be a regular thing.” 

You pouted at him, but Tim only kissed you before pushing you down onto the bed. 

“Rules are rules, darling,” he whispered. 

You nodded and handed it wordlessly to Tyler. 

Tim positioned you in front of him on the bed, on your knees as he palmed himself over his boxers, 

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, grabbing you by the chin again, “You wanted to make me jealous with him?” 

You shook your head but his grip only tightened, 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he whispered, leaning down to you. Behind you, you felt Tyler press himself against you, kissing down your back as he rubbed his length against you. 

You didn’t even have time to process the fact that this was the first time Tim had ever told you he loved you, because all you could focus on was his cock in your mouth and Tyler’s mouth on your cunt. 

Tim gripped your hair tight as he thrusted in you, Tyler’s tongue dragging over you slowly. 

The mixing sensations made you lose all coherent thought. You shut your eyes and all you could focus on was the two men on either side of you, already pushing you to your limits. 

Tim pushed himself deeper inside you, until your nose was pressed up against him, making you choke, tears running down your cheek. 

Behind you, Tyler finally pushed inside you, slowly filling you up more than you’d imagined. He stayed like that for a moment, letting you adjust to him before pulling out. Before he was completely out, he pushed back inside you, hard, making you moan against Tim’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Tim groaned, his hand tightening in your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that,” he said, dropping his head back. 

It wasn’t long before they’d both built up a rhythm over you, moving almost in sync. You found part of it funny, as mad as he made Tim, there was no denying how similar they were. 

But you didn’t think about it for long because that was a door you didn’t need to open right now. Instead, you let them both fill you up. 

You pulled back just long enough to moan Tyler’s name, but looking up at Tim you knew he didn’t like that. He leaned down to kiss you again, but this time, he pulled you towards him. 

“Does he make you feel good?” Tim asked. 

You nodded, one hand reaching out for Tyler. He pressed himself against you, again, kissing the base of your neck. 

“Did he make you cum?” he asked. 

You nodded again, having lost track of your orgasms at this point. 

Tim looked at Tyler over your shoulders, and smiled at you, 

“Then it’s time to remind him that you’re mine,” he said. He motioned for Tyler to move back, and he did so. 

Tim laid you on your back, climbing on top of you, lining the tip of his cock at your entrance, teasing you for a moment. 

You closed your eyes, a small whine escaping you as Tim moved over you, pinning your hands above your head, 

“God you’re beautiful,” he whispered, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. Finally, he pushed inside you, but moved slower than you expected. 

You and Tim knew each other too well. 

He knew where to kiss you to make you moan, he knew where to hold you so you stayed down, and he knew how to fuck you just right. 

All it took was a few full, deep strokes from him until you came for him, but even then he wasn’t done. With another push, you felt him come inside you, hot and thick, making you cry out for him, arching your back up into him, your toes curling as he kissed you hard. 

He pulled back as you dropped back against the bed, breathing heavy. 

Tim untangled himself from you and slipped into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. 

Next to you, you took Tyler’s hand in yours, tugging at it until he looked at you, 

“That was…” Tyler started, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You smiled and pulled him down for a kiss, , 

“You were very good,” you said into his lips. 

He smiled against you, 

“Thanks for the invite,” he replied. 

“My pleasure.” 

“I should…” he started, eyes flickering between you and the bathroom door, “I should get going.” 

Your smile fell, but you nodded, 

“Yeah,” you said. “Do you need a ride?” you asked. He shook his head, 

“I’m not far,” he replied, kissing you again as he got off the bed.  

“Another time, then?” you asked. 

He laughed, and you were still struck by how sweet he was. 

“Maybe,” he said, pulling his clothes back on. “Thanks again, sunshine, you were wonderful.” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm as he winked at you, watching him until he was out of the apartment. 

When the front door shut, the bathroom door opened, and Tim leaned against the doorframe, watching you, the two of you bared in front of each other. 

He smiled softly at you, 

“New kid gone?” he asked. 

You rolled your eyes, 

“His name is Tyler,” you corrected, “and yes. He just left.” 

“Good, now I’ve got you all to myself again,” he said, coming to lay beside you. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your shoulder.

You curled into him, and closed your eyes. 

“Tim?” you asked, after a moment. 

“Hm?” he replied. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered. 

He lifted your head up to look at him, gently this time, and kissed you. 

“You’re mine, doll,” he whispered. 

“And you’re mine,” you replied, wrapping your arms tighter around him. 

[ahnsael]

My car is finally fixed!

Went to a local Auto Zone that advertises free tests of batteries, alternators, etc to diagnose problems like mine. It was a REAL quick test. “Yup, that battery is DEAD.”

He explained that new cars usually come with cheap batteries, and you’re lucky to get three years out of them (I got about 3½ out of mine).

I told him we did the same thing at Disneyland -- when you buy a light-up toy, odds are it comes with “Rocket” brand batteries, which we got (at the time) for about 1¢ each. And they would last maybe an hour or two (if you were lucky) before you’d notice your toy getting dimmer (granted, we brought LOTS of spare batteries out with us to sell these toys, so any guest that came up to say their toy didn’t last long, I’d explain that the batteries are indeed cheap and don’t last long but when they put better batteries in, the toy will last. And then I’d give them enough batteries to change them out four more times so the toy would last them through the next couple nights of use.

I spent an extra $30 (in theory -- read on) to get a better AGM battery (at least it’s better for my situation -- they tend to recharge faster and withstand extreme hot and cold temperatures, unlike normal car batteries -- and since most of my trips are four miles to or from work, that wasn’t long enough to recharge what battery power I spent on starting the car by the time I reached my destination. And since I work graveyard, my car is outside in sub-freezing temperatures all night this time of year).

The guy said he wasn’t trying to upsell me (he was TOTALLY trying to upsell me), but when I went with the more expensive option (and after we talked Disney for a few minutes -- I’m telling you, once in a while being a former cast member still pays dividends) he asked if I was a veteran and I said “No, but he is” and pointed at my stepdad who was in the Army, and the guy took $20 off the price on the spot, and then he said that he’d take another $10 off if we left the old battery with them (which, THANK YOU, because I don’t want an old car battery to try and figure out how to get rid of).

So in agreeing to spend $30 extra without hemming and hawing over it (I had actually looked at batteries over the past couple days and knew that everything he was telling me matched up with what I had read about AGM batteries vs the standard wet cell battery), I got this battery for the same price as the other one that he had which would fit my car.

No more having to jump-start my car every time I go to work, recharge my jump starter while working, and jump start the car again to get home! No more worrying that I can’t stop at the store on the way home because the store isn’t going to charge my jump starter for me and I may not be able to start my car again to get home. No more leaving the car running when I run into a convenience store and hope I see it if someone tries to get in and drive away.

And now I ramble (yeah, yeah, I hear you shouting “too late, you’re already rambling!” at your computer screen), so here’s a “read more.” Some of you who have followed me for less than two years may learn something about me at the end of this post that may change your perception of me, but since tumblr is the only place I’ve talked (albeit sparsely) about this particular thing. Those of you who know me well already know this unless you missed those posts.

I’ll still keep the jumper in the car “just in case” -- I just have to charge it every 30 days to keep it up to snuff. Plus, it may come in handy if a guest at the casino needs a jump. Though I should check with my boss on that; it may bring up liability issues that we would rather not deal with. I have a feeling that would be a no-go. We’re not even allowed to administer first aid, or even have a first aid kit, because of the liability if we “treat” someone and it goes south somehow. We just call for the ambulance (which I’ve only had to do twice -- once for a lady who fell out of her chair [never did find out why but she was alert and coherent and walked to the ambulance but DID want their help] and once for a guest who had a stroke while at a machine -- and didn’t want the paramedics, he wanted to keep playing video keno with his left hand since he couldn’t lift his right one (we did get him on a gurney, but he literally did not stop playing until paramedics put him on the gurney, and then I cashed him out and gave his money to one of the medics to give to him -- if a friend of his hadn’t told me that he wasn’t okay I wouldn’t have known because other than playing with his left hand when the “play” button is on the right side, he looked okay, but after she told me he needed help and I wasn’t sure if he did I sat down and talked to him and it became very clear that she was right but without asking him about it I would have never realized what was going on, but because she told me that she thought he was having a stroke, and the 9-1-1 operator walking me through some tests which confirmed it, it was caught in time that there was no lasting damage).

But I digress with work stories.

Now to the thing newer people may not know about. As some of you know, I did something REALLY not-smart a couple years ago (I got behind the wheel of a car when I had no business being behind the wheel of a car), and I’ve been dealing with the consequences since then. Nothing too terrible, all things considered (thankfully I didn’t hurt anyone or cause any damage), and finishing the worst part by serving the rest of my 48-hour jail sentence was over in August of 2018. In February of 2019, I was freed of my obligation to attend counseling after the counselor signed off on me not being a continued danger and not likely to re-offend (which I WILL NOT do -- the consequences get worse with successive infractions, and just ONCE was enough to teach me that, even if I hadn’t felt awful for putting my community at risk, the punishment is NOT worth deciding to go to Burger King when I should NOT be driving to Burger King -- fun fact: the Auto Zone I was at today is next door to that very Burger King which I was leaving when I was pulled over).

In August of last year, I was done with “alternative sentencing.” What that was, was I had to call the probation arm of the Sheriff’s Department EVERY SINGLE MORNING to see whether or not they wanted to test me for alcohol in my system (the judge had ordered me to drink ZERO alcohol for a year -- not even NyQuil if I was sick). If they were to find alcohol in my pee test, I had a warrant issued for my arrest. Granted, in May of last year, the head probation officer told me that I didn’t have to call anymore -- but I was subject to search or testing at any time (and they did show up at my house a few times to make sure I was still complying -- they still had to monitor me, but I didn’t have to call anymore because I had earned a degree of trust with them; also they were genuinely nice people and I got along well with them, so our positive relationship may have entered into it as well; when I was officially released from their rolls of “people to watch over,” I went in the day after the judge’s order had expired to verify that I was done with them, and the head guy shook my hand, said “you’re off our rolls,” and admonished me: “Don’t come back”).

But then there was the year of having an interlock device in my car. I didn’t reinstate my suspended license until January of 1999, and that’s when the year (ordered in my August 1998 sentencing) kicked in. It’s not “wait a year and then reinstate your license without having to do this;” it’s “once you reinstate your license, you must have this device in your vehicle for a year from THEN”).

It’s actually been 13 months now. But I wasn’t sure about the process of getting it removed. I asked about it the month before my year was up at the place where I have to get it calibrated once a month, and they said to call the interlock company (this is a car audio place that also handles interlocks, but not the interlock company themselves), and they would tell me how to “petition the court” to get it removed.

I did more research and the interlock company says they need the “monitoring authority’s permission” to allow the interlock to be removed. But they don’t say who the “monitoring authority is” (which is understandable as they are a nationwide company and state laws differ but even when I found a page that broke down the removal process state-by-state, it didn’t say who my monitoring authority was or what kind of “permission” I needed to obtain or how to get it).

But yesterday morning, I emailed the interlock company and the DMV to ask them about the removal. Surprisingly, the DMV got back to me first (still haven’t heard back from SmartStart -- edit, yes I have, see below).

But it was a reply to my email address from a person in the “Drivers License Assessment Team” saying that they had looked at my record and that I was good to come in and get the interlock restriction removed, and that that should be enough for the interlock people.

And, as I was writing this, I got an email from SmartStart saying “Please be informed that removal authorization is not needed if you have had device installed (1) one year from date of when your restricted license was reinstatement.” Grammar aside (”when your license was reinstatement?”), this actually contradicts what the web site says. But I think I’m going to the DMV tomorrow morning to get my restriction removed, and then I’ll call the car accessories store that I’ve been using and make an appointment for its removal (I may have to call SmartStart and have THEM schedule the appointment -- I replied to SmartStart’s email asking with whom I make the appointment, so we’ll see if they replay today).

But the one other major stress in my life is going away. Not that I’m afraid “I may be too drunk to drive” because THAT IS NOT HAPPENING AGAIN but that it has occasional errors, gives me an “ABORT TAMPER” message (which means it thinks I tampered with it somehow) when temps get below 20º, sometimes reboots itself mid-drive (it will test me after about 10 minutes of driving after I start, then about every 45 minutes thereafter to make sure I’m not drinking WHILE I’m driving). When I leave work on a cold morning, I could be sitting in my car for 4-5 minutes before the thing is ready for me to breathe into it -- as I sit there shivering, because without the engine on, the fan isn’t blowing in heated air, it’s just blowing in outside sub-freezing air (and frosting my interior windows as much as it had been outside before I scraped the ice off while waiting for the interlock to warm up).

So that other major stress will be gone soon, too. And then that whole nasty experience is behind me after two years, as long as I’m never stupid enough to do it again. And I do NOT plan on that. My thing is that...I have a co-worker who I used to offer rides to once in a while (I’m off 30 minutes before him, but sometimes I stay and gamble for a bit). He walks a couple miles to/from work. But he doesn’t know about my DUI, and I don’t want him to know about it. I did give him a ride ONCE since then when weather was particularly nasty, but I wend out and started my car while he played a daily tournament, and by the time he got to my car I had gotten it started after passing the breathalyzer. Then I just hoped that it wouldn’t test me before we got to where he lives (I hid the interlock under my seat while he was in there). Fortunately, it didn’t request a re-test until a few minutes after I had dropped him off.

[dream-beyond-the-fantasy]

Prompt #17 - “I Can’t Sleep, Can I Stay Here?

Requested by @curiousdamage for Jimmy & Julie

A/N: Another drabble that ended up being longer than intended.  This is over 2000 words.  Some parts probably could or should have been cut out, but this is completely unedited.  It may end up as part of the larger work, Is This Love aka the Jimmy Fic.  I may or may not post this to AO3.  I did modify the quote/prompt to better suit the narrative.

It’s late.  He should be in bed by now.  But is he?  No.  Jimmy thinks that anxiety and adrenaline are keeping the exhaustion that he knows he should be feeling at bay.  He has spent the last two days working mostly from home and nearly rearranging his apartment to move Julie in.

Even before that, Jimmy has been driving himself crazy.  For the last three weeks, Jimmy felt like he has done everything and gone everywhere, even though he knows it isn’t accurate.  Since finding out that he was going to be a father, he has been in planning mode.  Jimmy decided that marriage and raising the baby with Julie would be best, as it would be easier to support them, especially if something were to happen to him.  He has met with officials at the Los Angeles County Clerk’s Office to find out about what is needed to apply for a marriage license.  He even checked what days each branch is available for civil marriages.  Jimmy wants to get married sooner rather than later, definitely before the baby is born and preferably before she starts showing too much.  This is mostly because he wants to avoid further embarrassment for both Julie and his parents, especially his very Catholic mother.  He has called his insurance provider to add Julie to his policy.  Jimmy even chatted up the women in his office to get some answers about how to find a good OB/GYN for Julie.  He’s called a few up, trying to see who could meet with her as soon as possible.  Julie’s prenatal care is a priority, even if she isn’t making it one.  But he should cut her some slack.  She was right in the middle of final exams until a few days ago.  Jimmy has made a list of items that he knows the baby will need (car seat, crib, stroller, high chair) and compared price tags for what appear to be the top brands in the department stores.

And that doesn’t even cover his reading list.  A self-imposed reading list.  The last day of November had been pretty depressing for Jimmy.  Thanksgiving dinner had turned into a disaster.  Julie hadn’t spoken to him for two days.  Nor would Johnny allow him to even try to talk to her.  In order to cheer himself up, Jimmy decided to stop at the bookstore to pick up the latest Stephen King and Wheel of Time books that he hasn’t had the chance to buy.  And yet, he felt himself drawn to the section where the pregnancy and parenting books were located.  Jimmy ended up buying a whole stack, completely ignoring the disapproving look on the lady at the checkout counter’s face when she noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

For the last two hours, Jimmy has been perusing one of the many pregnancy books.  There is a tentative knock at his bedroom door.  His eyes worriedly flick from the page to the door.  He lays What to Expect When You’re Expecting on his nightstand.  Jimmy scrambles to the door, taking a moment to compose himself before opening it.

Jimmy is greeted with the sight of Julie in a simple white cotton nightgown that falls right above her knees, her hair cascading over her shoulders, with one hand up, poised to knock once more.  She looks beautiful, he thinks.  By the look in her eyes, he clearly startled her.   She stares at him, entranced, her mouth agape, breath caught in her throat.  Julie’s eyes drink him in, trailing down…

Oh, right.  I’m only wearing boxers, Jimmy realizes, seeing his affect on her.

He clears his throat.  “Julie, my eyes are up here,” he teases her, using two fingers to tilt her chin up.  His blue eyes hold a mischievous glint with a playful grin to match.  Knowing that she’s been caught, Julie flushes a deep pink.  She turns away from him.

No.  Please, don’t look away.  Jimmy’s smile fades.  As she starts to back away, he steps out into the hall and reaches for her arm.

“Julie, wait!  Don’t go.  It was a bad joke, I know.  I’m sorry.”

She stops, peering at him through a curtain of dark hair.  Jimmy pulls her closer, brushing her hair from her face.

“Julie, look at me, please.  What is it?  What’s wrong?”

Finally meeting his eyes, she appears mildly confused.  “What?”

Jimmy leans forward, placing his hands on her shoulders.  He tries to ignore the knot that is forming in his stomach.  He wants to appear calm and not upset or increase any fears that Julie may already have.

“It’s late.  You wouldn’t be knocking on my door if something wasn’t wrong.  Are you okay?  A-are you feeling nauseous?  I-is there any pain or cramping?  Julie, if you thought you were having a miscarriage, you’d tell me, right?”

Her jaw drops.  She splutters a bit, trying to form a coherent thought or word.  Julie takes a moment to collect herself.  When she has recovered from her shock, Julie reaches up to caress Jimmy’s cheek.  Unshed tears are threatening to fall.

“You thought that I was losing the baby?  Oh, Jimmy.  I’m sorry that I made you think that, even for a second.  And of course, I would tell you!”

She takes his hand and places it on her bump.  “As far as I know, the baby and I are fine.  We’re okay.  Don’t worry.”

Jimmy looks from her to where his hand is situated over their unborn child.  He starts to smile again.  “Don’t worry?  Yeah, I think our days of worrying are just beginning.  And I don’t think we’ll stop after eighteen years.”

They share a little laugh.  Then he directs his attention back to Julie.  “So, why did you knock on my door?  You still haven’t told me.”

She clams up and avoids his eyes again.  Jimmy cocks an eyebrow.

“Julie.”

She cringes hearing the warning tone in his voice.  Julie shakes her head and starts to back away.  “I-it-it’s nothing,” she stammers.  “I, I’ll go back to my room.”  As she turns on her heel, Jimmy clasps her hands, pulling her back to him.

“Julie, please talk to me.”

She sighs in resignation.  Looking down, Julie replies, “It’s nothing.  You’ll think it’s silly, especially after what you were thinking.”

He runs his hands up and down her arms in a soothing manner.  “Just tell me,” Jimmy pleads.  “I promise I won’t laugh.  I won’t get upset.  Just talk to me, babe.”

She rolls her eyes, finally meeting his gaze.

“I can’t sleep.  Can I stay here, with you?”

Stunned, Jimmy blinks.  He can barely say one word: “What?”

“I can’t sleep.  It’s not for lack of trying, as I have for hours.  But I can’t sleep.  I don’t know how or why, but I just can’t.  I am tired and I know it.  I had no problem yesterday.  Of course, that could have been from the stress of finishing my exams, packing,  moving out of the dorms, and moving in here.  Whatever the reason, I can’t sleep and it’s driving me crazy!”

By this point, the poor girl is in tears.  Jimmy, taking pity on her, embraces Julie tightly, kissing the top of her head.

“I came to ask if I could sleep with you,” she continues.  “The best sleep that I’ve ever had has been when I’m in your arms.  I just really need you right now!”

At her words, Jimmy’s brows shoot up.  He flashes her a suggestive smile.  “Really?  All you had to do was ask.”

It is only then that Julie realizes what she said.  She flushes pink again, covering her face in embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she cries.

Jimmy laughs again as he pries her hands away.  “Julie, it’s okay.  And yes, you can stay.”  

He kisses Julie’s forehead before bringing her in for another hug.  She still looks miserable and embarrassed beyond belief, but it doesn’t stop her from leaning into the embrace and resting her head on his collarbone.

“When I say ‘sleep’, I actually mean sleep,” she mutters.  Julie turns to him.  “I’m serious about us not having sex again until after the wedding,” she says emphatically.  

“C’mon.”  Jimmy leads her to his room.

Walking into the bedroom, he spots What to Expect When You’re Expecting on his nightstand, causing him to freeze.  Knowing that she will see it the second she enters, Jimmy steps in front of her.  He honestly doesn’t know how Julie will react to him reading pregnancy books.  They haven’t talked too much about the pregnancy itself or how they intend to parent their child.  While he knows they need to discuss these things in depth, Jimmy knows that two sleep-deprived people should probably not have that kind of discussion in the middle of the night. 

“This is the first time you’ve been in here, right?”

Julie nods.

“Then you should check out my bookshelf.  I remember how much you love to read.  I know that you’ve perused most of my books in the living room.  But I keep my favorite books in here.”  As he talks, he ushers her to one side of the room.

While Julie is thumbing through his collection of books, Jimmy rushes over to his nightstand.  He tosses the book into the drawer.  Looking up to see that Julie is still occupied, he moves over to his dresser where the rest of the stack of pregnancy and parenting books sit.  He grabs an armful of them, hoping that she wouldn’t turn around.  Jimmy picks them up and throws them onto the floor of his closet.  As soon as he slides the door closed, he sees Julie behind him in the mirror.  He whirls around.

“Shit!”

Jimmy falls back against the glass, his hand over his heart.  Julie stares back at him, one eyebrow raised and her arms crossed.  She can’t keep the mix of suspicion and amusement off her face.

“A bit jumpy, aren’t you?  Shouldn’t I be the nervous one?”

Recovering from the surprise, Jimmy tries to walk her backward, in the direction of the bed.  Julie tries to look over his shoulder, hoping that he didn’t get the closet completely closed.  Indicating the closet with a nod of her head, she asks, “Whatcha hiding?”

“Nothing.”

Jimmy receives a skeptical look in reply.  He sighs, “I didn’t notice that my room was a bit of a mess.  So, I was putting a few things away before you saw them,” he lies, a bit more convincingly this time.

Julie looks around the room.  “You’re kidding, right?  What mess?  This has to be one of the cleanest bedrooms I’ve ever seen.  Especially for a guy’s room.”

Jimmy puts his hands on his hips.  “Oh, been in many boys’ rooms, have we?”

She shoots him a mock glare and gives him a light slap on the arm.  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.  You know I used to sleep in Johnny’s room sometimes when I was a kid.  Whether as a teenager or an adult, none of his rooms have looked this good.  And I was in Bobby’s room once.  It was very neat, but it didn’t look this nice.”

“What were you doing in Bobby’s room?  And did he know about it?”

Julie plays with a lock of her hair.  “Uh, I don’t remember.  I just know Becca wanted me to play lookout while we snuck into his room.”  She tilts her head to the side.  “No, I don’t he ever found out,” she yawns.

Jimmy smiles at her.  “Okay, I think it’s time you went to bed.”  He pulls back the covers, lifting them for her to get in.  Julie can smell that he washed the sheets recently.  As she is getting comfortable and snuggling in, she notices that Jimmy isn’t getting into bed.  In fact, he is headed toward the door.

“Hey, where are you going?  Aren’t you going to stay with me?” she asks, pouting.

Jimmy stops, turning to face her.  He points up to the ceiling.  “I thought it might be easier for you to sleep with the lights off.”

“Oh!”  Embarrassed, Julie lies back and pulls the blanket up to cover her face.  Though muffled, she can hear his chuckling.  The next thing Julie knows, he is climbing into bed beside her.  He pulls the blanket from her face, leaning over her.  She practically melts at the look of adoration that Jimmy gives her.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer to him.  Jimmy kisses her.

Within fifteen minutes, both are asleep.  Julie’s head has migrated from the pillow to his chest.  Jimmy has one arm holding her to him, while the other rests on the slight swell of her abdomen.

[pride-vns-blog]

LGBTQ VN Week: Day Four! (6/21)

Wow, we’re already at the fourth day of LGBTQ visual novel recommendations! You’ve probably seen this preface on previous parts of this list, but if you haven’t read my first post, that writeup’s “One note before we get started” section, explains more clearly what this list is and why I’m writing it!

Plenty of visual novels talk about sex and intimacy, so for today, I’ve set aside four with my personal favorite approaches to the topic — CODE:Phantasm’s 404 Error: Connection Not Found, parade’s No Thank You!!!, SugarScript’s Cute Demon Crashers, and Mitch Alexander’s Tusks: An Orc Dating Sim, plus a conversation with Mitch about his creative process on Tusks.

Head on in to hear about your little brother dyeing his hair pink, a truly inscrutable protagonist, freeloading demons playing Mario Kart, and inspirational Skyrim mods!

404 ERROR: CONNECTION NOT FOUND (CODE:PHANTASM)

Itchio Tagline: “Sometimes connecting to others is harder than loneliness.” Genre(s): Slice of life; drama. Release Date: July 30th, 2017 (demo); TBA (full version). Content Warnings: Text-only depiction of sex and sex work; adult content.

404 Error: Connection Not Found is the story of Ren Matsuura, a camboy who ran away from home after turning eighteen and supports himself financially through camming — but thanks to his agoraphobia and general anxiety, he rarely goes outside, to the point that he’s pared all his social connections down to casual conversations with his clients and lying to his younger brother Haru about what he does for a living. When his brother decides to come visit for the first time since Ren moved out, Ren is forced to confront the fact that his guilt and shame have driven him into a corner with no support system. In the span of the demo, he starts to try and reach out to the clients he has a more regular relationship with to prepare him for Haru’s eventual visit, ending on a cliffhanger that seems to be leading directly into the plotline of the main story.

This visual novel’s demo is the shortest of all the stories on my entire list, to my knowledge, but it’s also the most memorable demo I’ve played in a long, long while. As someone who’s had to contend with similar mental illnesses in the past — paranoia and agoraphobia unsurprisingly have a pretty high degree of comorbidity! — I felt like Ren’s slow struggle to make progress for the sake of his younger brother was written sincerely, thoughtfully, and believably in the timespan of a single demo playthrough. Ren can be funny, when he’s not spiraling internally, and his rocky progress at trying to talk to others more honestly is loaded with plenty of funny jokes and quips about his takes on things. He’s a sympathetic, well-rounded protagonist who comes across strongly in the demo alone, and I ended up really rooting for him to make it to a place where he was happier with his life.

There’s another aspect to the story that I ended up really liking, too: the fact that sex work, especially jobs like camming, can be extremely common among LGBTQ people who can’t support themselves financially in other ways. Ren can’t go outside and can’t interact with many people without severe, earth-shattering anxiety attacks (a few of which we see in the demo!), so this job is what he’s got. It’s a job that’s sustained him for years, and although it’s certainly fed into his own relative isolation, 404 Error seemed to walk that careful balance of making it explicit that it’s Ren’s own lack of steady support for his mental illness instead of the simple fact that he does sex work that causes his interpersonal problems. I’m optimistic about the remainder of the story’s handling of those kinds of things, too, because what was present in the demo was sympathetic and sincere! There’s not very many sex workers or camgirls/camboys in visual novels outside of an extremely tiny handful, let ones alone in conjunction to stories that acknowledge of the way LGBTQ people as a whole can struggle with more convential jobs, so Ren’s genuinely empathetic personality and the hope I have for his future makes me excited to see where CODE:Phantasm takes 404 Error from here.

404 Error: Connection Not Found’s free Yaoi Game Jam demo is available now, and you can follow the CODE:Phantasm team on Itch.io, Twitter, or Tumblr to stay updated on their progress with Ren’s story.

NO THANK YOU!!! (PARADE)

MangaGamer Tagline: “This summer vacation begins with a car accident...” Genre(s): Comedy; drama; mystery. Release Date: June 28, 2013 (Japanese); February 27, 2015 (English).  Content Warnings: Adult content; multiple sex scenes; frequent sexual harassment; blood; drugs; violence; death.

Right off the bat, I think parade’s debut visual novel (as a studio, at least) does a lot of interesting things and definitely seems to be aiming high with creating distinct, memorable stories. The art in No Thank You!!! is gorgeous, its voice acting is top-tier, a lot of the side characters are compelling even beyond the space or role the narrative gives them, and the love interests alone are all fully-realized characters with interesting stories. Romance option Ryu’s route, in particular, fleshes out the larger sense of mystery and the other characters to an astounding degree! That’s to say nothing of the most unique mechanic — which I mostly call the NTY!!! button — that offers you the chance to say “no thank you” in a variety of scenes without always telling you what it is you’re saying that to. It’s occasionally a little too easy to guess, but at certain points I ended up lulled into a false sense of security with that easiness that the game was all too ready to take advantage of with a much less obvious choice.

One of the sticking points with No Thank You!!! that I’ve seen other players express, on the other hand, is the way protagonist Haru is written. That’s not to say his writing specifically is bad — parade clearly had a vision in mind for Haru’s personality, and from his sketchy beginnings to his clearer end, he’s a coherent character with a consistent narrative. While the crux of the story is more insight into Haru, where he came from, and what the truth behind all those mysteries might be, though, Haru’s behavior still underpins a lot of what drives the romance routes forward. And his behavior... The official quote on his personality, “[s]exual harassment is an everyday activity for him,” can at times seem like it’s underselling exactly how often he tries to grab an ass. It’s no surprise that a fair few other players I’ve seen have walked away with pretty strong opinions on Haru as a character. (I’m personally not a huge fan.)

But to me, a divisive protagonist who you don’t actually fully understand as a character — Haru’s thoughts on a lot of key things are far less accessible than the likes of Aoba Seragaki or most Western M/M protagonists, which leaves you knowing most of his thoughts or feelings via his interactions from others — seems to go perfectly hand-in-hand with the way the visual novel as a whole operates. No Thank You!!! puts you at a distance by Haru’s viewpoint being occasionally “indecipherable” (to use the official phrasing), and then it throws you further with its sometimes-unpredictable NTY!!! button mechanic, but the strength of its other individual pieces taken together still sold me on it as both a solid set of mystery stories and an 18+ dating sim.

Also I really like Maki.

No Thank You!!! is available for a sale price of $19.95 on MangaGamer’s store (18+), and you can read more about parade’s story and characters on MangaGamer’s designated No Thank You!!! page (also 18+).

CUTE DEMON CRASHERS (SUGARSCRIPT)

Itchio Tagline: “A short and silly consent-friendly and sex-positive VN!” Genre(s): Modern fantasy. Release Date: April 7th, 2015 (Mirari and Akki’s routes); August 15th, 2015 (full version). Content Warnings: Multiple sex scenes; detailed uncensored nudity.

I don’t think I could sum up Cute Demon Crashers better than the Itch.io tagline does — it’s short, it’s hilarious, and it’s got an emphasis on consent that meshes perfectly with its goofy “a bunch of incubi and one succubus come to the mortal realm to have sex” plot. The characters are all charming and fit perfectly into its universe, with distinct personalities that come across clearly without ever feeling hamfisted in the limited time that the script lets you spend with them. Although this isn’t necessarily a romance game, especially given that incubi and succubi are “closer to what people know of as aromantic” according to the SugarScript FAQ, its cute, thoughtful writing and adorable design in everything from the characters to the user interface mean that there’s plenty of love infused in every aspect of Cute Demon Crashers.

Like yesterday’s We Know The Devil, Cute Demon Crashers is one of those visual novels with a distinct, memorable mechanic that almost placed it squarely in Tuesday’s creative design list. Cute Demon Crashers is one of the first visual novels — or, by my experience, the first altogether — to implement a mechanic specifically themed around stopping in the middle of sex. If you’re ever uncomfortable or you just plain want the scene to end, you can hit a button and protagonist Claire will talk with her partner to bring things to a close. (There’s also an option to just plain old not have sex with any of them, and spending time with the characters!) A lot of the dialogue in these scenes in particular is thoughtful, nuanced, and reads to me as being a pretty realistic depiction of how someone like Claire might ask those questions or express those kinds of concerns. 

The way Cute Demon Crashers handles intimacy and sexuality, by another measure, is one of those things that I think has also had a not-insignificant impact on the visual novel community as a whole; I’ve seen a fair number of people who’ve apparently never enjoyed an 18+ dating sim before talk about how its portrayal of sex resonated with them or brought them some measure of comfort. Because of the SugarScript team’s relative investment in the English-language visual novel scene as a whole, too — this project was born out of NaNoRenO and I’ve seen them promote development forum hub LemmaSoft or other small visual novels more than once — the compassion for the player that’s written into every aspect of Cute Demon Crashers seems to extend naturally to everyone else around the team in real life, which is something extremely special.

The entirety of Cute Demon Crashers is available now for free, and you can find out more information on its upcoming sequel (Cute Demon Crashers: Side B) on the SugarScript Twitter, Tumblr, and Itch.io!

Itchio Tagline: “GAY ORCS available in YOUR AREA.” Genre(s): Romance; fantasy; community building. Release Date: July 18th, 2015 (First Day demo); January 1st, 2018 (FUARLANG/full main story); TBA (individual route endings). Content Warnings: Adult content; sex; mentions of violence.

Mitch Alexander’s Tusks: The Orc Dating Sim, from head to toe, is one of my favorite depictions of sex and intimacy in video games — and with every gradual update, especially the most recent FUARLANG build that finished out the mai storyline, I’ve only become more sure of that. There’s an endearingly genuine quality to its art, character dialogue, and even in things like the NPC autonomy feature, where your companions have just as many chances to sway things like group votes or decide who’s on watch as you would without NPC autonomy being enabled. 

Interested to hear Mitch talk a little bit about his design process and the inspiration behind Tusks, I got in touch and asked him a few questions!

Thanks for taking the time for an interview, Mitch! While the title might be fairly self-explanatory, haha, how would you outline Tusks: An Orc Dating Sim in more detail to somebody new?

Tusks is a visual novel where the player joins a group at an annual orcish gathering, in a forest at the edge of a semi-mythical version of Scotland, and you then travel with this new found family and get to know them better. Most of the game is your group getting into adventures, talking to them one-on-one at camp at nighttime, and making decisions about how to go about your travels. The game's cast are all queer, and the game itself is an exploration of queer identity, community, history, and our relationship with the idea of monstrosity/Otherness.

I think it's fair to say that Tusks, as well as your larger body of work, deals a lot with intimacy and sexuality, especially the intersection between those two things; this is probably a question you've thought over yourself a fair bit, but what in particular interests you about those topics that drives you to explore them in Tusks and your other work?

Part of it is the fact that intimacy and sexuality are areas that can be massively important to queer people (especially since many of us are marginalised as a result of our sexuality being seen as deviant) but there aren't a lot of mainstream sources that play with intimacy and sexuality in relevant ways. And part of it is just because exploring sexuality for its own sake can be fun as well!

Definitely! There's always room for more fun with depictions of sexuality, haha. The premise for an all-orc dating sim is definitely a memorable one, and one you've fleshed out incredibly well with the thoughtfulness of your worldbuilding and character dynamics. What was the original inspiration that you built Tusks on, and what helped carry you across the finishing line of completing (for the most part) its story?

It was a lot of different threads coming together: I'd been playing a modded Skyrim save with an orc character who, in my head, was gay and had left his stronghold so to find other orcs like him and establish his own wee found family. That happened at the same time as me finding out about the NaNoReNo visual novel game jam, plus wanting to work on a game that actually put queer characters and discussions first and foremost rather than us just being a token presentation.

As for what carried me through, there was lots of things: the excitement of getting to tell stories that you just don't see in mainstream games, getting amazing feedback from players, and then at the end when I released the full main story on New Years', it was sheer bloody-mindedness.

There's a fair few interesting mechanics in Tusks, especially with regards to NPC autonomy; can you share a little bit of insight on why you decided to include those and how they function in the code?

NPC autonomy's a small but effective way of just slightly upsetting this idea that in visual novels, the player character gets to make all the decisions -- it automatically puts you in a decision-making leader role, and it's up to the writer then to narratively justify that -- which can be difficult if you're wanting to tell a story about a group of equal partners. So instead, NPC autonomy lets characters vote on things or lets characters potentially turn you down for romantic encounters.

It's an optional feature, so it's possible to play the game without it being on -- it just slightly changes the flow of the story and makes it seem a tad-bit more like you're part of a collective, if that makes sense.

Yeah, that makes sense! I think my playthroughs where NPC autonomy was on were definitely more interesting, by and large, because it really does add a lot to that sense of cooperation and community.

If you had to pick just one, what non-human (and non-orc) creature do you think more people should appreciate?

I'm really interested in exploring things with strong mythological connotations like minotaurs, since they're surrounded by particular ideas like labyrinths, being half-human and half-animal. I'd also really like to see someone explore the monstrousness of hags from [Dungeons and Dragons], because I think there's probably a way to talk about them and explore their relationships to femininity, presentation, glamour magick, witchcraft, and power.

Good choices! Those are both definitely really interesting ones. To wrap things up, are there any LGBTQ visual novels from other developers that you'd like to recommend?

I'd recommend checking out The Bitter Drop, by Isak Grozny; Ladykiller in a Bind by Christine Love, and We Know the Devil by Date Nighto!

Perfect! It's been a pleasure talking to you, Mitch, and I'm looking forward to your future projects.

Tusks: The Orc Dating Sim is available now for a reverse-sale price of $2.02, and you can support Mitch Alexander’s work on Patreon or follow his “nonsense” on Twitter and fully-released work on Itch.io!

[redbeardace]

Physical Health, Our Bodies, and Asexuality: Some Vignettes

This month’s Carnival Of Aces theme is “Physical Health and/or Our Bodies”.

I have a lot of scattered thoughts on this one, and I’m not even going to try to organize them into a coherent, connected post.  Instead, here are a series of postlets, vignettes on a theme.

“Men’s Health”

Whenever you hear about “Men’s Health”, they pretty much always mean erections.  Not heart disease prevention, not signs of testicular cancer, not handling depression.  Nope.  Erections.  What am I supposed to do with “man-boosting”, “performance-enhancing”, “energy-restoring” treatments?  Are you saying I’m not a man if I don’t care about that sort of thing?  because you certainly seem to be implying that everyone else isn’t manning it up to their full burly potential if they’re not using your “male enhancing” treatments.

Whatever that means.

Can you stop euphemizing this to death?  Can you just come out and say “Can’t get it up?  We’ll sell you things to help and might even be able to bill your insurance.”  It’ll be more direct about what you mean and it’ll be less insulting to those people for whom erections are not an indicator of manliness.

Is this asexuality or just not buying into the hype?  I don’t know.

Matters of Size

I’m supposed to care how big mine is, aren’t I?  What for?  I’ve never wanted anything down there to be bigger.  I’ve never felt superior to those with less or inferior to those with more.  Having 8 inches wouldn’t mean I’ll be able to easily reach items on the top shelf at the supermarket, and being three inches wouldn’t mean that traffic lights would turn red for me 37% more frequently.  So why should I care?

Yes, I’ve taken out a ruler.  Yes, I’ve compared to averages and standard deviations.  But that’s just nerdy curiosity. I’ve also wondered how common my eye color is and how rare freckles are.  It’s not a case of trying to prove that I mean something merely because of how much a dangly skin balloon will inflate.

Is this asexuality or just not buying into the hype?  I don’t know.

In The Way

Speaking of size, if it’s bigger, wouldn’t it just me more annoying at times?  I mean, it’s already annoying enough to occasionally feel a crushing when sitting, and for some reason no amount of adjustment can make it right.  Same body, same clothes, same seat, what the hell, you weren’t like this yesterday.  And people want less room in their pants for some reason?

I guess that’s more the testicles that are responsible for that happening, though.  I wish they were fully retractable on demand or detachable or something.   I wonder if I’d miss them if they were gone.  Not like I use them for much of anything.  They produce two things, one of which I know I don’t need, and the other I’m not really sure about…

Gonna Die Alone

I live alone.  That means I’m more likely to die earlier than someone who lives with someone else.  Maybe I’ll slip in the shower.  Maybe I’ll have a heart attack.  Maybe I’ll accidentally drill into a live electrical wire when I’m quake-proofing a bookcase.  These are all things that might be survivable if someone else were around.  But if I’m alone and incapacitated, that’s it.

But hey, I have automatic payments on my house being drawn from an account with a decent balance and I don’t have any pets.  I will be a legendary mummy man when they find me.  Ship me off to Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe on the Waterfront if that happens.

(Although, really, I think my parents and coworkers might notice that I’ve gone quiet and ruin the mummification process.  Spoilsports.)

Getaway Driver

The dentist gasses you and makes you too loopy to drive, so you need a driver to get you home afterwards.  I don’t have a driver.  Can’t go to the dentist.  That seems like a problem.

I’ve driven home half blind after an eye doctor dilated my pupils and let all the unfocused light from this section of the universe land directly on my retinas.  That seems like a problem.

I’ve driven home while largely unable to move my right arm several times.  Once after a blood draw went wrong, and once after a physical therapist had me perform an action then laughed at me when I probably tore my rotator cuff right there in the office.  That seems like a problem.

Do I Have Sleep Apnea?

I don’t know.  I have no way to tell.  Am I tired because I stop breathing at night or because I stay up too late or because my bed is terrible?  I don’t know.

Don’t Touch Me

I’m not really a fan of being touched.  There are a few areas where I’ll allow it, but I’m pretty much never comfortable with it.  Part of it is that tickling is torture and I have a constant fear that pretty much any type of touch will turn into a tickle, whether intentional or not.  Part of it is that I don’t understand your intentions.  And part of it is that I just don’t seem to respond to touching the same way others do.  A massage makes me tense, for example.  I’m not really a hugger, but a large part of that is that I’m not the same size as anyone else so there’s really no way for it to be done that isn’t completely awkward and where are you supposed to put your hands, anyway.

And that’s just non-sexual touch I’m talking about there.

I have limited experience with sexual touch, but it mostly follows the same pattern.  Caresses were more nerve-wracking than pleasant, and a full-on, skin-contact, hand-in-my-pants consensual grope just felt robotic and weird, rather than arousing.

Viagra

I don’t need it for anything, but I am curious what it’s like.  Is it different?

Doctors

I’ve never mentioned being asexual to a doctor.  Doesn’t seem particularly relevant.  I know I had to fill out “The Questionnaire” which didn’t have a box for me to check.  I don’t think they even bothered reading it anyway.

I am tempted to stealthily leave some “What is Asexuality?” pamphlets in waiting rooms, though…

When I was a teenager, I did have a cardiologist tell me that if I got a girlfriend, that it would be okay if I you-know-what.  My heart was not why I wouldn’t really want to you-know-what.

I am silently thankful when a doctor’s visit does not involve anything downstairs.  I don’t understand why.  If I turned my head and coughed and found something, wouldn’t that be important?  If they squeezed and rolled and came across a lump, wouldn’t that be good to know about?  

“Sex is Healthy!”

They say sex is healthy, that orgasms are a wonder drug, that ejaculation will save your life.  But…  Really?

Sex is exercise that burns calories, they say.  They claim it burns about 100 calories.  Leaving aside the fact that it would vary so ridiculously wildly based on what you’re doing (Lying back and thinking of England would burn far less than an acrobatic jackhammer pantomime, for example), 100 calories is…

Less than shopping with a cart.  Less than gardening.  Less than washing your car.  Less than golfing.  About the same as cooking.  100 calories is what’s in one of those mini packs of cookies that doesn’t have nearly enough cookies.

So yeah, it’s such great exercise there.

Sex reduces stress, improves your mood, gives your relationship a boost, they say.  Okay, sure.  If you like doing it, then yes, maybe it does.  Doing things you like tends to make you happier and less stressed.  Doing things you like with someone else who also likes doing the same thing will probably improve that relationship.  But if you’re not a fan?  It’s going to be stressful, it’s going to make you feel terrible, and it’s going to strain your relationship.  Because doing things you don’t like tends to be stressful, tends to make you irritable, and doing something you dislike with someone else, particularly if it’s at their urging, is probably not going to help that relationship.

Orgasms prevent prostate cancer, they say.  I think the studies on this were conflicting, but okay, let’s be optimistic and take it as true.  About half of you don’t have a prostate, so you’re not going to get prostate cancer.  For the rest of you, there is an 89% chance that you’re not going to get prostate cancer, and a 97.6% chance that you’re not going to die from it.  Prostate cancer has one of the highest five year survival rates out of all forms of cancer.  So, it’s already a fairly low risk to begin with.  But, it’s not zero, so if the risk can be decreased, that could be a good thing.  But here’s what the articles don’t tell you:  The baseline cancer rate in the study was the people who had 4-7 ejaculations per month.  To get the “20% reduction” that the stories claim, you’d have to ejaculate more than 21 times a month, which is a lot of times if you hate doing it.  But the people who had 0-3 ejaculations per month were the second lowest risk in the study!  They had a 10% reduction compared to the baseline!  So basically, according to my 2AM, non-doctor’s reading of the study, if you don’t do anything, you’ve already reduced your risk of prostate cancer!

Orgasms cure headaches and cramps, they say.  Right, maybe they do.  So does an aspirin, ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and so on.

Basically, whenever you hear something that touts some magical health benefit of sex, look closely at what they’re saying, because they’re probably not saying anything that’s profound.  Instead, they know that an article about sex will get readers, especially when it makes those readers feel good about what they’re already doing.

Am I Attractive?

Do people find me attractive?  Why?  I don’t do anything to try to be attractive, but there have been people who have found me attractive for some reason.  What combination of angles and curves and clothing and hair and height and whatever makes them go “oh yes” when they look at me?  That doesn’t make sense.  Is there something about the way that I walk that makes someone think “I would like to put that person’s penis to use”?

It doesn’t feel dirty or invasive to know that people have had these thoughts about me.  I just don’t understand why they would.  How often does this happen?  Was it just those few times that it’s been confirmed?  Or is this a regular thing?  Is that stranger in the elevator trying to interpolate my shirtlessness from the available data?

[bioneuralgelpack]

Suddenly I See...

Bit of a non sequitur for the first post on here, but I’m not that great at the old linear thinking so here goes!

Let me talk you through my morning. I ran into a radiator while dodging two marauding kittens, I rammed my water bottle into my face so hard that I cut my lip, I somehow trapped my finger under the seat of a chair while sitting down into a café and now have a nail which is slowly, but surely going black… And all this is so normal for me that I barely noticed it.

Yesterday, I was diagnosed with dyspraxia… And I should probably mention that I was late to the assessment because I couldn’t find the room (despite the fact that it was in a building I used to work in). I did manage to bring the questionnaires I was meant to fill out beforehand, but they were crumpled, illegible and covered in the footprints of the afore-mentioned marauding kittens. By the time I actually met the assessor and started to answer his questions, the actual assessment had become an exercise in formality.

So yeah, I was diagnosed with a developmental disorder at age 30. And I felt… relief.

Stuff suddenly makes sense. Maybe it’s not all my fault – actual messages aren’t getting through to my actual body from my actual brain (can you tell I’m a psychologist from all those technical terms?!).

I have all the co-ordination things associated with dyspraxia - yes, Dad, I do have a ‘hole in my racket’ when I try to play tennis! – Home videos of me at tumble tots have the potential to make me a fortune on youtube. Let’s just say, I did an awful lot of tumbling and not that much… totting… Actually, what is one meant to do at Tumble Tots, other than tumble?! Maybe, I was technically very good at it…

My primary school advised my parents to send me to ballet classes aged 4 to help with co-ordination stuff. Displaying a well-developed instinct for self-preservation in the face of potential teasing, I refused.  Only time I’ve ever refused any school activity (yes, I was that child). And then there was the problem of cartwheels. You see, when you’re an eight year-old girl, the ability to cartwheel (preferably one-handed) is your primary social currency. The most I could manage was a sort of lopsided bunny hop… And, why oh why, did only boys get to have Velcro on their school shoes?! To this day, I cannot tie my shoelaces properly.

I was also, unfortunately, the kind of child who quite liked to get stuck in. Sadly, in my case, that wasn’t a graceful leap into extracurricular activities, it was more like a fast and badly-timed bellyflop. Cue years of scraped knees and elbows, getting stuck in trees I’d managed to climb up, but could not climb down and falling into probably every river, pond or large puddle in Wiltshire. I particularly remember, my first ever trip to an ice skating rink ended before actually reaching the ice because I dropped a skate on my foot with rather nasty consequences.

Oddly enough, the one positive in this was swimming. I’ve always been able to swim and swim well. When I’m held up by the water, my body just becomes more…coherent somehow. Even now, when I’m stressed, I swim, when I’m sad, I swim, when I’m very happy, I swim. Preferably, outside.

As an adult, requests to do cartwheels are rare (but perhaps more regular than you might expect when you work in a child mental health team). I have learned to laugh at my dreadful dancing in clubs, my unexplained bruises and my abysmal tennis skills. Driving is a problem – I failed seven tests despite the very best efforts of a truly exceptional driving instructor (Ann, if you ever read this – thank you. No one else could have got me to eventually pass) – but, driving, I’ve found is largely avoidable and I’m alright in rural areas and situations where I don’t have to reverse around corners. My co-ordination problems don’t stop me from doing things.

What’s more of a problem, is the hidden side of dyspraxia, the bit no one really knows about. I am disorganised, I am messy, I have a comically poor sense of direction (seriously, I can get lost in my home town, inside buildings, on routes to friends’ houses which I have walked a thousand times previously). The person who invented google maps and made the moveable dot which tells you where you are is honestly one of the people I admire most in the world. Without it, I would get nowhere. And that’s not an exaggeration. When going to job interviews or catching plans, I sometimes set off two hours early to allow for ‘getting lost’ time.

While getting lost is just a fun quirk of my personality, chronic disorganisation is an actual problem. I’m a clinical psychologist (well, a trainee one) – day to day, I see people who are disclosing horrific trauma and battling internal demons most of us couldn’t even imagine. People who are an inspiration for their resilience in the face of overwhelming circumstances. And the most stressful aspect of my job? It’s not seeing those people – that’s a privilege – it’s booking rooms and putting appointments in my diary for the right times. Seriously. For me, that is a Herculean task, equal to fighting any hydra.

On my last clinical placement, I was lucky enough to work with two admin staff who went above and beyond to be helpful and supportive. They somehow sensed my areas of weakness without me having to say anything and made sure that my appointments were booked and my letters were sent. With their help, the stress of clinical work vanished and I could feel myself flourishing.

Where it’s a real problem for me, is research tasks. I somehow completed a PhD and found things like making sure that the right participant ID numbers were on the right questionnaires near impossible. And then there was that master’s debacle where I failed to record data for fifty participants by genuinely not seeing a box I was meant to tick on the EEG readout which read ‘save data’. Research is all about sequencing tasks and being methodical. Remember when I said I wasn’t a linear thinker? I meant it. For me, A will never lead to B. A leads to F and then to G via space and a brief tour of duty aboard the Starship Enterprise and then arrives at B. Give me a problem to solve and I will get there, not necessarily slower than anyone else, but I will get there in a way which maybe doesn’t make huge amounts of sense and might be harder than the tried and tested path.

To be honest, there are advantages to this. I am creative. I can generate novel solutions. I have a vivid imagination. My weird thought processes have engendered a love of creative writing, of theatre, of newness, of possibility, of anything wacky and wonderful. But it can be a problem in the world of research and I do need better coping strategies for my chronic disorganisation.

The upsides? I don’t take myself too seriously – after all, I fell flat on my face in front of twenty senior mental health professionals in my first ever multidisciplinary team meeting as a psychologist. Being a serious person was never going to work. I have learned to place value on the things I am good at. And I refuse to let poor co-ordination stop me from doing anything. Last year, I ran a half marathon. Sure, I ran it with arms and legs akimbo and with all the grace of an unusually enthusiastic puppy, but I ran it. And that’s what matters.

[howsit-going-toend]

What Do YOU Want? Pt. 5

A Kwon Jiyong series ft. Kim Jiwon

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word count: 3,000

Summary: The most important person in the world to you can appear most often when you least expect it. But through everything, you can’t forget about you and your own happiness. Who are you happy with? Who is the best for you?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 ... Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

(A/N: Wow, jeez, ok this came out a lot longer than the others, but I hope you still enjoy it!)

If someone had told you 3 years ago that you would be where you are now, you would have laughed your ass off. If they said that you would give up the biggest opportunity that has ever been given to you, while Jiyong went on tour across the globe for concerts and fan meetings without a single returned phone call, you would have continued to laugh in their face.

But here you were, and there he was; enjoying his life without you and a work environment where he no longer has to worry about seeing the face of the girl who walked out on him.

After seeing Jiyong that day and allowing your hopes to get the best of you, you were convinced it would be a long way down. But you surprised yourself. Getting out of YG proved to be far more relieving to your mental health than you thought it would. It didn’t take long for you to get out of the metaphorical pit of sadness once you found yourself learning to thoroughly enjoy life again.

You began offering hip hop classes at your studio in Seoul and felt immense pride at the rate that they filled up. People of all ages and backgrounds flocked to your studio; all wanting to learn under YG’s former chief choreographer.

There was no greater sight to you; watching everyone dance along to moves you’d choreographed as they each made it their own. For the first time in nearly a year, you showed up to work every day with a massive smile on your face, knowing there was no specific style to imbed in anyone’s minds anymore, but to instead encourage individuality.

You found further solace in the moments you got to spend with Bobby, B.I., Jinhwan, and Mino. The five of you met up at least once a week for dinner, drinks, and to get a chance to just forget about anything and everything that had plagued your minds with stress. You looked forward to the moments you all could just sit around and be human for a while.

And so, life went on.

“To you guys! For being the only men in my life that have truly kept me going the past few months. For that, I thank you. And I love you.” You were about five shots into the night and toasting a sixth with the boys, when it was quite clear the alcohol was starting to affect you.

Has it really been months?

Your gaze wandered to a calendar above the bar that showed May in big letters. You squinted, trying to see what days’ boxes had already been crossed out.

“Well, Y/N, is drunk.” Jinhwan laughed, while you snapped back to reality and hit his shoulder in response.

“Yah! No I’m not! You know what? I take it back. To Bobby, B.I., and Mino.” You rose the full shot glass above your head again, this time with a sassy look in Jinhwan’s direction and tossed it back. The other three boys laughed at his expense and drank with you.

“Don’t deny it! You just get so sappy when you’re drunk, admit it!” Jinhwan had his pointer finger extended accusingly in your direction, as he looked at the other boys for assistance.

“He’s not wrong.” “Yeah, Y/N and Bobby both get super sappy and cuddly when they drink.” B.I. and Mino aided in throwing you under the bus while you laughed and hid your face that had flushed bright pink.

It was all too true. With enough alcohol in your system, you would let absolutely everyone around you know just how much they meant to you; usually followed by a lot of hugging. After drinking enough times together, it was clear that Bobby was the same way. The two of you would often end up clinging to each other in a lazy heap on a couch or chair by the end of the night, which the other boys seemed to find hilarious.

“You’re just jealous you’re not as lovable!” Bobby, who had started feeling pretty good himself, put his arm over your shoulder while you both leaned your heads together with big cheesy grins in the others’ direction.

“Yeah, that’s it…” B.I.’s sarcasm could be smelt across the table, while everyone chimed in with booze-induced laughter.

The night continued, just as fun and stress relieving as any other. The five of you just sat around a table, telling stories and playing random drinking games. Time flew by and before any of you knew it, the last call from the bar had signaled an end to your night of fun. Your stomach hurt from the amount of laughter you’d done all night, but felt relief in knowing you were coherent enough to get yourself home.

“I don’t know if you should be driving, Y/N.” Bobby hadn’t let go of your hand the entire walk from the bar to the parking garage down the street. You laughed at this, because it appeared he was more buzzed than you thought and thus required your hand for balance.

“I’m fine, Bobby, I promise! You guys get home safe now, all right?” You reached up and pinched one of his cheeks before you let go of his hand while he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned like an embarrassed child.

“Yah! Fine! Text me when you get home though, ok?” He pointed a finger towards your face and squinted his eyes like a scolding parent. You saluted him in agreement and gave his hand over to B.I. to take your spot in keeping him upright.

You gave each of the other boys a hug goodbye while you walked to your car. There was always a huge smile on your face that wouldn’t leave until the following morning when you hung out with those guys and you relished in it. Once inside, you cruised down the street towards your apartment; music blaring through your mediocre sound system.

You ascended your stairs with ease, mentally patting yourself on the back for being able to drink all night and still manage to drive home and get to the doorstep nearly sober. Once you’d gotten inside, you immediately threw yourself in bed and let out a contented sigh. There was no fighting your heavy eyelids as you drifted into unconsciousness; that same grin still lingering on your face. It had been quite a while since you last felt this good.

You woke the next morning immediately feeling victorious for not having a hangover. You reached for your phone to text Bobby to brag, but stopped yourself once you noticed a surprising amount of notifications coming from Instagram.

You had a relatively popular page since your name was well known in the states and especially in Korea after Jiyong had made your relationship public a year and a half ago. You’d been bombarded with swarms of his fans tagging you in posts and comments about him ever since.

Recently, for obvious reasons, you’d begun to ignore the app entirely so you didn’t see the content behind the mass of notifications anymore. However, today showed a significantly higher number than when you caught a glance yesterday, which immediately sent chills up your spine. With your guard completely up, you opened Instagram to see what was going on.

You regretted the decision almost instantly.

There in your main feed, in nearly a hundred tags, and in majority of the suggested posts, were pictures of Jiyong from some fashion magazine. But he wasn’t alone. Your face contorted in confusion and angst as you read a few of the captions.

“G Dragon plays Nana Komatsu’s sweetheart for #Nylon Japan’s May issue. Out now!”

“GD and Nana play convincing lovers in Nylon magazine’s most recent issue.”

“BigBang’s G Dragon cozies up to Nana Komatsu in #NylonJapan’s newest issue!”

You and Jiyong used to get a kick out of reading such headlines to each other every morning. “Wow, jagi, I didn’t realize you’d gone on all these secret romantic dates with Dara in Seoul when the two of us were definitely in Paris that week. How could you!” “No! Forgive me, jagi! It’s not what it looks like! I literally had no idea!” The two of you would harp; both of your voices dripping in sarcasm while you couldn’t contain the giggles. 

Most headlines were ridiculous, especially when they stemmed from a picture of him simply within the vicinity of a girl. Any other sort of modeling shoots or reports designed to assume his love life would have been easily written off in your mind.

But there was something about the way he was holding this girl that had your skin crawling.

Google was pulled up on your phone in seconds as you proceeded with an online search thorough enough to find out everything there was to know about whoever the hell she was. It appeared she was an actress and model from Japan. And God, was she beautiful.

You unknowingly held your breath the entire time as you scrolled past every picture from their photoshoot. They looked too good together and you hated how much it bothered you.

“I was very nervous to shoot with a person I admire. It felt like a dream to have GD next to me, and when I saluted him saying ‘This is like a dream’, he replied ‘This is a dream,’ making me smile in spite of my nervousness. I thought of it as a special photoshoot sent from God to celebrate my 20th birthday and did the shooting inscribing the cuts (shots) one by one in my heart.” Great, so she was nearly a year younger than you too. Her comment on working with him had you nauseous by the very first sentence. But it was Jiyong’s statement that really did you in.

“I had previously met a still innocent Komatsu Nana, but this year I was happy to meet a more adult Komatsu Nana. I think she’s a person full of different kinds of charms. Since our tour had just ended the previous day, I thought the photoshoot would be really tiring, but thanks to her, it became a fun shoot.”

As you reread his words about this girl once more, tears started flowing down your cheeks without a warning. With a frustrated throw of a pillow across the room, you took a deep breath. It was too damn early in the day for this.

Well, what did you expect? He couldn’t tell you why he needed you to stay and now he’s showing everyone how fine he is without you. God, why do you have to care this much? It was over months ago and he’s the one who stopped trying. HE stopped showing any effort at wanting to make things right between the two of you. You had finally just started to feel like you had moved on...but you weren’t ready to see him actually move on to someone else.

While you did your best to control any sobs trying to escape, you were startled when the sound of a phone ringing filled the silent room. Bobby’s name appeared on your screen and you felt yourself slightly panic as you tried to sniff away all traces of sadness before answering.

“I might have passed out but that doesn’t make it any less uncool when you don’t text me that you made it home, you punk!” Bobby exclaimed, though his groggy voice let you know he had also just woken up.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I fell asleep as soon as I got inside. I was going to text you.” You did the best you could to prevent your voice from shaking.

“Sure you did! Well, hey, I had fun as always and am down to hang later today if you want. I’ve got the day off!”

“Sure. I have off too.” He took a pause before replying and you knew then that you had been caught.

“Are you all right, Y/N? You seem sad or something. Hungover maybe?”

You sniffed as the tears fought their way back to your eyes before you could answer. “I’m fine. Honestly!”

“Yeah, ok, that’s bull. Make yourself decent because I’m on my way.”

“What? Bobby, I’m fine! You don’t have to do that for me, I…”

“Tough. You have no choice. I’ll be there in ten.” He’d cut you off and hung up the phone before you could protest. But despite your words and the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, you found yourself smiling as you got out of bed to get dressed.

He arrived ten minutes later, just as he’d said, and you got up from your couch to answer the door at a snail’s pace; using every last possible second to control the overwhelming emotions the morning had thrust on you. Bobby walked right in, put his hands gently on your shoulders and lowered his head to look you in the eye.

“Y/N. What’s wrong?” His serious tone managed to get a giggle out of you, though you knew it wasn’t his intention.

“Yah! Don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to comfort you!” He furrowed his brows in light frustration, which only made you start to laugh more. You covered your mouth with the back of your hand and found yourself unable to stop giggling as he folded his arms across his chest in a pout, waiting for you to finish.

“I’m. I’m sorry, Bobby, I. just. I just don’t really want to talk about it right now. Can you just hang out with me and we can talk about anything else?” You managed to control your laughter halfway through your request, as he nodded in acknowledgement, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, that’s cool! But tell me at any time if you want to talk about anything, ok? I just want to do anything I can to help.” Damn, it had been a long time since you’d heard anyone tell you that. “But hey, now’s the perfect time for me to tell you the new plan the boys and I have come up with!”

“Oooh yes, yes, tell me, what is it?” You smiled as the two of you plopped down on the couch.

“We’re planning on covering Exid’s Up & Down at our upcoming concerts in Japan and…we wanted to come to your studio and see if you’d help us get the dance moves down.” He tried to be nonchalant about the request and avoid eye contact, but failed the second he got a glimpse of how excited it made you.

“WHAT! Hell yeah! Are you kidding? Is this for real? Because I am so down, oh my god! This is going to be so perfect!” You were bouncing in your seat, with the world’s second biggest smile on your face; the first belonging to Bobby who was absolutely beaming as he watched you get more and more excited at the news. You couldn’t contain your happiness with the thought of working with your boys again and your mind was flooding with ideas.

“Of course it’s for real! We knew you’d be stoked.”

“Ahhh I’m more than stoked, I don’t even know how to describe this! You don’t know how happy that just made me!” You leaned forward and pulled him into a hug, shaking him back and forth with excitement, while he laughed at you.

“Aish, you’re such a dork about this kind of thing” he teased, while you sat back in your spot on the couch; the two of you exchanging similar facial expressions and sticking your tongues out at each other.

Bobby had once again succeeded at brightening your day. You don’t know how he did it but being around him seemed to always make you forget all your worries and stresses. It was almost like everything melted away as the meaning of sadness took on an alien form.

You spent the rest of the day just hanging out with each other and talking about all kinds of random topics as the hours flew by. You grabbed food around lunch and later again at dinner time; jamming out in the car on the way there with the stereo in Bobby’s car on high. He was the only person you knew you could genuinely dance with; however the hell you felt like moving. No matter how stupid others probably thought the two of you looked, neither of you ever cared. By the time it got late and you parted ways, you’d completely forgotten about why the day had started off so horribly.

A week later, you found yourself lounging on your couch, surrounded by small takeout boxes of the dinner you’d treated yourself to with B.I., Jinhwan and Bobby. You’d all met up to discuss when they’d stop by your studio to go over Exid’s choreography and ended up stuffing your faces. Each of you shared a good laugh at how hilarious it was that Yang would have no idea you’d be helping them. You’d gotten word that the man had replaced your position less than a week after you told him you wanted to quit so a little scheming behind his back didn’t strike a chord with anyone’s conscience.

“I respect what you do,” my ass.

Your stomach was absolutely filled to capacity at this point in the night and all you could do was lay there, staring at your TV in defeat. Your heart was otherwise entirely content, knowing that in just one week’s time you would be reunited with the rest of the members of iKon.

You were in the middle of readjusting your blankets amongst the Styrofoam boxes when you felt the couch vibrate.

“God damnit.” You muttered to yourself while you sifted through the cushions and blankets, trying to find where your phone had disappeared to. You found it just in time for the last few rings and quickly turned it over to check the ID of the caller.

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes met Jiyong’s name on your screen. You froze, unintentionally allowing the call to be missed. You stared at it, waiting to see if a voicemail would be left and silently praying to the universe that there wouldn’t be.

The sudden vibration caught you off guard as his name appeared once again in another attempted call. You calmed your racing heart with a deep breath as you brought the phone closer to your face.

With one quick movement, you tapped the left icon on the screen and ignored the call.

[jarienn972]

The Recreant - Part Ten & Epilogue

I had a few minutes to spare before work today so I decided to post both the final chapter and the epilogue I added together so this will run a little longer than prior chapters. I hope everyone who has been following the story has enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!  Putting fictional characters through the wringer is certainly great therapy to deal with stress!

Complete work on AO3 and FF.net

Prior chapters on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine

3:55pm

Making sure that she followed Dr. Whale's instructions, Emma was required to wake Killian after about three hours - a process she was to repeat any time he fell asleep for the first 48 hours he was at home. If for any reason she couldn't get him to wake up, she was to call for an ambulance immediately – or in her case, magically teleport him straight to the emergency room. Thankfully, that hadn't been necessary as he'd awakened fairly easily and had no difficulty answering the two coherency questions that she was ordered to ask him to ensure that his memory and logic weren't impaired. It seemed a bit ridiculous to ask him such mundane questions as what the name of his ship was or where they'd first met, but Whale had insisted it was important and should be things he wouldn't need to hesitate to respond to. And of course he didn't.

She was also glad that she'd stopped at Granny's on the way home from Gold's shop to pick up some lunch. Since she'd spent the better part of the past two days at the hospital, she hadn't done the grocery shopping that she had planned to do when she got back from Boston and honestly, just wasn't feeling up to cooking. With cravings kicking into overdrive, she'd ordered a cheeseburger for herself with both onion rings and french fries. Baby was definitely in the mood for greasy comfort foods, but she wasn't sure something that heavy would be good for Killian since his appetite wasn't completely back. She'd hoped to get him some soup to replace the batch she hadn't shared with him, but today's soup of the day was actually chili which didn't seem like the best choice. The typically gruff old woman must have had a little bit of a soft spot for the pirate or just felt sorry for his somewhat haggard looking wife because she offered to throw together a quick batch of chicken noodle – an invalid's best friend, she'd called it – just for him.

She brought the food in on a tray and was pleased that he'd sat up and ate about of third of it along with one french fry that he'd swiped from her Styrofoam to-go container while they sat atop their bed, but it was clear that he was still groggy from the medication and probably just flat out tired from the lingering head injury so she cleared the remnants of their lunch from the bed and just let him rest. It wasn't something that she was really surprised by since she'd been warned by both Dr. Whale and the nurse that he'd likely sleep 12-18 hours each day for a while – one of the reasons she needed to wake him regularly to make sure he wasn't at risk of drifting back into an unresponsive state. With everything she'd learned about head injuries and concussions over the past few days, she'd started to harbor a tiny bit of guilt for every skip or villain that she'd taken down with a blow to the head. Not a whole lot of guilt, but enough to leave a lingering thought in the back of her mind.

She stayed at his side for a few minutes, debating whether she wanted to snuggle up next to him and take a nap herself, but she feared she might disturb him and despite her severe sleep deprivation over the past few days, she really wasn't tired. Instead, she picked up the tray and returned downstairs, placing it on the kitchen counter before curling up on the sofa with her laptop, intending to finish up some paperwork she'd started days ago. She eventually changed her mind and decided to watch a silly romantic comedy movie that would have bored Killian concluding that work could just wait until later. A little more than halfway through the movie though, she heard the creak of footsteps on the staircase and knowing that Henry had gone to the library to do some research for a report due on Friday, the only person who could be coming down those stairs was her husband, already disobeying the doctor's instructions.

"What are you doing?" she demanded without taking her eyes off of her computer screen.

"Do you fully intend to treat me as a prisoner in my own home? I'm certainly capable of descending these stairs myself…"

"You're supposed to be taking it easy," she reminded him. "And what if you get dizzy and trip?"

"So that means I can't do anything for myself?" he asked as he reached the bottom step, pausing for a moment to make sure he had his balance before crossing the living room to join her on the sofa. "See – I'm not completely helpless."

"You're impossible."

"I seem to recall saying something along those lines to an incredibly stubborn and lovely woman a long time ago…," he grinned as she closed the cover on the laptop.

"I suppose we both fit that category, don't we?" she chuckled as she set the computer aside so she could wrap an arm around his shoulder. "You actually fared pretty well getting down those stairs. No more dizziness?"

"Still a bit, but not as severe," he told her. "Just the lingering headache – but before you say anything – no, I don't need any more of the pain medicine right now. I want to be able to stay awake and enjoy some quiet time with my wife and perhaps, if my lady will allow, enjoy a make-up dinner for the one we were forced to postpone?"

"You actually think you're up to going out for dinner?" she asked skeptically.

"As I stated – perhaps - although if you're still so concerned for my welfare, we could always order our meal to dine here at home. After all, we do have a very special occasion to celebrate…"

"I think we actually have two special occasions to celebrate," she smiled. "What did you have in mind? And remember – you are still under strict doctor's orders…"

"And you certainly won't allow me to forget that…," he grumbled, "but I'm not quite certain what to expect for our evening meal. I suppose it will be whatever your mother has planned." He laughed as her head snapped around to look him in the eye.

"What?"

"Careful, Love. You'll give yourself whiplash," he snickered while attempting to explain. "Your mother called while you were away earlier running errands and she very pragmatically informed me that she's bringing us dinner this evening so you don't have to fret over anything tonight. Henry is eating with them and your father will drive him home later."

"And exactly when were you going to tell me all of this?"

"Telling you now," he smirked. "I assumed that her Highness had contacted you as well. Clearly that was not the case…"

Emma shook her head as she snuggled into his shoulder. "No, my mother didn't call me, but I'm not going to complain. I'll happily take a quiet night at home where I don't have to cook. I think we've earned it. I'd love to tell her that I'm really craving spicy Mexican food, but that's probably not a good idea…"

"Is there something wrong with spicy Mexican food?" Killian wondered, obviously bewildered as to why it would be a poor choice if it were something she wanted.

"Let's just say it's an awkward subject – made even more awkward by me being pregnant," she replied. "But I'd really rather not go into further detail."

"Then I shall forgo any further query regarding said subject, but I do have one on an entirely different subject…" She noticed that the tone of his voice became more serious as he prepared to change the subject.

"Okay…, what might that be?"

"You paid a visit to the crocodile today, didn't you?" His voice lowered to a near whisper.

"How did you know I went to see Gold?" She was slightly stunned that he'd known.

"Because I know you, Swan. He tried to kill me. I knew you wouldn't just let that go – even if there's no way to prove any of the allegations."

"I went to get some answers. When I was waiting for your prescriptions to be filled, I went and talked to Mr. Blackstone this morning. He admitted to me that he'd never seen the watch before the day I bought it. It had just appeared in his case so we know the coin was already inside. Somehow Gold knew about it so I went over there to ask him how he'd found out. He told me he'd sensed its presence when he saw you with the watch one day."

"He proudly confessed to me that he previously knew of the coin courtesy of Hades. Perhaps the day he spoke of was when he learned the coin was contained inside the watch?"

"It's possible. He obviously knew what the coin had been used for which would explain why he sent Smee after it. He must have been a little antsy that if he touched the coin himself that it might remove his memories regarding the Excalibur-Grail magic too. I mean it could have since Hades had enchanted the coin to remove those memories of yours and then he did tell Gold all about it. If the enchantment was to remove memories of that one specific subject, it might have had the same effect on him. But I'm sure if Smee had stolen it, he would have locked it away in a vault somewhere or simply poofed it away to some remote location."

"That was likely his plan, but fortunately, we uncovered it first and regardless of whether I do possess any residual magic from Excalibur or its predecessor, I do know that it was something Hades feared and likely so did the crocodile."

"Well, you definitely found some magical way to send me that text message yesterday. I don't know how the hell you did it, but I'm sure glad you found a way. Oh, and by the way, I'm so sorry that I forgot your hook when I picked up your things this morning. I completely forgot that it was in David's desk drawer. You'll have it back tonight and I have to say, I've sorta missed it," she grinned.

"You have?" he laughed, partially due to her rambling, but mostly because he'd always known she was attracted to his shiny steel artificial appendage.

"Yes – believe it or not, I have," she replied, but no sooner had the words passed her lips, her emotions shifted as if she'd flipped a switch – her smiling eyes suddenly filling with tears. Realizing her hormone-driven feelings were getting the best of her, she abruptly turned her face away from him, trying to wipe away the tears before he noticed, but she wasn't fast enough.

"Emma…Love, what's wrong?" he wondered, placing his hand against the back of her head urging her to turn around.

"It's okay…just these damned hormones," she said with a sniffle, but he wasn't buying it.

"Swan…"

"Oh, come on. Don't make me do this…," she protested, but just catching a glimpse of his baby blues broke down the wall she was trying so hard to build. "It's just that I leave town for one day and nearly lose you again because of magic!"

"And yet your magic saved my life – more than once. I'm here, Love," he assured her.

"But what if I hadn't gotten there in time? You could have died on that operating table before I even knew anything was wrong. And what if Gold's plan yesterday had succeeded?"

"I didn't and it didn't. You can't dwell on this, Emma. I'm fine and that's all that matters now. We obviously have a child to plan for, so why don't we continue that discussion from last night instead?"

"Changing the subject, are we?" she chided him as she wiped away the tracks of the tears on her cheeks with her sleeve before she at last turned back to face him, her eyes still puffy and red. "So I guess we need to decide if we want to paint the nursery classic white or should we go with a more princessy pink?"

"Princessy?" his attention was piqued by her emphasis on that word. "Now you're the one who's suddenly certain we're having a daughter?"

"Let's just say that something Gold told me today has me feeling pretty confident that it's a girl."

"You're taking the crocodile's word on this?"

"Technically, no. He was simply relaying Hades' message."

"Are you saying that the Lord of the Underworld and the Dark One were at one time engaged in conversation regarding our future daughter?"

"As disturbing as that may sound, it appears they did, only from what I gather, it was really more of a sick joke at the time. There wasn't supposed to be a future…" She couldn't hold back the water works this time as she said those words and the realization struck her of how much they'd really overcome. This time though, it was Killian who wiped away her tears with his thumb as he gently stroked her face.

"Whatever Hades did or didn't say to the crocodile isn't important. If we're having a daughter then I for one hope that our wee princess takes after her mother – and perhaps picks up a bit of cunning wit from her royal bandit grandmother as well…"

"Please don't let my mother hear that!" Emma laughed, finally able to rein in the tears as he pulled her into a tight embrace, but as he did, it was now his expression that changed. While she was unable to see his face, his visage hardened, no longer reflecting the jovial encouragement but instead hovering somewhere between confusion and brooding. It wasn't that he was any less joyous about their child, but rather that he felt that dull ache slowly building in the back of his skull as he'd been struck with another memory of something Hades had said – and now, in an instant – it all made sense. Emma might not have been able to see the look on his face, but she certainly felt the tension in his arms as his hold on her shoulders suddenly felt different. "Okay, now it's my turn to ask – are you alright?" She pushed back from him to see his troubled expression.

"Aye," he replied, bringing his hand to the back of his head as demonstration that his tension was merely a returning headache. "Just a bit of discomfort from my present malaise, but you needn't worry. It will pass."

"Unh uh," she protested. "I'll get you one of the ibuprofen tablets that Dr. Whale prescribed. There's no codeine in it, so it won't make you drowsy, but you don't need to suffer with the aches and pains."

"I'd rather a swig of rum," he grumbled only to get an icy glare in response, "but if my lovely wife insists, I'll take the medicine." Perhaps later he'd tell her the real reason for his shifting mood, but not before he'd had a chance to have a little tete-a-tete with someone else first.

One week later – 10:01am

He'd gotten there early – just as the shop was opening for the day, but despite the door being unlocked and the sign hanging from it turned to read "OPEN", the interior lights hadn't yet been turned on and that was just fine with Killian. He pushed open the door, sounding the bells attached to it and a he entered, used a swift flick of his hook to flip over the sign to read "CLOSED" to allow a few uninterrupted moments to have a word with the shop's owner.

"Safe to assume that you're not here to purchase anything," he heard Gold's voice say before the Dark One stepped out of the back room.

"I guess you could say I'm here to make a deal, crocodile, but this one will be on my terms, not yours."

"And what makes you think I'd ever agree to such a deal?" Gold asked, not about to lower himself to the pirate's standards. "I seem to recall the last time you attempted to set the terms of a deal, it rather spectacularly backfired on you…"

"Suffice it for me to say that it's due to the fact that I know precisely why you tried to steal that coin and then tried to kill me when Smee failed to obtain it for you…." Killian stared directly at Gold with no fear in his gaze this time, knowing for the first time in a long time that he truly had the advantage.

"I'm listening…" the Dark One hissed, not really interested in being bothered by Hook, but still curious to learn if the pirate had indeed remembered the final missing piece of his memory puzzle – the last remaining part of the conversation Hades had stolen from him.

"It's taken a while for all of the missing memories to fall into place," Killian stated, "but my recollection is fully restored and I know for certain now that you never feared if I still possessed any of the magic from Excalibur. That never concerned you for a moment. What's been vexing you is that Hades mistakenly revealed to me an important fact about the Dark Curse – under what would be considered 'normal' circumstances, you can't be re-afflicted. My death released Emma from the grip of the curse and your little subterfuge with the potion released me from it. No living being was ever intended to be a vessel for the Darkness more than once in a lifetime – especially since the death of the previous Dark One is traditionally what passes on the curse. But you – you had to be unique. You had the Darkness taken away from you by the Apprentice before all of your evil deeds completely blackened your heart. You could have been done with it, but you couldn't live without the power. You stole the curse back with a potion, thinking no one would ever be the wiser, but Emma could still hear the call of the dagger and yes, so can I. What Hades erroneously said while so gleefully torturing me was that Emma and I were left immune to the Dark Curse. If either of us were to stab you with your shiny new dagger, all of your dark magic and power just dies with you. That's the part you were so eager to ensure I didn't remember. After all of these centuries of seeking revenge, I finally have a way to end you once and for all…" Killian paused as he searched his enemy's face for any cracks in his tightly veiled exterior. He had the upper hand, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that he wasn't still in danger. "But I've no intention to do that…," the pirate continued. "I realize that you could still kill me right now, but you've no way of knowing if I've already relayed this little secret to Emma. Are you willing to take that chance – that she couldn't get to the dagger first? So, what say you, Dark One? Shall we call a truce?"

Gold contemplated his options in silence. The pirate was correct on both fronts – he and Emma were now immune to the Darkness and yes, he could kill him right here and hope that Hook hadn't already relayed the message to his wife. Or he could agree to the truce. There was no way to entirely conceal the dagger from either of them as all living former Dark Ones could hear its call. Hook's words rang true – either of them could kill him with his own dagger and neither would be afflicted. It would simply mean the end of the Dark One – the feat that Hook had attempted with his own sacrifice. That was the secret that he had hoped to keep hidden forever, but it was too late now…

"That's an interesting proposal," Gold stated, still mulling his choice.

"Do we have a deal? We leave you to live your life and you stay clear of our family?"

"Your wife asked me that same question last week," Gold said before at last conceding. "I believe the answer to both of your questions is yes – we have a deal."

"Good," Killian grinned as he prepared to unleash his last surprise for the crocodile. With scarcely a flick of his wrist, the sign on the front door flipped itself over to read "OPEN" once more.

"So, that part was true?" the Dark One asked, although he'd already known the answer. "I see you've figured out how to use those powers…"

"Aye. I've had some time to practice while convalescing at home for the past few days, but I've really no interest in using it. Just a few little parlor tricks as you once called them, but I'm certain Hades made you aware of the potential?"

"Indeed he did," was Gold's dead-pan response. He knew all too well.

Killian returned a satisfied smile as he exited the pawn shop, confident that the Dark One would uphold his end of the bargain. He'd executed the gamble successfully as he hadn't yet revealed the secret of the Dark Curse to Emma. He'd wanted to secure their safety first and he certainly hadn't let on that he'd been practicing magic, not that she would have noticed as she'd been so preoccupied with his recovery and her pregnancy. Now that the deal was in place, he would reveal it all to her, but first he had to quickly get himself to the location he was actually supposed to be in right now – his follow up appointment with Dr. Whale. He'd promised Emma he was capable of walking there on his own accord as she'd left on a call that morning. He didn't dare be even a minute late…

One of Whale's stipulations before he would discharge him from the hospital a week ago was that Killian had to schedule a follow-up immediately so that the doctor could ensure that his patient was still healing properly. The bouts of vertigo had finally abated but while he hadn't openly complained, he was still suffering lingering headaches and fighting through a rather nagging weakness on his right side. He wasn't about to let on that he was struggling with anything though or Emma would never have allowed him out of the house. She'd already spent more than enough time worrying about him and at a time when he should be doting on his pregnant wife, he was instead finding that recovering from this latest concussion was a grander challenge than he'd expected.

He'd arrived to the clinic on time, expecting Emma to already be there, but she appeared to be running a little late and Whale, being the busy doctor that he was, wasn't about to wait on the Sheriff. Inviting his patient into the exam room, Whale picked up the folder containing Killian's medical records and gestured for the pirate to take a seat on the exam table against the far wall.

"Not subjecting me to one of those awful scanning machines today?" Killian wondered.

"I thought we might have a conversation first and then I'll decide if I need to send you for further tests. How are your symptoms?"

"Perfectly manageable."

"No more vertigo? Headaches?"

"The dizziness has subsided, but unfortunately, the headaches persist. Milder than before, but ongoing."

"Same areas as before?"

"Mainly at the temple, but other spots when I'm fatigued."

"Anything that the medication doesn't ease?"

"Honestly, I prefer not to take the pills. I don't like the affect they have on me."

"So you prefer to suffer?" Whale said snidely. "Forever the tough as nails pirate…"

"My choice," Killian reminded him.

"Experiencing any other lingering side effects? Irritability?" Killian rolled his eyes as the doctor emphasized that adjective purely out of spite. "Any weakness?" Whale watched his patient's eyebrow raise ever so slightly at the word weakness. "I gather from your reaction that the answer to that question is a yes?"

"I've found it difficult at times to grasp objects and I've occasionally found myself unable to stand for long periods of time and maintain my balance. I've even had my knee give out beneath me once for no obvious reason. Is there something that explains those unusual symptoms?"

"Not surprising," Whale stated. "I suspected that you may have suffered a stroke before Emma healed you after the seizure. This could be some of the residual effects from a stroke."

"A stroke?"

"In simplest terms - a blood clot that traveled to your brain and got stuck, severely damaging a portion of the tissue. You were likely in the very early stages while you were comatose - right before Emma healed the majority of your head injuries. Perhaps there was some damage from a stroke that she wasn't able to heal that was simply masked by the concussion?"

"I gather this is something you could ascertain from one of those machines?"

"Possibly – depending on how much visible evidence remains. For the moment though, we'll give it a week. If those symptoms are still bothering you, we'll arrange for some additional tests."

"Further tests for what?" came a voice as the door swung open slowly and Emma poked her head in. "Sorry I'm running a little late, but the nurse said you were in here."

"I apologize that we started without you," Whale said, "but I've a busy schedule to keep up."

"Understood. You were saying something about tests?" she asked as she closed the door behind her and sat down in an empty chair at the foot of the exam table.

"I was saying that I'm going to wait another week to see if the ongoing symptoms subside," the doctor explained, "but let's get a quick check up of all of the Captain's vitals out of the way and then Emma, I haven't forgotten what we talked about…"

The brief exam took mere minutes and nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, at least not based on the doctor's expressions as he took readings and transcribed them into the records.

"Well, Captain, everything looks perfectly fine for now," Whale stated. "Your blood pressure is normal; heart and lungs sound fine and your reflexes are almost back to normal. I'm fairly confident that the lingering weakness should clear up on its own, but if not, we'll address that next week."

"I'd much prefer this to all just go away," Killian replied as he hopped down from the exam table. "Our lives have certainly been disrupted enough."

"I agree," Emma said with a sideways grin. "Keeping him out of trouble is a full time job!"

"Pardon me if we pirates do not fare well being confined to a dwelling," Killian retorted as he reached for his jacket, hung on the back of the chair she was occupying.

"Not just yet," she smiled as she stood up and made a motion for him to take a seat in the chair she'd just vacated.

"Am I missing something here, Love?" he wondered as Dr. Whale stepped out of the room for a moment, returning seconds later with a strange looking electronic contraption in his hand.

"I'm trying to make up for something you missed out on while you were recovering from the attack – something you should have been there to witness," she stated as she climbed up onto the exam table herself, stretching out on her back and tugging her blouse out of the waistband of her jeans to expose her midsection.

"What are you doing?" Killian demanded, both startled and alarmed by his wife's actions.

"It's okay, Killian," she laughed. "I asked Dr. Whale to do this for you…"

"To do what?" the pirate wondered, not entirely comfortable as Whale approached her and pressed some sort of metal probe against the bare skin of her abdomen.

"One moment…" Whale said, adjusting a dial on the device as he moved the probe around slowly. The sound of static and the crackle of white noise filled the room as he attempted to find just the right spot. And then suddenly a sharp staccato drowned out the other cacophony. It was rapid with a slight echo and was the most alien sound Killian had encountered in ages. "And there we are…" the doctor said, reserving emotion for the parents to be. "Fast and strong."

"What is that?" Killian pointed to the device pressed to her stomach but he also meant the click-like sound he was hearing.

"It's a microphone – it's used to magnify sounds that would otherwise be difficult to hear," she explained, but it didn't appear to lessen his confusion.

"And what the devil are we supposed to be hearing with this microphone?" the pirate couldn't help but ask.

"A heartbeat. A tiny little heartbeat," she replied, her eyes going bleary as she saw the instant realization wash over him. She extended her hand to him and laced her fingers with his as they'd done so many times only this time, it was part of a memory she'd treasure forever. She was already looking forward to all of the little moments that would come as they moved forward on this journey together. They might live in a town where the next crisis was always lurking, but she was determined to make every second of this special. After everything they'd faced together, nothing mattered more than their family right now. Their lives weren't going to get any less insane and after all - what was crazier than the fact that the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming was married to and was now having a baby with Captain Hook? But no matter what, all she needed for her own comfort was the awe and complete mesmerization that she'd just seen reflected in his eyes. There was little doubt that he was already entirely devoted to both her and their little princess to be.

But she also knew she was never leaving this town without him again. Never again.

Epilogue

Thursday – 7:14pm

The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time Henry finished clearing all of the evening's dinner dishes - loading as much as he could into the dishwasher while letting the rectangular baking dish that his grandmother had brought over filled with lasagna soak in the sink. He knew it would need to be returned to her tomorrow because no amount of scrubbing had proven effective to remove the remnants of their meal from the stoneware. He'd done the best he could for now, but he secretly hoped that his mother would just magically poof away the baked on sauce and cheese. Wishful thinking perhaps, but if nothing else, he would let it remain here filled with water overnight and finish washing it before school tomorrow.

His grandparents had already departed for home a little before 7pm when an overly tired Neal got cranky and threw a kicking and screaming tantrum in the middle of the living room floor, yet even that display had taken place after Emma had politely excused herself and vanished upstairs. She hadn't really given any indication as to what was wrong but she'd barely touched her dinner. Maybe the stress of the past week had finally caught up, especially since all of those events had been pretty rough on her – and of course on Killian too. His stepfather had graciously thanked Snow White for making dinner for everyone and saw his in-laws off before he too headed upstairs to check on his wife. It wasn't like Emma to take off like that so Henry couldn't help but be a little concerned for his mother only he didn't want to pry.

With his ear buds still in place and music playing from his phone at a slightly too high volume, Henry hadn't noticed Killian had returned to the kitchen – at least he didn't notice before he felt a tap on his shoulder, then heard his stepfather asking "Almost finished with your chores?"

"Oh – yeah…," he replied, slightly shaken as he pulled one of the tiny headphones from his ear. "Just have to soak this one…"

"My apologies – I didn't intend to startle you," Killian stated as he pulled a chair away from the table. Henry assumed that the pirate was planning to sit down but instead, he gestured for the boy to take the offered seat. "You've done quite well enough for this evening. Have a seat for a moment, please?"

"Okay…," Henry responded, somewhat hesitant, fearing he might be in some sort of trouble. "What's up?"

"Your mother and I had planned to talk to you this evening together," Killian began as Henry complied with his request to take the offered chair. "However, since she isn't feeling well, she asked me if I'd speak to you myself."

"How's mom feeling? Everything is okay, right?"

"Your mother is fine. A little green around the gills, but nothing serious," the pirate chuckled, hoping a lighthearted tone would set the lad at ease.

"That's good," the boy sighed in relief. "I've never seen mom have quite that reaction to Grandma's cooking before."

"It may be some time before she chooses to set eyes on a lasagna again – although personally, I think it might have been that garlicky bread…"

"It was a little burnt, wasn't it?" Henry smiled, quickly changing the subject as he realized that this was not the intended direction of the conversation. "But I doubt that you're actually here to talk about dinner…"

"No, that was not my intent either," Killian said with a noticeable change in tone, becoming more serious as he pulled out a second chair and sat himself down at the end of the table. "Obviously, a lot has taken place in the past week – some things that you are aware of and perhaps a few things that you've not yet been made privy to. One of those subjects is what your mother and I had intended to inform you of this evening…"

"Can I spare you the long, drawn out explanation and just ask – is mom pregnant?" The interruption caught Killian off guard this time, freezing him mid-sentence. The question had been so blunt, not accusatory, but just out of the blue jarring, but the boy continued. "I'm really okay with it if she is - if you were worried about that..."

"Yes, your mother is with child," a stunned Killian replied. "Do I dare ask how you figured that out?"

"Well, Grandma started to say something at school the other day, but, to be honest I've been suspecting it for a few days. Like she's always in the bathroom and I'm really glad we have more than one… The clincher was her reaction to the lasagna though. I thought she was going to throw up right here at the table and it kinda struck me that no one thought it was strange..."

"Please don't let your mother hear you talking about vomiting. She's already quite self-conscious about everything – and feeling a tad guilty that we weren't able to share the news with you sooner."

"It's okay," Henry assured him. "It really is. I know a whole lot has happened in the past few days and it's been really difficult for everyone, but I'm happy it doesn't have to be a secret anymore. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a big brother."

"It will be a huge adjustment for all of us as we prepare for your sister's arrival and we both are counting on your support."

"Sister? You know already that it's a girl?"

Killian wasn't quite certain how he would answer that question – how much detail to impart, so he decided to defer the finer points of the story for the moment. "Suffice it to say that there may have been some divine intervention on our behalf, but yes – we're having a daughter."

"A little sister, huh? That's cool. And I'm just happy for you both."

"Thank you," Killian smiled, relieved that the announcement - well, confirmation of the lad's suspicions – had gone well, although he wasn't quite prepared for the direction their conversation would go next.

"Killian, can I ask you something while it's just the two of us talking?"

"Of course," the pirate responded with a mix of confusion and curiosity in his voice. "You're always welcome to come to me with any queries."

"Then you'll be honest with me about something?" he questioned to which Killian nodded a silent affirmative. "Do you have Merlin's powers?"

"Not exactly…," the pirate replied with a nervous chortle, his brain scrambling for the best possible explanation. He wasn't used to being caught unprepared for this many questions in one sitting.

"But you do have some magical powers from Excalibur?" the teen persisted.

"Aye – some that I've recently rediscovered…May I ask what brought about that question?"

"Well, earlier this week, I heard something hit the floor and you cursing at whatever it was. Considering all you've been through recently, I was worried you might need help but when I got upstairs, I saw a book rising up off the floor. I wasn't meaning to spy, but you didn't have the bedroom door closed all the way so…"

"Eavesdropping on a pirate, eh?" Killian teased with a devilish grin and one eyebrow raised in appreciation of the boy's audacity. "That can be quite a dangerous venture… Just what exactly did you happen to see?"

"It looked like you were practicing moving objects around like mom used to do – and not much better than she did at first." His honesty elicited a burst of laughter from his stepfather. "How long have you had those powers back?"

"It's a bit of a long story, but the magic never really left. I possessed it from the moment your mother used Excalibur to turn me into a Dark One. Thanks to Hades' tricks, I wasn't able to remember for quite some time that the bloody Crocodile had only stolen the dark magic."

"But you got your memories back?" Henry asked excitedly. "And you should have Merlin's light magic, right?"

"Aye – my memories have returned – again thanks to some divine intervention, however I'm fairly certain that those powers are shared with your mother because my abilities are rather limited - a few tricks here and there – just enough to prove a point, but that's about all. I've no desire for anything beyond this, nor have I any intention to use magic to further my needs. "

"And mom knows all of this?"

"Aye, she does – and we have our suspicions as to what may have become of the remainder of those powers from Excalibur…," Killian paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If we're correct, your infant sister could be born with magical powers the likes of which we've not encountered before. We just won't know for certain until she arrives, but we're already experiencing signs of it."

"Wait - you think the baby has magical powers already – even before she's born?"

"Let's just say that the first sign came after your other grandfather, Rumplestiltskin, attacked me in the hospital. Your mother received an SOS message on her talking phone alerting her that I was in danger, but it wasn't I who sent it."

"So you and mom think that the baby sent it somehow?" Henry was baffled as to how that could be possible, but then he quickly remembered that he lived in a place where impossible things were daily occurrences – including the fact that Killian was even here sitting beside him.

"It's a possibility that we're considering," Killian responded with a nod. "Only time will tell for certain and as you can imagine, your mother is worried enough. This isn't a revelation that we want to leave this house just yet."

"Wow…," was the only response the boy could muster but after a few speechless moments he added: "That will sure make things interesting around here…"

"Indeed – and I'm certain that you understand why we will not be saying anything to your grandmother about this subject…"

"She won't hear it from me!" Henry exclaimed with a wide grin.

"Good lad," Killian replied, grinning as broadly as his stepson. "Now is not the time to incite your mother's wrath." Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood up and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. "Leave the rest of those dishes for morning. I'll finish them up. I know you're anxious to go chat with Lady Violet."

"Just to be clear – I can finally tell her I'm going to be a big brother?"

"Yes – that news you're free to share." The words had barely passed from Killian's lips before Henry sprang to his feet and darted up the stairs to his room with a shouted thank you as he vanished from sight. Shaking his head, Killian pushed both chairs back beneath the table then turned off all of the downstairs lights – the un-magical way – before making his way back up to the second floor himself.

The master bedroom door still remained slightly ajar as he had left it so that he'd be able to hear should his wife have called out for him. He glanced in from the hallway, much in the same manner Henry had confessed to doing few days earlier to encounter him toying with magic, noticing that Emma was curled up on their bed with her back to him. He stood there just beholding her for a while, momentarily transfixed by the depth of his love for this woman. She was still clad in her clothing from dinner – save for the boots she had removed and tossed to the foot of the bed. Her crimson blouse had hiked up on her back, revealing a narrow strip of skin above the waistband of her denim trousers. Pale blonde locks spilled out over her pillow – and partially onto his, not that he minded. She was probably asleep and he was somewhat fearful of disturbing her if he dared push open the door with its squeaky hinge. So instead he just lingered there – his mind replaying their earlier conversation where she had informed him in a very perturbed fashion that she likely wouldn't be able to wear jeans for much longer as the swell of her belly was making them too tight. He couldn't fathom her frustration with her changing figure as to him, she had never looked more beautiful.

He would never know what it was that he'd done to deserve this woman, but he was eternally grateful for every second spent at her side and for all that had gone right in the world to bring them together. They had come from different realms – different eras. Nothing about their lives together made any sense and yet here they were – both part of a family that was expanding – a dream that neither would have envisioned just a few years earlier. Fate may not always have been kind, but it kept bringing them back to each other and now, in this latest chapter of their story, fate would soon bring them a daughter - a daughter who could prove to be a powerful sorceress if their supposition was confirmed, but as with everything else they'd encountered thus far, they would learn ways to face that battle together.

After all, at the end of the day, they were just a princess and a pirate who were still writing their fairy tale – still believing that their happy ending would be never ending.

[hellojalapeno]

Preface: This post is the reason I started this blog over a year ago. I've been running away from it for probably longer than that. Yesterday morning on Twitter, I was triggered by the suggestion that there is a "recipe" for sobriety. I don't know this person or their struggles and I really have no interest in calling them out but I wanted to respond to the original poster but found there was way too much to say. It was time for this. I don't know how it's going to be received but it's extremely personal and I am writing it from my own perspective (it's the only one I have) so if it feels like I'm "making this about me" then I guess I'm sorry for that. I have to warn anyone reading this that this post is a bummer to say the very least.

My brother, Sam, was born 1 year and 9 months after I was. We were about as different as two children could be - I was loud, boisterous, bossy, and commanded attention while Sam was quiet, sensitive, sweet, and easy going - but we were best friends. To be honest, I always kind of felt like he was my child as much as he was my parents'. That feeling multiplied when my parents divorced and we moved with our mom 6 hours away from our dad and the only home we'd known. I felt protective and responsible for Sam and for his happiness. I had the typical "I can mess with my brother but you can't" mentality of an older sibling and leapt to his defense at any perceived slight.

I don't remember exactly when Sam started drinking, it wasn't like he advertised it to our family. I remember nights when we were teenagers and he would come home drunk. I, in my youth group fueled fervent Christian phase, would cry and write him letters in a tone I thought at the time was pleading and heartfelt but was probably more scolding. I can't remember giving him the letters - in all likelihood I just threw them away - but I do remember tiptoeing into his room to take off his shoes after he had passed out.

I remember my senior year in college, I bought tickets for us to see Black Sabbath at Ozz Fest. He took a train to Chicago and when I got to the station to pick him up he was wasted from drinking liquor out of a Scope bottle the whole way up. I had become a social drinker by that point and found the situation at least a little amusing, if not a tad annoying . We took the El to my school cafeteria where they were having a midnight pancake breakfast and where Sam kept disappearing to smoke cigarettes. He apologized for years for "embarrassing me" and for trying to smoke on the train. I know I told him I hadn't been embarrassed but I don't think I told him I had been much more worried than embarrassed.

I remember Sam moving to St. Louis with his girlfriend to attend college. I remember how  hard it was to reach him during that time period and worrying about him nearly constantly. I had the distinct feeling several times that he was homeless. He later admitted that he had been at times. When he and his girlfriend finally broke up (for good) and he moved back in with my mom I was relieved but concerned about the effect of our small hometown on him.

I remember going home for Thanksgiving, pregnant with my son. It had been hard but I had come to terms with the fact that he was a problematic drinker (it was still hard for me to use the term alcoholic but I was trying). He agreed to go outside and talk with me and I begged him to get help for his drinking. I had a list of places he could go, fees they charged, types of treatment. I spent days researching and compiling it. I had written a script so I wouldn't forget everything I wanted to say. He wouldn't look at me. He looked like he hated me which broke my heart so much that my chest physically ached. I still have a hard time thinking about his face that day. He was silent. I told him I loved him and that I wanted my son to have his smart, creative uncle in his life. I gave the list that he refused to take to my mom. I cried and couldn't stop. I cried the entire nine hour drive back to North Carolina and for weeks after. I finally filed away my notes and the copy of the list I had kept and told myself I had done all that I could do. I told myself that for me and for my baby I would have to put this away and remove myself from it at least for awhile. Months later he called and told me he had lost another relationship over his drinking and wanted to seek treatment. I was wary but so happy. He had never reached out like that. I never heard another thing about it.

I remember when Sam got a DUI driving home to my mom's house. When he went to court, the judge told him he had never heard of someone having such a high blood-alcohol volume and still being able to stand. He gave him a ten day jail sentence and mom and I hoped it would be a good thing for him. My mom took him to jail to surrender right before his birthday, right before Christmas. We tried not to imagine him detoxing in jail.

I remember my mom calling and telling me that she had to take Sam to the hospital. He hadn't been eating and had been throwing up blood. When they initially went to Urgent Care, the nurse guessed he was either diabetic or alcoholic just from the smell in the room. They sent him to the ER immediately. Since Sam hadn't been eating and had only been drinking liquor, his body was trying to get nourishment from somewhere and it just couldn't. The doctors told him that if he didn't stop drinking immediately he would be dead in five years. To me that seemed optimistic. They offered to help treat his withdrawal and, according to my mom, he had accepted. For weeks, my mom reported to me that Sam was in a daze from the medication but I wasn't sure what it was from. I went home for Thanksgiving and on my last night there, Sam was clearly drunk. I went home and wrote him another letter begging him to stop. Telling him how much we loved him and that mom and I didn't want to lose him. Telling him that we would do anything, ANYTHING to help him. Feeling like the words I wrote were feeble compared to how much I really felt those things. I remember hoping upon hope and taking walks at night and thinking of what songs we might play at his funeral and begging God or whoever to please help my brother.

I remember Sam called me when I was headed to the store to pick up a few things for Christmas dinner with the kids. He told me for the thousandth time that we were the Addams Family and I was Morticia. He wasn't particularly coherent. I texted my boyfriend, Josh, afterwards that I hadn't understood any of the conversation. My mom claimed he had been taking the detox medication.

I remember being on a flight to Nashville with the same thoughts running on a loop in my head. Please get there in time. And the words no one would say to me and that I kept having to force myself to say - to my boss, to my best friend, to Josh - My brother is dying. Josh picked me up from the airport and hugged me but I couldn't speak. I kept starting sentences but not knowing how to finish them. I stared out the window and thought the same thoughts and hoped we would get there sooner but also that we would never get there. He held my hand. I cried. I told him angry, hateful thoughts. I looked into the night and just remember seeing dots of light and snow but not registering anything else.

It was late when we pulled into the hospital parking lot and I realized how much I was dreading seeing my parents. To my surprise, my mom had already called my dad and he was there. I dreaded them both leaning on me. I dreaded having to share my pain with them. I felt mean and angry. My mom was outside smoking when we got to the emergency room doors and she led us to the ICU with our hands linked together. My dad hugged me when we got to the room but all I could look at was Sam, lying in a hospital bed motionless with tubes coming out of his face. Everything looked so orderly. I don't know if I even got a chance to step toward his bed before a nurse entered the room. His words seemed fast and shocking and nonsensical. He seemed to think my parents had told me more than they had. You and your mother and father will have to make a decision....Not much we can do. He used the words "choice" and "decision" but it was clear there were no real choices and that there really was no other decision we could make. I felt like I was in the center of a crowd and the room was shrinking. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say but I felt that he was looking at me expectantly. I felt like collapsing. I already knew this was the situation but my heart wasn't ready. "Ok" I think I said, "Ok."


I remember Josh hugging me tightly. I remember my mother's tearful eyes. I remember going to Sam's bed and being surprised at how warm he was. Staring at the blue geometric tattoo on his upper left arm. Looking for a place on his face where I could place a kiss. Noticing the blood in the corners of his mouth. Rubbing his hand. Not wanting to disturb him but knowing he couldn't be disturbed. I remember his breath and how even with the machines he would struggle from time to time. We left the hospital and, alone with Josh, it was hard to walk. I kept wanting to just crouch down on the floor. I told him I didn't want to leave and he told me we didn't have to. We drove to the hotel where I lay awake all night in the dark with the same thoughts in my head: Tomorrow. Tomorrow your brother will die. I still regret leaving the hospital.

The next day at the hospital the decision was officially made. Time was both too slow and too fast. I remember asking my mom if she was going to call anyone to let them know. "I don't want to. I don't want anyone here." She said. "What about his friends," I said. "He loves them. Don't you think they should have a chance to say good-bye?" She hesitantly agreed and contacted Sam's ex-girlfriend who we knew still cared for Sam a lot and she got the word out. The first person to show up was Ricky, dressed in his work clothes. Ricky was a name so familiar to me that I couldn't believe I had never met him. Sam had referred to him as his best friend so many times. I remember Ricky sitting by Sam's bed, staring at the floor. Others started arriving, so many I couldn't keep track. They kept vigil by his bedside as we waited for hospice to arrive. They played songs, they rubbed his skin with lotion, they cried with us. I drifted in and out of Sam's room, Josh standing carefully and steadfastly by my side. I sat outside of his room and thought terrible thoughts. You decided that your brother would die. That thought weighs heavily on me even still. I kept feeling afraid the nurses would come by and tell us we couldn't have all these people in the ICU - there were so many of them, crowding around his bed and lining the hall. Everyone was quiet - hugging, crying, and occasionally offering some memory of Sam. The hospital staff kept a reverent distance.

The waiting was excruciating. The estimated time that the doctor would arrive to remove the machines came and went and I couldn't decide if I wanted more time or if I wanted this to be over. My father kept questioning when they would arrive which felt like sandpaper on my raw emotions. Did he realize what we were so impatient for? I kept waiting for people to start leaving. This was a lot for anyone to take, more than anyone should have to bear. But they stayed.

Finally, the doctors and nurses arrived to begin. They asked if any of us wanted to stay in the room while they removed the machines and they and Josh cautioned us that it was a difficult process to watch and that it might be better if we didn't. I wanted to stay with him and I still wish I had but I knew if I did that my parents would want to also and I didn't think they could handle it. We stepped out and all waited in a cluster by the closed curtain. I had no idea what to expect from any of this. They told us that without the machines he might live a few days or weeks or he might pass very quickly.

When they opened the curtain, my parents, Josh, and I went back in and took places by the bed. I stood on his right side by his head. I watched his chest move up and down three times.  I watched three last breaths escape his body, the last the most precious. Then he stopped. That's a moment I wish I had never had to have but that I would never give up. I don't know how long it took for me to turn around to be enveloped by Josh, sobbing loudly into his chest.

The next few days were raw as I began the process of saying good-bye to Sam. Two years later, I am still going through it and starting to realize I always will be.  Sometimes the thought of that process ending makes me scared because it feels like the only piece of him I have left. Sam was my other half for most of my life and without him I feel half empty and not completely sure who I am. I am fortunate to have so many amazing people in my life - my mom, my kids, and my soulmates @ponystarwars and @juanincognito  - they have helped me through and given me a reason to keep going. Sometimes I still feel alone in the world without my brother. Sometimes I feel like I don't want to keep doing this life without him.

Sam was incredible. He was NOT his alcoholism. Sam was kind to a fault. Sam was creative and talented and smart in a way I can't describe and in a way I've never seen before or since. Sam was genuine and thoughtful and introspective and selfless. Sometimes I think he was too good for this world. Knowing he isn't here anymore to spread his goodness makes me want to be better myself to make up for it. I am lucky to have had him as my brother for 35 years. I hope writing this can help me share more of him here and help me remember his goodness.

So in response to the issue of how to get sober, I know Sam and I know his kind heart and if there was some simple way to recover and keep us all from this hurt I know he would have done it. I know he must have carried a terrible, guilty weight knowing we were hurt by his drinking. I don't have an answer for this, I wish I did. Just know if you're out there, struggling with this from either side, that I'm out here too and there are more like us. We are not alone.

[creactivist-universe]

I started a post yesterday, but  I think it’s lost to the internet now.  I don’t remember what I wrote, but I think it was related to reading through my high school blogs.  

I’ve scheduled my first therapy appointment in three years!  I have my first appointment on February 9th at the ungodly hour of 7:45am.  I’ve cycled back to, “I can’t live with this ADD and depression and it’s seriously impacted my life on no less than two occasions.”  To be honest, after reading my old journals and reflecting on the past 10 years, I’m beginning to think I may suffer from, at the very least, a mild form of bipolar.

I have a few reasons for this, but let’s see if I can form a relatively coherent argument before my mind flits elsewhere.

I think at this point, a few, if not most of my close friends are aware of my struggle with depression.  I was diagnosed in high school and have felt it to varying degrees the past 15 years.  I don’t like to talk about the two big instances in which it severely impacted my life, but I think it could be cathartic right now.  I take that back.  I think it’s 3.

The first. This is really the first time I’ve thought critically about my high school experience and how my depression truly impacted it.  No one except those in charge of my grades and the colleges I applied to know this, but I almost failed out of high school.  On the outside, no adults were truly aware of what I was doing.  I was in honors and AP classes, took early bird P.E. because my schedule was so full, played clarinet in the band, sang soprano in choir, wrote and acted in plays, did speech & debate, and several other activities.  By all appearances I looked like an energetic and bright teenager who knew what they wanted and where they were going.  But in reality, I was struggling.  I wasn’t completing assignments, I was self-harming, and I was becoming obsessive about people and ideas from a time when I thought I was happier.  Reading through my old posts is a rollercoaster of emotions and sometimes it doesn’t feel like the same person was posting these different entries.  I’d go from admitting that I’d cut myself and hated myself, and how obsessed I was with an old friend I thought I was madly in love with to talking about how amazing I was, how productive, that happiness was a choice, and obsessing over an internet boyfriend. Of course, it is hard to separate the ‘teen-ness’ from the mental illness, but I do remember that this was around the time I started to feel like I was two different people.  That there was a me that did everything right, and everything aligned the way I needed and wanted to and I was capable of great things and then there was a me that was a piece of shit, that looked at my excited self as something less than human and an embarrassment.  By the end of high school, even though teachers had consistently told me I was one of their brightest students, I barely had a 2.0.

The second. My first two and half years of college were amazing.  I was involved.  I received amazing grades.  I partied hard and worked harder.  I founded the environmental club at my community college and attended conferences on issues I cared about.  I transferred to Iowa State and worked for national nonprofit while in school.  I helped organize a 200 student conference, spoke on a panel about the future of food and land grant universities in California.  I was on the economics committee for model UN and attended the political science club.  I joined a sorority based around science technology and was so involved I barely had time to thing.  Then like a switch everything changed.  I stopped attending classes.  I never left my room.  I didn’t turn in assignments.  And once again, teachers and my adviser all expressed that oh so common concern, “You’re one of the brightest students in my class, but you’re just not turning in your work.”  I spiraled down, and I spiraled fast.  Before I knew it I was meeting with a dean from the College of Life Sciences, sobbing in their office, begging to be given a second chance.  Needless to say, they basically told me I had to leave, but that I could come back once I got my shit together.

The third. After being ‘academically dismissed’ from college, I fell into a routine of work and partying.  Suddenly I was putting all the energy I used to have for school and my passions, I was putting in to hanging out with this amazing group of people in Ames.  I felt manic.  I didn’t sleep much, I drank a lot, and I made a lot of poor choices.  I adopted 5 chickens I had no business attempting to care for.  I welcomed a heroin addict in to my home and heart.  I would start and end parties, or randomly disappear once I’d decided I was ‘bored.’  Then, as if by magic, I found an opportunity to do the type of work I’d always wanted.  It’s wasn’t glamorous and it was a lot of work, but I was so excited.  I came a Canvass Director with the Fund for the Public Interest and I got to canvass door-to-door on issues that were important to me and crucial to the safety and security of Americans.  I moved to Chicago and worked 12 hours a day, 100 hours a week.  I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but I always felt that I was putting in the hard work I needed to gain the experience to truly run my own nonprofit or get involved in government.  When it came time for my contract to expire we started discussing my next step.  Joe said I’d make a great Campus Organizer (even though I REALLY wanted to be a fellow.)  Even though I had misgivings about the position, I went around and asked everyone in the office who’d ever been a campus organizer about the job.  I even fucking emailed Andre, the executive director of US PIRG and had an hour long coffee meeting with him where we talked about my past experiences, my goals for the future, and the work I’d done with his network of organizations.  I was referred to work for MASSPIRG by the god damn director of the US branch of the organization.  Like the top guy.  And getting selected to work in Massachusetts is  HUGE DEAL. It’s where the first PIRG was started on college campuses in the 1970s.  It’s where they send some of their strongest organizers.  I was on track to really move up in the organization and making a bigger impact.  But like so often happens, like a slap in the face, my depression came back with a vengeance.  Suddenly, I wasn’t following in the foot steps of people like Barack Obama. (If you’re curious about the ‘community’ organizing he did in college, he was a Campus Organizer for PIRG.  Either in New York or New Jersey, I can’t remember.)  I had the same job our president once had and I was in charge of organizing students on two college campuses and when we geared up to pass the bottle bill during the next election, they wanted to expand my jurisdiction temporarily to the community.  I was organizing for a ballot initiative and I was in charge of making sure that as many people as possible knew how to vote on election day. (Here’s a brag: The county in Mass that I was in charge of voted for the bill by a higher percentage than anywhere in the state.  Inevitably we lost as Coca Cola spent $5 in ads against us.)  Suddenly, I was faking press conferences, and missing meetings with senators.  I was afraid to leave my room and rarely went to the colleges I was supposed to organized.  I felt overwhelmed and underprepared.  And like always, by the time I tried to reach out for help it was too late.  I had to drive 3 hours to Boston to be told they were letting me go.  I’d never been fired before.  I’d never failed that hard before.  Up until this point, I had genuinely felt like I’d made up for my mistake in college.  That the universe had someone lined everything up perfectly for me and that there was some greater purpose to my life. Now I just felt like a shitstain in the history of humanity.  I took the six months we had left in our lease to essentially just sit on pause.  I worked, I smoked, and I drank.  And right when things were starting to look up and I’d finally gained a solid group of good friends, I moved.

Back to Iowa. Back to hear.  Almost to now.  Where I have a great job with amazing benefits that many people would kill for.  Bah.  I’m actually on a roll today and there’s so much more I want to say, but I need to get going and finish getting ready for work.