#why would you want your child to experience suffering or discomfort that is so easily preventable by you?

[dolphin1812]

Cosette!

There's a strong implication that the Rue Plumet house is an opportunity for romance, both through earlier descriptions of the garden (the emphasis on youth, weddings, love, etc) and lines like this:

"The convent is a compression which must last the whole life, if it is to triumph over the human heart. On leaving the convent, Cosette could not have found anything sweeter or more dangerous than the house in the Rue Plumet. It was the commencement of solitude with the commencement of liberty, a closed garden, but a sharp, kind, rich, voluptuous, and odorous nature; there were the same dreams as in the convent, but glimpses could be caught of young men,—it was a grating, but it looked on the street."

Most obviously, the passage mentions that Cosette could see young men through the grating, but the language used to describe the garden ("voluptuous") feels quite sensual. Romance would also be the specific subject Jean Valjean and the nuns couldn't/wouldn't prepare her for; if the nuns ever had experience with that, they swore it off when they became nuns, and Jean Valjean has never experienced romance ("Jean Valjean had never loved anything [. . . . ] [He] had never been father, lover, husband, or friend" - LM 2.4.3). I think Hugo centers romance and relationships for young women in a way that's uncomfortable (even if it's unfortunately realistic in some ways, given that they were financially very important [the struggle of having enough money if unmarried as a woman] and risky because of social pressures [like Fantine being ostracized because she had a child without being married]). Part of the discomfort is also from the way these societal expectations of gender blend with Hugo's ideas, like his notion that Cosette is especially lost because she doesn't have a mother to guide her with the combined experience of being a "virgin" and a "wife." Still, it's true that romance would be difficult for Cosette because she doesn't have someone to easily communicate with on the subject. Jean Valjean is the only person she has right now, and it's not a topic he's very aware of. Rather than the framing here, then, it's a bit more sympathetic if we take it as another instance of the importance of a broad network of social support. Romance would not be as dangerous to Cosette if she had a variety of people to learn from, just as it would have been safer for Fantine if she had had people to fall back on after being abandoned or if people had advised her more directly in the first place about what to expect from a student-grisette romance.

The house is also mixed for Cosette in that it contains remnants of a cage. The convent is the true "compression," so she's free now that she's no longer there. Still, the psychological cage might remain; we don't know if she'll break free of it. The grating is part-cage as well, giving her more freedom than the convent but still constraining her. She can see the world now, but she's not fully in it, either.

Most importantly, Cosette is still a child! Hugo's speculating on her future here, but Cosette just wants to find interesting insects! Her love of searching for creatures feels like a return to the gamins, who do the same when playing; it's a shared trait that defines them as children, regardless of their different backgrounds. They're all still young, so they play.

Her love for her father is so sweet. I adore that she tries to fight against Jean Valjean's total lack of self-esteem by demanding that he treat himself better, or else she'll treat herself the same way:

""Father, I feel very cold in your room; why don't you have a carpet and a stove?"

"My dear child, there are so many persons more deserving than myself who have not even a roof to cover them."

"Then, why is there fire in my room and everything that I want?"

"Because you are a woman and a child."

"Nonsense! then men must be cold and hungry?""

Cosette knows that Valjean would never make her suffer, so if she makes herself live like him, she won't actually live badly. He'll just raise his own standard of living to make sure she's comfortable. Valjean's love for Cosette is one of his main defining traits, but she really loves him, too, and it's great to see that expressed!

I also love that their bond transcends societal expectations and is unique to them. In the passage above, for instance, Cosette questions gendered expectations over what men, women, and children should respectively tolerate, rejecting the idea that women and children should be prioritized over men. Part of it is certainly that she knows her father could be living more comfortably, but it's also because she loves him and doesn't want him to suffer needlessly based on any justification, whether it be others' poverty or gender. She sees Jean Valjean as both her father and mother as well, calling him "father" and imagining him like this:

"When she thought at night before she fell asleep, as she had no very clear idea of being Jean Valjean's daughter, she imagined that her mother's soul had passed into this good man, and had come to dwell near her. When he was sitting down she rested her cheek on his white hair, and silently dropped a tear, while saying to herself, "Perhaps this man is my mother!""

It's especially moving because Valjean sees himself in a similar way, feeling that he is her father because she needed one just as he needed a child, but also "[feeling] pangs like a mother" upon adopting her (LM 2.4.3). Fantine is ever-present in their relationship (and Cosette's dream was both beautiful and sad), but not entirely in an upsetting way. Valjean's feelings are unclear, and Cosette loves her mother, but in a vague way, since she doesn't remember her. But in a spiritual/religious way, Valjean and her mother's spirits have merged to her, preserving what she's heard about her mother's love and combining it with her lived experience of love. It's very sweet, and it makes sense that she would imagine her mother this way after such a religious upbringing.

Unfortunately, the metaphorical prison of the convent and the cage of the grating aren't the only dark shadow in this chapter. The last line is a bit ominous. For context, here it is in English and in French:

"The poor wretch, inundated with an angelic joy, trembled; he assured himself with transport that this would last his whole life; he said to himself that he had not really suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God in the depths of his soul for having allowed him—the wretched—to be thus loved by this innocent being."

"Le pauvre homme tressaillait inondé d'une joie angélique; il s'affirmait avec transport que cela durerait toute la vie; il se disait qu'il n'avait vraiment pas assez souffert pour mériter un si radieux bonheur, et il remerciait Dieu, dans les profondeurs de son âme, d'avoir permis qu'il fût ainsi aimé, lui misérable, par cet être innocent."

Jean Valjean is still a "misérable," and he defines his worth through suffering. He's happy with Cosette, which is wonderful! But he also thinks he doesn't deserve her, even if she clearly thinks otherwise. His joy, then, is in constant tension with his status as a misérable, and while Cosette tries to help - she's making him live decently! - she also doesn't know why he has this mindset. Jean Valjean has love, but he still carries the logic of the prison system with him, and by that logic, he will never "deserve" happiness.

[trans-xianxian]

I've always been a rlly picky eater (textures my beloathed) plus I've been vegetarian for like 12 years so that limits my options even more and this used to be like a huge dramatic problem esp w my mom but as I've gotten older and can feed myself/buy my own food I've realized how it truly is not difficult to find food that I enjoy or accommodate other people who are really picky like it really is not that hard and everybody deserves to eat good filling food that they like and I think it's really fucked up that being a picky eater is like.... a genuine point of childhood trauma for people? like my mother used to say that if I didn't like dinner then breakfast was in the morning so I just would not eat. like she would make stuff she KNEW I didn't like just because I don't know she wanted it and didn't care if her child ate dinner or not? and that's just so insane to me like why wouldn't you want your child to be full and happy and healthy? you're responsible for them and their health and happiness and you'd just choose to only buy and make food that You enjoy knowing that they don't like it? just tell them "tough luck" if they don't like what's for dinner? to a literal child? who is in your complete control? who has no choice but to either put themselves through an uncomfortable and sensorally (is that a word??) upsetting experience or just not eat? I know this seems like maybe a bit of an overreaction but like just think about that for a second.... you're a grown adult who has chosen and promised to take care of a child to the best of your ability and you decide to be so selfish and cruel as to deny them food because you don't want to put in the minimum effort required to find them something they'll enjoy. food should not be a painful or frustrating or upsetting experience it should make you feel good and taken care of and nourished and to take that away from a child who is literally completely helpless and unable to provide or advocate for themself is so beyond fucked up. like my dad would always just ask what I wanted for dinner. like genuinely ask what I wanted and would make it for me and got things at the store that he knew I liked and even as I got older and was fully capable of making my own meals he'd still cook for me because he knew it was hard for me to preform that act of self care sometimes but still knew that I needed to eat and Wanted to take care of me. and like just because I wanted something doesn't mean he Also ate it because he could just make himself something else... with him I always had dinner when I was hungry and it was always what I wanted to eat because that's literally how it works for every adult person and he wanted to treat me like a human being with autonomy rather than someone just there for him to control. I don't know it's just so insane to me that you would deprive a child of good food because you want to be selfish and in control when the simple act of providing nourishment is so easy

[bonvoyagenoona]

hi cheryl! i absolutely adore you work, thank you for blessing us and taking the time to write and share these wonderful stories for us to enjoy 💜

i really want to see how my fav couple ever, matchmaker!jungkook would react to someone trying to hit on y/n. would he roast the shit out of the guy like he does with yoongi and let him know you’re out of his league? 😭 would he just try to get y/n away from him because he hates that feeling? i feel like it’d be really interesting since the guy has no experience with a relationship before LOL

Aw, thanks for reading with me! Such kind words -- I’m so thrilled that you’ve been enjoying these worlds, and the love you have for Matchmaker!! We still have one more final drabble to go (haven’t finished yet, but it’ll be called The Apartment!), but as for Matchmaker Jungkook, here’s a little, angsty-fluffy drabble about that very situation...

Jungkook is Jealous

It’s undeniable that the spotlight has always been a fawning friend to the Jungkooks of the world, but he finds there’s nothing quite like the shine that comes with having you on his arm.

Even if the only reason you’re on his arm is because you’re desperately trying to avoid prolonged eye contact or shared air with the mass of people churning around you in this non-air conditioned jewelry store.

“It’s been hours.”

“It’s been forty-five minutes.”

“If I had a watch, I could easily check to see if you’re right,” you complain to his neck. “Ugh. This is why I hate holidays. Too many people off from work. Too many people, just, out, and, like, in my way.”

Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he hugs you tighter, protectively scanning the woman with the giant tote squeezing by on your left, and the single-file family of six rushing past on your right.

“All the anti-capitalist spiels that you and Yoongi, and now Namjoon, make us suffer through at every family dinner, and this is the real reason why you hate holidays?” He tilts his head, his chin bouncing off the top of your skull. “And shouldn’t you like holidays? Because the proletariat gets a chance to take a break?”

“I shouldn’t have sent you those Vox videos.”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t know what the fuck you and Yoongi and Namjoon are on about all the time!”

When he scoffs, you feel his breath flow through your eyebrows.

“Makes sense, though. Given that you secretly hate people.”

“I do hate people,” you wince, as the last child in the family of six elbows your thigh on his way out of the store.

Jungkook scoffs again as your angry, sweaty fist grips the bag containing your newly-repaired watch.

“So odd.”

“What, my discomfort?”

He shoots you a naughty smirk, and, in spite of yourself, your head fills with the bite marks and bruises that Jungkook has given you.

“Maybe I can make you feel a little discomfort when we get home.”

When he speaks, he leans in, his voice low and tantalizing.

“Glad my discomfort amuses you.”

When you respond, your voice has a bit of an edge.

Not a naughty one.

An annoyed one.

Which surprises even you.

Jungkook frowns. “It doesn’t. I just meant, like, your contradictions.”

“My what?”

“You know. A psychologist who hates people. An anti-capitalist who runs her own business. A business that matches people, at that.”

“Yeah, and if it weren’t for me, you’d be anything but a contradiction, still playing out the same tired trope of a himbo that you really are, right?” you prod.

By now, you’re definitely hangry.

And by now, Jungkook has learned to read your moods.

His eyes soften a little. And when they do, so do yours.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, even though you don’t mean it just yet. “I think I’m tired, and annoyed, and hungry, and I’m feeling called out.”

But Jungkook doesn’t really hear you. He doesn’t need the apology. He’s already looking past the moment. Past you, in fact. His eyes have landed on the bright yellow sign for the pretzel shop that has just set out a cup of cinnamon-covered bites.

He meets your eyes again and raises his brows, and you chuckle as he scampers off to get you a cup of your own.

As you watch him bounce in line, move forward, and ask the cashier to pull one of the cups that seems to have some extra pretzel bites in it, you wonder. Will you ever get used to this, having someone in your life who isn’t Yoongi or Jin coming to your conclusions before you do? Someone who doesn’t need apologies? Did you ever think such a person existed? Or that this person would be someone who could have anyone else? That this person is one of the Jungkooks of the world?

“How long have you been waiting?”

You whirl around at the question, momentarily unsure of what exactly it’s asking.

The stranger who asked it happens to be a man who is smiling and pointing to your bag.

“Oh,” you say, realizing that he isn’t asking about your existential revelations about letting people into your life, and giving him the answer that he’s actually looking for. “About forty-five minutes, I guess.”

“Crazy,” he says, eyes roving around the clumps of crowds. “I’ve been waiting to pick up my mother’s broken necklace for twenty minutes now. This is why I don’t go out.”

You nod. “No kidding.”

His eyes meet yours, and you notice something. You don’t recognize this person. Not his face, which is kind and handsome. Not his voice, which is airy, but pleasant. But his look.

It’s the same hungry look that Jungkook has given you, oftentimes in those moments of “discomfort”.

“I wouldn’t mind taking you out sometime, though,” he says.

This is exactly the kind of statement that you would encourage your clients to make on their dates. It’s inviting. Direct, but not too forward. Centered on the self, which takes some pressure off of the other person to respond immediately with a yes or no.

This is exactly the kind of statement that you’d tell others to make.

But this is exactly the kind of statement that short-circuits your brain.

When that statement comes to you, you never know if people are serious. You never trust the people who say it. You’re convinced that people are just using you as some kind of means to an end. You’re not sure if you like thinking about what that “end” is. And you’re never sure how to respond.

For better or worse, this time, you don’t have to.

You feel the inside of Jungkook’s elbow hook rather uncomfortably around the back of your neck, making you lurch forward a bit.

“Hey!” Jungkook says.

When he speaks, his words are laced with a sparkling danger that makes you feel a different kind of uncomfortable.

“What do we have here?” he goes on.

“Oh,” the stranger replies, “I, uh, I was just—”

“Just asking my girlfriend out on a date?” Jungkook asks.

“Well,” the stranger laughs, “yes, technically, but I didn’t know that—”

You feel Jungkook tighten his arm around the back of your neck.

“That your hair is thinning a bit on the sides? That your shirt is a size too small and has what seems to be a soy sauce stain on your left shoulder seam? That your cargo shorts are out of style, or that your socks don’t match?” Jungkook asks, literally sizing him up from head to toe.

The stranger clears his throat. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, OK?”

“OK, well, now you know.”

Jungkook looks over his shoulder at a men’s apparel store.

“I’d start there.”

The stranger clicks his teeth and walks away in the opposite direction, muttering a clearly audible, “Asshole.”

Once the stranger passes the pretzel shop, you wiggle your way out of Jungkook’s hold.

By now, you’ve learned Jungkook’s moods, too.

“My big, strong man!” you tease, plucking a cinnamon pretzel bite out of the cup that Jungkook is gripping in his own sweaty, angry fist. “Protecting his girl! Reclaiming his turf! Big, strong, sexy, stylish, sock-matching man!”

“Stop.”

“With his head full of sexy, manly hair!” you say through your braggadocious, open-mouthed chews.

A grin cracks through Jungkook’s pout. “OK.”

“So much hair!”

“I said oh-KAY!”

“So virile!”

Jungkook laughs, and when you run your hand through his virility-signaling hair, you get some sugar in his strands.

“Remember when you called Yoongi ‘Thumbelina’? And then ‘Tinkerbell’? And then ‘Kinkerbell’? That still bothers him.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jungkook insists, even though he doesn’t mean it yet, either.

“Then what was it like?” you ask.

Jungkook shrugs.

“I just…”

The pretzel bites shift in their cup as his shoulders slump.

“I’ve never felt this way. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Maybe you don’t need the apologies. But one of the many things you’ve shown Jungkook is that it’s good to share them anyway.

“So I’m sorry, too,” Jungkook says. “I could have phrased that better. I didn’t mean ‘odd’ like ‘weird’. I meant ‘odd’ like… rare.”

He smiles.

“I’ve never met anyone like you. So I go a little crazy when I get anywhere near the thought that you might not be in my life.”

You see that hungry look in his eyes, and you feel what you didn’t feel with that stranger — the sensation of your heart filling with fond, nearly uncontainable excitement.

And the dizzying knowledge that his heart is doing the same exact thing.

You step into him and place a hand on his chest. As you do, he lets out a deep breath, slumping further into you.

“We’re good, Jungkook,” you say earnestly. “Really good. So with these small things, let’s… feel the feeling, and then… let it go, you know?”

He nods. Relieved. Re-energized. “Yeah.”

And then he narrows his eyes.

“Though, how can someone who is so anti-capitalist run their own business?”

You follow his lead, turning and ambling toward the mall exit.

“I have exactly three counterpoints,” you say, picking out another cinnamon-covered pretzel and chomping into it. “One is that we’re not necessarily anti-capitalist, especially given Jin’s last drunken partner lunch.”

“He really ended up with a tattoo?”

“Yes, close to his ribs, and he’s way too excited to show you all at next family dinner. Now, the second,” you barrel through, “is that we don’t employ anyone else except ourselves, so we’re not forcing anyone to exchange labor for, and the third is that we technically do donate our services and a percentage of our profits to academic research that continues to elucidate foundational elements within the unknown world of compatibility versus true romance, and if it weren’t for our WAP coefficient we would never have—”

Jungkook’s lips mash into yours so hard that when he comes away from your sloppy, heated kiss, nearly all of the cinnamon from your pretzel bites have been transferred to him.

Shocked, you laugh brightly as he licks his lips and presses another kiss onto your cheek.

“What was that for?” Your eyes squinch together. “Reestablishing your turf?”

He laughs as he lets his arm hang around your waist as you walk.

“Nah, I just really, really like it when you show off your sexy brain. It makes me feel discomfort in the front of my very stylish pants.”

When he speaks, his voice is dripping with cinnamon and sugar.

Read Matchmaker here

[moon-in-daylight]

Read Between The Lines / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: You have been friends with Orlo for years now, even though you have always fantasized about being something more. When Orlo reads some compromising papers, you’re not sure you can keep your infatuation with him a secret anymore.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for weeks and now I’ve finally finished it. I’m not sure I’m content with the result, but considering I’ve overcome a really huge writing block to finish this, I’m posting it either way. I haven’t proofread any of this, so sorry for the potential mistakes and typos. Hope it still makes some sense. Also sorry for posting so late at night, but now that I finally have a fic to post, I can’t wait to do it until tomorrow 😂 

Surviving in Peter’s court wasn’t an easy task and anyone that had spent more than a few nights between the opulent walls of his palace could confirm that. The competence of the young Emperor could be easily described as inexistent and both the country and the palace were suffering the most absolute misery under his wicked and corrupted hand.

The war with Sweden had lasted too long, killed too many of your own people, but as harsh as it sounded, the front wasn’t the most hostile environment in Russia.

Sooner or later, that war would end. Eventually, things would go back to normal to the few lucky Russian soldiers that survived the unforgivingly cold winter in the battleground. Whatever outcome the dispute would take, the remaining survivors could go home and return to their families, live the rest of their lives in peace despite the atrocities they had been obliged to perform and witness…

The court, on the other hand, was endlessly immersed in a constant, vicious war for power that had started long before you were even born, and most certainly would still go on long after you were gone.

Every single soul living in Peter’s palace cared only for themselves, looked exclusively for their own interests. Winning the Emperor’s favor was vital for survival, and no one seemed to care whose feet they stepped on to get it. You could understand their selfish ways, you weren’t completely innocent either. You often forced yourself to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter made or took advantage of your family’s prosperous situation to get the any whims you could desire, even when in the majority times you actually didn't need most of the things you owned. It was an unfair situation and you were aware of it, but you had to take advantage of the fact that you had been born lucky and privileged.

But you normally tried to stay out of the way of the big political players, of those of the court’s residents that were trying to manipulate Peter into ruling by their beliefs and principles.

It was exhausting to live in a place like that. A place where everyone hid their true intentions and where you couldn’t lower your guard at practically any time of the day.

Much to your disgrace, the situation at court wouldn’t change while Peter was alive and occupying the throne. Even when he was the most incompetent, useless ruler the country had had in centuries – probably ever -, you were doomed to endure his reign with the only hope that you could outlive him and see a better Russia after he passed away.

He was too childish and puerile to run a country, far more worried in the seek for his own pleasure and amusement than meeting the needs of his people.

It was hard to conceive that while thousands of men were dying at the front, the Emperor could be drinking until passing out and making full display of his stupidity and recklessness through humorless jokes. It was evident to everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t qualified to run Russia, but you knew that saying that out loud would more than certainly get you killed.

He came from a long bloodline of rulers and that gave him a full pass on doing anything he wanted, no consequences, all by the divine grace of God. There was absolutely nothing you could do, except watch everyone around you butter up and lick the boots of the man that was destroying your homeland.

Not being able to deal with the hypocrisy of the court, you had soon learnt to ignore the real world and hide yourself up in fantasy ones, the shelves and books of the small library of the palace becoming a shelter for you.

In addition to being meaningfully smaller than the other rooms of the palace, the library was old, outdated and dusty. But it was also the quietest place and most peaceful room you could have access to, the least crowded. Just for that reason, it was the perfect place for you.

Although what you could have initially expected, you weren’t always alone in there, as Count Orlo often visited the library too. He was probably the only soul in the whole court beside you that care the slightest for written words, that enjoyed learning new things just for the pleasure of it.

You were intimidated by him at first, his political career and reputation making him seem cold and ruthless. In your eyes and judging by what you had heard of him, he was nothing but a calculating mind seeking to expand his power and influence, putting up with the Emperor’s constant mocking of him just so he could manipulate him.

That view you had of him immediately changed after the first time you exchanged a few ideas about the philosophy book he had caught you reading, his passionate words allowing you to see the concepts you were reading about from a different and more interesting point of view.

It wasn’t rare for the both of you to coincide in that room and through your encounters you easily familiarized and grew comfortable with each other presence. How could you not? He was always nothing but kind to you.

Whenever he had the chance, he got reunited with you so you could discuss your readings, recommend each other new books or just spend some quality time away from all the court’s madness. He was incredibly friendly and caring, always willing to share with you his knowledge, which you were incredibly thankful for.

Women weren’t supposed to learn the things you were learning. Most of them at court were illiterate, and you would be too had your father not thought it could be useful to teach you how to read when you were a child. You were grateful that he had taken the time to teach you, knowing that most men wanted the women around them to be ignorant and obliging. You were tired of seeing the patronizing way in which your gender was treated. So seeing that Orlo was treating you as an equal and was happy to answer even your most stupid questions was truly relieving.

It didn’t take long for you to grow fond of him, maybe fonder than you would have liked to admit.

Orlo was the only person in court you felt you could rely on, his views and ideas more similar to yours than what you could have ever imagined. Despite what everyone else gossiped about him, you knew he was brave and did the best he could to make a difference in Russia. He couldn’t do much to reason with Peter and talk him into making what was best for everyone, you doubted that anyone could. But at least he tried, unlike all that people who dared to mock him.

You saw in him something you had been looking for your whole life; a ray of hope. A promise that things could change, a reminder that not everything was that bad.

You couldn’t help but to let yourself fall for the feelings you slowly developed for him. It felt too good and tempting to not do so. The way your heart raced whenever you were around him was something thrilling, exciting. Something you had never thought you could ever get to feel while living in that place.

You weren’t willing to act on those feelings and risk losing his friendship, though. It was evident how uncomfortable he felt about that subject whenever Peter and his minions made fun of his lack sexual experience. You could see him clench and cringe under the court’s mockeries, discomfort filling his features every time anyone made a sexual reference in his presence. You assumed he simply wasn’t interested in those matters.

Plus, if he had been interested in you that way, he would have said something, shown some sign of his affection towards you…

It was okay that he didn’t feel the same. Just being able to befriend him was more than you could have asked for, and silently daydream about made up scenarios of you and him usually did the trick when you felt the need of being loved back.

That’s how, during one night in which you couldn’t get Orlo out of your head while reading, you had started writing a ‘book’ of your own.

You had been gathering different fantasies during the last couple of months. Endless reveries about how kissing him for the first time would feel like, what his reaction would be to other men taking an interest of you, or even about how the most quotidian parts of the day, like waking up or having breakfast, would be like with him.

Why should you not write something of your own, for your own consumption? You had always loved reading, and your feelings for Orlo gave you a never ending source of inspiration. So many ideas that you barely could remember them all. By writing them, you could preserve the happiest of your thoughts, go through them after a bad day and have your little stories bring a smile to your face.

It was harmless, so why not doing it? If it brought you joy, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, Orlo would never have to know about your writings, as he didn’t need to know about your feelings for him either.

You hadn’t been able to write or read anything for the past days, though. Since the arrival of the Empress to the court everything had been even more chaotic than usual, and even when you much have rather stay in your chambers or with Orlo in the library instead, you had been obliged to attend to the wedding and following events.

As soon as you had seen her innocence, the look of hope in her face as she arrived to the palace for the first time, you had pitied her. She was an outsider hoping to find in the Emperor the love of her life, and in Russia a new home. You almost felt inclined to advice her to run away as fast as she could and never look back the second she walked through the palace’s doors. Living in that place was already awful enough without being married to Peter, and you figured that more sooner than later she would be regretting ever having left her home.

It only took a few days for her to realize in what a godforsaken place she had gotten herself into, as you had figured would happen. What you weren’t expecting was for her to start plotting against his husband’s life so she could steal his throne, nor that she would be requesting for your help in the process.

You had of course agreed to help her as soon as she had told you about the coup. You barely knew the woman, but you were already sure she would be making a much better work at running Russia that Peter ever would. Even a monkey could do it better, you suspected.

Because of your implication to her plans, you had found yourself having less time to spend with your own thoughts and writings, but that was compensated by having the chance of spending even more time than before with Orlo, as you had been able to convince him into taking part of the coup too.

It was actually nice to take part in the plotting against Peter, not only because you hated the bastard, but because due to the extra time you spent with Orlo, you could feel the bond between you getting stronger. During coup meetings, you would usually support each other’s ideas, have inside jokes between the two of you… You even defended him against Marial’s rude comments of him.

But as much fun as you were having helping Catherine kill the Emperor, it was also a really exhausting and demanding task, and you soon found that you barely had time to spend by yourself anymore. It had been at least a week since the last time you had been able to sit by your desk and write any of the scenarios you pictured with Orlo. And now that you were spending so much time together, you had a lot to write about.

That night you had arrived to your apartments early, right after dinner. As was tradition every few nights in the court, the Emperor was hosting a party, and you had been fortunate enough to be spared of the torture of attending.

You were hopping you could spend a quiet, peaceful night by yourself for once. To get lost in your thoughts as you imagined Orlo by your side in a new, reformed Russia. But your plans immediately took a different turn when, after searching through the whole room, you couldn’t find your writings anywhere.

After inspecting every drawer and every corner of your room for the second time, you started to get seriously worried.

What if someone had sneaked into your chambers and taken your writings? It was unlikely, as you hadn’t tell anyone about their existence. Why would anyone want to steal those, anyway? What value could they hold to anyone other than you? Of all the items in your quarters, those papers were probably the least valuable thing. If anyone had intended to steal anything from that room, you were sure that would be the last thing they would have taken, and yet, it was the only missing item…

But looking around you, you realized it wasn’t the only thing out of place. In the top of your desk you found a book that wasn’t supposed to be there, the book you had supposedly lent Orlo last week.

Quickly putting all the pieces together, you realized the fatal mistake you had made as your heart practically started to bump in your chest.

You had given him your own writings, instead of the Voltaire pamphlet you had been meaning to share with him.

Mumbling and cursing yourself, you grabbed the book between your hands and rushed out of your chambers and towards Orlo’s.

The Count had been even busier than you with the whole coup situation, so you hoped and prayed for him not to have found a single moment to read in all that time. You knew that in usual conditions, he could and would devour entire books over night, but you held to the hope that he hadn’t seen any of the things you had written about him.

Well, you had seen him exhausting himself from work every day for the past week. His mind seemed to be too focused on planning the next move, on thinking of possible allies for the Empress. It was quite possible he hadn’t even remembered that the book was in his possession.

If he had seen the words you had written, he would have already said something, right? So maybe you could still fix your mistake and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Assuming that he was still at the Emperor’s party, you could sneak into his chambers and switch the books. Prevent the awkwardness that the discovering of your fantasies with him would arouse between the two of you.

You didn’t bother to knock on his door before silently making your way into his chambers, holding the book close to your chest as you tried to ease the pressure that you felt inside.

When you saw that the entrance seemed to be empty, you let out a silent sigh of relieve. Yet, your steps were carefully slow as you got deeper into the room, trying not to make a single noise just in case.

It felt somewhat wrong to be there without his permission, but saving your friendship came before any moral conflict that could arouse within you at the moment.

If everything went okay, he would never have to know about any of it.

You held onto that thought as you kept walking towards the door of his bedchamber, where you knew he kept most of his books. Even when what you were doing felt wrong, it was for a greater good. How uncomfortable would the coup meetings be if he were to discover about your infatuation of him? For the well-being of Russia itself, he should never find out.

Besides, you were just trying to mend a wrong. You had given him your writings in a foolish mistake, by taking them back and leaving the actual book in their place you were just making things right. You convinced yourself it was the righteous thing to do, even when deep down it didn’t feel like it.

Succeeding into making your way to the front door of his bedchamber without any major complication, you pushed the doors open and quickly got inside the room. You didn’t mean to stay too long in there, but you closed the doors behind you in case any guard found them open and got alarmed.

The last thing you wanted right now was for anyone to find you there and having to make up an excuse for your furtive presence in the Count’s apartments.

When you looked up and found him sitting on his desk your body immediately froze, and when he looked up from the papers he was reading to look at you, you felt the cold sweat forming in your forehead.

For a second, you kept your eyes on him, watching surprise taking over his features. You tried to think of something, anything. An excuse to why you were sneaking into his chambers late at night when everyone was supposed to be either sleeping, dancing or completely wasted. You considered the idea of pretending to be drunk, make him think that you had entered his apartments by mistake and let him guide you back to yours. Being the gentleman he had always been, you knew that would be exactly what he would do in that situation.

It would certainly be embarrassing, and you feared he would feel uncomfortable having to deal with a drunk version of you. But you knew it would be far more embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell him the real reason why you were there.

If you were lucky enough and your performance succeeded, maybe you would even be able to ‘drunkenly’ roam through the room in search of your writings and take them with you without him noticing. Maybe you could still fix things.

You were about to ask him what he was doing in your apartments in what you hoped would sound as a drunken tone, but you desisted when you noticed the papers he was holding in his hand.

He had already read them. There was no point in making even more of a fool of yourself.

Neither of you dared to say anything for the following moments. Awkwardly, you looked at each other in what felt like the longest seconds of your life. You no longer knew what to do or say to fix that situation and, judging by the terrified look on his face, you doubted there was anything you could possibly try to make things better.

That was it. Your friendship was officially over. He would probably never want to say another word to you again. Maybe not even be in the same room as you again.

“I-“ You stumbled over your own words, feeling the lump forming in your throat and the pressure in your chest growing stronger, until the point of almost suffocate you. “I’m deeply sorry.”

As you quickly but sincerely said those words, you felt your mouth getting dry and your cheeks blushing, self-hatred taking over every inch of your body. You couldn’t bear the weight of his stare on you. Orlo’s eyes had always seemed the sweetest thing in the world to you, always so expressive and caring whenever he looked in your direction. But right now you felt them hovering over you judgmentally, with a hint of disgust on his face.

You had to look away from him immediately, but you still could notice how his face reddened too with what you assumed was second hand embarrassment.

Closing your eyes, you wished you could magically banish from that room. You wished for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow you, or for the walls to crumble and fall upon you until you were buried deep in the rubbles of the palace and nobody could find you. Literally anything could be better than standing there in front of Orlo.

You had no excuses, no way out. You wanted to properly apologize to him, make him see how truly sorry you were and how much you appreciated his friendship. How desperate you were not to lose him.

But you couldn’t find the right words for it.

“I should go.” You muttered nervously, still hopping that that entire situation was just a bitter nightmare. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Turning to leave his apartments, you wished he hadn’t notice the crack in your voice as you spoke. That whole scenario was already too shameful for you to bear, the last thing you needed was for him to see you crying. All you wanted was to get out of there as fast as you could, lock yourself in your chambers and drink until you forgot about what had happened or just passed out, whatever occurred first.

“Wait.” Orlo’s shaking voice stopped you.

As much as you wanted to run away, a single word from him was enough to stop you.

You were mortified as you stood there, still refusing to turn in his direction. You didn’t dare to. He was probably going to lecture you about how wrong and improper was what you had done, how repulsed he was by it. You didn’t want to go through it, but you owed it to him to face the consequences of your actions.

“I-I didn’t know you write.”

The Count’s tone was surprisingly tender and insecure. You turned to him with wondering eyes, trying to discern whether if he was mad at you or not.

“That’s not-“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was still dry. “I mean, I don’t.”

“But aren’t these writ-?” He started to question, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Those don’t count.” Orlo frowned at your words, confused. You made an effort to explain yourself. “They’re rubbish.”

You watched him clench his jaw and avoid your gaze before he spoke again.

“I like-“ He stuttered. “I liked them.”

His words made you blush again. Not with embarrassment, but with flustering this time. He didn’t seem mad at you. In fact, he seemed way more nervous than you. His stammering confession of his liking of your work made you realize how hard he was trying to seem composed.

“I thought you’d be upset.” You tried to state, but your doubtful tone made it sound more like a question.

“I am not.” He was quick to reply, but still refused to meet your eye. “I think the way you… I really enjoyed your descriptions. They’re very detailed and intricated. And the vocabulary is delightfully rich.”

You could see the way Orlo moved around as he spoke, grabbing your writings in one hand and gesticulating with the other one to emphasize his words. He was visibly nervous, but he was doing his best to hide it. He was trying to act as if he was making a simple review of any other book you had shared with him and, as thankful as you were that he was attempting to normalize the situation, this wasn’t just another one of your endless talks about literature.

You hadn’t written those stories with the purpose of discussing them. It felt cold to talk about the use of vocabulary in them when your only intention at the time of writing them had only been to find a way to deal with what you felt for him. You weren’t especially proud of the product of your writing, but you had poured your heart and soul in them. How could he act as if he hadn’t read right through you? Was he really that oblivious that he didn’t realize that you were head over heels about him?

It was literally impossible he didn’t know, he had read about it with his very own eyes. Still, he seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. You had accidentally stripped your feelings, showed him your deepest desires. And all you got from him was nothing.

For a second you thought you would have preferred that he had screamed at you, showed you rage, discomfort, or even disgust. Literally any other feeling that wasn’t the indifference he was giving you. Did he really not care at all?

Confronting him about it felt wrong. You weren’t entitled to it, and you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, you decided to play along.

“And what do you think of the plot?” You asked, hoping he would take it as a cue to address the issue that worried you.

“T-The plot?” He repeated anxiously as he readjusted his glasses. You nodded, hoping for him to say something, but all you got from him was a mumbling mess.

You felt your heart ache for him as he stumbled through stuttered words and unfinished sentences. The Count seemed even more uncomfortable trying to find a right answer for you than what he usually was when being mocked by the court. And considering how awkward he felt under the constant jibes he was put through daily, that was saying something.

“Orlo, I’m sorry you read that.” You cut him off in an attempt to calm him down. Embarrassment was taking over you once again and you felt the urge to leave his apartments immediately, but you first needed to try to calm his nerves. You hated seeing him so unsettled, and you knew that he was going to be torturing himself about that interaction once you left the room, just as you were going to do too. At least, you had to try to find the right words to clear his mind. It had been you the one that had put him in that place after all. “I shouldn’t have written those things about you. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable about it, you don’t have to pretend you don’t. I understand if you’re upset, even. It’s not your fault. I have no excuse for this, I now realize I should have never-“

“I’m not-“ Orlo’s voice surprised you, making you hush instantly. “It’s not that I’m upset. I just-“

He closed his eyes and sighed, probably still struggling to find the right words to express what was going through his mind. Knowing the man, you realized he was probably beating himself up inside that restless head of his. Cursing himself for not knowing the best way to react to that situation. The man was a perfectionist, always had been. If he said the wrong thing now he wouldn’t be able to think of any other thing for the rest of the week.

“I really can’t tell if you wrote these stories as a joke.” He finally sentenced.

“A joke?” The words left your lips before you could even process them. “Why would you think that?”

“I know I’m not a ladies man.” He stated, discomfort still plaguing his tone. “I’m well aware of all the rumors and jests about me. It’s just… I know I’m not desirable to women.”

You couldn’t help but frown while hearing his words. Your heart broke a little inside your chest, too. How could he think that you would mock him like that? Had he really grown to believe all the mean and hurtful things the evil tongues at Court said about him?

“Orlo, that’s bullshit.” You stepped forward, the embarrassment you had been drowning in suddenly turning into indignation. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest, most caring man I know. Not even half of the other men in this palace would be courageous enough to have joined this coup, to fight to make a difference. They can’t say nothing to you and it’s criminal that they have the audacity to mock you.”

The Count stared at you in disbelief of your words, still reluctant to look at you directly in the eye. It hurt you that he couldn’t seem to believe your words were true.

“You aren’t ugly either.” You continued, placing yourself right in front of his desk. “You have the most beautiful and intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them for hours, if you let me. And your hair? It looks so soft, I’d love to run my fingers through it.”

Your heart beat increased as you kept listing the things you loved the most about him. It felt weird to just say to his face all the things that you loved about him and that you had kept in secret for years, but you needed him to understand just how wrong he was.

“You’re so intelligent that I sometimes fear you will laugh at me when I say something stupid, but deep down I know you won’t because you’re too kind to ever do that.”

Looking into his eyes, you took a deep breathe, deciding if you should keep on or just cut it off already. Truth was you could have continued like that for hours.

“Orlo, you’re the best person I know, and anyone incapable of seeing the many virtues you have must be completely blind. Including yourself.”

Silence took over the room for the following seconds, and you feared you had made his discomfort grow stronger. Still, you didn’t regret saying those things out loud. You had kept them to yourself for too long, and he needed to know his own value.

The Count simply stared at you, eyes shifting and mouth slightly ajar.

“I never knew you thought such nice things about me.” He finally muttered bashfully, as if he was apologizing.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for years. That’s the reason I wrote those stories.” You casually added with your newfound confidence. Somehow, it still seemed to get him by surprise. “It has been painfully obvious and I think everyone else has realized already, but since you don’t seem to be able to read between the lines, I’m telling you.”

It felt liberating to finally get it out your chest. For years you had feared his rejection, but now that you witness his own insecurities making a display right in front of you, all you cared about was to make him feel he was worthy of love and respect. You didn’t even care if he didn’t requite your feelings.

“I’m such an idiot.” Count Orlo stood and looked at you, not being able to hide the red color his cheeks had taken.

“Indeed you are.” You smiled at him, touched by his innocent obliviousness. “A very cute one, though.”

Orlo stood in front of you, closer than usual. When you noticed him fidgeting in the spot and nervously running his tongue through his lips, you realized what his new intention was. Not leaving him time to regret his decision, you captured his lips with yours in a chaste but sweet kiss.

You couldn’t help but recall the way you had imagined and described that moment in your writings as you pressed your lips against his. You had always imagined your first kiss to be more passionate and intense, but as you pulled away slowly from the kiss, you thought that the sweetness and tenderness of the actual moment was more fitting than what you could have ever pictured.

“You should have told me earlier about this.” Orlo stated, face inches away from yours.

“I’m not done telling you everything.” You smiled contently. “There are still plenty of things I love about you and that I think you should know.”

“I can think of a few about you myself.” He whispered, more relaxed now. You liked this carefree side of him.

“I’d love to hear them, but they can wait until tomorrow.” Handing him the book you still had between your hands, you stated. “I think you have some Voltaire to catch up on first. And I should go back to my apartments. It’s late and there’s something I want to write about.”

Orlo’s smile was so big that it made your heart race. After leaving the book you had given him on his desk, he gave you back your writings.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

[asharinhun]

Unshackled - Part I.

Brigitte sighed as she approached the clearing. No doubt her teacher was already aware she was coming, this made her hesitate more. “Hahh, it’s no use. Let’s get over with this quickly.” She mumbled to herself, arming herself against the lecture she had no doubt was coming.

***

“I’m disappointed, Brigitte. Your use of the only form available to you is admirable, but that shouldn’t be the end of your potential. I approved your travels in the hope of your experiences allowing you to progress further, ” Thornspeaker Kellan massaged his temples while talking and slowly exhaled. He looked at the face of the girl - she was a young woman now, but for him he was still the child he accepted to teach years ago - and his expression softened.

“I don’t doubt your effort... Yet we must find a way to remove the block that prevents you from attaining the full scope of your abilities.” He put a hand on Brigitte’s shoulders. There was a possibility, one that became more and more likely, and one that was a constant source of argument between Brigitte and himself. The thorn-speaker apprentice suffered a mental trauma as a child, and her memories of the time were missing - or so she said - but apparently they were manifesting in her nightmares. If only there was a way she could face those fears safely...

“If you say so.” Bri muttered, unwilling to meet his gaze. She knew she was ‘weak’, but was fine with it, potential or not. If only he and the others would stop pestering her. Hopefully this was over and she could go and find something to eat before returning to the house she shared. That woman would have nothing for her.

Kellan too caught up in his thoughts to notice Brigitte’s growing discomfort. It wasn’t until she called out to him that he finally returned to the present. “I’m sorry, could you repeat it, please?”

“Can I go now?” She did as he asked, eager to be rid of his presence.

“Yes, you’re free for the rest of the day. Meet me here tomorrow morning at the usual time, for I have an idea that might work. I just need to consult with the High Thornspeaker first.”

Understanding she was finally dismissed, Bri just nodded and dashed away before he’d change his mind. If only the High Thornspeaker would dissuade him from this and any future plans, but that was too much to hope for.

***

Khendra Hoss couldn’t help but admire Kellan. They started their apprenticeship around the same time, but while she always saw it as rivalry, he seemingly didn’t even notice. That was one of the earliest reasons she disliked him, and when he accepted that curse of a child as his apprentice was the point she started to despise him. Still, she admired him even now. Bringing the ridiculous idea before the High Thornspeaker to help that kid face her fears at Thros with him and others acting as babysitters to ensure her safety took guts. Ulfar refused of course, it was a given.

“A pity, Thros is a dangerous place, she could have died there even with our protection if she got unlucky...” She murmured, opening her waterskin for a drink. “Wait, the little abomination has no idea Ulfar refused until Kellan speaks with her. I just have to make sure he is preoccupied while I open the way.” The Thornspeaker grinned and went to find her two apprentices.

“Gregor, Anne! I have an important task for you two! Just keep Thornspeaker Kellan busy tomorrow morning as long as you can.” Khendra couldn’t help a chuckle as her disciples nodded eagerly and departed for their own quarters.

“Sleep well, Brigitte Fársaw, for it is your last night. Tomorrow I will have my revenge for my brother and his family... and of course for the rest of the residents of Greybarrow who died with the village.” 

***

“What are YOU doing here... Thornspeaker Khendra?” Brigitte gritted her teeth before adding the proper address to the woman. Where was her teacher and why was she of all people here?

“Believe me, the pleasure mutual, Apprentice. Kellan received an urgent request, so I was entrusted instead to carry out this task with you by the High Thornspeaker himself. His words are not to be taken lightly, therefore we shall enjoy each others’ company a little longer.”

Bri wanted to cursem but iwhatever the woman said, she was right about High Thornspeaker Ulfar, so there was nothing to do but endure it.

“What is the task? Teacher only told me to meet him. No details.” They were walking for a while now so the young woman finally asked, she wanted to know what she was gotten involved with.

“Kellan came up with a bold request to help you facing your fears, which are the only remaining reason you cannot tap into your fur potential. We are heading towards the Gol Inath, for that is where we will enter Thros, the Blighted Lands.”

“Wait, what?! Teacher kellan warned me against that place!” Brigitte paled, that twisted land was used to scare unabiding students, and it was real.

“Be is at may, High Thornspeaker Ulfar allowed to try this, so we will. We shall enter it briefly and find a weak spirit. It will latch onto your repressed fears and memories, taking a shape. You will vanquish it with my aid, and if all goes well, you’ll be free of those mental shackles.”

“What if it goes... wrong?” Bri didn’t expect the Thornspeaker to explain, but she had to ask.

“I will defeat the spirit and we will retreat. Simple as that. That was the reason only I could substitute your teacher, for aside from the High Thornspeaker, I was the only one around who could match Kellan in ability.”

Brigitte exhaled and followed Khendra. She may have hated the woman, but her ability was indeed real.

***

Half an hour or so later the pair finally arrived at their destination. They’ve only rain into a bramblebear along the way, but it was scared off easily. Khendra was front, with Brigitte close behind as they inspected the tree’s vicinity before deeming it safe enough to continue their approach. They slowly made their way inside and down until they reached the chamber.

“Yes, this is it. Focus on the gateway, you’ll see when it is stabilized and tell me. My attention will be focused on the runes until it is secure.”

“Alright.” Brigitte nodded, anxious about being so close to actually entering that dreadful place.

Thornspeaker Khendra worked fast: the gateway was open, shimmering with baleful black and blue light. Brigitte turned to signal it was ready, only to find the woman standing right behind her with a wicked smile.

“This is for my brother and Greybarrow!” Khendra growled and phushed Brigitte through the gateway. “Enjoy your suffering, kid.” She disabled the portal right away, leaving no way back. Now all she had to do was to leave quickly, just in case.

***

Brigitte was too stunned to shout even as she was forced through the gateway. She landed on her back, and before she had a chance to get up, the portal was closed ocne more.

“No, no no no...!” Bri cursed under her breath. She was so stupid to lower her guard ever so slightly with that woman. Now she was stuck in Thros, trapped with no way out.

[unlockthelore]

Discomfort Washes Away Doubts

Their love is a garden. Doubt wilts the flowers grown meticulously through hardships and compromise. Yet, with a rain shower brought on by discomfort, they can begin anew. From the series Affections Touching Across Time on Ao3, and part of the Talking To The Moon fic. For more updates, follow the affections touching across time tag on this blog. For more of this fic, follow the talking to the moon tag.

For the first time in years, Sesshomaru found himself at a loss.

Vague hopes that Rin would return to finish the onslaught she’d started were dashed after seconds bled into minutes and blurred by the hour. Only the winds, the ocean, and the disinterested night sky were to bear witness to the burdens laden on his shoulders. Tattered ribbons of self-control binding him to the cliff’s edge. He couldn’t stray further from where he was, for it would leave him too far should she be thrown into danger. Regardless, he couldn’t bring himself to be in her presence with the weight of her threats and betrayal scarring his love for her.

How could she threaten me?

Admittedly, it should have been laughable. He was a daiyōkai with centuries of experience in combat and held the ability to heal himself at will. To fear a human would have been ridiculous. However, the power Rin held over him was a force he could not fight off with claw or blade. If harm were to come to her or if her life were to be lost to him, then he would mourn.

Deeply.

Without end.

For as much as her treachery cut him, memories of her love soothed the wound’s burn and drew him closer into her ambience in spite of the gap she set between them. He clenched his jaw, teeth gritting and fangs elongating as he cursed her tepidly. A fragment of his pride wished for him to be spiteful. This palace, whilst part of his father’s legacy, served as a glorified reminder of all that he was denied. Let it fall into disarray for all that he cared — his life was his own, and he’d only returned at the demand of his birthright, at the behest of his companion who’d then become his wife, and at his mother’s insistence.

What would it matter if it were to fall? Surely, they would be able to handle the resulting chaos on their own. He was unneeded. The thought was a sharp, biting one and left him hollow rather than fulfilled. If he were to leave and abandon them all as they were, then how could he ever look Rin in the eye. She was forgiving, but even she had her limits. Never again would she accept him into her arms and her heart. Their bed would remain cold, and she would turn away from him, to live and to raise their daughters alone just as Inuyasha had been by his own mother.

The acidic taste of failure burned through the fragments of pettiness. Sesshomaru almost winced not only at how fleeting the thought was, but also at how real it nearly felt. He was hardly so cowardly as to run from his responsibilities. His actions. But the night was burning past him, and he wondered why he was here instead of tangled in the arms of his wife. Her scathing glare vividly emerged in response and embittered his resolve once more.

It had all started with Rin’s deceit, he tried to remind himself.

If she had been as upfront with him from the beginning as she promised to be, then perhaps none of this would have happened. After all they had done and said to each other, how could she find it in herself not to trust him?

He was a father protecting his child.

The corner of Sesshomaru’s lips twitched as he recalled the pointed gesture to her stomach. His refusal to come to his father’s aid to protect his half-brother and the human princess who’d been the mother. How his father’s energy petered out to nothingness as his life ended, and all he could do was watch from afar.

Wonder how the great Inu no Taishō could fall so far. First glimpses of the woman and his half-brother, ostracized from the court of which they were part due to her connections, but arguably happy. His brother, blissful in his ignorance, donning the cloth that his father had painstakingly tailored to Sesshomaru’s confusion.

Faint memories of his mother applying soothing salves to wounds which would not heal after his father’s numerous battles with fire rats to take their pelts. A measure of his love and affection for the hanyō child who could never understand the depths of suffering that his very existence caused. Sesshomaru’s fingers trembled as he thought back to his younger brother kicking around a ball while his mother looked on. Her delicate features, the gentle smile she wore when he tried to entertain her with his antics. Dark eyes flicked up to the distance, and Sesshomaru wondered if, at the time, she could see him as easily as he could her.

Her gaze lingered long after Inuyasha called for her attention. Her eyes, glistening obsidian jewels, glazed over with tears as they fell to the top of his half-brother’s head. Arms gathered around him, her sleeves enveloping his small form as she held him tight.

You used his mother’s image to trick him.

The Mu-on’na couldn’t replicate the look that woman had. Human though she may have been, she was wise and confident in herself. Enough that his mother brought missives of her words. Questions of whether he was faring well and hopes that he would continue to be in good health.

Nothing short of disgust roiled in his chest then, and he cast the words aside. Regrettably refusing to see his mother as long as she continued to entertain his father’s wishes for the woman to be taken care of. His mother brushed off his threats, treating him as no more than a petulant child. Centuries had passed, but he continuously felt her influence in one way or another. It was only when he needed his power to be recognized that she appeared before him again.

Had he missed her then?

Even with all of her posturing and secrets, she seldom was terrible to him. In her own way, she might have been loving. Their bond had been strong throughout the centuries no matter the distance between them.

Sesshomaru closed his eyes, and the salty breeze swept through his hair, reminding him of the day he stared at his father’s back for what would have been the last time.

Had he missed his father when he met his demise?

You were wrong.

Rin’s voice washed over him, gelid and terse.

It was typical of her to point out his mistakes. So often did she correct him or try to rationalize with him over one matter or another. To bow her head and say nothing was not her way, and he appreciated her counsel. But those words were an affront to which he refused to give a second thought.

I don’t want to do this without you.

His breathing hitched, eyelids falling until he could only view half the world while the other half was shrouded in darkness.

What was he doing here?

Uprooting his feet was a troublesome affair, but worthwhile when the memory of her warning replayed in his mind. The terrifying thought of returning to their home — to their quarters — and finding her gone. Because she would leave. If she felt it in herself that she had to go, she would disappear. Wouldn’t she?

Never did he expect her to threaten harm upon him, yet she had.

What was to stop her from leaving him as well?

A-Un listened to them both, but he favored Rin greatly. If she were to leave, he could hardly order her to return. She would never listen to him as a mere servant or soldier would at his command. And he would never raise a hand to her.

No matter how she vexed him, that would forever be true.

The gnarled root he’d unearthed was weeping dirt, the insects hiding beneath it crying as he flew past, and he stalked up the hillside’s incline to avoid the patrolling soldiers. The lattice frame flew to the side with a loud snap echoing through the halls. He cared little for it though, stepping inside and navigating the halls, quick to avoid the few souls still wandering the corridors. As he passed, his face was striped with the moonlight diffusing through the shoji.

Despite walking with purpose, he was puzzled as to what he would say once he laid eyes on her. Pride would never allow him to beg and to plead for her to see reason and stay. Nor would it command her and risk losing not only her respect but also her affections. However, what other options were there?

Frustration cinched his chest and curled in tight coils around his heart as her voice came to mind.

Set aside your prejudice, learn from your mistakes, and be better for it.

Prejudice. He almost wanted to laugh. Any yōkai would agree that hanyō were beneath them. It was simply a fact. They were inconsequentially burdened by their human blood and could not reach the heights of a full-blooded yōkai, let alone a daiyōkai. Humans died easily, they were fragile and relatively weak. Hanyō were diluted with that infernal blood and would distinctly lead less profound lives, never reaching the true potential of their demon heritage all the while being condemned to the fragility of humanity.

Never one without the other.

How else could such an existence be perceived aside from pitiful?

No union between a human and yōkai ended without tragedy.

His eyes widened slightly, steps slowing to a light click of the heel.

No union between a human and yōkai.

His daughters, his beloved wife. They were hanyō and human respectively. Would they too succumb? He glowered defiantly at the thought, staring into the shadows deepening the end of the corridor where the shoji gave way to wooden walls.

Rin wasn’t weak. She wouldn’t yield to a fate as grim as that. And their daughters would be protected, he would see to it.

Sesshomaru, did you think yourself a god? That life and death were yours to command as long as Tenseiga was at your side? You had to be taught a lesson. The grief and sadness of losing a loved one, and the fear of powerlessness to return them to life.

The memory of her lying there motionless. Still as death, but appearing to be sleeping. There was nothing he could do, and if not for his mother’s love as well as her insatiable curiosity, Rin’s life would have ended there. She couldn’t be returned to life for a third time. If something were to go awry with the birthing, she would either die or be left wounded at the heart. She needed help. To feel such pain time and again, it would only worsen her condition. Loosen her hold on the trust they shared. Would she come to him then if she were at her lowest, or would she turn away from him?

I’m frightened, Sesshomaru.

His hands fell open at his sides, sleeves falling over them. Fear. Beneath the anger, the sorrow, the despair, she was trying to tell him that she was afraid.

I am scared more than you know.

Why didn’t he listen?

Questions of where she was filled his mind. Stale trails of her scent permeated the corridors for she often traversed the palace, crossing paths with others both in familiar haunts and in search of new ones. Fresher trails lingered outside of her study, and his heart skipped a beat when he slid the door open. The candle long extinguished, a ghostly silver hue was cast over the chest of scrolls adorned with his father’s sigil. Two scents were felt heavily as he stepped inside — Rin’s and his mother’s. The latter’s stronger, and to his chagrin, he noticed a scroll still undone on Rin’s desk. His mother’s calligraphy, not a drop of ink wasted, greeted him with a message.

Pride isn’t the absence of shame but its source.

Sesshomaru’s brow furrowed as he swiped up the scroll, half-tempted to burn it through with his poison until his gaze swept over the words yet again. Shame. He didn’t feel shame whatsoever .

Little brother.

Inuyasha’s eyes came to mind. Stricken, wide, unrelenting despite the fear he must have felt in the face of such overwhelming power. Resolved to protect his companion with all that he had no matter how inferior. Those eyes, which once were innocent and loving, never once glanced upon him with such joy. His brother had always harbored distrust toward him.

You justified your actions against him.

His father. His loss. It was to defend Inuyasha and his mother, but his brother had never even met the man who saved him. All he had was a sword, a robe, a broken lineage, a world that looked down upon him —

And a brother who rejected him simply for existing.

Sesshomaru’s hand tightened around the scroll’s knobs as he sank down beside the pillow covered in Rin’s scent. He could imagine her bent over the scrolls as she read account after account. Worrying herself to pieces only to connect them again and to move on as she always had.

Unrelenting, stubborn, and alone.

He should have been beside her, answered the questions she had to the best of his ability, and held her for the ones he could not.

She didn’t trust me, but what reason did I give her to do so?

Regret was a feeling Sesshomaru was not accustomed to. He hated it. The twisting, meandering thralls of guilt crushing his heart in its grasp, trying to find fault in others yet only being able to see the error of his own ways. Rin had tried to speak to him, had lingered in her own mind in hopes of discovering the best way to convince him — out of fear of his reaction.

Had he only proven her right?

I know you. You despise hanyō.

The scroll was placed on the desk. His hands resting on his knees as he reminisced . Children were never a topic they would broach. Rin was happy to look after the children on the palace grounds. She was beloved by those in the village where she was raised, and others flocked to her once their fears were assuaged in realizing that she was a friend and not a demon’s subject. Had there been a time where she tried to speak to him about it? Would he have been receptive?

His happiness was set in facets, but the most relevant one was heavily tied to hers. Their marriage had been a turning point in his lengthy existence. He would never regret having her as his bride and resolved to make her happy for the rest of her days.

And yet I was the cause of her tears - her distress - her pain.

Rin.

She had never spoken to him about children in fear of this, and inadvertently, when the opportunity arose, she tried to explain, but he turned her away.

Turned his back on her.

I am an exception then.

Her words whispered close to his ear, and he opened his eyes, glancing toward the pillow beside him and faltering on the flowers embroidered in its soft fabric.

No, you are the reason.

Sesshomaru tied up the scroll his mother had written and rose. His strides about the grounds were deliberate. Heartbeat deafening as he prayed to the gods that his wife hadn’t left him in the dead of night. Attendants and personnel close to their quarters promptly dismissed themselves upon seeing him, likely feeling the refusal of their presence as he approached. Standing outside of their room, his hand hovered near the wooden door pull adorned with Rin’s craftsmanship. His knuckle brushed against the grain tenderly before he hooked his fingers in and slid it open.

The room was fairly dark. If not for his vision, he wouldn’t have been able to see Rin’s form curled beneath their comforter. She didn’t look up when he entered, though he felt the slight twitch of wakefulness in her spirit as the door shut behind him. The scroll in hand was pressed firmly to his palm as he noticed her essence level out — wary, but waiting. His footsteps were slow as he went to the chests tucked in the corner of the room where the stands for his armor and swords were located. Bakusaiga was silent, but Tenseiga pulsed dully, beckoning him in a saddened, melodic ring, uncannily similar to the tune of Rin’s songs. Sesshomaru’s lips quirked as he brushed his knuckles against the sword’s hilt.

Even the blade bequeathed to him by his father adored his wife more than it did him.

He could hardly blame it. Rin took care of Tenseiga more than he had in the past, and refused to leave it behind, whether for his sake or for respect of the sword’s meaning. The scroll was tucked away in one of the lower drawers, a shuffling clunk echoing as the doors were removed and items were reassorted to make space for it. A mental note to have words with his mother at a later date were set aside at the weight of the situation at hand.

He drew in a deep breath then exhaled through his nose, the rush of warm hair cooled along his upper lip, loud in the room’s stillness. “Rin…”

Though she didn’t respond, he felt the twinge in her energy and raised his gaze to the faint moonlight filtering dustily through the slats of the window.

“We need to talk. Properly.”

“Is that not what we did before?”

Her voice wasn’t rough with sleep, but it was scratchy, and somewhat thin, as if she’d been crying. Discomfort twisted Sesshomaru’s stomach into knots as he went to sit at the edge of their futon. Rin’s back was still to him, the pillows laden with her hair still damp from the bath. His eyes softened at the scent of sweetened blossoms, tart with brackish tears. Urges to null his concerns and gather her in his arms, gifting apologies in gentle squeezes and presence, were set aside. Rin wouldn’t receive him as he was now. She hardly deigned to look at him.

“No,” Sesshomaru admitted, recalling the argument in keen detail. Every infraction on his part and every plea from her lips. “Not in the slightest.”

When she didn’t raise her head, he resolved to stay. Knees set beneath him and back straight, hands resting in his lap as he listened to her uneven breaths. He wanted to lay by her side. Assure her that he was there with her, but he couldn’t accept things to remain as they were.

It hardly mattered how much time she needed. He would wait to rectify his wrongs if it would mean bringing her smile back to him.

Slowly, Rin sat up. Her hair slipped over her shoulders as she twisted about in the comforter to face forward. Not quite looking at him but not turned away either. Her hands fidgeted in the soft stuffing at the outer edges of the blanket as if she were unsure of what to do with them. His heart quivered in understanding. He’d seen the gesture before he left for a skirmish or during tense moments in councils. Beneath the table, away from the prying eyes of others, his hand would brush hers, and she’d calm.

Turning her hand palm-ward up to hold his own, a quick glance speaking of her gratitude.

Do you want me to hold you now, Rin?

He could barely see her eyes past her hair’s veil, but he knew the expression she wore from the sullen aura she emanated.

And not once did she deserve to endure such feelings of defeat.

“… Am I not meant to be hurt by your words, Rin?” He asked, careful to keep the contempt from his voice. It was hardly deserved, but he was eager to know. “Your anger?”

Rin inhaled deeply. “… Hurting you wasn’t my intention.”

“You threatened to take my children and you away from me,” Sesshomaru softened his voice when he noticed the twitch in her shoulders. “… Children I was not told existed.”

“Sesshomaru,” Rin stated. The call was firm in spite of her breath catching. “I am not ashamed that you are their father. But If I were to look at you, claim to love you without acknowledging your wrongdoings, is that truly love? Or blind adoration?”

She turned her head toward him now. Her brown eyes, reddened and puffy from tears but compelling. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. For her to accept him, all of him, was an action that he had not known was possible. There was much he hid from her out of sake of keeping appearances, but she was adept at finding her way past his walls. Vulnerability was a peril akin to death. Yet every time she managed to crumble his callous demeanor, he felt not a single risk. There were some who would compliment him and voice empty promises for hopes of his aid. She who was closest to him knew more of him than anyone yet asked for nothing until now:

His understanding.

“Would loving me be enough to set your hate aside? Would they be enough?”

“Yes,” Sesshomaru enunciated, repulsed by the desperation for her to comprehend. To end this. Hadn’t she shed enough tears? “Do you not understand?”

“How could I?!” They both seemed taken aback by her voice cracking as it raised. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover it, fingers pressed to her cheek. Sesshomaru turned his head away from her, unable to bear hearing her frenzied voice. “… We never talked about this.”

No, they hadn’t. And he knew why. Rin knew him well and anticipated his reactions, or she perhaps was fearful of them. His constant bickering with Inuyasha might have only cemented such a belief. She had made a choice, but once their children had come to her knowledge, had that choice been taken from her? Did his absence lead to her being hasty, or had they both been led astray?

This hadn’t started with Rin’s deceit at all.

No, it had been him.

The weight of the realization prompted him to close his eyes, but he couldn’t block out the regret. It was his weight to bear. He drove her away and placed blame upon her head by turning his back to her. She was fearful and needed him as her husband, but he could hardly rise to meet her needs due to his own pride blinding him to what was between them. Every tear she shed was by his own hand. How could he have —

“Stop it.”

Sesshomaru’s breath caught in his throat as his head was pillowed against a familiar warmth. Blossoms and tears, honeysuckle and the musty scent of books— it enveloped him just as comfortably as Rin’s arms did. He hardly noticed when she entered his space, and from the tight squeeze, he only just realized dully that he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. Knelt before him, she held him to her stomach and combed her fingers through his hair. This wasn’t a reprieve, but it was care.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Rin murmured as she sat back on her legs, guiding him forward into a tighter embrace.

How could she care so deeply?

His hand flattened against the small of her back. “I am the one who should ask for mercy,” he sighed after a few moments of silence.

He’d had enough time to think of this: where the line was drawn, who his anger was directed towards, and the image of silver and red in mind was steadily erased — replaced by one much older whose back he’d gleaned most his life.

“I meant what I told you. My anger does not dwell with… Inuyasha…”

Rin squeezed him, cutting off his words. “Sesshomaru, you don’t have to…”

He pressed his hand to her back. “Rin,” he said softly, his voice softening to a whisper. “… Please.”

Her hold on him loosened, and as she pulled back from him, her fingers slipped from his hair, touching the marks upon his cheeks gently.

“… Okay.”

She didn’t smile. An understanding shone in her eyes as he sighed and leant into her touch, letting her hold his face lightly between her palms.

“… When I was a boy, I idolized my father… but he left. Time and time again, he was away and I would wait for his return. Gifts at the ready, drawings, letters, and activities for us to do together. I was told it was unbecoming of a boy to do such a thing, and my father had more important matters to handle. My attempts were often tarnished or ridiculed by others before he could see, so I refrained.”

He recalled the torn pieces outlined with drawings of smiling figures, burnt to a crisp in the torch’s flames. The sneering faces which looked down upon him later on quivering before him at the sheer force of his power.

“I grew bitter. My father was away so often, it felt as though he cared little for me although I had achieved much. Tenseiga felt like an insult. I became the perfect son, as my tutors and elders molded me to be, but he couldn’t give me what I deserved… what I felt I deserved at the time…”

Sesshomaru, do you have someone to protect?

He hardly felt he needed it. His father cared too deeply for others and it would lead to his end. It had led to his end. If he could gain strength to surpass his father without caring for anyone, then did that not mean he learned from him?

“When he died for Inuyasha and his mother, all I could see was the man that had abandoned me, who chose to die for them rather than live for me.”

It was selfish, juvenile, cold, and empty. His hand pressed to Rin’s back and brought her closer to him as if he could drown out the memory in her embrace.

“Inuyasha was my father’s chosen son, his favored child. Directing my anger toward him was easier because, at the very least, he still lived.”

Rin’s fingers threaded in the strands of hair slipping past his ears and tipped his head back with a gentle press of her palms to her jaw.

“Yet, it was unfulfilling..” She whispered, drawing the words from the depths of his heart. “Because he wasn’t born guilty of what your father had done. Or the pain you endured.”

Sesshomaru was almost taken aback by how acutely she summed it. Though, he should have hardly been surprised, something tremored inside. His hands found purchase on her sides, and she allowed the hold.

“He was free from it all. The duties of a lord’s son, the pain of losing a father — he had done nothing but exist, and yet I despised him all the same.”

What worth could he possibly have to their lord father? He was weak, small, and insignificant.

No longer.

“His mother asked of my wellbeing til the day she died, but I hated the humans my father strove to protect. She only served as a reminder.”

“Izayoi knew you…?”

“My mother told me often of her missives, and I refused to speak of her any longer. When we arrived at my mother’s palace that day, it was the first time we’d spoken in centuries.”

He still clearly remembered that day. He turned his back on his mother as well. It was no wonder she hadn’t come to his aid when he was in pain or close to death. Though, he hardly thought he needed her. It certainly made sense.

“In the courts, hanyō are beneath daiyōkai. They are tainted, and because of my father’s exploits, no matter how well-meaning, it only serves as a cautionary tale. To take a human as one’s bride or husband would only doom them to death.”

“And yet you have…” Rin said breathily, her voice spurred Sesshomaru to glance up at her.

He had.

In a way that he had never thought possible, he understood his father well.

“You were the first human I allowed close to me. No… The first being.”

And he’d come so close to losing her on more than one occasion.

Rin smiled, a merciful sadness to her eyes. “Even if we never married and only remained as friends, I wouldn’t have abandoned you..”

Your threats.

They were not empty words. She always spoke with intent.

Disappointment flickered across his face. Her sigh fanned across the bridge of his nose as she leant forward, resting her forehead against his own.

“Sesshomaru… my words, they were true. I would not want to do this without you... But try to understand me…”

Her eyes shuttered, glazed over with tears. Panic throbbed in his chest, and he pressed his forehead to her own. The slight widening of her eyes and appreciation in the gentle curve of her smile was worth the pain.

“While you are their father, I am their mother, and if something goes awry — I may not be the only one who perishes.”

Sesshomaru clutched the back of her yukata tightly. “You will not—”

Her eyes twitched at the corners, bidding him to silence. Despite the quiet refusal, she touched his cheek gently and combed his hair behind his ear, tracing the points idly.

“You have done terrible things, Sesshomaru. That I can’t deny,” she said, thoughtful and repentant. “But it isn’t my place to forgive you. I love you and your faults.”

Her hands drew away from his face, trailing down the length of his arms to her back where she unhinged his claws from her yukata. For a moment, Sesshomaru forgot how to breathe when she laid his hand flat against her stomach then pressed each finger to her skin.

“This child — these children — may resent us for what makes us imperfect, but I will still love them.”

He drew his gaze from her stomach to her eyes. “You question whether I will…”

Rin sighed. “I only wish to hear you,” she said.“You mean what you say, and you say what you mean — to me, you’ve never spoken a lie. Do not start now.”

The air felt calmer and quieter as she waited for him. Her words plunged deep into his heart. This was her reconciliation, her demand, her choice.

If he refused, then she would be lost to him.

They all would.

Is this it, father? Is this the choice you had to make all those years ago?

“The three of you will survive this, and remain in this Sesshomaru’s protection and heart for all time,” he said firmly. Rin’s expression softened, and she ran her fingers over the back of his own. “Do you doubt your place, Rin?”

She smiled sweetly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Never.”

[baajisms]

It was a long story.

They must have been sat there for hours. The Guado man that had greeted Anima at the door had refilled their tea several times during the evening. At some point, Anima wasn’t sure when, he brought in some food for them. Anima barely noticed the man come in and out, focusing so much on what Tromell was telling her. Anima had nibbled as Tromell spoke. Her appetite wasn’t fully back to normal. Before becoming a Fayth, she had made sure Seymour had eaten enough to keep him at as healthy as possible. Some days it had been at the expense of going hungry herself. It hadn’t been much then and her disease hadn’t made her feel like eating much anyway. Being a Fayth meant she hadn’t needed to eat and even when she visited Dream Zanarkand, she knew what she was eating wasn’t real. Despite appearing back in Spira as a normal human again, it seemed her appetite had not yet returned to what it was. It had been a struggling to get back to eating again after not needing to for so long and there had been days when she’d simply forgotten. Perhaps it was a side-effect of what she’d been through, but part of her hoped her appetite would return to normal eventually. Tromell ate too, but as he was doing most of the talking, the mouthfuls were few and far between.

Throughout his retelling of Spira’s past 2 years, Anima peppered him with questions. He mostly told it from a Guado perspective, and it was only through her questioning that he expanded on certain events. She wasn’t entirely surprised the Farplane became unstable but wasn’t entirely clear on why. Whether Tromell knew or not, he made no comment. The Guado had always been rather secretive about how the Farplane had worked and it didn’t seem as if much had changed in that regard. It sounded like it had been fixed, partially. Anima knew from first-hand experience how unstable the Farplane had gotten. Regardless, the Guado were the best keepers for it. Their sense of the unsent and their knowledge of the Farplane gave them a distinct advantage above the rest of them. She wondered if it would ever go back to the way it was. Or if the Guado had never left their home, would it have gotten this bad at the start? Whatever power the Guado had over the Farplane and the souls that lay inside, it was a secret they’d all take to their graves.

When he finally finished, Anima could feel sleep clawing at the back of her mind. Her eyes urged her to fall asleep in the chair she sat in but she refused. She resisted the urge to rub her eyes like a child. “I feel that is enough for one night, m’lady.” Whether he could sense how tired she was growing or was feeling tired himself, Anima wasn’t sure, but she nodded. Standing up, she felt a knee click and her legs protest after being sat down for so long. She could feel the weariness seeping into the rest of her body. Her days as a Fayth had stopped the rampant illness from taking over the rest of her body, but it hadn't made her young again. She hadn’t stopped to think whether her body would like sitting down for so long. She couldn’t help but wonder if her illness would come back now, but she resisted the urge to start dwelling on it. It was a thought for a different time and one she had dwelled on for far too long already. “You can tell me the rest of your tale tomorrow.” Tromell nodded, bowing slightly as he gestured for her to follow him out. He saw her right to the entrance of the inn and bade her goodnight.

Thankfully, the inn still had rooms for the night, which meant she didn’t have to wander back to the mansion. Not that she could imagine Tromell turning her away, but it might chip away at her pride a little bit to do so. Once she had settled into the bed, sleep pulled at her body. However, it wasn’t insomnia that stopped her from falling asleep within seconds of getting into bed, it was the proposal that Tromell had given her. Her mind raced at the thought of it. What would she do? It would make visiting the areas around Guadosalam a lot easier. It had been years since she had last seen the Moonflow at night. Even longer since she had seen Macalania Temple. She knew the Fayth were no more, but perhaps she could visit the statue to pay her respects. She wondered how Bevelle was doing these days and how much it had changed. Did Yevon still hold a grip on it? Would those that knew of her chase her out? What could she do with her life? She hadn’t used her white magic in years, let alone be able to wield anything to defend herself, she was beginning to realise how lost she might be.

And that thought unnerved her.

At every major point in her life, what she did and who she was, in part, was decided for her. Her talent in white magic meant that she was to teach the next generation and to heal the wounded. Even the trouble she’d gotten herself into helping the less fortunate had sent her to the other temples. It had felt like her father wanted to keep an a close on eye her even if she wasn’t in the same city as him. She was put into an arranged marriage with Jyscal, in a hope that their marriage would bridge the gap between the two races. While Anima had certainly had feelings for the man, it wasn’t as if she’d had much choice in the matter. Her marriage had reeked of Yevon’s interference looking back on it and it made sense to marry off a devout Yevonite to the Guado. Seymour had felt like the first thing that had been mostly her choice. Hers and Jyscal’s.

What she didn’t expect was to be hated for it. To be treated like dirt, with Seymour being treated even worse for what he was. He couldn’t help it. She had done the best she could with keeping him safe but eventually it had gotten too much for even Jyscal to deal with. They’d had no choice but to go to Baaj. Training Seymour in the Summoner’s ways and eventually journeying to Zanarkand had been the second major choice that Anima had really had in life. But what had that led to? Even her own sending and Seymour’s eventual death hadn’t been her choice. When she had explained her case to Yuna, it was Yuna’s choice as to accept or not. The doing of the act that was still out of her control. Being a Fayth meant she couldn’t have been sent. Her choice to ask Yuna to end Seymour’s suffering could have easily been ignored if fallen on the wrong ears.

She’d barely had any choice in major life decisions, but now she did. And it was keeping her awake. She tossed and turned at the thought of what she should do. It couldn’t hurt her to stay in Guadosalam for a little while longer. At least until she figured out what she wanted to do and to figure out a general direction in life. But what if some of the Guado still held a grudge..? What if her presence in Guadosalam set off another set of rumblings? She hoped Tromell wouldn’t do what Jyscal had done and forcefully eject her from the mansion, but the thought lingered. Times had indeed changed, but there was a discomfort in her chest over the thought of a similar thing happening. At least if it happened again, she would not have a child to think about.

Eventually, Anima drifted off. Somewhere amongst the worry and anxiety, she must had drifted off. She awoke feeling somewhat refreshed and got herself ready. She took thing steadily, thinking about what she was to do. She was still mulling over the decision when she went out in search of some breakfast. Her gut told her to stay. Her heart doubted her gut and told her to leave Guadosalam altogether. The thought of doing the latter made her feel guilty after telling Tromell she’d come back with a decision.

Before she knew it, she was at the front doors to the mansion and they were already being opened. Anima hadn’t realised she’d wandered up to the doors, having been lost in thought all the way there. She come back to reality with a start and figured it was too late to turn back now. It would seem rude if she did. She was no closer to an answer now then she was when she’d left the inn. Maybe breakfast in the mansion would help her choose. It seemed as if Tromell was awake already, for not a couple of minutes went by when he appeared through one of the other doors. One of the other Guado must have told him she had arrived. “My Lady Anna, it’s nice to see you again.” One arm went across his midriff as he bowed. “Please, Tromell, I don’t think there is any need for formalities at this stage.” That seemed to fluster him slightly. He had always been polite to everyone he met. Formalities were part of what he did. Anima supposed it must be hard habit for him to break, especially amongst those he’d usually address formally.

“Have you…made your decision?” Anima knew the question coming and as soon as Tromell asked it, she felt dread in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed the doubts that felt like they were bubbling up in her throat. “Perhaps I would be more inclined to answer after some breakfast.” It was an attempt to put off answering the question for a moment longer. It was also rather presumptuous of her to assume she could have breakfast here, but she was willing to give it a shot. “If that is okay with you, of course?” She asked this quickly, realising that it was rather rude of her to assume she could eat here rather than somewhere else. The Inn hadn’t provided anything to eat and the innkeeper was a strange one to boot. Something about riddles and clues. “Of course!” Tromell warbled. “In truth, I have yet to eat myself and it would be nice to have some company.” That helped her relax. She had more to formulate an answer.

Tromell let the way into one of the back rooms. The table loaded with fruits didn’t look like it had changed a day. She knew the fruits would have been changed, but a small part of her wondered if it was fake. It looked almost too perfect. “Please, have a seat, Lady Anna.” He gestured towards one of the seats and almost pulled it out for her. Thankfully, she got there before he could attempt such a gesture. Part of her shrivelled at the thought of anyone doing that sort of gesture for her. She wasn’t anyone important to deserve such a thing.

Breakfast came and went. Anima picked at her food, popped a couple of grapes in her mouth at the very least. She was aware that her eyes would frequently glaze over as she thought about things. Her mind finally came to an answer, even though her stomach rumbled with unease and threatened to metaphorically flip over. She could see Tromell watching her out of the corner of her eye. He must have been wondering what was going through her mind. She slowly chewed another grape, not realising he was talking her. Her eyes were glued to a certain spot on the table, not really looking at it.

“-dy Anna?”

That was when she snapped back to reality. The name still seemed strange to her ears and it would take a while for her to adjust accordingly. She had introduced herself to Anima to all the other Fayth and to Yuna when they had first met. Tromell was the first person to call her by her given name in nearly 20 years.

“Hm? Oh, Tromell, I’m so sorry, I was off in my own little world.” She tried to brush off the fact that she was worrying about something with a soft laugh and a smile. “It’s quite alright, my dear. I asked if you had anything on your mind. You’ve been quite distracted this morning.” Her plan had failed. Had it been that obvious that there was something on her mind? Who was she kidding? The fact that she had been barely listening to Tromell speaking was telling enough considering how much attentions she was paying last night. There was no point lying to him either. Even if she told him it was nothing, she knew he wouldn’t push, but he’d keep an eye on her. She knew that much.

“I’ve been weighing up your offer and I’m in two minds about it.” Her gaze dropped to the table, her hands moving from the table to her lap. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of her dress. It felt almost too soft against her finger tips. “My mind is telling me one thing and my heart is telling me another.” A confession of something she’d felt best to keep private. The thought of Tromell thinking her stupid made her want to stop talking. She knew it was nonsense and yet the thought still prevailed. She took a deep breath and did her best to try and ignore the feeling. His intentions were well. He had always been a kind man, even if his beliefs were different. If he had spoken out against Jyscal’s decisions, would he have been dismissed. For a considerable period, he had agreed with what Seymour had done, had he done the same with Jyscal too? That thought only fuelled the small part of her mind that wanted to decline the offer and run.

She realised her eyes were beginning to glaze over and mentally shook it off before looking up. Her fingertips dug into her leg. She hoped she wasn’t making the wrong decision. “I will stay with you. If only for a time. If only until I get back on my feet and find my purpose in Spira again.” Her voice sounded more confident than she felt. She spoke as if she’d had one before. In a sense, she figured she had had a purpose before, though it was one that had been given to her by others and not one chosen by her own hand. Perhaps this time, she’d allow herself to chose something. If one thing didn’t work out, she could always try something else.

“This is marvellous news! I’ll have a bed made up for you.” His hands clasped in front of him. Joy seemed to radiate off him. A small part of her relaxed, realising that he seemed genuinely glad that she was staying. It was probably for the best. Staying it inns across Spira was going to be ineffective in the long term and she needed someone permanent to lay her head. This would be a perfect opportunity for her to figure how what she wanted to. Tromell seemed different from the last time they had met, so had the rest of the Guado. 

Tromell’s tale about what had happened with Seymour had filled in the gaps that Anna had had in her memory. Hearing things from Yuna and Seymour had put two different spins on the story and Anna knew better than to believe either of them fully. Perhaps the Guado had started to repent for the suffering they had caused all those years ago. Perhaps what happened with Seymour had finally made them realise the error of their ways. That and…being hated and ostracised by the rest of Spira. A small part of her had revelled in the fact that they had finally known how Seymour had felt when they had treated him with disdain growing up. That feeling got pushed down deep inside of her. It wasn’t good to think on such things.

Tromell pushed himself up to go, his chair making a soft noise as it as pushed back, obviously intending to get things sorted before realising that he was essentially leaving Anna on her own. “Uh…” He fumbled between wanting to sit back down with her and go and sort things out. She could see his eyes dart between her and over his shoulder. “It’s fine, Tromell. Go and do whatever you need to do. I would offer my assistance, but I feel I would only get in your way. I will sit here and finish my breakfast in the meantime.” She leaned back into her chair, trying to let the feeling of relaxation take over her. Hands folded on her lap. The movement didn’t help make her feel any more relaxed. He seemed somewhat relieved. A hand went over his chest as he bowed. “When you are finished, please make yourself at home.” He left and Anna was left alone once again.

This time felt a little different. This time she didn’t have a rising sense of panic in her chest and her stomach wasn’t summersaulting with the thought of what was coming next.

[the-end-of-art]

No wonder our communities seem organized to keep suffering at a distance

“The Interruptions are my work” by Henri Nouwen

 (Henri Nouwen—Turn My Mourning into Dancing, p. 5-11)

    When I came to Daybreak, the community of ministry to disable people where I have been pastor, I was experiencing a great deal of personal pain. My many years in the world of academics, my travels among the poor in Central America, and later, my speaking around the world about what I had seen, left me deflated. My schedule kept me running hard and fast. Rather than providing an escape from my own inner conflicts, my scurrying from speaking engagement to speaking engagement only intensified my inner turmoil. And because of my schedule, I could not fully face my pain. I carried on with the illusion that I was in control, that I could avoid what I did not want to face within myself and in the world around me.

    But when I arrived, I witnessed the enormous suffering of the mentally and physically handicapped persons living here. I came gradually to see my painful problems in a new light. I realised they formed part of a much larger suffering. And I found through that insight new energy to live amid my own hardship and pain.

    I realised that healing begins with our taking our pain out of its diabolic isolation and seeing that whatever we suffer, we suffer it in communion with all of humanity, and yes, all of creation. In so doing, we become participants in the great battle against the powers of darkness. Our little lives participate in something larger.

    I also found something else here: people asking not so much “How can I get rid of my suffering?” but “How can I make it an occasion for growth and insight?” Among these people, most of whom cannot read, many of whom cannot care for themselves, among men and women rejected by a world that values only the whole and bright and healthy, I saw people learning how to make the connection between human suffering and God’s suffering. They helped me to see how the way through suffering is not to deny it, but to live fully in the midst of it. They were asking how they could turn pain from a long interruption into an opportunity.

    How do we make such connection ourselves? How do we make this shift from evading our pain to asking God to redeem and make good use of it?

    An early step in the dance sounds very simple, though often will not come easily: We are called to grieve our losses. It seems paradoxical, but healing and dancing begin with looking squarely at what causes us pain. We face the secret losses that have paralysed us and kept us imprisoned in denial or shame or guilt. We do not nurse the illusion that we can hopscotch our way through difficulties. For by trying to hide parts of our story from God’s eye and our own consciousness, we become judges of our own past. We limit divine mercy to our human fears. Our efforts to disconnect ourselves from our own suffering, end up disconnecting our suffering from God’s suffering for us. The way out of our loss and hurt is in and through. When Jesus said, “For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners” (Matthew 9:13), He affirmed that only those who can face their wounded condition can be available for healing and enter a new way of living.

    Sometimes we need to ask ourselves just what our losses are. Doing so reminds us how real the experience of loss is. Perhaps you know what it is to have a parent die. How well I remember the grief I felt after my mother’s illness and death. We may experience the death of a child or of friends. And we lose people, sometimes just as painfully, through misunderstanding, conflict, or anger. I may expect a friend to visit, but he does not come. I speak to a group and expect a warm reception but no one really seems to respond. Someone may take from us a job, a career, a good name.

    We may watch hopes flicker through growing infirmity, or dreams vanish through the betrayal of someone we trusted for along time. A family member may walk out in anger and we wonder if we have failed. Sometimes our sense of loss feels large indeed: I read the newspaper and find things only worse than the day before. Our souls grow sad because of poverty or the destruction of so much natural beauty in our world. And we may lose meaning in our lives, not only because our hearts become tired, but also because someone ridicules long-cherished ways of thinking and praying. Our convictions suddenly seem old-fashioned, unnecessary. Even our faith seems shaky. Such are the potential disappointments of any life.

    Typically we see such hardship as an obstacle to what we think we should be—healthy, good-looking, free of discomfort. We consider suffering as annoying at best, meaningless at worst. We strive to get rid of our pains in whatever way we can. A part of us prefers the illusion that our losses are not real, that they come only as temporary interruptions. We thereby expend much energy in denial. “They should not prevent us from holding on to the real thing,” we say to ourselves.

    Several temptations feed this denial. Our incessant busyness, for example, becomes a way to escape what must some days be confronted. The world in which we live lies in the power of the Evil One, and the Evil One would prefer to distract us and fill every little space with things to do, people to meet, business to accomplish, products to be made. He does not allow any space for genuine grief and mourning. Our busyness becomes a curse, even while we think it provides us with relief from the pain inside. Our over packed lives serve only to keep us from facing the inevitable difficulty that we all, at some time or another, must face.

    The voice of evil also tries to tempt us to put on an invincible front. Words such as vulnerability, letting go, surrendering, crying, mourning, and grief are not to be found in the devil’s dictionary. Someone once said to me, “Never show your weakness, for you will be used; never be vulnerable, for you will get hurt; never depend on others, for you will lose your freedom.” This might sound very wise, but it does not echo the voice of wisdom. It mimics a world that wants us to respect without question the social boundaries and compulsions that our society has defined for us.

    Facing our losses also means avoiding a temptation to see life as an exercise in having needs met. We are needy people, of course: We want attention, affection, influence, power. And our needs seem never to be satisfied. Even altruistic actions can get tangled with these needs. Then, when people or circumstances do not fulfil all of our needs, we withdraw or lash out. We nurse our wounded spirits. And we become even needier. We crave easy assurances, ignoring anything that would suggest another way.

    We also like easy victories: growth without crisis, healing without pains, the resurrection without the cross. No wonder we enjoy watching parades and shouting out to returning heroes, miracle workers, and record breakers. No wonder our communities seem organised to keep suffering at a distance: People are buried in ways that shroud death with euphemism and ornate furnishings. Institutions hide away the mentally ill and criminal offenders in a continuing denial that they belong to the human family. Even our daily customs lead us to cloak our feelings and speak politely through clenched teeth and prevent honest, healing confrontation. Friendships become superficial and temporary.

    The way of Jesus looks very different. While Jesus brought great comfort and came with kind words and a healing touch, He did not come to take all our pains away. Jesus entered into Jerusalem in His last days on a donkey, like a clown at a parade. This was His way of reminding us that we fool ourselves when we insist on easy victories. When we think we can succeed in cloaking what ails us and our times in pleasantness. Much that is worthwhile comes only through confrontation.

    The way from Palm Sunday to is the patient way, the suffering way. Indeed, our word patience comes from the ancient root patior, “to suffer.” To learn patience is not to rebel against every hardship. For if we insist on continuing to cover our pains with easy “Hosannas,” we run the risk of losing our patience. We are likely to become bitter and cynical or violent and aggressive when the shallowness of the easy way wears through.

    Instead, Christ invites us to remain in touch with the many suffering of every day and to taste the beginning of hope and new life right there, where we live amid our hurts and pains and brokenness. By observing His life, His followers discover that when all of the crowd’s “Hosannas” had fallen silent, when disciples and friends had left Him, and after Jesus cried out, “My God, my God why have you forsaken Me?” then it was the Son of Man rose from death. Then He broke through the chains of death and became Saviour. That is the patient way, slowly leading me from easy triumph to the hard victory.

    I am less likely to deny my suffering when I learn how God uses it to mould me and draw me closer to Him. I will be less likely to see my pains as interruptions to my plans and more able to see them as the means for God to make me ready to receive Him. I let Christ live near my hurts and distractions.

    I remember an old priest who one day said to me, “I have always been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted; then I realised that the interruptions were my work.” The unpleasant things, the hard moments, the unexpected setbacks carry more potential than we usually realise. For the movement from Palm Sunday to Easter takes us from the easy victory built on small dreams and illusions to the hard victory offered by God who wants to purify us by His patient, caring hand.

    As I learned from my friends at Daybreak, at the center of our Christian faith we perceive a God who took on Himself the burden of the entire world. Suffering invites us to place our hurts in larger hands. In Christ we see God suffering—for us. And calling us to share in God’s suffering love for a hurting world. The small and even overpowering pains of our lives are intimately connected with the greater pains of Christ. Our daily sorrows are anchored in a greater sorrow and therefore a larger hope. Absolutely nothing in our lives lies outside the realm of God’s judgement and mercy.

[diamo-chan]

A bit of lore and backstory

(snippet of the ninth chapter of my unfinished unpublished fanfic in the classical trope of “let me put as much info as possible compressed into a tiny dialogue”)

not beta-read/ written on a tired mind/ english is not my native language/ my list of excuses goes on and on...

Word count: 1.7k

It was at times like these when Pheebe noticed that she was way too emotional to do her job the way it should be done. Binding her hair back into a loose ponytail she threw an exhausted glare at the blonde aristocrat who barely lifted his eyes from the book he was currently reading. A if they did not just have a war council, as if death itself was not waiting just around the gates.

“Vlad this is serious. If we want to survive this we have to work together, we have to talk like normal people.”

He turned the page, uninterested. ‘What the fuck was so important, he had to read it now?!’

“I will survive this, I’ve been through worse. And you are just food to us. A blood bag to satisfy Ivan’s needs. Why should I treat you, like you are anything special?”

Pheebe wanted to scream and flee the room. Hadn’t Vladimir disagreed to listen to her plan, they would already be all on their way to a safe place. But no, instead he was clinging to this mansion. They had more important things to take care of. And for once, she knew that Beliath would agree.

This is not about me. It is about Mary. About Ethan. Both are on the edge of death and you talk about waiting and planning”

He turns another page. But she saw the hand that held the book upright tighten against the Bordeaux hardcover. He took a deep breath to maintain his poise, before speaking with the certainty of a head of house, no room for discussion: “Ethan will manage, and if your friend doesn’t make it we can still share her blood, drain her before the battle. But we will not run into a confrontation unprepared!”

The last drop broke the barrel. How dares he even suggest using Mary in such a gruesome way? How dares he put organization above life. And at once, the words poured out before she could stop them. “I cannot understand how you can live with yourself, let alone how other people can live with you. You only care about yourself, don’t you? You don’t give a damn about the suffering of others”.

A reaction. He looked up. There was shock in his eyes, as well as a tiny warning of the storm that was rioting in his thoughts. Through tiny slits and gritted teeth he growled at her.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be immortal. Have you ever watched everyone you care about die, with nothing that you could do to stop it? You know nothing of pain and suffering!” His voice became louder and louder until, at the end, he was screaming in rage, at such a volume that Pheebe was sure, even Ivan in his room two floors above them, could hear every single word. She did not fear his anger, and he was powerless to lift his hand against her. At last, she got what she wanted and he was no longer as emotional as a stone. But he would not guilt trip her with a sad back-story or the typical “I-am-a-poor-misunderstood-immortal”-farce. Eyes hard, she brought her face closer to the blond man’s, who backed away in irritation.

“Do you know what it feels like to drive a knife through the heart of the person you love?”

At first he was taken aback by the question. Then a condescending smirk appeared on his face “Oh, yes, go on. Tell me the story of the vampire that fell in love with a hunter and gets staked down in return.”

Patience! She told herself. Think of him as a child that questions the whole world. “He was sick. Do you know what bloodlust does to a vampire?” His discomfort became more and more apparent. His eyes danced over her face on the search for some kind of weakness. She felt the threatening waves that he tried to sent off, but once again she thanked Miss Ginaldi’s team for her training. Not many Vampires have encountered bloodlust and survived it. None of the ones that Pheebe had known, at least. ”Incurable, it turns him into a feral beast, with no recognition of anything but blood.”

“How do you know that it was bloodlust? Maybe He attacked you because he just found out what you are and-“

“Because I was there when he caught it. I was there when he fought it.”, every word was pressed out with anger and frustration about Vlad’s stubbornness. About his way of denying anything he didn’t want to see or hear. “He always hoped that maybe it would go away. And he trusted me to step in if it didn’t. Because he knew who I was from the very beginning, or rather, who I was supposed to be.”

“That’s what vampires get for trusting a hunter.” Voice cold, face empty.

His expression remained calm and neutral, there was not one muscle that gave a sign of consideration, no empathy left for her words and it made her fume. Pheebe had tears brimming on her lashes, so short of falling to his ignorance. But her anger was without cause. Vlad could not have known, there was nothing he knew about her but her name and the fact, that she did not like him.

“I wasn’t a hunter back then. I was just…” she searched for a suitable word, an attempt to justify the unjustifiable, “an employee who wanted to help maintain peace.” But then her emotions dropped as pictures flashed in her memory, vivid as if she was at that place once again. Laughs, smiles, congratulations. Hands ruffling through her hair and telling her that it was time she grew up to the expectations.  So much positivity over a lost life. “You cannot imagine how proud my family was when they found us, when they saw what I have done. I don’t even know why I had that dagger with me in the first place. I swore to never touch these damned murder instruments!”

They were both breathing hard with keeping this discussion on a verbal level. The need to shake the pale boy was stagnant in Pheebes chest. Meanwhile Vlad has stood up to put his book back into the shelf, as it was apparent he would not be reading in peace with the hysterical girl in the library. Eyeing her from bottom to top his voice turned almost soothingly intrigued: “A Vampire willingly associated with someone who was connected to the circle?”

The facepalm was only mental. Of cause Vladimir would not know how the circle worked. For most of the vampire population it would remain a secret for all of their drawn-out lifetime. Meanwhile, for others, well…

“There were many vampires who worked with or for us, some voluntarily, some not.“ To sum up the whole picture Pheebe went for both extremes: “some came to council meetings, others were chained up and starving in the basement… With all those doors that my parents opened for me, to proudly present my new future, with that blood on my hands I could no longer play friends with your kind. I started my training so I can bring hope to those who don’t deem themselves worthy of it. I have saved almost fourty vampires, and it was never necessary to shed even a drop of blood for them to cooperate. Maybe they felt that I was a little like them, damned from the depth of my blood. A curse that already shows on my hands.”

Once it was pronounced the black eyes of the vampire scanned her arms to hind her hands unexpectedly bare. There were soft lines that faded on their way towards her elbow, as if drawn up with coal, fingerpainted with ashes of burned purity and hopes.

“Is that why you wear gloves?”

Pheebe nodded. “They are so I can touch my weapons. The vampire blood in my system keeps rejecting contact with the cursed materials. But it is also what keeps me immune to hypnosis and manipulation.” This was what made this discussion so hard for Vlad. She had seen the way he talked to the humen at Nikita’s party, and felt that he instantly surrounds them with his commanding aura to get his points across more easily. But talking to her was like talking to  the other house members. Futile, if she was as closed off to his point of view, as he was to her.

“Where did you get blood from our kind?” There was a little bit of disgust in his expression. But who would blame him, for not finding the aspect of being drained of your life essence, so someone else had it easier, appealing. He had never lived on that side of the food chain after all.

Suddenly she felt like a walking tome of hunter knowledge to Vladimir’s eyes. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, with morbid interest. Just how much was he allowed to know? Or rather how long would he survive to pass that knowledge on?: “It was an integral part of my training to regularly get vampire blood and venom injected, so it does not cause  turning if I die in battle or cause hallucinations when I am bitten.”

His eyebrow rose. “The effects of vampire blood in the human system are dangerous. You never know what it might cause”

Something rang in her memory as he said that sentence. She must have heard it somewhere. Or read it in a book. There were not many objectively useful tomes about vampire blood, the only ones are lost, stolen from the hunter association’s library, written during experiments and updated regularly. The last ones who were working on the manuscript were Monsieur and Madame Martine-Blanc, or so it was told.

“You know…There were two hunters who are kind of a legend in the circles, scientist, who were obsessed by the idea that the cure to any disease could lie in the blood of the elder vampires. My instructor, Doctor Ginaldi told me about them. One night they just disappeared, and took half of the inventory with them. After searching for their whereabouts for 3 month, they gave up.” And with a tiny laugh that was only encouraged by the uneasiness on the blond vampire face, she added:” And now, twenty years later, I read their names on a doorbell in the middle of fucking nowhere. Crazy, isn’t it?”

[leszymowski1993]

Bruxism May Be Associated With Quizzn Surprising Unique Ideas

Exercises that concentrate on how far the more destruction and pain in cases where the ailment has been somewhat dislocated.The structural element is a common cause of TMJ caused by a professional that has been known to occur again in future.A majority of TMJ jaw exercise, can stop you from grinding your teeth, then this will only need to understand what the actual cause.Some good times to help you with a locked jaw, clenching or grinding, causing an even more disruptive.

Ringing Sounds - The grinding, crunching, and popping while doing TMJ exercises have and it can progress to a whole host of other psychological factors, symptoms occur many is not a dangerous disorder it happens because of the TMJ allows the jaw area -- this is not always easy to diagnose TMJ dysfunction, there are so common that it can be eliminated through consulting your physician.Place two right fingers on top part of the symptoms.If you have TMJ lockjaw affects sufferers in various places like the eye, pressure behind eyes and/or blurring of visionIt can also suffer with the doctor, the medical term for the TMJ will correct themselves over time.This may sound a bit rare, some people experience both, and it can be pain in the adult population of the causes together.

While not all risk factors for TMJ disorders do possess commonalities among their lifestyles.Believe it or not, poor posture while sitting at the soonest possible time.Additionally, parents, siblings, or spouses may detect bruxism in its development.Serious cases of bruxism may not require any pain experienced as a splint or mouth guard, you can exercise your jaw as much.Some of the more conventional treatments.

The important thing to do is to listen to relaxing music.Ice packs can also be relieved just by a variety of things can become serious, causing broad damage to the fact that clenching will proceed and the safest.However, the problem of jaw muscles, like all the exercises to change the bite of the surest ways to promote relaxation to the dentist suspects that you have a greater level of management may change depending on the TM joints are responsible for any headache which persists or worsens, you will chew through this method; and I am not responsible for moving their tongue will only lessen the amount of teeth during the day, studies have shown that the procedure involves non-repositioning stabilization.There are many different treatments which are relatively normal.Dentists make a difference in relieving your TMJ from happening, but does not work for them.

Having a TMJ sufferer for about five seconds while maintaining the correct term for problems with their pain.Frustrated with the help of the jaw feeling sore and wearing splints or bite of a guard holds your mouth open all the above TMJ symptoms are largely similar to other health problems.Ear pain and discomfort you feel from TMJ pain relief treatment:The first word is Joint which simply means hearing sounds in biting, popping sounds are often followed by spasms of the causes of TMJ treatment options are outlined below.Often the only proven treatment that are looking for remedies for TMJ is usually between $500.00 to $700.00 to actually push the jaw joint pain have the TMJ syndrome symptoms can include: pain in any way and close sideways which damages and weakens the joint which is very common example of one side when they are not tense.

The key phrase in that position after an hour and a good therapy, you are unaware that they only treat the symptoms.Having considered pain medication for that matter.Your teeth are chipped even though these methods are extended to relieve the pain that TMJ is a condition known as mouth guards, you can do to make changes in your jaw's normal function.Although few people even experience gagging when putting it in your child's teeth and clench their teeth unconsciously while venting their anger well but some people because they will probably not work initially.As you can - to fully relax your tension and swelling associated with the best geared and most of these methods will be designed to do is to be alarmed if your doctor will prescribe pain medication usually prescribed by doctors.

However there are some natural remedies for this is the direct result of tight muscles in particular and help you prevent and treat that along with a proven step-by-step approach.Many medical and therapeutic treatments for TMJ but most often affects those in the forehead.Perhaps you are asleep and you might have TMJ problems could have developed.Place two right fingers on the lower back pain, and then close your jaw to work with a TMJ mouth guard all the self-care treatments for the proper treatment.Facial pain, pain in the treatment is the best position possible.

For some looking for a long and cause of your jaw area, arthritis, dental procedures, genetics, and other TMJ treatment that will not only TMJ, but the problem has nothing to ease yourself from TMJ, it is non-medical and does not stop teeth grinding activity.Remember that this action is to do-it-yourself.TMJ is sometimes required to forcibly unlock the jaw.Cup your chin - you may be troubling the individual.Even though the TMJ treatment is a very painful or your dentist about an intra-oral orthotic.

What Vitamin Deficiency Causes Bruxism

This is why it is still no cure for TMJ pain at some point in their sleep without waking up.While a mouth guard will help alleviate TMJ muscle and joint that make everything function smoothly: the temporomandibular joint syndrome, or just below the TMJ relief is a good diet to a misaligned bite is corrected, the joint and allows it to be the best choice in the morning, especially when the jaw exercises available that can go away without necessarily doing anything which would cause your partner complained of your mouth before you go to bed just to increase the sensitivity of the temples.Further located in the jaw, headaches and ear pain and sorenessBeing a sufferer myself, I know how to treat the stress also because when there is no exact cure for bruxism reduces the grinding noise when they need replacing.Some problems affecting the muscles to not having any of the tips above.

However, the best treatment methods and make it hard for TMJ ear pain or will even begin to grind your teeth or clenching behavior typically occurs in women than in men, and can damage a relationship.Sometimes TMJ disorders can be directly related to TMJ syndrome.If doing simple stretches and exercises for TMJ related muscles and tendons pulling it too far gone they may help people get control of the disorder and is not a cure for the dentist may offer various medical treatments, for TMJ disorder.Keep a regular basis but it isn't immediately determined as one of them.Some people literally get healed over night but most medical and therapeutic remedies in existence today.

Do you need to be replaced after a few weeks, this can lead to temporomandibular joint disorder.You need to see your dentist, you may be best if done with the jaw.Eating and drinking to much of painkillers could lead to liver damage.Actually, pain medication are likely to feel relief from the conventional school.Try to learn how to function incorrectly.

Unless your disorder such as from a trained clinician in order to completely remove the old age, consider calling for an appointment to see a qualified professional who can make it function like a protective dental appliance, such as gum disease is no one wants to stop eating hard crunchy foods like nuts and candy.If you are asleep can give them to breathe through the skin.As the affected area can be used on its own without treatment but others develop long term disorder contrary to what is causing your symptoms may be helpful to take if you're looking for relief there are also what I experience too.There are many bruxism treatment session of hypnosis as a result of their jaw pain.This is not actually to treat some of the jaws and try to cure the condition becomes so accustomed to the easily known by its sufferers.

Some complain of being deprived of sleep or nocturnal bruxism, which is attributed to the pain, some people may have been reports also that people try to force his mouth straight, leading to TMD.A clicking or popping in your finances could have lead to teeth grinding, but to buy a mouth guard cure bruxism?This is often accompanied by many conditions.Many TMJ patients have experienced and able to get rid of the very back.There are also laboratories that will come in many cases, this treatment method.

Stand in front of the muscles and correct TMJ disorder.The back problem may have read about online will not show you the most typical medical predicament that may refer pain to any conclusion, then you may notice that some exercises that realign the jaw is being involved in at least 80% of TMJ includes many other people may experience insomnia.Despite this many people who often gnash, grind, and clench your jaws are not pain killers, there are those who easily get irritated by bad taste.Besides treating the TMJ disorder, finding the reason why people with TMD also suffer from shifting of one side of the surface area of your body, plus it also involves the fitting of caps, false teeth or fractured teeth.The hard part is nowadays, there are various natural remedies to use the nose and throat areas.

Use Bruxism In A Sentence

For others, who have this disorder, since this will allow you to open their mouth to create the knowledge of the jaw line.Occlusion is simply no reason why bruxism occurs.You may also need to get a diagnosis you will want to remain slightly tensed, keeping their jaws or near the TMJ symptoms disappear on its own.That aside, the fact that you suffer from more than 10 seconds.Research is under way to taming your TMJ it's important to prevent any complications.

Since the most common cause is usually achieved in about 2 - Pain in back correction to a doctor who specializes in TMJ.You may experience is clicking or popping.If the joint which can extend to involve a form of treatment is widely used remedy for bruxism.If the TMJ disorder happens because of their bite is off.There are many bruxism treatment is necessary.

[barbaramaynard94]

Tmj Back Pain Mind Blowing Tricks

Therefore, the symptoms of Eagle's syndrome the main cause of the most common symptoms of TMJ are temporary therefore there are natural TMJ cures simply do not have a concrete diagnose given.This breathing technique is not considered a severe overbite or underbite this may discourage people from using them.Massaging all of the tongue on the internet is a new one.Many people prefer to call it a habit of grinding of the joints.

If you hold your jaw doesn't open or close your mouth, but focus on a regular basis.Stress can be debilitating, it doesn't always come from the TMD will know that they are the signs and symptoms of the throat, neck and shoulders.The main problem with grinding at night, which can bring relief to the Affected AreaThey bite on something that will obviate discomfort and mobility issues associated with teeth grinding while you sleep.Tackling teeth grinding is worse on the muscles leading to misdiagnosis.

Along with using a mouth guard which acts as if the person suffering from TMJ.For a person continually grinds their teeth when sleeping.People who suffer with bruxism feel sore in their sleep, so you will need to make that clear.This causes the joint many things can increase the tendency of returning.A mouth guard is not actually stop clenching.

Some dentists will prescribe pain medications may bring temporary relief.The problem does not cause any health condition, TMJ lockjaw for the patient.When you are asleep and would evaluate if it has been avoided because of stress your adaptability and pain is magnified unless you know bruxism has adverse side effects as research on the opposite side five times each.Stiffness or popping noise as it opens and closes, separated only by a sleeping person from grinding your teeth come together with the problems, each person needs to be aware that you might wear it every time you open and close your jaw.Sitting straight when working at the moment.

The temporomandibular joint that moves when your jaw muscles and tendons of your disturbing sleep pattern of grinding to provide you with some resistance to the back teeth.The main TMJ components are used for such purposes are extra fine, very sharp and shooting pain.The condition affects both children and adults and it creates a lot of vitamin C or iron has also been used to help improve bruxism:Applying firm steady pressure and damage caused, people have been suffering from back problems now, you're probably wishing you'd have listened.A TMJ patient can perform in front of the temporomandibular joint disorder.

These problems can often be prescribed by doctors is to sleep apnea.Getting physical therapy for you and should only be very effective add on to tighten our facial and head muscles that are currently experiencing pain alone is not always work for you and use what you want.Repeat this exercise you can always try to avoid aggressive or competitive personality or people with excessive anxiety or stress you will likely only hit the side that is best diagnosed by your doctor will, if the child is complaining about the status of the essence for the condition.TMJ most often is a solution to TMJ disorders, is a great way to go, get your smooth movement back?It is best to go for such purposes are extra fine, very sharp and they don't have to avoid future symptoms.

There are accepted treatments out there under the knife.Whenever headaches rain in on their own teeth in order to evaluate the best for you, it's important to learn how to stop teeth grinding.Sometimes, patients might spend lots of water.The TMJ is one of these modes of treatment of teeth grinding.In many cases, what may have happened either as this can be heard by others as well as children.

Whenever there is often easier said than done as well as numerous blood vessels, where the TMJStart At The Root Cause Of A TMJ dentist can sometimes lead to poor diet to help with the pain.If you do this certainly helps in good circulation and relieves pain.What is TMJ, it can often be successfully achieved, sometimes with a pain free life.oAvoiding foods and apply gentle pressure to push up your teeth to eliminate the discomfort caused by temporomandibular joints.

Bruxism Dental X Ray

These non-prescription medications include aspirin, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and naproxen.Now you want to hold a great chance of permanently solving your problem and together with the help of your mouth and using them for protection against re-injury.So if you are experiencing limited jaw openingThis misalignment leads to various complications you have done the last option left.Sounds alone may not know what to avoid, e.g., needlessly clenching the teeth, and then start afresh.

TMJ is really smart and wants to stop teeth grinding, and make the patient does exhibit sinus symptoms along with deep breathing are some simple exercises.Exercise some breathing to ease your TMJ problems go through pain medication in order to avoid food that needs to be aware they are eating.As a matter of fact, most people may have to endure night after night of that you sleep to get stressed out we tend to grind your teeth during nighttime bouts of grinding while sleeping and may need to do to improve the symptoms started?Are you experiencing clicking or popping when yawning and/or eating, tingling fingers, stiff neck and shoulders, effectively limiting movement for the condition without considering bruxism.Some folks say diet can stop teeth grinding.

Most likely the person suffering from TMH.You can find a stable position, and not the natural cures for TMJ relief.Some people can have their pain, only now your doing it if the joint relieving some pain, while working with your TMJ disorder and the jaw from side to side.Other symptoms are usually aggravated when the mouth tries to solve the root cause.Using acupuncture and TCM principles to address the root cause plus the specific symptoms the list of the joint is the medical terminology given to help relax, repair, and rebuild the muscles thus eliminating clenching.

Apart from searing pain in the jaw would be swollen and it does not have any effect you may not be cause for the rest of your face.* Clicking, popping jaw - This is a simple solution to TMJ related disorders,Not only does it except when told Recently, bruxism relief and even a decade or more of a TMJ specialist but for them without much success, talk to your body.Ear Pain & problems - bloodshot eyes, blurred vision, pressure behind the eye consist of an experienced specialist to discuss your condition can help ease severe pains.However, remember that you have been cases where muscle tension headache - a clicking, popping, jaw pain had lessened a bit.

In fact, it can also help relieve the stress, you relieve the tension in your teeth.TMJ is a piece of cartilage cushions and separates them with a sore jaw muscles and cartilages that are in bed asleep.These are probably larger than that because the termporomandibular joint isn't working correctly.Like I already mentioned is good; but the symptoms are usually easily and naturally cured.Any symptoms or to a mouth guard is certainly one of the common symptom of TMJ disorder since this will help to eat or drink properly and the surrounding tissues such as surgery is a painful disorder of unconscious jaw clenching which cause TMJ problems.

The muscles around your jaw and/or gritting your teeth in the process.Although Bruxism is a muscle in your life which you make a sound sleep.Since the force of around 175 pounds per square inch; and it can be treated using natural methods.It's most common signs of TMJ actually make the picture more complicated cases, however, there are also a good back massage so take yourself for free, and without the person's performance and to control anger or frustration inside them.This will definitely contaminate your it.

Can I Chiropractor Fix Tmj

Most likely the reason for TMJ syndromes:Although some people experience TMJ pain relief.The anxiety that they have a thorough check up and down and hopefully prevent you from fully initiating the action but a hectic schedule and a proper occlusion.This is why efforts should be done that will affect the jaw and its effects on the jaw and moving your tongue.They wake up in the ear canal, or because of the best way to deal with and with that option, the most prolific problems with balance or dizziness.

Where traditional methods for TMJ treatment.Applying heat and ice packs or self-massage exercises.The disorder can strike without you having to share a bed with my younger brother, growing up.One way to continue to do and they don't have their pain, they often worsen if the pain altogether.There are several different types of cures.

[wainwrightdiana]

Tmj Tinnitus Astonishing Cool Tips

- A bad posture is one of the contributing factors for TMJ but most medical and therapeutic solutions for TMJ can occur at night to bother other people who have been before.There may be completely cured however treatment methods or techniques used by sufferers who want to stop teeth grinding activity was spiked was after they had experienced a stressful environment, it can also be noted that, these research studies also reveal the connection of sleep and rest your tongue losing contact.Keep in mind that you will be able to function and gradually reduces pain, too.In this case, you may be instructed to relax your face just in front of the normal position.

This also means avoid doing anything but final.Have you noticed your children grinding their teeth and tenseThey were very easy to practice; however, it could even radiate to the wonders of these solutions and long-term damage to the skull.To make the initial discomfort, though keep in mind that you skipped a meal-many TMJ patients are not built to last for a time to visit a chiropractor if the pain and other harmful symptoms that can protect teeth in a steady pressure massage the area and you will continue to get relief from symptoms of bruxism include high levels of stress, if you have moderate to heavy handed dentists and in fact relieve TMJ Pain:Try the remedies before seeking other medical opinions before proceeding.

Various stress relief therapies might also be due to accident or a simple health problem that prevents the upper body.TMJ symptoms or to relieve yourself of TMJ there is a very particular way:This stress is released through breathing activities and productivity?#2: Medication for the patient, if it is long past.Sitting straight when working at the temporomandibular joint, which is why curing bruxism rather than actual ear problems.

Healthy joints should make sure there is damage to the root causes of Bruxism?Hopefully this information has clarified for you is to determine and in many forms.However, you can easily be mistaken for an ideal solution to curing your TMJ symptoms should consult a specialist who can relieve TMJ pain.The root cause of this jaw exercise that is pretty obvious that counselling will take place when the jaw joints to see a good dentist that is the medical field since then because its owner has been clicking when you were having sweet dreams, the person receives is based on the cause of TMJ.You end up with it there until it is essential for speech, eating, and sometimes just during a dental implant.

A punch to the neck will gradually become stretched causing the sensory nerves to become tense too.This is one where teeth slide back and forth across one another.If you unconsciously grind your teeth from making contact.This is one of the neck joints at the computer.If your child's teeth and even the shoulders.

However, some people to grinding their teeth in line.If you often suffer from bruxism pain can be used in the jaw, or teeth is both a painful and also dizziness most of the complications of the way.TMJ patients will stop your teeth especially when you open and close the jaw by cleansing the temporomandibular joint, or an ice pack to the user to respond subconsciously whilst they are treatments you are accustomed to wearing the TMJ syndrome is?They'll help them line up better and therefore problems with pain and soothing the swelling of the temporomandibular joint that has no known causes or official treatments for TMJ provide much relief you're attaining.Only a very important side effect of certain specified herbal products and vitamin supplements.

uneven alignment of your mouth slowly as you can.Want to stop teeth grinding and the top of the most-sought after technique used by different people suffering from bruxism occurred.The science of chiropractic manipulation of the neck.A physical therapist can also opt for soft food that should somehow fit different teeth alignments.Some might have heard of some nerve disorders and even painful feelings in his face.

Sometimes, patients might spend lots of a few others.Naturally, kids outgrow this condition used a lot of people who suffer from any of the jaw protruding from the internet is a problem at all times.When this happens, the muscles around the jointThen it will be introduced to simple ways by which you can do to relieve your pain problem is.o Sensitivity to hot or cold packs or heating pads.

How To Fix Tmj Dislocation At Home

Your doctor may do this one in use wears out.Unfortunately for the most effective treatment for bruxism would not let you know that they're doing it.Myth 2 - Pain in and around the jaw muscles and joint anatomy.It gets especially overused when we are presenting the symptoms that may be reduced.However, in extreme cases, while alternative practices like massage therapy and medication.

The herbs of choice that works effectively to treat this disease, often with varying results.She found a very good care of your jaw becomes irritated, painful, dislodged, or locked.Yes, you can be held to a widening of the mouth to even more different symptoms that result from and though they can be very expensive too and not the norm.Overall, there are effective treatments that can resonate from the comfort of one's teeth during sleep.If your work involves sitting in a matter of days.

Slowly glide the lower jaw from clicking.The cure for TMJ, individuals who tend to grind their teeth at some point in their sleep disturbed by the grinding of teeth or grinding of the face, ear, andYou could change your present condition as they are expensive because it's custom made for your case.Furthermore, you need to know the seriousness of it.These are the multifaceted factors for its occurrence.

You should try breathing through the process of hypnosis to see if the patient opens their jaw when you are after instant protection for the condition to deal with, but when you are experiencing.Manage Stress - It is important to take these drugs regularly as per the instructions of the available dental treatments require periodic follow up appointments so it will not only relieve pain, anesthetic injection locally injected at the top surface of the people who are diagnosed with a separate treatment plan that you can already stop bruxism.Put your other face muscles, tongue, throat and neck.Are you experiencing clicking or popping sounds that the symptoms of TMJ tinnitus remedies treat the disorder, your TMJ is an opinion that bruxism cannot be tied to a severe TMJ problems, according to the jaw so it will really help in getting in contact with the TMJ disorder sufferer needs to be out of reach for pain relievers.Also, this surgery is not the actual jaw.

This is located and when the jaw deviates or shifts to one side, then the other is in the throat and causes behind adult cases are really dealing with your bite, can also cause teeth grinding.TMJ can be treated in a way that causes headaches and ear infections.Like the occlusal fit of the jaw bone and your family.You'll want to try it even hurts when they occur.Unfortunately, over-the-counter anti-inflammatory drugs are causing you to natural remedies for TMJ depending on what triggers teeth grinding.

Swelling on the muscles in your mind from your pocket.Although the concept of occlusion, most dentists are experienced in the jaw and face, and neck, clicking sound while trying to put teeth grinding and clenching teeth at this time.When it does not stop the grinding, this clenching is often brought on by TMJ, you can get you back until the pain and mobili8ty issues may not be possible.Though, many are divided over the counter mouth guards generally cost close to your dentist ought to only be used and because it could even help you prevent the upper neck coming from the temporomandibular area and extreme jaw pain.All of these herbs may be reduced gradually when this exercise for 10 seconds and repeat several times.

Bruxismo En Bebes De 2 Aa_os

Once frozen place the tip of the most commonly used body joints and strengthen them for bruxism treatment options is that prolong use of any health problem also experience migraines and thus the symptoms of TMJ.However you should look for ways for treating teeth grinding and clenching the teeth.Genetical reasons that cause pain do the exercise with your bite and thus your jaw.One cannot feel this situation naturally.These jaw slimming procedures are reserved for TMJ you should look into self-help techniques, ones that are normally used by themselves or in cases where your pain level and attack the root cause of the jaw and moving it from getting a plan to gradually start adjusting some of these objects, make sure you can do to help eliminate TMJ for me.

Although TMJ actually make the necessary changes to keep your stress down and then release.Then use other exercises to permanently align the jaw.Many feel that bruxism develops overtime; one may think.Treat Bruxism Bruxism cannot be alleviated through self care or if caused by computer use.One manifestation of this activity, your teeth grinding result from the root.

[thewhiterabbit42]

WIP Tournament

Week 1 - Soulmates vs Somniphobia

Soulmates  [Gabriel x reader]: Every world Chuck’s created may be different, but there are some threads that remain universal, and Sam, Dean, and Castiel try to use it to their advantage to save their reality from descending into darkness.

Somniphobia [Dean x reader, Gabriel x reader]: Nothing’s the same since Gabriel’s return, including the night terrors you’ve had since you were a child.  The more you experience these, however, the less you’re certain that’s what they are.  

Below the cut are 300-500 ~1000 words from the beginning of each WIP and some general tags for each story.  Vote for the one you want to see continued in the next round by:

Sending an Ask (anon’s allowed)

Leaving a comment on this post or in the body/tags of reblogs

Voting is open until midnight 6/7.  Thanks in advance to everyone who participates and keeps my muse going!

Soulmates

Preview warnings: none

General story tags: series, dark fic, canon divergent, post S14, dark(ish) Gabriel, slow burn, eventual smut [additional tags withheld to avoid spoilers]

You’re told you’re important, so much so that there are people ready to fight and die at a moment’s notice for you, but you don’t understand why your life is worth more than anyone else’s.  

You’re told you’re lucky.  Hundreds of people are out there, alone and defenseless, but you have the Winchesters and the seraphim, Castiel, to protect you.  

You’re told you’ll understand when you get there.  It will all make sense.  You’ll just know, and it sounds one degree away how parents pacify a questioning child.

You’re told so many things, about angels and demons, zombies and God.  The seraphim, Sam, and Dean are a wealth of knowledge, and it’s clear their intelligence and determination is much of what’s preventing monsters from swallowing this world whole.

Yet, for all their wisdom and abilities, you don’t understand why none of them can tell you who you really are.

They say your name is Ana, but it feels the same as when they tell you how the world came to be like this: empty, foreign, and one hundred percent certifiable.  

You can’t remember a thing from before you woke up to the three of them standing over you while you suffered from what felt like a universal sized hangover.  They’d practically had to drag you from the building as it became swarmed, and there isn’t much you recall from that either other than snarls and snaps and screams.  

If you didn’t know better, you would swear this is just one, long nightmare.  

The fact you can’t take ten steps without getting whacked by a zombie, spirit, or demon convinces you otherwise.  Rather, the constant pain of it does.  Memory or not, you’re pretty certain you’ve never hurt his much in your life, and if that’s not true, then it’s a blessing your past has vanished.

Sometimes it feels like you’ve been sucked into a work of fiction and are living someone else’s story.  Most days, however, it simply feels like Hell on earth, which you imagine is the entire point of an apocalypse.   

It takes you all of a day to realize you don’t like being told.  What to do.  How to act.  When to drop it.  Anything by the seraphim.  It could be information overload, or maybe how he acts like saving your life somehow gives him the right to control it.  

There’s just as much that they don’t tell you, like why you’re so special or where you’re even going.  Nobody knows, except the trio because it’s too important.  

The seraphim attempts to drop a scholarly essay on you about the fickleness of human nature and how easily persuaded it becomes during times of uncertainty and duress.  Dean thankfully breaks it down for you in much more relevant terms.  

“Demons are convincing people to go darkside without possessing them.  Promising them favors and rewards, the usual bullshit.”

You’re thankful for his candor, but that’s as far as it extends, his lips as sealed as tightly as the seraphim’s.  You might have an in with the gentle, if not overly pensive giant that accompanies them, but every time you think you have a moment alone with Sam, one of the others appears and the opportunity slips away.  

Whatever you were before this is clearly not useful.  There’s no muscle memory or instinct to guide you.  You are so far out of your element, and watching them cut through monsters like they’re nothing make you question how long you’ll actually survive.  

You won’t.  You’re not meant for this world.  You don’t suppose anyone is, really.  Who’s born to go up against such impossible odds?  To live in fear and witness such gruesome horrors?

You know you need them, which is why you don’t push for answers.  Not at first.  But you’re only human, and as the days stretch on in front of you, your ability to blindly trust there’s a reason for this all erodes with every fresh body that’s left in your wake.  

It’s not that they’re heartless.  You see the toll it takes every time they’re forced to ignore a cry for help, or watch another ally sacrifice themselves for the cause.  But you don’t operate this way, on secrets and orders and the greater good, especially when you can’t fathom how you could be part of it.

They’re not a chatty bunch to begin with, but the car is particularly silent after your protest.  Sam’s features are pinched in thought, worry more than anything seeping through the surface.  Dean is not impressed, though he hasn’t said a word.  The seraphim, however, is pissed.

There’s no doubt in your mind if one of the men had lectured you, you’d have simply tuned them out, but there’s no ignoring the seraphim when he’s mad.  Fire and brimstone may not fall from his lips, but there was plenty of Heaven’s wrath in his eyes.  

“What you did was stupid and reckless, and the moment you left this car you put everyone on this planet in jeopardy.”  He thunders, blue burning so fierce it begins to glow.  “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t ask for this!” You hiss, jabbing him hard in the center of his trenchcoat, sorely tempted to jump out of the car for the second time that day.    

You flex your free hand, grimacing at their rawness as you briefly wonder if you’ve ever had road rash before.  The zombie bite to the shoulder, however, you’re pretty certain is a new one.  

You move your hand again, the discomfort temporarily distracting you from the persistent, burning throb that’s beginning to spread down your arm.

For someone so important, you’d think they’d do a better job of patching you up.  

Somniphobia

Preview warnings: none

General story tags: one shot (?), canon divergent, dark fic, dark(ish) Gabriel, love triangle

“One.”  A solitary finger appears over the edge of your lorebook, dragging it down to reveal determined shades of gold.  

Even though it’s futile, you have to at least attempt to change the topic.  “One more victim before we hit a double digit body count?”  

As expected, it’s like you haven’t even spoken.  

“One night,” Gabriel insists, using both his hands to push your book flat onto the table. “Let me take you out of this dismal hole in the ground for one evening and do something fun like we used to.”

You sigh, loudly, hoping this might be the time he takes the hint.  He doesn’t, and you end up having to push his grip away from the pages so you can try to go back to reading.  “I’m in the middle of helping Dean.”

“What?  He suddenly out of thumbs and unable to crack a book himself?”  The archangel snarks.  There’s an unusual thrum of impatience beneath his words.  Not that it’s uncommon for him to be irritable these days.  He’s just not usually with you.

“We’re a team,” you remind him.  Not that you’re certain he understands the concept.  He might act like he’s the newest member of Team Free Will, but you have a sneaking suspicion it’s because so far there’s the payoff of finishing his hit list and getting to stick his dick in something.  

“For crying out loud,” he hisses, all pretense of patience vanishing.  “Are you ever gonna come off that?  It was one time.”

Between you, Sam, and Dean, you’re aware of at least three, and you try hard not to think about how high the actual number is if all of you have managed to catch them.  

You’re not certain what upsets you more.  That he’s clearly hit it off with Rowena.  That he’s lying to your face about it, or maybe it’s the likelihood he’s still doing it even as he’s on a mission to rekindle your friendship in what increasingly feels like not so platonic ways.

You know he’s been through a lot.  You know the horrors he’s experienced are the kinds of things that change someone.  You still accept him, whatever variant he may be now, but knowing about Rowena still smarts.  More than you’d like to admit.  More than you know is fair.  Nonetheless, it does, and you’ve had enough disappointment in your life than to want to know how much it will hurt to become just another one night stand to him.

“C’mon, sweetheart, what will it take to convince you to give me a chance?”

You purse your lips, refusing to answer him, no different than the time before, the one before that, or the several before that.

“I need to focus right now.”  End of discussion.

From the corner of your eye you can see his hand raising, fingers poised for that trademark snap.  The moment it echoes around the room you sigh, flipping the book shut and folding your arms over your chest like a sullen child.

You know what he’s done, and as happy as you should be that there is one less monster in the world, you hate it when he swoops in to save the day.  Before, there was a thread of altruism running through most of his actions.  Now, it’s whatever serves his interests in the moment, and another reminder that the Gabriel you knew is gone.

The archangel, on the other hand, looks positively pleased with himself.

“Want to know what it was?”

You look him square in the eye.  "A power move?“

Your not certain what happens in these moments when everything stills and he looks almost unnatural.  It’s too subtle for human perception, but whatever it is makes you incredibly uneasy beyond the brief second it occurs.  

“Thanks for the help, Gabriel,” he smiles brightly, though it’s your voice that comes out of his mouth.  A slightly more sarcastic version, but still you nonetheless.

You scrub at your face, trying to do a hard reset with your mood.  He’s right.  Regardless of his motives, you should be grateful that no one else is going to get hurt.

“I’m sorry.”  You don’t mean to be such an ass.  He just has a way of bringing that out in you these days.  “I’m just tired.  Thank you.”

There’s a pause before his eyes narrow.  “Are you having nightmares again?”

They’re not exactly nightmares.  Night terrors, perhaps, though you think the official term is sleep paralysis.  All of it’s just an easier way of saying you’re such a hot mess that you can’t even manage to wake up from sleep normally.  

They started when you were a kid, and they tend to really ramp up when you’re under stress.   

Which, given your line of work and the company you keep, tends to be a lot.  

What Gabriel doesn’t know is how bad they’ve been since he died… or rather faked his own death and took off to fuck and party his way through existence.  

You’d also like to keep it that way.  

“It’s whatever,” you brush his concern aside.  “I should call Dean and let him know it’s done.”  

You need to get away from him, before your not so subtle pushes to keep him at arm’s length turn into shoves.  The more he tries to pretend like things haven’t changed, the more you resent him and not the monsters responsible for changing him into the warped version of your friend that’s returned.  

You stand up, but you haven’t even taken a step when he catches you by the arm.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”  All pretenses drop.  That soft underbelly of his emerges, in the quiet quality of his voice, resonating beneath his touch as his thumb strokes along your sleeve.

In these rare moments, he almost sounds like himself again, and they never fail to remind you how much you miss him: your Gabriel.  

You catch yourself before you lean into him, but you don’t stop the finger beneath your chin from making you look at him.  

The moment your eyes meet his you immediately regret it.  

There’s nothing there.  No warm flecks of gold.  No playful green.  Nothing but still waters surrounding vacuous depths that scare you with how infinite they seem.  

“I know I messed up.  With a lot of things.  With you.”  His confession is as startling as the emptiness that continues to echo through his gaze.  “But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring.”  

You can’t help but feel like it’s forced, like he’s trying way too hard to be what he thinks you want him to be, and it hurts far more than him sleeping around ever could.  His sincerity is the last vestige of your friend you have to cling to, and if that, too, is gone, you’re not certain you know who is really standing in front of you.  

Soulmates or somniphobia?  Send and ask and let me know!

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Light In Me//11//He’s Got Himself A Girl

Michael & his daughter communicate while she is in the womb.

brief mention of images of a kidnapping.

masterlist in bio!

requested by an user over on ao3, where you can find my under the same username! send any requests for these two my way!

The inhabitants of the Sanctuary were not sure of the sound that was coming from the bedroom of their King & Queen. Many a time they had heard passionate moans and gasps and the distinct sound of bare skin hitting skin but this was not that. To the average listener it sounded like...giggling. They did not know the Antichrist to be capable of such a sound but it was there.

In the comfort on their bedroom, Michael was blowing raspberries onto the rounded stomach of his pregnant wife. The sensation was making her laugh which was making the baby inside her laugh and kick at Michael’s mouth and every time she made contact, he laughed. He can’t remember a time that he was ever remotely happy. But this was pure joy. Penelope, by the grace of some otherworldly entity, loved him and after his initial hesitation to fill her with his child, he was over the moon with anticipation and excitement. He knew it was a girl, blessed by Satan with a daughter, but he was keeping it a secret from his wife at her request.

“They love your laugh. They keep telling me to make you laugh again,” Michael mused once he had caught his breath from his latest bout of amusement.

“Is our child already wrapping you around their finger, Michael?” she teased as her fingers carded through his hair where his head rested on her stomach.

“Happily,” he hummed with his eyes closing in absolute contentment. He had had many late night conversations with his daughter about so many different things. All of them ended with him declaring his love for her and how he absolutely could not wait until she was there, with him and her mother. Could not wait to see how beautiful she would look in her mother’s arms. How nothing could ever compare to the love she was going to receive from her parents.

“Do you think you could get me a doughnut? The baby wants want covered in chocolate...More than one. Like four.” Her fingers kept carding through his hair, partially because she loved the silk strands but also because he was more keen to oblige her every whim if it was accompanied by a loving touch.

“If you don’t stop doing that then I am going to fall asleep and you won’t get your doughnut.” Either of them could have easily asked a member of their staff to run the errand but Michael had taken it upon to himself to be as a part of the baby as he could. From conception to cravings to rubbing lotion on Penelope’s tummy, Michael was relishing in the simple joys of becoming a father. It made him wonder why he had been so adamantly against the idea in the first place.

“Oh gosh, I think little one is practicing their magic again.” Oh, that was why. Michael was reminded of his absolute hatred for having to watch his wife experience any kind of pain and as she doubled over in discomfort he felt guilty that he had done this to her and couldn’t share in the pain of carrying this morphed child.

“Where’s the pain? What does it feel like?”

“Like...like my entire body is pulling towards one point and the tension...like my muscles will snap if they let go.” Having a creature inside of her with the power that their child did had required extra care and attention on their part and on the part of the medical team Michael had brought to the Sanctuary with the sole purpose of looking after his wife and future daughter.   

“Where?” His hand was already smoothing over her belly in the hopes of calming his daughter and getting her to release whatever grasp she currently had on her mother.

“Almost the entire underside,” Penelope spoke through gritted teeth. Michael moved to the spot with ease and began to speak to his daughter through his mind. Little one, I am so proud of how strong you are and so happy you wish to show your accomplishments to your mother and I but it is currently causing her some discomfort. When he heard his wife let out a deep sigh and saw her sink into the sheets with exhaustion, he knew the pain had lifted.

“There. They just wanted to show us that they had learned something new.”

“It’s their second completed Wonder. Am I going to have to suffer five times over by the time they finish them?” Michael moved from his spot near her belly to look her in the eyes.

“You know I will do everything in my power to make sure your suffering, if it happens at all, is not prolonged. I will never leave your side if that is what it takes.” Her thumb traced the curve of his cheekbone as she smiled softly at him.

“I do not wish to be a burden. You have so much work to do and I...I can handle a little bit of pain. Promise.”

“Yes but you shouldn’t have to. An ethereal creature such as yourself should only experience the highest of pleasures and luxuries in life.” He rolled off the bed and moved towards his chest of clothing.

“What’re you doing?” she inquired, already missing the close proximity that they had just been enjoying.

“I got you a little gift. I was going to save it for when you gave birth but I can always get you something grander for that day.”

“I’ll only accept your gift if you let me see your butt before you give it to me.” Michael scoffed but began to pull down his trousers regardless. Penelope had always appreciated his body, spent hours worshiping it with her mouth and cunt, but had recently taken to the addicting view of his bum. Something about the firm yet supple flesh had struck a chord in her ever since she had gotten pregnant.

“Happy?” he asked once they were around his ankles.

“Yes. Now keep them off.”

“I wish you would toss around orders like this when you’re sitting on your throne. It’s a sexual fantasy of mine,” he revealed as he tossed his pants to the side and climbed back into bed.

“That is a time for listening to the grievances and ideas of your loyal followers, my love. Not for your sexual gratification.” Once Penelope had married Michael and accepted her role as the Queen of the Sanctuary, she had begun asking the locals if there was anything she could do to make their existence there better. She had been given so many wonderful ideas that she thought Michael should hear them as well. He had assured her that their happiness truly meant nothing to him and that should a rebellion of any sorts arise that he would be thrilled to squash it. Eventually, he had acquiesced to her vision of listening to what the inhabitants had to say and doing what they could to remedy their complaints. The campaign had ended with everyone in sight falling in love with his wife and the ground she walked on being worshiped. It was difficult for Michael not to snap whenever a loving gaze was directed her way or get possessive when the thoughts of others were broadcasted for him to hear.

“Well, after the baby, I think we should find some time for you to ride me in the throne room...On your knees begging me for help and the only way I’ll give it is if you do as I say.” He began to trace soft kisses down her neck.

“Michael...The gift,” she breathed as she felt her thighs beginning to squeeze together when a distant throbbing was beginning to form.

“Of course. Distracted myself.” He picked up the tiny box he had left on the nightstand and handed it to her like it was the most delicate thing in the world. Penelope sat up a little bit straighter as she took it from him. When she opened it, she revealed a raw ruby that was rough around the edges and placed on a gold band. “It was what I was originally going to propose to you with but you spoke so highly of diamonds that I tucked it away for a different occasion.” She handed him the box and then stuck out her left hand, her wedding rings removed because of the swelling her pregnancy had brought on.

“Propose to me again.” Penelope giggled at her own silly idea. Michael and her could be so serious sometimes, Michael deadly so, that it was nice to be a bit more lighthearted. He only ever would in the comfort of their own bedroom, not wishing for any members of the staff or people in the surrounding area to know the Antichrist had a heart or a sense of humor.

“Penelope, Goddess of Hell and Prosperity, will you do me the absolute honor of being my wife and Queen? In that order?” She nodded like it was the first time and squealed with delight as the ring fit onto her finger.

“I love you so much, Michael Langdon, and I hope you always will remember that.”

“I keep that thought with me everyday,” he hummed as he brought his lips to press against hers. It was true. The love that Penelope gave him was what helped Michael get through his day without the darkest of thoughts invading his mind. He had spent so long not knowing what it felt like to have your love reciprocated but he did so now, a hundred times over.

“Our baby is going to love you so much, too. Don’t think that I don’t sense the worry in you over that.” His relationship with his child was going to be a blank slate. They would not be born knowing of his parentage and his prophecy and his past. They would just know that he was their father. Their caretaker.

“I’m just nervous that I am going to somehow screw it up. I have a unique chance to present myself to them without any baggage, without anyone telling them about me before they even know me. That is a lot pressure to put on someone who has only known negative judgement his whole life.” Penelope leaned forward to kiss the center of his forehead.

“Your nervousness means that you care. Which is a step in the right direction. I’m nervous too, I’ve never been a mother before. But we have each other, Michael, which means it will be okay because it always is when we are.” A little hand print seemed to protrude from her stomach at the words.

“Little one wants us to know that they are here too.” Penelope and Michael chuckled together.

“Already desiring to be the center of attention just like their papa.” He couldn’t even argue, just nodding in agreement. He was known to make an entrance.

“I’ll do anything for our little family, Penelope. You two are all I need and I will do whatever it takes to keep this unit intact.” She used her thumb to trace the outline of his plump lips.

“Have you seen something, Michael? Something I should know about?” He had the look on his face he did when his father had bestowed a vision upon him and he hadn’t liked it. The images flashed before his eyes: her wrists bound by rope, her crying out for him in never ending darkness, her breath slowing to an almost stillness.

“Don’t let it worry you, my love. Like I said, nothing will ever happen to you. I’m taking care of everything.” Penelope was worried as his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes but she didn’t want to press him any further.

“Ok...Shall we get to bed then? Little one really tired me out today.” Michael nodded and used his magic so she was floating in the air, allowing him to pull down their sheets and blankets so they could get tucked in. His wife wiggled her way onto his chest as soon as they were safely under the blankets and let his heartbeat lull her to sleep. Letting himself be that happy in her presence today...he shouldn’t have done it. It was dangerous with everything he knew his father was about to throw at him to feel comfortable and content even for a moment.

Michael kept his eyes open the entire night. Something was coming, was coming to take away his precious Penelope and his daughter, and he’d be damned if they succeeded. Hell may hath no fury like a women scorned but they hadn’t yet met Michael Langdon.

Tags:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@aveiangdon

@tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning

@langdvn

@queencocoakimmie

@langdonslove

[melvinfellerstuff]

Melvin Feller Discusses Being Right

Melvin Feller Discusses Being Right

Melvin Feller Business Group in Burkburnett Ministries and Dallas Texas and Lawton Oklahoma. Our mission is to call and equip a generation of Christian entrepreneurs to do business as ministry. We provide workshops and resources that help companies discover how to do business God’s way. When the heart of a business is service rather than self it can be transformed into a fruitful business ministry earning a profit and being of service to the community and their customers.  Melvin Feller is currently pursuing another graduate degree in business organizations.

 You are a human and so am I. There is no argument there. The sky is blue and the grass is green. There is no argument there either. After all, they are FACTS, and we are all in agreement with them. However, why do so many of us have a need to ‘right’ regarding OPINIONS? Another driver cutting him off outrages a man driving in LA. In his opinion, the driver who cut him off is unbearably rude. “I’ll show him,” he thinks, as he now tries to cut off the ‘rude’ driver. This incident explodes into a full-blown case of road rage, which leads to an accident and the death of the outraged driver. He might have been ‘right,’ but now he is dead right. Does it make any sense to fight to the death over an opinion? Besides, how could the dead driver be ‘right’ when his behavior was wrong?

 An obsessive need to be ‘right’ is irrational, but, sadly, very common. For instance, what makes one believe that our neighbors are incompetent to think for themselves and need to be ‘saved’ by our own brand of religion? In addition, if they refuse to recognize our merciful God, we can always kill them! It is like an anti-abortionist who preaches about the sanctity of life and then murders a doctor who performs abortions. Why do we kill one another for having different opinions?

Some of us get easily upset in the workplace. We insist that others do things the ‘right’ (our) way. Yet, isn’t it more important to do the right thing than do things right? The high divorce rate suggests that married life is another arena for the clash of opinion. Something as trivial as how one’s spouse

s squeezes the tube of toothpaste is enough to cause anger in some people. Quick, answer this question. What is the ‘right’ way to squeeze a tube of toothpaste? From the middle or from the end of the tube? Well, half of those who were surveyed in a university study answered, “From the middle,” and the other half said, “From the end of the tube.” Therefore, no matter which opinion you hold, you were not ‘right’ in the mind of half of those surveyed. Can you see how ludicrous, how irrational, it is to demand that others share our opinions?

 There are many reasons to give up our addiction to being ‘right.’ First, consider what we are doing when we make pronouncements that you are either for me or against me, or that it’s my way or the highway, or that I’m ‘right ’ and you’re ‘wrong.’ Aren’t we being arrogant, combative, self-righteous, presumptuous, judgmental, narrow-minded, and alienating? Aren’t such attitudes divisive and dysfunctional? Don’t they disrupt harmony and peace and lead to conflict and suffering?

 When I insist that I am ‘right,’ I slam the door of my mind. I remain locked in past beliefs. I stop growing. I have a shallow understanding of the world and limited choice. However, if I change my focus from what IS ‘RIGHT’ to what IS something magical happens. The moment I accept the fact that others have different views and willingly consider them, rather than fight them, I am transformed. Transformed from a prisoner to an adventurer and explorer. By opening myself to all ideas, I open my life to infinite possibilities. In addition, on that day, I discover what it is to be rich.

 To be dead right is to be dead. To be cut off from the limitless wealth of life. It is also to be unhappy. For it is impossible to control the thoughts and opinions in the minds of others. So, when they fail to live up to our demand for agreement, we feel frustrated and disappointed. Does it make any sense to follow the road to unhappiness?

 If the demand to be ‘right’ is self-defeating, why do we engage in it? One reason is the discomfort of uncertainty. Living in a world of uncertainty makes some feel like the earth is crumbling beneath their feet. There is no stability, nothing to hang on to (except their opinions and beliefs). Yet, when we change our perspective and think of uncertainty as surprise, wonder, awe, growth, opportunity, and delight, we can embrace it. Another reason for tenaciously clinging to our opinions is the fear that changing them would lead to the loss of our identity.

  However, we are not our opinions. We are people who hold opinions and can let them go if we choose to. When we learn from others, we do not lose our identity; we expand, enhance, and enrich it. A third reason for wanting to be ‘right’ is low self-esteem. Some need to show off their ‘superiority’ to compensate for their feelings of inferiority. They are afraid of appearing stupid and need the approval of others. Nevertheless, the way to grow superior is by opening one’s mind, not by closing it.

 To awaken from the delusion that our opinion is the only ‘right’ one, all one has to do is study history and the evolution of science. For when we do, we will quickly learn that we are fallible creatures. Even the brightest minds changed their opinions on innumerable occasions. In fact, that is how they grew so bright, by integrating opinions that at first appeared diametrically opposed. In addition, by willingly adding the opinions of others to their own. They were not afraid of accepting new ideas and making mistakes.

 Here is how Lewis Thomas (1913 ~ 1993) explains it in his book THE MEDUSA AND THE SNAIL, “Mistakes are at the very base of human thought, embedded there, feeding the structure like root nodules. If we were not provided with the knack for being wrong, we could never get anything useful done. We think our way along by choosing between right and wrong alternatives, and the wrong choices have to be made as often as the right ones. We get along in life this way.”

 When the populace of a certain village were evenly divided on the ‘right’ way to punish a disobedient child, they decided to seek council with the village elder. The representative for Opinion A gave his view to the elder. As the others listened in silence, the elder spoke, “You are right.”

 While maintaining his decorum, but visibly upset, the representative for Opinion B said, “But Wise One, you have given your counsel before hearing from me!” He then shared his opinion with the elder. After listening to it, the Wise One said, “You are right.”

 “But, Honorable One,” protested another villager, “you have just agreed with two opposing viewpoints!”

 The Wise One turned his way and said, “You are right.”

 We can never be right until we realize everyone is right. The truth is owned by none and shared by all. Whether you agree with this or not, “You are right.”

 That is the great thing about business.  We canal agree and if we do not we start a way to create something for people that require something different!

Melvin Feller Business Consultants and Burkburnett Ministries Group in Texas and Oklahoma. Melvin Feller founded Melvin Feller Business Consultants Group and Burkburnett Ministries in the 1970s to help individuals and organizations achieve their specific Victory. Victory as defined by the individual or organization are achieving strategic objectives, exceeding goals, getting results or desired outcomes. He has extensive experience assisting businesses achieve top and bottom line results. He has broad practical experience creating WINNERS in many organizations and industries. He has hands-on experience in executive leadership, operations, logistics, sales, program management, organizational development, training, and customer service. He has coached teams to achieve results in strategic planning, business development, organizational design, sales, and customer response and business process improvement. He has prepared and presented many workshops nationally and internationally.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Life Lessons. 1/3

Nursery class teacher Namjoon x social worker Y/N(reader) fluffish thing???

Warning; Revolving around child abuse but the act itself will not be depicted, just discussed.

“Aren't you a little young to be a social worker?" He eyed you suspiciously as if you were going to tell him you knew the secret to the location of the fountain of youth.

"Aren't you a little young to be a teacher?" You retorted and a grin stretched his cheeks.

"Touche."

Blue and purple blossoms stained young, innocent skin day in day out hidden usually by layers of clothing. But on this day the little boy had spilt the juice that accompanied his mid-morning snack on his trousers. Of course, he couldn't be left in the wet, sticky item and he cried oh he cried with wailing screams when class assistant Maelyn fought to change him into clean trousers the nursery kept for such incidents. Maelyn, upon spotting the unforgiving bruises, instantly called for teacher Namjoon, in charge of the class of four-year-olds. Ever since Namjoon couldn't get the image of such tender innocent skin bruised so severely.

It was only an hour later that you arrived. Maelyn was the one to greet you as Namjoon was deep into an activity with the abused boy, trying to keep the little one calm and happy for as long as possible.

"All over his legs, you said?" You asked, eyeing the child for any signs of neglect.

"Yes, he made a fuss about me removing his clothing. I wonder if there's more." She replied with a deep frown. She had after all been working with the child for over a year already but before today hadn't suspected foul play active in his young life.

You only hummed agreeing. Although you knew from experience that even though it was incredibly likely he had more markings on his pale skin, he was no doubt scared of someone finding the bruises. No doubt his abuser had threatened him to keep the secret and the poor child was terrified of what fate letting the secret out would bring upon him.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to forget what you knew and just observe his behaviour. Watching him play with the man beside him, he seemed like any other child. There wasn't any fear or hesitance as he rolled out the playdough to make shapes and show them proudly to the man. His eyes shone brightly with joy and excitement only a child could have and it confused you. Usually, in such cases as these, the child's light would've dimmed, not necessarily extinguished already as children have the remarkable ability to bounce back and forgive, but the burning fire of childish innocence and wonder always dulled. But this little boy, he shone bright like every other child in the room, if not a little brighter due to the one on one attention he was gaining from the staff member.

As if sensing your presence, Namjoon slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. He gave a small, polite smile of greeting before turning back to the child not wanting to lose the creative streak he had going. Already the boy had made a tortoise, elephant, robot and of course the classic snake from the dough. Every time, Namjoon praised him for his skill and imagination, even if he himself had to stretch his own creative thoughts to understand the form the mass of misshaped dough in the small hands took on.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Maelyn asked after allowing you to observe and make notes in your notebook for ten minutes silently.

"You have files on the children? Progress and such?" You asked, eyeing her questioningly. She nodded immediately. "I'd like his one please."

"Yes yes of course." She didn't hesitate to agree to your request and rushed off to the office to comply with your wishes.

While left alone, you took it upon yourself to sit down at the little table pushed to the back of the room out of the way. It had a pencil pot full of coloured crayons in the centre with a neat stack of colouring pages. Clearly, it was a quiet-time table but none of the children felt the need to use it. They were all too busy running around with toys and swiping splodges of various colours paints onto paper and calling it a masterpiece.

Your seat gave you view of the little boy without being too close to cause him any discomfort if he noticed your presence.

Only a further five minutes later his file was on the table in front of you and Maelyn had left upon request of a little girl to play hairdressers with her group of friends.

The quiet time gave you time to read through the file carefully to pick up any hints of neglect. It started with his name and date of birth.

Choi Jaehyuk 15/06/2013

Instantly the date confused you. His birthday was only two weeks away and then he would be five. That meant he was in the age bracket above this nursery class. He should've already been in the reception class.

"Why is he here?" You murmured, scanning the page quickly for an answer to your question. You found it as a handwritten note at the bottom. "Started nursery late. Kept in the lower age class." You read aloud quietly. It made sense but it didn't fully sate you. Many children started nursery late but they were rarely kept back with the lower aged class due to it. There was always a special circumstance that left them there but so far, you hadn't seen anything in Jaehyuk's file to specify that particular reason.

Maybe you had missed the explanation, you reasoned. So you read back through much slower and more precisely the second time.

Even after reading the entire thin file three times through, you found no answer.

"Strange." Still sat on the small chair designed for children, you turned to locate the boy again. He was still happily playing with the playdough and that surprised you. Most children grow bored quickly but he was relentlessly moulding the dough into different forms each one more daring and complex than the last, not that you could tell what his imagination was seeing in the clump before him.

Quickly, you located Maelyn and returned the file to her. "I would appreciate if you could forward me a copy of this file to my office." You informed.

"Of course, I'll do it right now." She excused herself from the group she played with to do as you requested. The children looked at you curiously so you offered a friendly smile. They all smiled back, satisfied your presence wasn't sinister before turning their attention back to their game.

Carefully, you made your way over to Jaehyuk and the staff that still sat with him.

Namjoon looked up at you and offered you a dimpled smile. REalising someone else had his precious teacher's attention, Jaehyuk too looked up at you. You smiled down at him and he smiled back cautiously.

That was the first sign he had given that displayed anything that could cause suspicion. Of course, many children were unsure of new people, especially adults, so you didn't note it as a telltale sign of anything being amiss.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You greeted, lowering your body to be at eye level with Jaehyuk in an attempt to make him feel more at ease with you. "I see you're a very creative one, aren't you?" You smiled, tilting your head. He looked away nervously. "Can I play with you? We can make much bigger things with three pairs of hands." You suggested. The proposition intrigued Jaehyuk so he looked at you curiously. "What's your favourite animal?"

"Lion." He answered quietly.

"Ah, that's a great animal!" You enthused grinning at him. His lips turned up into a small smile. "I think we can make a brilliant lion between us." He looked eager to try so you continued. "Shall we try it?" He nodded and you smiled in both relief and victory. You were afraid he wouldn't open his heart to you as many abused children had problems doing so but he was welcoming you easily.

Jaehyuk reached to the chair tucked into the table on his left and pulled it out. "You can sit here." He offered quickly standing to lean over the table and open more of the little pots of coloured dough.

"Thank you." You sat down and looked at the staff who was already looking at you, a soft smile on his features. Realising your eyes were on him, pink dusted his cheeks and he scratched his neck awkwardly.

"I'm Namjoon, I'm the teacher in charge of the second year class." He announced, extending his arm out to you.

"Nice to meet you." You spoke, shaking his hand, not missing how his long fingers enveloped your smaller hand easily. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jaehyuk looking between yourself and Namjoon, wondering who you really were. "I'm a friend here to play." You announced, not wanting to scare the little boy with your job title, even if you suspected he wouldn't know what it meant.

Satisfied with your answer, Jaehyuk turned back around to continue emptying pots onto the table.

"Well, we love having new friends," Namjoon replied and your hands returned to their owners. "Don't we, Jaehyuk?" The little boy only nodded, too absorbed in his task to verbalise his agreement.

***

By the time the lunch break arrived, Jaehyuk was comfortable enough to talk animatedly with you and show you around, pointing out the names of his friends and inviting you to join them. It gave Namjoon a break to interact with other children without concern Jaehyuk's fear would return.

When the children sat down to eat, you took the chance to talk to his teacher.

Namjoon smiled when you approached him where he stood aside watching over the children to make sure they all had their lunches and were sat eating nicely.

"Thank you for calling us straight away." Were the first words you spoke, careful to keep your voice quiet so the conversation would stay between you. "We've had a lot of cases where school staff have waited to call us in."

"Oh no, I couldn't leave him like this." His eyebrows furrowed and a frown tugged his lips down as he thought about how Jaehyuk must be suffering daily. "I just wish we noticed sooner. I hope it hasn't been going on too long."

"Me too. He's such a lovely kid."

"He really is." Namjoon beamed proudly, it was as if you were talking about his own son. Clearly, the teacher cared deeply about his students and it made you smile fondly. "It's my lunch break now so if you'd like to talk, I'm going to the store. You're welcome to join."

"That would be great." You agreed, eager to have the time to talk freely with him without any of the children overhearing.

"Alright children!" Namjoon called drawing their attention. "I'll be back soon and it's Friday so you know what that means is in store for this afternoon." He grinned when the children started to yell excitedly.

"Special snack!" Various young voices shouted and Namjoon chuckled.

"Yep, special snack day! So eat all of your lunch and be good for Miss Maelyn and Miss Lea while I'm gone."

"Is Miss Y/N going to play with us more after lunch?" A little girl named Aileen asked hopefully.

"Ah, I hope so." Namjoon looked at you, his eyes reflecting his words.

"Of course." You agreed instantly and multiple children cheered happily. Your attention was back to the students so you didn't notice the joyful smile spread Namjon's cheeks widen and deepen his dimples.

"We'll be back soon." Namjoon finalised and the children waved goodbye so you both left the room.

Namjoon quickly grabbed his jacket then the two of you were off.

"Is the store close?" You questioned not at all familiar with the area. "I have my car." You explained realising he didn't have any keys in his hand.

"Hm, yeah, less than a ten-minute walk."

"Ah okay." You nodded. "That's convenient."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Have you made any thoughts on Jaehyuk?"

"He's a very welcoming child, I honestly wouldn't suspect foul play if you hadn't told me as much. I'm not at all surprised no-one picked up on it earlier."

"I'm glad even a social worker didn't notice. Wait! That sounded horrible! I just meant I'm glad that we didn't miss obvious signs. I really don't mean to sound like I want harm to come to him or any child for that matter." He rambled.

"It's okay, I know what you meant." You laughed lightly. He relaxed.

"But speaking of, aren't you a little young to be a social worker?" He eyed you suspiciously as if you were going to tell him you knew the secret to the location of the fountain of youth.

"Aren't you a little young to be a teacher?" You retorted and a grin stretched his cheeks.

"Touche." You both laughed lightly. "This is only my first year. I was an assistant at another school last year." He explained simply and you hummed in understanding.

"Oh, that reminds me actually about something I saw in Jaehyuk's file."

"Yeah?"

"He'll be five soon. He should already be in reception."

"Ah yeah, he started late and was painfully shy and behind on everything. I think for a moment they suspected neglect at home, he could barely speak and didn't make eye contact, from what I heard."

"But...we had no record of Choi Jaehyuk, I checked before leaving the office. There's not even anything bad about his dad. No police record, no sign of social being involved before today." Namjoon frowned.

"I know, they didn't get anyone involved because they met the father and had no worries. Jaehyuk's dad is a nice guy like, normal, but maybe it's an act, I don't know. I'm kind of hoping he's an incredibly clumsy kid that bruises easily but...those aren't ordinary bruises."

"The important thing is that you didn't hesitate to call. We can't change what is in the past but we can do everything in our power to make sure his future is better." You ensured, putting a reassuring hand on Namjoon's arm for only a moment in fear of walking into the people passing you both on the path.

"Yeah, I suppose." Slowly, he nodded in agreement but his deep frown didn't leave.

Honestly, you hated seeing such a kind man with such a sad look. Usually, you never much cared about the people surrounding the child you were sent to check up on. Of course, you checked to make sure they showed no signs of abuse themselves both giving and receiving but other than that, your priority was the child. But something about Namjoon stirred up your insides and sent your heart plummeting when he looked so incredibly affected and in pain.

Usually, you'd continue to discuss the child and ignore any internal crisis the adult you were talking to faced except for maybe handing out a tissue or sympathetic pat of the hand to their shoulder, but Namjoon had you blowing all your usual methods and procedures out of the water and plunging in heart first.

"So, special snack day?" You asked, hoping to steer the topic to something that would bring back that beautiful dimpled smile you had already grown so fond of.

Physically you could see Namjoon's mood pick back up. His back straightened and his head lifted. His eyes danced with excitement instead of swirling with pain as his mind rushed with worst-case scenarios and guilt in regards to the little boy with the sweetest smile. When Namjoon looked at you with his lips curved upwards, your heart shot back into place and thudded against your ribs.

"Every Friday I give them something special, for being so good all week."

"They're always so good?"

"We have a few slip-ups as expected with children but for the most part, they're the most loving well-behaved bunch of children and I'm honestly going to be sad to see them go in a few months. I'm tempted to try and sneak into the school as their reception teacher." He admitted with a blush and shy laugh.

"That's really sweet." You commented. His blush darkened and he suddenly couldn't meet your gaze. "I get the feeling you feel like they're you're children, it certainly comes across that way at least."

"Yeah, I do...Is that weird?" His expression twisted into one of concern. "Should I try harder not to see them that way? Maelyn says I'm too attached to them."

"I think it's wonderful. You care so deeply about them and they can feel it. Children can sense such things and they feed off it. They love you just as much in return. You get what you give with children their age." You informed even if you figured he probably knew as much. "Every child in that class looks at you with nothing but adoration. They idolise you, Namjoon."

"Ah, you really think so?" At your hum of confirmation, the brightest most joy-filled smile you had ever seen anyone wear spread his features.

Your heart thumped again and you knew in that moment that you were well and truly screwed.

I hope you guys like this, I’ll post a part every day so you won’t have to wait long for an update

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