#with the number of 'shortages' over the last few years that have turned out to be virtually manufactured for profit I'm over it

[essektheylyss]

So I keep ending up awake and mulling over languages at 4am for no goddamn reason. Last night I ended up trying to figure out how to trick my brain into remembering which of provare (to try) and trovare (to find) in Italian are which, because my brain wants to associate the tr- verb in English with the tr- verb in Italian.

So I think, okay, provost and professor are both words that probably have a Latin root. Is there some etymology that I can remember between them—provare is also "to prove" (of course, the cognate there somehow doesn't help, since I can associate that with either finding or trying, if we're looking at proving in the academic sense, which involves both trying out hypotheses and finding information). So I go look up the etymology.

AND THE AUDACITY OF HUMAN LANGUAGE.

Not only is provare in no way related to either provost or professor, but THEY'RE NOT EVEN RELATED TO EACH OTHER. They are all from entirely different fucking Latin root words.

Anyway after all of that I'm pretty sure the difference between the verbs still has not managed to sink into my brain and I will second guess myself every time and probably continue to fuck it up, but have the meme I made on my phone in the middle of the night in outraged furor.

[guilty-pleasures21]

Chapter 1 - the ... proposition

Part A

Part B

Warnings: none.

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

     Miguel slid off his horse and began leading him the rest of the way to the stables, the both of them panting happily at the exercise they’d just gone through. It had been a fine morning for a ride, the sky cloudless, the sun glowing, and he didn’t think his day could possibly get any better. But then a flash of yellow caught his eye and his lips widened at the sight. “Hola, princesa.” 

     X narrowed her eyes at Miguel before turning back to her horse and feeding her the last slice of apple in her hand. “I’ve told you before, Miguel, you can’t call me that.” 

     “Why not?” Miguel asked, guiding his hulking black stallion into the stall beside her horse’s. “You are a princess: the princess of cotton.”

Her father owned the largest cotton plantation in the British empire back in their homeland of Punjab. His business had become so successful that he’d amassed enough wealth to move his family to the UK when X had been only ten years old, ferrying them away from the rising tensions that had been building between the Indians and the British for the past few years. He’d purchased the estate right beside Miguel’s stepfather’s and the two families had been neighbours ever since. Miguel grinned as X sighed, fully aware that any response she gave would only spur him on further, then he locked the gate on his horse’s stall before moving closer to her.

“How’s Asha?” he asked.

     The pretty palomino mare gave a happy nicker as Miguel ran his hand down her nose, then she trotted over to the end of her stall to greet Miguel’s horse. 

     “She’s fine,” X replied, the corner of her lips curling as she watched the way the two horses nuzzled one another in affection. “And Zeus?” 

     “As virile as always.” Miguel flashed X an impish grin and she returned it with another exasperated glance before she began walking out of the stables. Their horses had already bred a year ago, the two of them producing a beautiful young foal between them, but they just couldn’t seem to get enough of one another. Miguel strode forward, easily making up the distance between the both of them. “You aren’t going riding today?” 

     X shook her head. “We still have a few things left to pack before leaving for the city tomorrow. Are you ready for the Season?”

     The London Season: high society’s own ‘mating season’. The time of the year when mother hens would parade their unmarried daughters around with the single-minded goal of finding them a respectable husband. Miguel gave an exaggerated sigh at the reminder of it. “As ready as I ever am.” 

     X scoffed at his glum tone. “Please. Don’t act like you don’t love all the attention every eligible young woman of the society showers upon you every year.”

     Her dashing and strapping neighbour had never suffered from a shortage of options when it came to his future wife, even despite the tanned skin and dark features he’d inherited from his immigrant mother. In fact, his foreign looks only seemed to draw more admiring glances his way. 

     “Don’t be jealous, princesa,” Miguel teased her, shooting her that roguish smile that would have had any other young lady going weak in the knees. “You know you will always be my number one.” 

     X rolled her eyes as he gave her a cheeky wink and had just opened her mouth to respond when a butler rushed up to them. 

     “My lord!” The man gave Miguel a quick bow before gesturing to the mansion behind him. “Your mother requests that you meet her in the drawing room! Right away!” 

     Miguel exchanged a curious look with X, then tipped his head towards her in farewell. “Until tomorrow, my lady.” 

     “Until then, my lord.” She gave him a small curtsy, then waited until he’d disappeared into his house before starting down the path to her own estate. 

     “Miguel!” The Baroness gasped when she saw her son and shot out of her seat to beckon her towards him. Miguel shot her a quizzical expression, his confusion growing when he noticed the unfamiliar elderly gentleman seated across from her. He nodded at the man in greeting, then took his seat beside his mother. 

     “Yes, mamá?” 

     Carolina settled herself back into her seat, then gestured to the man on the opposite settee. “Miguel, this is Mr Pemberly. Mr Pemberly, this is my son, Miguel. Please, tell him what you told me.” 

     She clutched her son’s arm as she waited for the man - Mr Pemberly - to begin speaking and Miguel felt his insides tighten with nerves. The man sized him up and down, his judgemental gaze running over his and his mother’s foreign looks, and Miguel straightened, drawing himself up to his full, towering height. Mr Pemberley cleared his throat, then studied the papers he held in his hands. 

     “‘In this final will and testament’,” he recited, his voice firm, “‘I, Earl George Fitzroy of Langford, do hereby recognise Miguel, son of the Baroness Carolina of Femroy, as my legitimate son by birth.” He paused to let Miguel digest the news and Miguel found himself relieved for the moment of silence. 

     His father. His birth father. The man he’d asked his mother about so many times before and the man whose identity she had refused to reveal every single time. And now … now he’d never even get the chance to meet him. His mother gave him a light pat on the knee, shaking him out of his reverie, then she turned back to Mr Pemberley. 

     “Please, continue, Mr Pemberley.” 

     “Right.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose, then returned his attention to the will before him. “In his will, your late father has declared you - alongside your half-brother Lord Frederick Fitzroy - as his rightful heirs. Provided, however, you fulfil a few … stipulations.” 

     Miguel furrowed his brows, confused, and Mr Pemberley took that as his cue to press forward. 

     “In the event of my death, my title and all its associated assets shall be passed down to whichever of my two sons successfully manages to secure an engagement by the end of the Season in the year of or following my death,” Mr Pemberely read. “If both or neither manages this task, then my title shall fall to my son Frederick, whilst both he and his half-brother Miguel shall share my assets equally between the two of them.” 

     He carried on after that, going through some of the other legalities associated with Miguel making a claim to his inheritance, but he’d stopped listening by that point, all the surrounding noise drowned out by the rapid pounding of his heart. He was to inherit a title and an estate? From a father he hadn’t even known existed for more than half his life? Would he finally have something to his name; something to call his now and forevermore? But wait. An engagement? Was that what the lawyer had said? 

     “My apologies, Mr Pemberley,” Miguel interrupted him quickly, “but would you mind repeating the part about the engagement?” 

     “Certainly,” Mr Pemberley assured him. “If you are to have any chance of inheriting your father’s estate, you must find a bride by the end of the Season, my lord. If not, you may only lay claim to your inheritance if your brother is unable to find a bride.” He gave Miguel a knowing look, as if suggesting that the task would be no problem for the legitimate firstborn son of the Earl, and Miguel felt his insides twist into a knot. 

     “Oh, I’m sure that will be no problem for my Miguel,” Carolina reassured him, her grip on her son’s arm firm. “You may begin drafting the appropriate documents for the inheritance, Mr Pemberley, my son will have his bride by the end of the Season.”

     She turned to Miguel, a determined look on her face, and gave him a resolute nod. “We will make sure of it.” 

Continue

[highqueenofelfhame]

a/n: my god, i have been working on this literally for a year. or, at least sitting on it since all too well tmv came out. as soon as i heard it, i knew i wanted to turn my two illicit affairs drabbles into a full story that has been dancing in the forefront of my mind since my first listen. this is the illicit affairs story. it was initially meant to be a oneshot, but it's getting so long i've been advised to split it up into parts. this is part one. i hope you enjoy. please please please reblog this so others can see it. i've been working so goddamn hard on it and if it flops i will be so sad lol. ok ok ok enough from me, on with the show.

rowaelin // 14,994 words // all too well playlist // masterlist

The buzzing of voices filled the bar like a large swarm of bumblebees occupying the space. Friday nights tended to be rather crowded and full of an eclectic group of people that fought over the old jukebox in the back corner of the main room. The patrons ranged from college students to working professionals, all of them sipping their preferred poison while swapping stories of their days and sharing the gossip of the moment. A few swayed to the music on the tiny dance floor, laughing with friends and speaking loud enough to be heard over the crowded din.

Neon lights cast nearly ominous glows over every surface. It would have a much colder vibe if it weren’t for the warmth of the Edison bulbs dangling from the ceiling. In the end it created a lovely atmosphere to decompress after a long week, and that was precisely why the Staghorn was so cherished amongst the locals. It looked more like a dive bar on the outside, but the inside was well cared for and loved by everyone who lived in Orynth. It was usually tourist-free, and while most of the older crowd would prefer if the rowdy college students would choose somewhere else to gather, no one really complained about the company they might find sandwiched in its walls.

It was the week of Samhuinn, and there was no shortage of students running around campus in elaborate or silly costumes. In the back room that housed the pool table and dartboards, Aelin Galathynius was perched on a bar stool with a cocktail straw pinched between her teeth while her best friend gave her a rundown of the fashion crimes committed this week on campus. Her nose was still burning from the stream of gin that had come out of it when Lysandra went into painstakingly accurate detail of the too-small dinosaur onesie she had seen trekking across the courtyard Wednesday morning.

It was her brother’s turn with the darts, and, despite giggling her way through Lysandra’s story, Aelin’s eyes were razor focused on if Aedion’s aim would stay true or land slightly to the left like it often did. He was her true competitor in the game they were playing, and nobody else ever came close despite the full roster of names on the scoreboard below theirs.

Each Friday was essentially a night full of wagers amongst their friends for which of them would come out on top. Several regulars usually watched the two take their turns, the blunted edge of the dart finding its home in or very close to the bullseye with every throw. Aedion and Aelin held the top two spots, though a third had appeared a few days ago that was dangerously close to knocking Aedion out of his second-place spot. Tiny tally marks noted who had won how many games in any available space between letters, and numbers indicated their highest scores. While her brother boasted the most wins, Aelin was more than proud to gush about having the highest score. It drove Aedion to near madness, made even worse by Aelin creeping up to steal the victory of most games won by him, too. 

Seldom were other names present on their chalkboard, but a few had managed to take a permanent spot with them in the last few weeks. She knew that if Aedion lost that second-place spot, all hell would break loose, and the will to keep competing against his sister would go down the toilet while he sulked into a pitcher of beer for an evening. 

Ace Ashryver Bitchthorn Salvaterre Fen

That was the list of names shaded in red from the sign above, Bitchthorn, making her laugh the most, considering she was pretty sure it had said Whitethorn at one point or another. 

“Fuck,” Aedion groaned, stalking to retrieve his darts almost before Aelin even had time to process what a shitty throw he’d made. 

“Are you even trying?” Aelin placed her drink on the table beside her, ice clinking melodically in the glass. “At this rate, whoever Bitchthorn is will take your second-place ranking, and you’ll be down to third place. How does that feel, big brother?”

“For that comment, I am only claiming you as a cousin.”

“I’m going to tell mom that you said that,” she teased while snagging her own darts from their placeholders on the wall. She wouldn’t; they both knew that. When Aedion’s mother died in childbirth, and his father died when he was three while on a deployment in the Wastes, it had stayed a sore subject for just about everyone. There were times when they could joke about it and times they couldn’t. They never could to her mother. It made her feel like she’d failed her sister, Aerin, and the nephew-turned-son left to her charge.

“In that case, I hope Bitchthorn destroys us both because your ego clearly needs to be knocked down a couple of notches.”

Aelin was grinning widely at the taunts, standing with the tips of her toes just kissing the line from where she was meant to throw. She took her stance, legs shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, shoulders and arms loose and ready to fire. The dart was evenly weighted and cool between her fingertips as she rolled it back and forth, slowing her thoughts until the voices and music became nothing more than a dull buzz in her ears. Despite the alcohol coursing through her system, she only saw the red circle in the center of the board. Aelin threw the dart on an exhale, and it found its mark dead-center. The second dart notched just below the first but still inside the bullseye. 

Just as she released the third, a hard body knocked into her and completely threw off her aim. Aedion howled as the dart embedded itself in the wall above the target while Aelin whipped around to scowl at the hulking brute that ruined her game. She was still leading on Aedion, but now he had more of a chance at redemption. She hadn’t even come close to hitting the board because of him.

This time, the muffled sounds of the bar had little to do with concentration and everything to do with anger. Much of it dissipated when she took in the face of the man whose hands were heavy on her shoulders to steady her from falling over. Gods above, he was beautiful.

“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly, tucking a piece of golden hair behind his ear. His other hand dropped from her shoulder.

“Don’t be. I might actually get to win now,” Aedion shouted, his low chuckles still shaking his body. Lysandra backhanded his shoulder.

“She gets to throw again. That was interference.” Aelin turned toward the voice that said it, thankful that someone was going to be on her side. Her defense was the kind of man that she drooled over. Well over six feet tall and tattooed, he had one hand in his pocket while the other held a glass tumbler of something dark. Aelin guessed whiskey– it seemed to fit the bill based on appearance alone.  If his rolling, lilting accent hadn’t done it for her, everything else about him really, really did. 

Sure, the guy that had ruined her shot was easily the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life, but the one leaning against the table with piercing green eyes that she didn’t want to look away from was something… else. Golden boy was too perfect, whereas this one was more rugged. Chiseled by the gods, specifically chosen to drive her personally insane. The idea that she had ever thought she preferred men with brown hair seemed so unbelievably stupid as she stared at the man with silver hair and a smirk on his face. He had a  single dimple on his cheek that seemed to be directed at her. 

The returning smile she gave him was almost involuntary.

“I agree with Santa over here. It was definitely interference, and I get to throw again.” Aedion didn’t have anything to say to that but a low string of grumbled curses. It made Aelin’s grin widen while she retrieved her dart. 

When she made eye contact with her personal savior, his brow quirked as if to say, Santa? Aelin simply shrugged as she took her stance back up, blocked out the new distraction behind her, and let the dart fly free.

Three bullseyes, her highest score yet. Now she just needed to try for a fourth of a different kind.

~*~

Despite how much Aelin didn’t care about Rowan being a gentleman, he was nothing short of one on their first date. They had just gone out for coffee, returning to his apartment soon after to continue their conversation. Neither of them had wanted to say goodbye even though the pair had sat in the coffee shop for four hours until they began to close down. So they had traded uncomfortable wooden chairs for Rowan’s oversized and extremely comfortable couch. The coffee turned to wine, Rowan at some point deciding to make them both dinner. Before either of them knew it, it was well past midnight and Aelin said she should probably get going. 

She would have let him take her to his bedroom and ravage her wholly after the last several hours. It had been an achingly long time since she had found someone that she felt she could tell anything and everything to. Their conversation flowed so easily with no judgment coming from either side. Maybe the bar was on the floor in that aspect, but it had been rare that she found a partner so willing to accept her as she was. The need to pretend wasn’t weighing her down. She felt she could just… be. 

Being early November, the air was sharp and cool. It had been two weeks since their first date and autumn leaves twirled toward the ground, crinkling and crunching beneath her boots. Every breath she took was crisp and rejuvenating. She loved this time of year; loved the sights and sounds and the energy that buzzed around her. The holidays were just around the corner, and she couldn’t be more excited for the coming weeks with her friends. 

A warm and calloused hand caught hers, long fingers lacing with her own. Aelin looked over at Rowan, who wore a slight smile on his lips while they walked down the street toward his apartment. It had been two weeks since she had first met him at the bar and discovered that he was Bitchthorn in the flesh. His last name was really Whitethorn, but in a tantrum after being defeated, his friend Lorcan changed his name on the board. Aelin wasn’t a huge fan of Lorcan, but the story still made her snort when she thought about it. 

“You’re staring,” Rowan said flatly, eyes shifting from the path ahead to meet her gaze. Aelin shrugged, tugging her hand free and leaning into his side as they walked. A content hum rose in her throat, something akin to a purr, when he draped his arm around her shoulder. She couldn’t help but inhale deeply, savoring the pine scent that always lingered on his skin and clothes. There was no way in hell that she would ever tell him, but she switched up her laundry detergent for the first time in years because she wanted to smell like him all the time and not just after she had been tangled up in his sheets.

It was only the third date they had been on, but she was struggling to imagine what her future would look like without him in it. Her stomach lurched, and her fingers twisted his shirt into her fist. There was only one other person she had felt like this with, yet her feelings for Rowan struck her harder and deeper than she’d ever felt with Sam. They weren’t exclusive, hadn’t even discussed what they were to the other yet, and Aelin’s mind was running wild with visions of what the years to come with Rowan would look like. For all she knew, this was just a fling for him. 

She tried not to think about it.

It was easy not to when he peeled her jeans from her legs and tossed them into the corner of his room. Their kisses had quickly become frenzied, neither of them taking the time to even remove her shirt. Nothing but pleasure crossed her mind, save for his name as he moved over her, inside of her, pulling sighs and moans from her lips. His skin was marred with the shape of her mouth, red lipstick smudging down his abdomen and staining his white sheets. It certainly didn’t feel like a fling when she was on top of him with his fingers fisting her hair; foreheads pressed together as they tumbled over the edge together and he finished buried deep inside her. 

After he cleaned her up, Rowan settled in bed beside her with a steaming mug of hot cocoa for her to sip, and it was bliss. As her head nestled into the soft spot between his neck and shoulder, the cup to her lips, Rowan said, “I want to know everything about you.”

“Like what?”

“Everything,” he repeated, tightening his grip around her body for emphasis.

“That’s a lot of ground to cover,” she joked, a comfortable silence settled over the pair while she enjoyed the drink he’d made her. After a few minutes, she held out the cup containing the last sip of sweet warmth she had saved for him. Despite telling her last week that he wasn’t big on sweets, he finished it and placed the mug on the nightstand beside him. “That goes both ways. I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

“I’m a professor. I’ll start teaching at the university next semester.” Aelin knew he was older than her. Ten years to be exact. But she’d never thought of him as old enough to be her professor. 

Doing her best not to tense up, she traced her finger over the edge of the tattoo on his ribcage. The university, he’d said casually. Her eyes closed as she swallowed despite her mouth having gone dry. 

“Like UT?” The University of Terrasen, where she was starting in January as a graduate student going for her master’s in art history. Ice cold flames had quickly licked up and down her body, leaving her trying to be casual as she wiped her hands against the sheets. 

“One and the same,” he confirmed. She felt him nod with the words, and she made her own head bob up and down. “What do you do for work?”

“I work at an art gallery downtown, but I really want to get a job at the art museum when…” she almost said when she graduated, but she stopped herself. Physically biting her tongue, she paused for a moment before carefully finishing, “ – when the time is right. What is it that you teach?”

She hoped it was anything but art, but her heart plummeted through the floor when he answered, “Wendlyn art and architecture history. The current professor retires at the end of the semester, and I had glowing recommendations from Wendlyn. Helps that I’m a native.”

“You’re about to become the wet dream of so many young students,” she joked, having to peel her dry tongue from the roof of her mouth to answer.

“I’m about to become very hated by so many young students,” he amended, a low chuckle sending shivers down her spine. “I’ve been called, multiple times, a ‘stupid asshole’ for how hard I grade assignments. I tend to be unforgiving.”

“I’m most thankful to my hardest teachers and professors. I still hate them, don’t get me wrong.” They shared a laugh before she continued, “But not having them go easy on me helped me learn that not everything is meant to come easy. You have to work hard to get what you want. If you get it all handed to you, you don’t deserve it half as much as someone that worked their ass off for it. And it’s not as rewarding to have things handed to you. I would know.”

“Know how?”

“I grew up getting things just because my parents are who they are. My dad founded and is CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the world.” She could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to connect the dots of whose daughter she might be.. Except she had told him that her last name was Ashryver, commonly using it for school and work to avoid people crawling up her ass to get a recommendation from her father. Sometimes they wanted to pitch ideas, other times it was clout they sought after for one reason or another. “Galathynius Tech.”

“You said your last name was–”

“Ashryver. It is, technically. My parents forewent a middle name and shoved both their names together. But I use my mom’s for most things because I’m constantly having to fight off people that want to use me as nothing more than a connection and it got tiring. I was over it by sixth grade.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” Rowan leaned over to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I have no interest in technology, so nothing to worry about from me. I wouldn’t have a cell phone if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

“That’s a very aging statement, professor,” she teased. Warmth bloomed in her belly, using the title shooting a thrill through her body. It was probably a little fucked up that she got immediately hot, some deeply hidden fantasy stirring in her mind. The bite Rowan’s mouth formed against her skin told her his mind had gone to the same place. 

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”

“Will you settle for something I just don’t talk about?” 

His lips were soft against her shoulder as he said, “Yes.”

It took her some time to be able to find the words. There were only a few people that truly knew what happened, and they only really knew because they’d been told by other people. To most, she was just in an accident. To others, they had more details. Outside of first responders, she hadn’t gone into detail about what happened. But with Rowan… for the first time since it happened, she wanted to.

“I was dating this guy named Sam. We were together for a little over a year and a half and on the weekend before my twenty-second birthday we’d been out drinking. Not Sam, he was the responsible one and he drove the two of us everywhere that I wanted to go. Up until we got into the car to go home it had been the most fun night. When I can separate what happened after with what happened before, it’s one of the best nights I’ve ever had. Just because it was all of my friends, all of us were drunk and so carefree and nothing mattered.”

Aelin paused, leaning forward to pull her shirt up to her shoulders, leaning forward so Rowan could see the scars down her back. There was a heavy, silent tension in the air as he ran his fingers over them so gently she felt her heart might break.

“On the way home, a drunk driver ran a red light and t-boned us on the driver's side. We started flipping, and because I’d been fussy and downright petulant about my seatbelt, I didn’t have it on properly. I was ejected on one of the rolls and slid down the road and earned a serious case of road rash. When I stopped, I hit my head so hard on a curb I couldn’t see straight for days. The only bit of peace I’ve ever been able to find was that they said Sam died on impact. I didn’t know he was dead and I started crawling toward the car, screaming for him. Glass and gravel was digging in my skin, I had cuts up and down my arms and legs and a huge gash on the side of my head. I don’t remember feeling any pain, though. I just remember crawling for him until I couldn’t move anymore. And then I woke up in the hospital.” 

She shrugged at the end of her story, fingers picking at a loose piece of string on the blanket that covered her legs. Rowan’s fingers were heartbreakingly gentle against her back as he traced her scars, noting everywhere that gravel and glass had been embedded in her skin. With a shaky breath she added, “The survivor’s guilt ate me alive. Some days it still does.”

“When I was twenty-five, I lived with my girlfriend, Lyria,” Rowan said quietly, fingers still grazing her skin. “We used to go for runs every morning, but I’d been out late with everyone and didn’t want to go when she woke me up. So she went alone, which she’d done before so I wasn’t too worried about it. But the sun was barely out, and someone hit her with their fucking truck and left her there to bleed out on the side of the road. When they caught him, it was an older guy that swore up and down he didn’t see her. That he ran because he was just scared and confused.”

Aelin looked at him over her shoulder, extending her hand to take his. Rowan exhaled heavily, pulling her so she was snug in his arms with her head tucked beneath his chin as he quietly said, “She was pregnant. She hadn’t told me yet, but she was. I found out at the hospital.”

“So you understand,” she whispered against his chest, her lips nearly tracing the words against his skin. There would be no apologies to be mistaken for pity. They were just two souls laid bare for the other, confessing worst nightmares that had been made real. Two people that had suffered greatly but survived it and had managed to find each other. 

“And so do you.” 

Someone that could understand her ins and outs, that could understand her fears and worries. Maybe not exactly the same, but when people didn’t experience something the way the two of them had, there was no way to relate to it. Survivor’s guilt and the trauma of losing someone you loved was a difficult thing to match no matter how hard someone might try. 

Rowan, though… he could understand the way she felt. He could understand the anxiety and fear that crept into her bones in the middle of the night, whispering awful things in her ear to keep her awake. And this revelation made the earlier admission that he would be her professor, that their relationship now had an expiration date on it even harder to bear. 

But instead of admitting the truth then, she curled around his body and listened to the steady beat of his heart. She breathed in sync with him in long, slow intervals, hoping and praying to any god that would listen that maybe it wouldn’t have to crash and burn quite so soon.

~*~

Despite the anxious nerves that bubbled up in her body like a fresh glass of champagne, Aelin grinned widely while they drove up the winding mountainside. The windows of the rented SUV were rolled down despite the chill in the air, Aelin’s golden hair whipping around wildly while she wove her hand in and out of the wind. The fingers of her left hand were laced with Rowan’s on the center console. That little bit of contact alone seemed to warm her entire body.

Bright, unbridled laughter escaped her lips as Rowan began singing along to the song on the radio in a dramatic fashion. It was one from the eighties that she knew all the words to but couldn’t remember the title of to save her life, and soon their voices were twined together just like their fingers. 

It was beautiful up here. Aelin had always loved the mountains, loved the sights and smells of pine and cool air. The trees that weren’t green year-round were losing their leaves. The forest floor was red and gold, bare branches reaching for the sky high above her head. Beautiful was the only word for it; she thought to herself as the song changed to something more modern. 

Pulling her hand back into the car, she took to adjusting the green scarf around her neck. The closer they got to the little mountain town Rowan’s family lived in, the cooler it became. It took him no time to roll up the windows and adjust the heat as she pulled her scarf up to hide her icy, pink nose and cheeks. Despite getting colder, her heart and soul had never been warmer. 

“We’re almost there,” he promised, pulling around the bend and driving into the little town where Aelin was starting to see the beginnings down the road. 

“No complaints here.”

“You’re just nervous.” Teasing laughter pulled at the words, his hand sliding from hers down to her knee to squeeze. She swatted it away, looking at him like he’d said the most offensive thing she’d ever heard.

“I don’t get nervous!” She cried, the lie so blatant and obvious that they both started laughing. 

“You don’t lie either, I suppose.” Rowan’s eyes slid from the road over her face, a silver brow raised in question.

“Not once in my li– Rowan!” Her hands went to brace the dash as he slammed on the brakes, very nearly running the red light in the center of downtown. The man beside her was on the receiving end of glares from people out and about that Saturday afternoon, a few horns honking behind him as they, too, came quickly  to a halt to avoid ramming into him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Rowan swore, reaching over to brush a piece of her hair that had caught on her lip in the fiasco. Instead of answering, Aelin started laughing again. He soon joined in with her, the two fighting off tears as the light changed to green, and he started back down the street. “Don’t do or say anything else cute. You nearly caused a car accident and got me a ticket.”

“Sure, sure. It’s my fault that you can’t keep your eyes off me for more than two minutes at a time.”

“Entirely. If you looked like a troll, I wouldn’t have such a hard time.”

“And here I thought you liked me for my personality,” she scoffed. Rowan lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her fingers, eyes staying glued to the street. 

“You are the single person put on this earth to drive me absolutely insane. The complete package wrapped with such a pretty bow.” Aelin’s cheeks warmed at his words, her smile softening as she leaned over to kiss his cheek despite how hard her seatbelt tried to keep her in her seat. 

It wasn’t long before they pulled into the driveway of a modest home nestled on a street a few blocks from downtown. After taking off her seatbelt, Aelin pulled down the mirror to fix her windswept hair, examining her face for the first time since leaving the airport bathroom. She went as far as to dig a small hairbrush out of her bag and detangle the golden strands, her nerves becoming more like a bottle of champagne ready to explode than a small, fizzy glass. 

“You look perfect,” Rowan told her, turning her face toward his with his fingertips so he could lean over and give her a sweet kiss. “They are going to love you.”

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled, loosening her scarf a bit as she reached for the door handle. 

“Aelin. You have nothing to worry about. Nevermind that I haven’t brought anyone home to meet my mother since I was in college. You already have a high score for that alone.” Aelin couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of her or how his words seemed to ease the pressure in her chest. The statement even managed to wipe away any taste of jealousy of the other women Rowan had ever been with. 

Not that it bothered her– she was more worried about not having the same life and relationship experience that he did rather than the women he’d dated or slept with. Rowan was ten years her senior, thirty-four to her twenty-four. He didn’t quite know her exact age yet, either. Not that she was hiding it from him. He knew she was in her twenties, but she had skated around it the first few weeks of them hanging out, and it simply hadn’t come back up in the time since. 

Aelin inhaled deeply as she hopped out of the car, admiring the home as she shut the door behind her. Rowan pulled their duffel bags from the trunk, slinging them over one shoulder so he could offer her a hand to take. She did, gladly, following him up the steps and into the foyer of the house as he called out that they were home.

Home. It was exactly what this place felt like. Not home the same way her parent’s house was, but home in that it could be nothing else. It smelled like cinnamon, spice, and the fire that roared in the fireplace. Visions of Rowan young and playing video games on the dark green couch in the living room to their right took hold of Aelin’s mind. She could immediately see him crowding the kitchen island with his friends after a big sports game, the loud chatter of teenage boys filling the space. 

It had such a warm and welcoming air to it that it was easy to imagine holidays spent at the dining room table or Rowan and his parents sitting around a Yulemas tree exchanging gifts. As she took a deep breath, she could smell the makings of dinner from the kitchen just as a woman about Aelin’s height rounded a corner with an apron tied around her lean frame. 

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, bypassing her son entirely and coming to take both of Aelin’s hands in hers. Behind his mom, Rowan’s eyes softened while he winked at his new girlfriend. “Rowan, she is just beautiful. You didn’t do her justice.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.” There was a gleam in his eye as he put their bags on the living room floor, with Aelin shaking her head like he was ridiculous. Because he was. 

“Hi, Mrs. Whitethorn. It’s lovely to finally meet you,” Aelin said, a grin on her lips. She would be lying to everyone if she said she hadn’t rehearsed that line an embarrassing amount of times in her head. 

“You will call me Ivy,” his mom said, dropping her hands to pull her into a warm embrace. Aelin returned the hug, thinking of how much it reminded her of the ones her own mother gave. “Your father is in the garage; go drag him inside. I have him pulling down the Yulemas decorations.”

“It isn’t even thanksgiving yet,” Rowan reminded her, shaking his head as she patted him on the cheek. Her hands dropped to her hips at the slight incredulity in his tone.

“Now, when has that ever stopped me?”

“It hasn’t,” he laughed, bending to press a kiss to her tanned skin. Rowan shrugged off his coat and hung it on a hook by the door before helping Aelin out of hers. She unwound the scarf from her neck and passed that off to him as well, watching as he situated them beside his before he kissed her forehead and vanished deeper into the house.

“Come, come. I’m working on dinner, but we’ll have some time to catch up without the men for a few minutes, at least. How was your flight?” 

“Pretty good, actually. My mom is from Varese, and we go there most summers, so it’s not a trip I’m unfamiliar with.” They weren’t in Varese, about an hour’s drive south in a small mountain town called Mistward that Aelin had heard of but never been to. So far, she was in love with it, much like her mother had promised when she first told her of the trip to meet his family.

It was probably a little too soon for the meeting, but Rowan wasn’t going to go home again until Yulemas, and that wasn’t a holiday Aelin was ready to spend away from her family just yet. Rowan had a few things he wanted for his new apartment from his parent's house. The trip had quickly become about her meeting his family, despite only having been seeing each other for a month at most. 

“You’re sure it’s not too soon for you to make a six-hour flight to meet your boyfriend’s parents?” He’d asked her one evening while they laid in a tangle of limbs on her couch.

“Oh, is that what you are? My boyfriend?” Aelin had tried to tease but was so thrilled about finally having a conversation about their relationship's status that they soon became a heap of tangled limbs and kisses.

Aelin lingered in the hall beside the kitchen while Rowan’s mother began asking her questions about her mother and the summers they spent in Wendlyn. Aelin’s replies came half distracted, her eyes caught on photos of Rowan’s life hanging on the walls. There were group photos of Rowan on his childhood and teenage sports teams, a photo of him in full football pads with his arms around the shoulders and waist of a boy and a girl that had matching silver hair, same as him. The one that almost elicited a giggle out of her was one of him as a boy with round, wire-framed glasses on his face and a wide, toothless grin to match.

“Darling, wasn’t he?” His mom asked, joining Aelin in the hall. “There’s plenty more where that came from, too.” 

“I need to see all of those.” 

“I’ll pull out the photo albums in the morning,” Ivy said with a wink, the two women heading back toward the kitchen. Aelin was hovering by the barstools by the island as the door to what she could only assume to be the garage opened, and Rowan walked back in. He was tailed by the vision of how Aelin imagined he would look in thirty years' time. An older, nearly as handsome man with the same silver hair. 

“You must be Aelin,” his father said, approaching her. He was every bit as tall as his son, and she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. Aelin started to hold her hand out for him to shake when he laughed warmly and pulled her in for a hug. The severity of his face had made her think that perhaps he was more formal, but no. Matthias Whitethorn seemed every bit as soft and loving as his wife. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Rowan’s been going on and on about you the last month.” Ivy gushed, reaching out to squeeze her hands. Aelin’s heart swelled at how sweet the gesture was. 

“Has he, now?” She looked to her boyfriend, who gently guided her to sit on a stool while he made his way to the coffee pot to make them both a cup. Settled with one leg crossed over the other, she propped her chin in her hand and gave his parents her full attention. The beginning of the conversation with his dad started out much like with his mom– he asked if the flight had been alright for her and took interest when she mentioned her mother being from Wendlyn as well. His parents volleyed questions back and forth, Aelin answering them all as Rowan placed a mug in front of her. Full of cream and sugar, just how she liked it. It earned him a smile, and a mouthed thank you between answers. 

Dinner went off without a hitch, Ivy and Matthias sharing stories of Rowan as a child that had his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. Aelin hadn’t laughed so much in a long time, learning about the silly things he’d said and done from the time he was in diapers. His father proudly showed her photos from his high school and college graduations, which turned the question onto her own education. Aelin licked her lips anxiously as she sat back in her seat, finding Rowan’s hand beneath the table.

“I graduated high school in Orynth, and I’ve never wanted to leave Terrasen for longer than a single adventure would take. So I went to the University of Terrasen in Orynth. Once I graduated with my bachelor’s in art history, I took a little over a year off to travel and see art all over the world. My parents have a lot of connections, so I met with some of the greatest living art historians in the world. And then I went back for my master’s.” 

It wasn’t a total lie. Not really. She did return to Orynth for her master’s– she just hadn’t started yet. She would begin in January, the same semester Rowan was due to begin teaching. A teensy fact that Rowan didn’t quite know yet. 

“Just like our Rowan. No wonder you’ve hit it off so well.” Ivy paused with a smile that Aelin had to force back onto her lips, “What do you do with those fancy degrees of yours?” His mother asked, finishing her last bite of dessert. Aelin paused to sip her water, trying to gather her answer in her head before she said it out loud. 

“Right now, I work at an art gallery, but I want to work in museums. I’ll have to start at the bottom of the food chain, but I’m excited to start that part of my career. I’ll start sending out applications soon.” Aelin was starting to feel uncomfortable with how easy she was at giving half-truths and saving the whole of it for herself. She would begin sending out applications– but for internships until she finished up her degree in two years.  

That response earned her a whole slew of new questions about art, what she loved about it, why she felt it was necessary. His parents really took the time to get to know her, whereas her last boyfriend’s family couldn’t have cared less about anything she did. To be fair, Chaol really only liked her as a trophy. As soon as the honeymoon phase died down and she started pushing back, he bailed. She still thanked the gods for that– she was so much better for it. 

Still, having Rowan’s mom and dad’s undivided attention was new for her, and it was nice to say the least. They weren’t measuring her up to someone else, they didn’t criticize her career path no matter how rocky it could start out. The pair took the time to really understand where she was coming from and listened while she rambled through their last glasses of wine and while they cleaned the kitchen. Matthias would point out when she had thoughts that lined up with something Rowan had told him years ago, and Ivy loved how passionate she was about conserving art for future generations to enjoy. It was strange, how much she felt like she belonged here despite having met them mere hours ago. 

She had to push that sinking feeling into a locked room deep inside her chest.

Soon after cleaning up for dinner, Aelin, Rowan, and his father were seated around the living room watching television when his mother dropped a stack of books on the coffee table. Ivy and Aelin shared a conspiratorial grin at the same time her boyfriend let out a low, displeased groan. The two women laughed as Aelin lowered herself to the floor, reaching for the book on top. It was made of stained, worn ivory fabric with edges covered in frilly lace. Aelin remembered Aedion’s baby book looking similar to this; her own had been pale pink but felt more like an actual book. 

She flipped to the first page and saw Rowan’s full name– Rowan Matthias Whitethorn– his date of birth, his weight in pounds and ounces, and finally, his length in inches. Her fingers traced over the handwritten letters, pausing on the inked imprint of his bare baby feet near the bottom. The smile that appeared on her face was involuntary, and she spared him a look over his shoulder. The always stoic man she was quickly falling for had a flush from his neck up to the very tips of his ears. Choking back the laugh she desperately wanted to let loose, she reached behind and squeezed his knee. 

“I am so excited about this.” Her voice was little more than a whisper and directed at Ivy, yet Rowan heard anyway, reaching out to tug on the ends of her hair. It was enough to get the laughter rushing out of her. Anything to make this man squirm was an excellent use of time in her eyes. 

She wasn’t sure just how long they sat around the coffee table, Aelin flipping through every single page of the books while he and his parents offered stories and anecdotes of his life. There was even a high school yearbook that, according to Rowan, was the most mortifying of it all. He had been crowned prom king his senior year, but not because of popularity. His group of friends had badgered nearly everyone in the school into voting for him simply because they knew he would hate it. Rowan wasn’t big on attention; he didn’t even really celebrate his birthday for that very reason. In the photos of him dancing with the prom queen, his girlfriend at the time, the poor buzzard looked absolutely miserable. 

Despite his embarrassment, Aelin loved hearing about his early life. Ivy made her laugh so hard that water nearly came out of her nose when she went on and on about just how hopeless he was with girls growing up. Something that he, apparently, hadn’t grown out of until he was in his third year of college. There were so many stories about failed dates, about his inability to express his emotions, about the poems he’d tried to write for pretty girls in middle school. He was no good at any of it, Rowan snatching an example from his mother’s hands before Aelin had the chance to read it. He’d ripped it up so quickly that tears of laughter had streamed down her face at the dramatics. It must have been truly terrible, then.

She was sitting with her back against the couch, head turned to look at Rowan and leaning against his legs for extra warmth when he began telling one of her favorite stories of the night. While he spun the tale, he dropped a blanket around her shoulders that she was quick to bundle her hands in while she listened eagerly.

“We hopped the fence, both of us running for the other side of the practice field that we could jump another fence to and make it out onto the street and off of school property,” Rowan was saying, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Later, we discovered that Vaughan had jumped into a dumpster to wait it out. Lorcan and Connall escaped because the cop chasing them was more out of shape. But there were, like, ten of them. We didn’t know where they were at any given moment. And by the time Fen and I started across the field, two of them were running at us from where we were headed. There was no time to stop or change course because there was nowhere to go.”

“So what did you do?”

“Fen was carrying the bag, right? Had it thrown over his shoulder. It was just a plain duffel bag, stuffed to the brim with mostly toilet paper and silly string. We weren’t trying to do anything totally illegal. But we did change the locks to all the gates–”

“Thanks to the keys he stole from me,” Matthias grumbled, but there was amusement in his eyes. Aelin doubted it had been all that funny when it happened, but now, so many years later, it seemed they could laugh about it. 

“Right,” Rowan confirmed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “So we’re running across the field, two cops are coming at us from the other side. We knew we were screwed, so I grabbed Fen’s arm, we both stopped, and I immediately raised my hands in the air. They had their guns drawn because we were trespassing and running from the police. We had a bag that they didn’t know the contents of. The five of us were all well over six feet and causing trouble. So my hands are in the air, Fen is holding onto this bag like he’s scared of them taking it, which is fucking hilarious considering there was nothing too damning in it.

“The cops start yelling what’s in the bag! Just over and over. Fenrys is shaking, fumbling to unzip the bag, which was just stupid, so I yanked it off his shoulder, threw it on the ground and as one of the cops reached down to unzip it, Fen just cries out It’s just toilet paper, sir!  The man had tears in his eyes. I get that in the moment, it was scary, but none of the rest of us reacted the way he did. Just crumbled immediately under pressure.” 

At that, Aelin’s laughter began anew. She remembered meeting Fenrys that first night she’d met Rowan. The impossibly beautiful man with the first face and a dark twin to match. The idea of someone with so much confidence crumbling under pressure had her cackling wildly. 

“The two of us got arrested for trespassing, dad bailed us out, and to this day, we tease him relentlessly for it. As soon as we were in the jail cell, I turned and started to say something about it, and he told me to shut up. Obviously, I didn’t. And then I told everyone when we got together a few days later.”

Of all the stories she’d heard today, it had made her laugh the hardest. It was hard to reconcile the Fenrys she’d met with the Fenrys in the story, and she couldn’t wait to bring it up to him the next time she saw him. 

Her favorite story, though, had been one his mother told her about Rowan finding a young, injured hawk when he was eight. Ivy had been baking in the kitchen when Rowan stumbled in, shirtless but holding the bundle to his chest. When she asked what he had, he showed her and begged that they take it somewhere that it could get healed and later released into the wild. A stoic hardass this man may be, but he’d always had a tender side. Aelin had seen it over and over, but it was sweet to know it had always been there. 

They didn’t realize how late it was until Ivy and Matthias decided to head off to bed, which turned out to be sometime after two in the morning. It was then that Rowan gathered their bags where they still sat by the front door and led her to his childhood bedroom. 

Because of how late they had arrived and dinner had been so close to finished, Aelin had little more than a peek into the bedroom he’d spent his nights as a child. She took a moment to look at all the trophies and team photos that lined floating shelves on the walls while Rowan dug through his bag for something to sleep in. Aelin’s polished fingers ran down the worn spines of books he had clearly loved, some of the covers ripped or missing corners from the wear and tear. 

It wasn’t the room of a boy but a growing teenager. The bed was a queen to adjust to his rapid growth, the sheets, and duvet a plain dark green. A few textbooks were stacked on a desk in the corner, ones that seemed to be from his college days. Apparently, that was some of what he’d come back for. He wanted to use the notes he’d taken to teach his students. 

Rowan was watching her, his travel clothes long gone. Instead, he was in a pair of sweatpants with no shirt, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching Aelin embrace his room. When she’d gotten her fill, she walked over to him, standing between his legs and draping her arms over his shoulders.

“I love it here,” she said quietly, twisting her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah?” Aelin hummed in response, kissing him softly. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“It’s perfect. It feels like a home. The way it looks, the smells, the way it’s decorated. That your bedroom is still the same it was when you graduated highschool.” Rowan smiled softly at her, tucking her hair behind her ear and pulling her in for a kiss. One that Aelin knew, had his parents not been down the hall, would have quickly devolved into something more. Instead, she pulled away and shook her head as if to clear it, “My parent’s house is home, don’t get me wrong. But it’s never felt this cozy and lived in. And your parents are…” Aelin took a deep breath, wanting to say everything that filled her mind. Ultimately she decided against it, feeling a knot forming in her throat at everything she couldn’t bring herself to say. To divert her emotions, she kissed him quickly and disappeared into the bathroom to ready herself for bed.

Something about that house, Ivy, and Matthias had Aelin sad to leave a few days later. For the first time after meeting a boyfriend’s parents, she found herself eager to return. 

But she knew she probably wouldn’t.

~*~

The mental hourglass that Aelin had of their relationship was running out. While she was the only one that knew it and she did her best to ignore it, the idea plagued her waking thoughts and jerked her out of fitful nightmares. It didn’t help that their relationship seemed to just continue to heat up, despite telling herself that she needed to be pulling away.

It was nearly Yulemas now and just under a month until she would return to UT to start her master's degree at the same time that Rowan would begin teaching a course she was due to take in the same semester. 

Much to her horror, when she had gone online to register for classes, Rowan’s was the last of the history requirement courses available. Her first pick was a course on art and architecture history in the southern continent, but it was already full by the time she submitted everything to her admissions advisor. Because of the strict outline that mandated she take three art history classes per semester, she had quite literally no other choice but to select Rowan’s class as her third and final for the spring. 

The sword of Damocles hung over her head every time she saw him, swaying back and forth each time his hands explored every inch of her skin. Aelin was constantly cursing herself, sometimes finding the words on the tip of her tongue but entirely unable to get them out of her mouth. She knew she had to tell him, knew it was getting down to the wire of when they could have a conversation about it that wouldn’t end in a blowout. 

Yet his sweet disposition when they were together made her almost forget. When they hopped into one of their cars to go for hikes up in the Staghorns, or when they lay on his couch watching movies, it didn’t feel like their relationship was as cursed for a fatal end as she thought it was. When they stood around throwing darts and Fenrys lifted her off her feet to celebrate yet another win on her part, it felt like everything was fine. Those moments made it so easy to fold up the whole truth with her half truths like they were tiny pieces of confetti. Aelin locked it all inside her heart, praying it wouldn’t pop off like a firework. 

Still, as he tossed her the keys over the hood of the car, her cloudy mind had her missing the catch. They landed with a clatter on the ground, her favorite keychain winking in the afternoon sun. Rowan chuckled, teasing remarks that didn’t quite make it through her ears falling from his tongue. Her laugh was forced as she got into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and gave life to her car. In the seat beside her, Rowan gave her a long look as though he knew something was wrong, but she found a smile that she punctuated with a loud, smacking kiss and that seemed to ease his worries. 

Today they were going out to do some Yulemas shopping for their friends and family. It was an easy decision to decide to go together. Aelin already had a gift for Rowan hidden in the top of her closet; she just had a few more names to tick off her list. She wanted his help selecting a present for Ivy and Matthias, and since he would be meeting her family at New Years, he required her assistance as well. 

Thinking about New Years was already psyching her out. It had been enough to meet his family while she had continued to delude herself that maybe they could make this whole thing work, but him meeting hers when it was bound to go up in flames once she revealed her lies seemed cruel. It was cruel to her family, to Rowan, to herself. It would only cause unnecessary hurt when everyone was attached and getting along. Her heart ached for how his parents would react. The thought of never seeing Ivy Whitethorn again made her eyes burn.

Aelin wasn’t stupid. This entire thing was her fault and hers alone. If she had just confessed as soon as Rowan mentioned he would be a professor, one that would likely teach her, maybe this would pan out okay. But now, several months deep into their relationship, falling more and more in love with him by the second… it all just felt doomed. 

Despite the hurricane of hurt that was headed directly for her, she would savor these last few weeks. No matter how hard she had to keep choking down her lies or how much it would hurt when it all crumpled like a piece of paper in a garbage bin, she wanted to soak up the last bit of happiness while she still could. 

The desire to have Rowan smiling at her like she was the only important thing in the world outweighed her guilty conscience that day which was how they ended up walking with laced fingers through the over-crowded shopping mall. Strangers who were also scrounging for last-minute gifts bumped into them restlessly, sending Aelin rocking into Rowan’s side. He was quick to steady her, his hands warm where they grazed the skin of her lower back beneath her shirt. It earned him a grateful smile as they braved the sea of teenagers and adults.

Despite how hectic it was, Aelin loved this time of year. She loved the sights and smells, the general cheer that seemed to hang in the air. The massive Yulemas tree in the center of the open ice rink downtown always brought her joy. She had dragged Rowan down to the parade and ceremonious lighting, citing that he needed to experience Orynth at Yulemas time in full swing. 

Rowan didn’t love the crowds. More than once, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him to weave in and out of people. When they stopped at the jewelry counter, he cursed them both for waiting so long to do their shopping. 

“This is the best time!” She cried, her grip tightening on his forearm as she struggled to keep up with him.

“This is the worst time,” Rowan argued, giving her a pointed look when a man on a mission nearly body slammed her into the jewelry counter and Rowan had to, once again, keep her from toppling over onto the floor. Okay, sure, maybe it did have its downsides, but– 

“Think about all the happiness that will come from these gifts! Imagine the children’s faces when they wake up in just a few mornings and get to open all their presents. And all the yummy desserts these people will be sharing with their families, all the memories that are being made right now.”

“You really have a flair for the dramatics,” he said, eyes skimming the various pieces of jewelry through the glass. Aelin grinned and mocked a bow. She was rewarded with a soft laugh and a kiss on her temple. 

She was dramatic, Aelin would be the first to admit. Maybe that was why she was waiting so long to shatter both of their hearts.

~*~

For both of them, Yulemas went without a hitch. Both of them had much needed family time, and Rowan arrived at her parents in the late afternoon. The big party wasn’t until the next night on New Year’s eve, but tonight family and friends would still find their way to the Ashryver-Galathynius home to kick things off with a lavish dinner that a private chef had been slaving over all day. 

Aelin paraded him all over the house, introducing him to everyone in a quick manner. After showing off the bedrooms, living rooms, and the theater room in the basement, she rounded off the tour by pulling him out onto the deck to show him the view. Maybe she also wanted to hint at some private jacuzzi time, but as soon as they stepped foot outside she knew he would love it out here as much as she did.

The house was nestled in the mountain side and it was picturesque back here. Especially once the sun set, or when you wanted to lay out and look at the stars. Both were things Aelin planned to do with him over the weekend, before having to go back to the harsh reality that was to become her life. It was a place that Aelin commonly found herself in growing up when life became too overwhelming or she just needed some peace and quiet. There were notches hidden along the wooden railing to show how many books she’d finished out here under the stars when she was supposed to be sleeping. 

“I want to kiss you at midnight right here,” he told her, leaning down to give her a preview of what she would get on the next night. Maybe she should start a new tally on the posts: how many kisses she could coax out of Rowan Whitethorn when they were supposed to be asleep.

With her parents bustling around preparing for dinner, they didn’t have much time to stop and talk to Rowan just yet. So Aelin led him back up to her bedroom, putting his bag on the chaise lounge at the foot of her bed before hopping onto the plush bedding while she watched him peruse her room the same way she had his.

“This house is incredible,” he mused, pulling back her curtains to peer out at the scenery that surrounded them.

“It’s definitely… It's home. It doesn’t always feel like it, but it’s home.” It was hard to explain why, exactly, she sometimes felt so disconnected to the place she grew up. Maybe it was because she’d grown up with parents that were so busy building an empire that they weren’t always around. Maybe it was because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses when her mom and dad had to leave for week-long business trips that she wasn’t allowed to go on. Maybe now the feeling of Rowan’s childhood home dwarfed hers with how inviting and warm it had been. But her parent’s estate still overflowed with memories and she loved it for that.

“My mom would love the kitchen.”

“She’s more than welcome to come make something in it. Gods know my mother seldom has,” she snorted, falling onto her back as he sat down beside her. Rowan chuckled, running his hand down her thigh to her knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “There’s a really good chance that my ex boyfriend is going to be here tonight, by the way. If it were up to me, he wouldn’t be, but I never have a say in any of this.”

“Chaol?” The thing about Rowan was that he actually listened to her. When she told him about Chaol Westfall, he had spent the entirety of the conversation rolling his eyes. He even forced a gag when Aelin said that he wanted her to be a trophy on his arm and nothing more. When he said that didn’t sound like Aelin at all, she had smiled.

“Yep. His dad works with mine, and he’s a piece of work. His mother is sweet enough, I don’t know how they ended up together. It’s no wonder Chaol turned out the way he did. Annie did her best but his dad is just…”  Aelin trailed off, unable to find a word fitting for the frigid man she’d grown up around. Rowan hummed in response, seeming to understand as he leaned back on his elbows to look down at her. 

“And your parents are fine with the way he treated you?”

“They didn’t really know in full. My mom was ecstatic when we started dating because I’ve known him and his family for most of my life. His best friend Dorian is also one of my best friends. It made sense until I stopped being what he wanted me to be. He was the first, and only, guy that I’d dated since everything happened with Sam. I think Chaol thought I’d become more submissive and small since the accident, and my parents were just happy I was dating someone again. Plus, they not only have personal ties to his family, but business ones as well. I wasn’t going to risk my father doing something stupid for the sake of my dignity, or whatever.” Aelin waved her hand dismissively, rolling onto her side to look at Rowan. 

“If things go sideways, I’ll be sure to defend your honor.” Amusement shone in Rowan’s eyes and Aelin knew he would, given the chance. But she doubted anything would happen to require it, so she simply leaned over and kissed him once, twice, three times. 

Three little words floated to the forefront of her mind that she had to swallow down. Aelin hadn’t said I love you to anyone since Sam. Already, though, the words wanted to bubble out of her mouth and into his. Reminding herself it was too early, she occupied her lips with his until a knock disrupted the both of them.

“Aelin, my love?” 

“You can open the door, Mom,” she laughed, the two of them sitting up as the door swung open to reveal Evalin Ashryver Galathynius herself.

“Rowan, I am so sorry we’ve been so neglectful. I promise breakfast will be entirely about getting to know you.”

“It’s really no problem at all, Mrs. Galathynius. I’d be more than happy to help tonight if you need it,” he replied respectfully, offering a kind smile that made Aelin want to kiss his face all over again.

“Nonsense. Guests will be arriving soon for dinner, so the two of you may want to get changed.” Evalin’s gaze shifted to Aelin, “Have you decided on what to wear tonight?”

In response, Aelin looked over at her closet and squinted at the contents that she could see, one eye nearly closed as she tried to zero in on something. “I’m wearing that new gold dress I sent you pictures of tomorrow. But tonight… maybe something black?”

“You have that black and gold one.” A woman on a mission, Evalin entered Aelin’s closet and began combing through the rack that held her fanciest dresses. When she found what she was looking for, she held it up for Aelin to see, who was now leaning against the closet door. Rowan was still seated on the bed, responding to a text. 

“I haven’t worn that one yet.” 

“I think it’s perfect, wouldn’t you agree?” Evalin nodded her head toward Rowan and winked, mouthing ‘It’s low,’ to Aelin in reference to the partially open back of the dress that dipped all the way to the bottom of her spine. 

“I think you’re right, mama. I think you are absolutely right.”

~*~

Aelin did her makeup while Rowan showered and got dressed. He was devastatingly handsome in a simple black suit and tie. There was another option, one that was a dark green velvet suit that would bring out the stunning shade of his eyes. That one, Aelin decided, would match her perfectly tomorrow and was entirely too hot for him to wear for a stuffy dinner. She’d helped him adjust the tie around his neck and promised to be downstairs soon. 

Aelin’s little list of secrets grew as she hid her dress from his prying eyes. It was one that had been sitting in the back of her closet for years, reserved for some future gala where she could get away with the risque back. Her mother pulling it out for this party, for Rowan to see, seemed to be perfect.

After he disappeared down the hall and she shut the door behind him, she sat back down to trace her full lips with a dark red lipliner, filling in the center with her favorite red lipstick. Drama seemed the way to go, which was why she had pulled her hair into a simple updo with two bat-wing combs holding it all together like a crown. The beachy curls she’d done before gave it an intentionally messy look, one that would keep her long hair off her back to really show off the beaded, golden dragon that seemed to be crawling up toward the nape of her neck. 

By the time she had zipped herself into her dress, she was itching with anticipation to get downstairs and let Rowan see her in all her glory. Some would say she was cocky, but it was simple confidence that coursed through her. When she looked in the mirror for the final time, she saw a queen smiling back at her. A queen that would bring a man to his knees.

Stepping into a pair of black patent heels, she gathered the train of her dress and made her way down the stairs. People she both did and didn’t know were already mingling in the sitting room the steps led into, several pairs of eyes following her as she made her descent into the formal chaos. It didn’t take her long to spot Rowan on the other side of the room, who was completely slack-jawed at what she’d chosen. Aelin had to bite her lip to keep from grinning too hard as he sat down his flute of champagne on the fireplace mantel and made his way to her. When she stepped off the bottom step, she turned so he could see the breathtaking golden design, along with her scarred back on display

“You…” his head shook as though he needed to clear his thoughts, or like it might help him find the word he was looking for. 

“Cat got your tongue?” she winked, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow when he offered her his arm. 

“You are magnificent.” The reverence in his voice had her stepping a little closer to him to lean up and kiss him, laughing when she pulled away and using the pad of her thumb to wipe the dark red from his lips. 

“I know.”

“Of course you do.” Rowan’s eyes rolled, but there was still so much emotion flickering in them that had nothing to do with annoyance. It was heat and adoration in his gaze, the former sending warmth straight to her lower belly. He looked at her like he was starving and she was his favorite meal. When he looked at her like that, their future didn’t seem quite so bleak. 

Aelin had almost forgotten they were in the center of a party. Unfortunately, no matter how badly she wanted to pull Rowan into the study and let him devour her, she had to greet the guests. The women showered her with compliments on her look, touching the tips of the bat wings with their fingers. Aelin knew that her mother would get a boat load of compliments about what a beautiful young woman she’d grown into. It almost made her want to snort. 

“Aelin Galathynius, as I live and breathe,” a voice drawled, and Aelin’s eyes dashed to the entry hall where one of her favorite people in the entire world leaned against a door frame, hands in his pockets. 

She quickly dropped Rowan’s hand and bolted for him, running as fast as her heels and the train of her dress would allow. As soon as she was close enough she launched herself at him, arms going around his neck. To Dorian’s credit, he caught her and led them into an easy spin. Both of them laughed as he righted her on her feet. Aelin had expected Rowan to follow, but he hadn’t. He was standing by the stairs watching with a slight grin on his lips. She waved him over, grabbing his hand once he was close enough.

“Dorian, this is my boyfriend, Rowan. Rowan, Dorian Havillard.”

“Childhood best friend, extremely bi-sexual–”

“Dorian!” Aelin smacked his shoulder, earning a low chuckle. Her eyes narrowed and she pointed her finger directly in his face, nearly poking his nose. “He’s spoken for.”

“I can tell. His eyes haven’t left you since you made your grand entrance.” Dorian held his hand out, and the two shared a solid shake. 

“I’m sure I’m not the only one,” Rowan added, eyes glancing around. Aelin’s did too, snickering over the few pairs of eyes that were still admiring the dress her mother had chosen for the evening. It was probably a bit much, but the Galathynius’ were kind of known for always doing the absolute most. 

“Rightly so. You look beautiful, my darling girl,” Evalin said as she approached, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “I can’t believe Rowan is still standing.”

“I thought my legs were going to give out there for a second.” Aelin wrinkled her nose at him, sure that he was full of it. After a wink, he said, “Knocked the breath clean out of my lungs and stole the words  right out of my mouth.”

“Oh, now you’re just sucking up to my mom,” she teased, sliding her arm around his waist. Rowan’s came to rest on her lower back, his thumb brushing small circles over her exposed skin. It made her all the more desperate to drag him away, to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves while he edged her towards ecstasy. Again, she found her lip tucking beneath her teeth as she looked back at her mother, who gave her a knowing look.

“Well, it’s working,” Evalin said, patting Rowan’s shoulder before disappearing through the crowd to greet her friends. 

Dorian, Aelin, and Rowan fell into easy conversation. Their group expanded as more of their friends and the ‘young crowd’ arrived. Aelin was excited that, despite the age difference, he was quick to get along with everyone. Nehemiah had nudged her at one point, eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. Elide and Manon had separately snuck her high fives that she was certain Rowan had caught onto. 

When Chaol showed up, she had introduced them before going to grab herself another drink. Just as she was walking back toward her friends,  she overheard Rowan say, “Nice to meet you, Kyle,” and she’d laughed so hard that champagne had come out of her nose. The burning that followed had been entirely worth it.

By the time Lysandra arrived with Aedion, Aelin had an easy buzz and a grumbling stomach. The hors d'oeuvres weren’t cutting it anymore. She was thrilled when dinner was ready to be served and they all scrambled for their chairs. 

By the end of the night, Aelin was tipsy and sad to see her friends leave despite knowing they would be back in less than twenty four hours for the New Years Eve bash. She gave them all lingering hugs, even her cousin and her very best friend who would be sleeping just down the hall. This was turning into one weekend that she knew she would never, ever forget, the memories burning brightly through the haze of champagne. 

After saying goodnight to her parents, she and Rowan made their way up to her room. They showered together quickly, neither of them wanting to risk making too much noise and being caught. Not to mention that they were both exhausted, especially from his day of travel. Instead, they tenderly washed each other’s hair and bodies until they were clean. It had been a fun night, but she was beyond ready to sink into her sheets and dream about sweet nothings until the smell of bacon and waffles woke her in the morning. 

But sleep never came. Rowan’s breathing evened out almost immediately. Constantly jealous of how fast the man managed to fall asleep every night, Aelin watched the ceiling fan spin round and round in her dark room. Her mind was racing again, blistering the truth by dragging it over the hot coals that had become her mind. Everything was mostly fine during the day, but the demons really crept out when the lights turned off and the world got quiet.

After what felt like hours, she gave up and slipped out of bed. She tried to keep her footsteps light as she made her way downstairs so as to not wake everyone else. There was no reason for her to be headed toward the kitchen. Just at the thought of putting more food into her body, Aelin’s stomach ached in protest. Yet all she could think about was the half-eaten chocolate hazelnut cake on the kitchen island that would surely chase away the nightmare of a truth.

The kitchen was dimly illuminated by the ice dispenser on the fridge. She was a thief in the night as she swiped a clean fork from the drawer and removed the domed lid of the cake plate. Not wanting the clatter of getting a plate, she began eating small bites that melted on her tongue. It was the sweetest distraction. 

Until she heard footsteps padding down the hall, and saw Rowan appear a moment later. Part of his stomach was exposed from his arm being lifted as he rubbed the back of his neck and yawned widely. If she were closer, she would have been able to count each of his teeth. 

“What are you doing awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her eyes were downcast as she poked at the thick layer of icing, finding it hard to look at him. The truth was a raging ocean, desperate to crash through the dam that was her mouth. Aelin clenched her jaw to keep it in.

“What’s on your mind, love?” Rowan’s hands were gentle as he took the fork from her hands and placed it on the counter. He brought her arms up to his neck and slid his hands down to her sides. Aelin was quiet as she rested her forehead against his chest for a moment, listening to the sound of him breathing to ground her. 

“What isn’t on my mind?” The laugh that escaped her was hollow, that ugly truth trying to claw its way out. 

The look on Rowan’s face was pensive when she looked up at him. Instead of pushing her in the moment, he placed a kiss on the wrinkle between her brows while he began to sway them in place. The vibration from his chest could be felt in her arms as he hummed a song that was familiar but she couldn’t quite place. 

When he took her hand and forced her into a twirl, she laughed. The awful feeling in her chest lifted if only by a little. Aelin almost hated that he was so good at scaring off the monsters. It didn’t seem fair when she could hear the tick tick tick of the bomb in the back of her mind but feel so at peace with being in his arms. 

This time, though, she couldn’t just shrug it off. There was no forcing it into a locked room or a box. The truth had become too big, the whole thing had become too much of a mess. It wasn’t anything that she could figure out or salvage on her own. While she desperately wanted to avoid this conversation, she couldn’t keep the words down anymore. 

“I need to tell you something,” she finally said with a shaky voice as he pulled her back into a light and casual carriage. 

“Okay.”

Aelin’s mouth twisted into a knot much like her stomach. Their movements stilled but she couldn’t quite get herself to let go of him. Worried about what the next few minutes would entail, she rocked up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Rowan kissed her back, his hand cradling the back of her head.

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me and we can talk it out.”

“I don’t have my masters. I’ve been– I’m taking your class this semester,” she blurted, her voice quivering as much as her fingers and lips.

Beneath her hands, his muscles tensed as he breathed, “What?”

“After I graduated, I traveled for a while. After the accident I just… I managed to finish out my bachelor’s degree and I graduated, and I traveled for a little over a year. I took an internship for six months in the Southern Continent, and then just traveled all over to really soak up the art. And I start this semester for my masters degree.” Each word she said seemed to get softer and more quiet than the last. It didn’t matter that she had rehearsed this speech over and over the last few months. It was an effort to get any of the words out at all. 

Rowan’s hands moved to her wrists, and for a moment she thought maybe he was going to tell her it was okay. Instead of words of encouragement, he pulled her hands from his neck and dropped them like she had burned him. He stepped away from her, all the warmth in the room going with him as ice flooded her body. The tension became so frigid she wrapped her arms around her body to give back some of the warmth. Or maybe it was to keep herself in one piece, to keep from shattering into a million pieces on the floor. 

“I don’t– fuck, Aelin.”

“I know.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded small and foreign. 

“You should have told me from the beginning.” She knew that, too. Through the haze of her frantically beating heart, she tried to come up with a solution that he might agree to.

“If we just talk to the Dean–”

“You are my student. In my class. In my department. It doesn’t matter that we have an established relationship. You should have told me the truth from the beginning so that I had time to prepare and figure something out. You should have chosen any class but mine–”

“I tried! There wasn’t anything else to fit my schedule and I needed the credit. This isn’t me trying to live some weird fantasy, Rowan. I want to finish my degree and start my career, not jeopardize both of our futures.”

Rowan sighed, his shoulders caving as he rubbed at his face. The silence was a heavy, deafening thing. The roaring of her blood in her veins filled the space between her head. It sounded like she was drowning. The way she was forcing air into her lungs felt like it, too. Tears were burning and clouding her vision as she blinked furiously to keep them from falling. They had never had a fight about anything, save for what they wanted to do for dinner. Their first real and only fight being about the end of their relationship was crushing her in ways she wasn’t prepared for.

Aelin didn’t think she would have ever been ready for this. The invisible string she had always felt like connected them was taught and struggling not to break. She swallowed hard, eyes unfocused on the cake on the counter while she wished she could take back the confession. Hiding it for longer wouldn’t have done any good, but preserving what they had, what they were to each other… 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her heart shattering like glass in his hands. “I know I should have told you sooner. I just wanted to keep this. To keep you.”

His expression was unreadable, hands moving to rest on his hips. Like hers, his eyes were bloodshot and watery, with evidence of more than one tear having fallen down his tan cheek. There was still the rest of the night, there was still tomorrow. Maybe after they settled a little bit she could take him out back and they could lay beneath the stars and figure out this complicated mess she had made. 

Maybe he wanted to keep her, too.

“I’m going to get my things and go home,” he finally said, breaking the silence. 

“I don’t– please don’t leave me, we can figure something out, we can–” her words failed her. Aelin didn’t have the slightest clue of what they could do, but she was willing to seek out a solution until they found something that stuck. 

“I just need time to think.” There was a finality to his tone that she had never quite heard before. The lines of his face had hardened, his jaw sharp and his lips pursed while he looked at anything but her. It was the first time that she had ever felt so young next to him, the first time she had ever really, truly felt the age gap between them.The feeling of being scolded by her parents caused heat to creep up her neck and cheeks, the tips of her ears turning cherry red. 

Just like when she was younger and getting in trouble, she knew there was nothing else to be said. Not only because if he needed time she would give it to him, but because of the way he’d said it. No room for argument or debate. It was final. 

The knot in her throat made it hard to swallow, to breathe. She found herself speechless as he left the kitchen and disappeared back up to her room. The silence that followed was filled with gasping sobs and she finally started to break down now that he wasn’t there to see it. Aelin’s arms wrapped tightly around her body, her nails digging into her shoulders so hard that it hurt. It took everything to not fall to her knees. 

After what felt like ages, Rowan reappeared in the kitchen with his bag over his shoulder. The sadness in his eyes struck her to her core. Knowing that she was the reason for his pain made everything worse, even as he crossed the kitchen and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. Even though she had wrecked everything they were, he still wanted to comfort her. That alone had the tears falling faster. 

“Please don’t leave me. Please don’t break up with me, don’t end this, I can’t–” she begged, her hands reaching for his neck. That he allowed her touch at all surprised her, but his following words sucked all the air from the room.

“I’ll call you, okay?” His voice was raw, the auditory version of tears. All she could do was nod her head and dig her fingers harder into her skin as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

And then he was walking away, taking her heart with him. The front door closed moments later, and Aelin sank to her knees and cried. 

~*~

It was a rare day that Aelin Galathynius didn’t feel like partying. Especially if that party was to celebrate a major holiday that required getting all dolled up. Yet as she sat in the corner of the room in the sparkling gold dress she had thought would bring Rowan to his knees before her, she didn’t care. 

She didn’t care about the dress, her smudged makeup, or the half-assed curls she’d done. It didn’t matter that it was written all over her face how upset she was as her friends and family buzzed around the closer it got to midnight. Every now and then, someone would come and check on her, but she kept insisting it was fine, that she didn’t need a babysitter and everyone else should have fun.

Her mom had found her that morning, still sitting on the kitchen floor with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks as she numbly explained everything. Evalin sat on the floor with her, embracing her daughter while she whispered that everything would be alright. Aelin wanted to believe her, but wasn’t sure she was capable of it. It didn’t feel like anything would ever be alright again. 

It wasn’t just the relationship she was mourning, but the version of herself she was when she was with Rowan. Evalin had always told her that she should find the person that made her not be afraid to unapologetically be herself and keep them forever. Rowan was that person. There was never any judgment from him, only acceptance. Aelin had always been a wildfire, but after everything with Sam it had been dampened. It was the first time in years that Aelin had truly been herself, and she wasn’t the only one that knew it. Over the last few months her phone was riddled with texts about how good it was to see her happy, how good it was to have her back. 

Aelin swallowed her, fidgeting with the beads on her dress. Her friends wandered over to where she sat in the corner, Dorian perching on the armrest of the oversized chair she’d claimed. The golden shoes she’d been so excited to wear were haphazardly slewn on the ground while her feet remained tucked beneath her body. If anyone were to bring up whatever conversation was being had later, Aelin wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was about. Her eyes had been fixed on the fire for hours and she had no desire to stop now.

Minutes before midnight, Aelin stole a full bottle of champagne and slipped outside while everyone scrambled to find their partners or a random pair of lips to kiss. It was cold, but she welcomed it, her bare feet padding along the brick flooring until she was able to curl up on a lawn chair. In seconds, she was shivering, and with shaky hands she popped open the bottle, holding it out over the ground. Some of it splashed onto her hands and legs but she was beyond the point of caring. 

Through the windows, she could hear her loved ones shouting a countdown. Then they were cheering, and she didn’t have to look inside to know that everyone was sharing kisses and excitement for the new year. Aelin was supposed to be kissing Rowan right now. Her mind was supposed to be racing with what was to come for their relationship. She wasn’t supposed to be alone in the cold, thinking in what-ifs and guzzling champagne straight from the bottle. 

The back door slid open, then closed. A moment later a jacket was being draped over her shoulders. She didn’t have to look over to know it was her father; the scent of his cologne was enough. Rhoe was quiet, running his hand over the back of her head while she stared at the stars.

“It’s supposed to be fun,” he said quietly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. It was supposed to be fun, but Aelin couldn’t find any joy in the day. “Happy new year, Fireheart.”

“You too.” Her voice sounded disconnected and odd, quiet and scratchy. She hadn’t spoken much since she spilled everything to her mother. As she took another swig, filling her mouth with fizzy bubbles, she registered her dad’s footsteps retreating back inside. 

Instead of making the new notch of ways she’d kissed Rowan on the balcony, she broke the bottle and used its sharp edge to carve a new line into the wood instead: ways that Aelin had broken her own heart.

Aelin stayed there, begging the stars until her bones began to hurt from the cold. Only then did she make the journey back to her room, the confetti a mockery of her exploded secrets scattered on the floor. 

The only semblance of comfort she got that night was falling into her bed that still smelled faintly of pine and snow.

~*~

bolded tags wouldn't work :(

@themoonthestarsthesuriel @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @secondstartorightand @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacalll @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @delightfulfartwolf @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @royalsqueeze @the-hospitality-of-knives @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @rowanaelinn @the-regal-warrior

[nocompromise-noregrets]

five good things

okay, gonna start with the main one because it's a big one:

LAST CAT STANDING IS GETTING HIS THYROID SORTED! He's had an overactive thyroid for pushing on for three years and we've been managing it with medication but it's been getting worse and although there is a treatment that will fix it outright (radioactive iodine injection) there have been such shortages that only one place has been doing it and their waiting list is over a year long, so he wouldn't be getting it this year, and he's nearly 18 so the longer he has to wait the worse he's going to get. However! Our vet called us last week and said she'd been doing a bit of research and found a couple of places much closer to us who are offering the treatment again and have much shorter waiting lists - one of them only about a month - so we said please refer him to one or other of those, and settled down to wait. Then I got a call yesterday from a very lovely vet at one of the places who talked me through it all and booked him in FOR TWO AND A HALF WEEKS' TIME. He'll have had it done by the time he turns 18 in mid-April! The really amazing thing is that this treatment has a 99.9% success rate - the vet described it both as 'the gold standard' and 'magical' and if a Sensible Veterinary Science Person is describing a treatment as 'magical'...well. I can't even begin to describe how thrilled we are. Our other three all had things that couldn't be cured (we don't even know what it was that Beanie had) so to have something that really can be cured straight off with one injection is just...it's such a relief you guys, I don't know how to tell you.

I've just had a really good two days at job number two with my gardener-lady biographer (who has turned into a really good friend and in fact bought our lovely little car off us a couple of months ago - so I got to see the little fella again which was lovely) - we did some reboxing of the stuff she's been sorting out, shuffled everything up and sorted it into a better order, and it all feels a lot more manageable now.

X-Men 97 is out!!! I haven't had chance to watch it yet but I'm SO EXCITED YOU GUYS OMG. I've seen a few stills, and it looks like my beloved Gambit is just as he was, and oh I am so pleased. <333333

The sun's been out today and we went for a wander at lunchtime, the spring flowers are all out and it was just so gloriously lovely to stand in the sun and feel warm.

Barduil Month is nearly here! (if anyone wants to prompt me please feel free - I have a couple but am always on the lookout for more!)

I am sitting in the pub with a very nice pint of Camden Hells and the laptop, one of my fellow regulars who I get on really well with is in the back room watching the rugby on his ipad and is going to come and join me when he's done, and some of my favourite bar staff are working. I am utterly knackered (I am such a lightweight, I'm not used to doing five-day weeks any more, and when I do two days in a row for job number two, to make it worth it for my friend to come up from London to work on gardener-lady's papers, I am always utterly wiped out at the end of it) but I'm chilling out and decompressing, there's a Wall of Sound playlist on the speakers (Da Doo Ron Ron currently) and everything is very lovely.

Both Isaac Howlett from Empathy Test and The Holy Ones have new singles out! Isaac's is here and is just perfect wounded-yearning-boy electropop (much like Empathy Test really) and THO's is here and is huge fun stoner-rock and Japa-the-guitar-player (who is one of my favourite people from the Finndom) hasn't changed a bit in fifteen years and I adore both him and the song. I'm hoping they'll announce some shows - they were playing in Helsinki in May 2020 and announced the show with enough notice that I was able to make arrangements to go, and I was on the point of doing so when Covid happened, the show was postponed to the September (when I still wouldn't have been able to enter Finland) and then cancelled, so I'm really really hoping they come through this time because I'm dying to see them. I also have itchy feet like you wouldn't believe and am dying for an excuse to go somewhere, and Helsinki being one of my favourite places in the whole world, well... :D :D :D

I had a fab birthday last week, and we went up to the new 'food dock' in town (one end of the docks has been converted into lots of bars, cafes and restaurants and it has been a very protracted process but it's finally finally all open) and had awesome burgers, locally-produced ice cream and locally-produced beer and looked at the pretty lights on the water and generally had a lovely evening of it.

Aaaaaand I have a fancy record player that works with our fancy wifi sound system, and Placebo's last two albums on vinyl, courtesy of the missus, and it's fancy enough that it doesn't auto-return at the end of a side so for the first time in about forty years I heard the track in the runout groove of side two of Sgt. Pepper which I hadn't heard since my dad got a tower stereo system in the 80s that had an auto-return and didn't play the runout groove and...yeah. Awesome. I sorted all my vinyl back into order (the missus does not do alphabetical order, and she'd had it all out of the cupboard at some point to do something or other behind the cupboard and then had not put it back in the right order), rediscovered a good few things, listened to a bunch of stuff and generally nerded out quite happily for a good few days XD

I had 96% on my most recent OU assignment XD all that's left to do is an essay plan for the final assignment, and then the final assignment itself, and given that I find planning really difficult, I'm probably going to write the final assignment and then summarise it for the plan, hand that in, then hand the final assignment in once I've had the feedback from the plan XDDDD And then I will be done, and I will be the king's favourite band (the Three Degrees) XDDDDDD

I think that's more than enough, don't you? :D Things are pretty all right at the moment, which is rather nice.

[leatherfangs]

The Black Knight is a thing of legend -- a brutal warrior who shows no mercy. Count yourself lucky that she fights on the side of good.

Lydia Margaret Rhodes, First-Born Daughter of Duke Rhodes, now known as Liddy Rose

6'4 / 192 CM

Aliases: Lady Rose, Lady Liddy, Ser Rose, The Black Knight

After 150 years of serving as a knight, Liddy has made a name for herself as the Black Knight, though she keeps the truth of what she is kept secret. Vampires are not often looked upon favorably, and she wouldn't dare risk her good name. Her enchanted armor allows her to survive in sunlight, and and she works as a sword for hire who is nearly impossible to best in a fight. She travels the land looking for work, adventure, and beautiful women, enjoying life to the fullest no matter the time of day.

....::::**•°✾°•**::::....

As the first born to a duke and his wife in the countryside, Liddy was the last thing they could have wanted for a daughter. She was beautiful enough in the face, but she grew tall and broad, with a love for sports and bawdy jokes that would never suit in high society. She was more than grateful when her sister Grace was born, as her parents turned all their hopes on making her into the ideal duchess -- a life she took to as eagerly as Liddy had cast aside. Instead, she was able to focus on learning to ride and tend to horses -- not to mention how to fight.

Her tutor, a groom on her parents' land, made extra money brawling in town, and Liddy talked him into letting him come along. She easily disguised herself as a working-class man, and used her size to her advantage, winning fight after fight. In her disguise, she caught the eye of no shortage of women, and Liddy realized all too soon that they caught her eye as well. It was here she was introduced to the world outside her family's estate -- both in the brawling ring and in the bedroom -- and where she realized she'd be much happier doing anything but the life her family wanted for her.

She doesn't like to recount the details of how she was Turned -- only that it was the final push Liddy needed to abandon her old life for good, seeking out a specific blacksmith and gladly exchanging grueling hours of work for a set of enchanted armor that would allow her to survive in daylight, so long as no inch of skin was exposed before sunset. Thus equipped, she set off to make her way in the world properly as a sword-for-hire.

Her size alone was enough to land her early employment as a guard for a few wealthy individuals, while her skill with the blade and fearlessness in combat saw her winning tournaments. She slew monsters, saved damsels -- kissed damsels -- and traveled the world over, always looking for the next adventure, though she can't help but ache at the loneliness that follows her still. It's been 150 years since she first donned her armor, and Liddy has learned never to trust anyone with the truth of what she is. Creatures of the knight are to be feared, after all. She dared to tell the truth once decades ago, but the woman she loved lost all warmth in seconds. Instead, she fled in fear, calling for help. A mob grew quickly, and Liddy barely escaped with her head.

But old pain can be buried deep and forgotten, and the Black Knight has earned enough of a reputation that work is always plentiful. She rides Midnight, a handsome black stallion with a notorious love for sugar cubes, and enjoys her life to the fullest no matter the time of day.

Additional Notes:

Liddy has had a number of different horses over the years. Midnight is by far the most stubborn, a well-trained steed who holds his own in battle. He has little love for men and children, but likes to show off for women and occasionally lets them pet his nose, though no-one but Liddy is allowed to ride without issue. He can, however, still be bribed with snacks more often than not.

Having spent her childhood more or less a noblewoman, Liddy learned the expected mannerisms and fashions expected of her. However, her knowledge is over a century out of date, and she'd stand out like a sore thumb should she try to blend in with high society nowadays.

As in every verse, Liddy can and will lift anyone who asks, and carry them around one-handed.

[mercerhollowchronicle]

JUNE 15TH, 2023

good evening, fellow crime sleuths, or should we say good morning? we've been up all night going over the details in the murky case of hope mercer's recent murder. the police are being tight-lipped about a lot of the specifics and about as helpful as usual—see charity mercer's cold case—so we've had to turn to alternative sources for our own investigation. this is what we know so far:

JUNE 2ND, 2023: hope mercer goes missing after attending her 25th birthday party in the woods. she was last seen by several reliable witnesses arguing with her boyfriend.

the search party for the local golden girl begins. JUNE 5TH, 2023: hope’s body is found floating in a local fishing hole a few miles away from the party. the search party turns into a murder investigation.

the police have yet to release the exact details of how she was killed, but there are no shortage of suspects at this point in the investigation. let's round up the sus brady bunch and do a little recap for new listeners.

first and foremost, we have hope's boyfriend at the time of her death, theo reyes. it's always the boyfriend, right? and theo certainly looks good for it. everyone knows they had problems in their relationship, and the last time he was seen with her they were getting into it, as usual—and on her birthday?? come on, my dude, have some class. we can't leave out past exes either: a spurned lover knows no linear timeline. danny whitechapel had a nasty split with hope years ago, and noah hayes apparently got a little messy during their breakup last year. maybe, they all did it together, taylor swift style.

even though hope reportedly 'lit up the room with her presence', some people in mercer hollow still had beef with her. people hate a nepo baby—people like andy gauthier and ian mcneal. it's possible one of them snapped. according to public record, ian's proven before that he's volatile. he just got out of prison, so we'll see if he's sent back before he can have his hot girl summer.

from our research, it seems like hope had no shortage of friends. everyone's fyp is full of stories about how much they miss hope and how much they loved her. people love to leech onto tragedy, so that's not entirely shocking. what is shocking is that people seemed to forget about hope's falling out with her childhood bestie embeth mckinnon, high school bestie bellamy tate, and her friend billie dimaggio. if hope hadn't been brutally killed, they probably would've faded into obscurity, but now we have to shine a spotlight on them. heartbreak is one of the number one motives for murder, and honestly friend breakups hurt more than romantic breakups, at least in these true crime reporters' humble opinions. they all had pretty public blowouts in the past, and billie was even seen arguing with hope the night she disappeared. super suspish if you ask us.

some of hope's current friends honestly look a little guilty, too. we got a source in the police department to spill that something belonging to one catalina flores was found with hope’s body! they were friends, sure, but how did it get there after hope disappeared? we don't know what it is yet, but the timing is weird to say the least.

now there's no such thing as a perfect victim, and we would be remiss to not include some people on the suspect list that hope did pretty dirty. according to an anonymous source in the liberty admissions department, grace kwon was supposed to get hope's spot in the very selective liberty medical program, but daddy and mommy mercer stepped in. i'd be pretty pissed if i were grace. we also know from some close friends of hope's that she was the reason noah hayes split with flurie ainsworth. we haven't nailed down the timeline, but they were in the jacuzzi together WHILE he was reportedly dating ainsworth. there's a whole series on cucked women turning into killers, so it's not that far of stretch, especially considering her debut novel is about a small-town darling getting killed...who is literally named hope. is this girl psychic, or is she a murderer?

apparently, hope was nice to almost everyone...but she did hate one person: paloma reyes, her boyfriend's half-sister. we don't know the full story there, but her socials reveal a lot. it was clear there was some sort of toxic frenemy situation going on, which leads us to the next suspect: maeve walsh. we aren't sure what the deal is there, but it's definitely unhealthy. maybe one of these ladies got sick of hope's bullshit? only time will tell.

finally, we have the mercers. honestly, not a lot of evidence there, but they give me the creeps. old money always comes with secrets. hell, maybe it was good ol' josephine mercer. we all grew up hearing the mercer estate ghost stories. wouldn't it be nice if our town monster was really just a folktale and not one of us?

here's to hoping that we find hope's killers. if you like our content, please like and subscribe, and remember to support our sponsors. thanks @hellofresh for sponsoring this week's episode of the mercer hollow chronicle. stay fresh, everyone.

[gwydionmisha]

Personnel: Thursday was Hard

Thursday was incredibly hard. They upped my dose one last time. It would be smooth sailing from here on out if this wasn't the last day the clinic was open. a couple of weeks ago when I went for testing up by the hospital, I saw the opening soon sign for the medical center where the doctors are migrating. It's a better commute for me. They are not taking patients yet as they still aren't set up. I will call again next week, but I'm not sanguine they will be taking appointment reservations yet. If the gap is too long, I'll have to start from scratch. Sigh.

The lady who's been giving me my shots since the nice gentleman with the tattoo found another job also has a job. she's been working both of them the last month, apparently. They all found jobs, though one of the receptionists moved her family east. This is important to me, that they will all be all right, even the clerical staff. (Medical staff have a lot of options with the shortages. it's harder for clerical.)

I then came home to spend over an hour on phone bureaucracy, which was an infuriating and frustrating process that accomplished surprisingly little except pile up more shitty bureaucracy I'm to tired and ill from my shots to cope with and make me too angry to sleep for a very, very long time.

One of the upshots is they kicked me off the free medical apointment ride program I have been using for emergencies without telling me, which means that all the people who insisted I should just sign up with the clinic two counties south and use the free ride service to day trip there for shots were lying that that was even a thing I could do if the wear and tear from all that wouldn't have been to much by itself.

The logic for doing this is that mass transit exists and that forcing me to walk for a few miles isn't a big deal. yes, I can catch a bus from fairly close, but that doesn't mean the doctors offices are anywhere near the bus stop. (Hint, the ones I need most are a mileish each way) Too bad if there are no buses to get me to the hospital when next I need surgery or back from the ER in the middle of the night. Too bad if I need to go over the mountains again for a specialist that Peace Health out competed here, then closed the office for, as we did last Winter. Too bad if I have to get to the doctor next time my car is in the shop.

It's like they don't understand what disabled means. i wasn't abusing the service. I was saving it for emergencies. There used to be twelve one way trips a year, so I'd been rationing them. Turned out they'd dramatically increased the number, only I didn't know it. I found this out around the you should take the transport benefit to spend all day going too and from Everett every week discussion I noped out of. Only it was a lie that was even an option. Um, thanks?

It was all like this, the phone bureaucracy.

I am getting really tired of being treated like I have dementia because I'm disabled. It used to happen once in a blue moon before 2020, but I feel like receptionists and people who handle services for disabled people have gotten waaaay worse since the pandemic started. Sigh.

[lizseyi]

5 Fashion Trends That Could Define 2023  - Skywire

It might not exactly feel to great numbers of us in the UK that the spring has fully “sprung” yet. Certainly, conditions during March have continued to be all too February-ish at times, forcing us to keep on those thick jumpers for longer than we would have ideally liked. 

Still, with the spring-summer 2023 fashions having racked up some serious mileage on the catwalks by now, we have a good vantage point for identifying some of the trends that your wardrobe – and those of your target audiences – ought to heed in the months ahead. 

Let’s take you through them. 

‍The rise (again) of the mini dress 

The spring and summer months tend to be when many of us gradually abandon the layers and allow ourselves some seductively skin-baring moments. 

And there aren’t too many finer ways of doing that than donning a mini dress, which – as demonstrated by this season’s runways – also presents a lot of scope for doing interesting things with texture. At Givenchy, for example, that meant pearl embellishments, whereas Versace came up with shiny velvet chromes, which were attention-grabbers that also offered no shortage of class. 

‍Overdoing it on the sequins earlier than usual 

Fair enough, “overdoing it” is possibly putting it in too-strong terms, but we mean indulgence in only the very best ways. It has been noticeable from recent catwalks that many a designer is of the persuasion that we shouldn’t be waiting until December to declare the onset of “sequin season”. 

Intriguingly, however, for spring-summer ’23, it seems that said sequins have brought their glitz and glamour on backdrops of softer and lighter colour palettes – just look at the many examples from the likes of 16Arlington, Nensi Dojaka, and Huishan Zhang. 

‍Making denim sexy 

Would you associate denim with sultriness? Even if you don’t, quite a few designers have been showing on the spring-summer ’23 catwalks that it can be done with some aplomb. 

Just consider such examples as Bella Hadid’s Givenchy buckle bra, and A.W.A.K.E.’s hippyish, but glamorous combination of asymmetric fitted shirts and soft brown co-ords. 

‍Cobalt and cerulean blues 

If it feels like in recent times, we have been subject to an abundance of fuchsia and Barbiecore pink trends, we have already seen from the runways for the coming months that blue looks set to be a defining hue of 2023. 

Punchy takes on blue are making a welcome comeback, as exhibited by high-impact offerings from the likes of Alexander McQueen, David Koma, and Cecile Bahnsen. It is an aesthetic that makes sense for many a wardrobe, not least on the basis of how well it works alongside more ‘neutral’ shades. 

‍Glam utility 

After all the tumult and uncertainty of the last few years – within and outside the fashion sphere – we’re all frankly exhausted, and eager to get things done. This might help explain why so many of us seem drawn lately to a certain sense of utility in our aesthetics – functionality rather than conventional attractiveness – albeit with more than a dose of throwback glam, too. 

Yes, the stylists are referencing Y2K with this trend, which has manifested in such nostalgia-inducing offerings as sheer cargo pants, low-slung belted skirts, and satin jumpsuits. And it’s a look that isn’t too difficult to implement – one might simply put on a boiler suit, bring their zip down to the navel, and add a sharp set of heels, in order to quickly rock the “glam utility” vibe.  

What are the tendencies and trends that you have observed on the spring-summer runways, and could they inform the decisions you make for your own high-end brand’s growth? Whatever you’re thinking, our professionals in digital strategy, the blockchain, and fashion website development – to name just a few of our areas of expertise – could help you turn it all into real-world impact. 

Simply reach out to the Skywire London team now, by email or over the phone, to learn more about the possibilities for how we could work together. 

[technicaldr]

How tech can tackle healthcare workloads and staff shortages

Everywhere I turn I see and hear two things: firstly, doctors and nurses are under increasing pressure to do more with less and secondly, healthcare is facing serious staff shortages. If these two points are not urgently addressed, it’s going to further affect the delivery of care as we know it and even impact entire communities. As the new CEO of Philips – a health technology company – I want to highlight some of the factors contributing to increasing workloads and staff shortages. Then I want to show how the adoption of innovative digital technologies can help address these issues and improve care for all.

First, let’s look at what’s contributing to the increasing workload for care providers and staff shortages. There are several issues at play. COVID-19 is the obvious one. Over the last few years, responding to the pandemic has increased workloads and put immense pressure on doctors and nurses, partly because it has created huge patient backlogs, testing the limits of healthcare systems worldwide.

  As we continue to emerge from the pandemic, many of the doctors and nurses I talk to say they are increasingly overwhelmed for many reasons. They share concerns about the rise in patient numbers, caused by backlogs and also by ageing populations and the rise in chronic diseases. They also share stories about the increasing complexity in healthcare, shrinking budgets and rising costs, plus the time-consuming administrative work they must contend with and how it reduces the time they have to provide patients with the best care. Each one of these issues compounds the others.

For some, the burden has become too great. Globally, we see reports that some doctors and nurses are either leaving or considering leaving healthcare. This contributes to a rise in the number of vacancies and workforce shortages, as seen in 2022 by the NHS in England, which reported more than 110,000 unfilled job posts, and in the United States, where it was reported at one stage that 8% of all jobs in healthcare were open at a time when there were 400,000 fewer healthcare workers compared to before the pandemic.

  It’s the same story in many countries, including the Netherlands, which is short, by some reports, of about 80,000 care workers. And the shortage is set to continue. The World Health Organization predicts that the global healthcare workforce will be short of around 10 million people in 2030. It’s no wonder that staff satisfaction and retention are top priorities for healthcare leaders, as noted in the Philips Future Health Index 2022 report.

Since taking on the CEO role, I’ve talked with many healthcare professionals to better understand the challenges they face, as well as the challenges facing the health systems they work in. These problems must be confronted from a range of angles, by, for example, looking at ways to better nurture staff and improve their experience.

Adopting digital technologies is one part of the solution and it's something I want to raise awareness about, in and outside of healthcare circles. Just as new technologies have improved many other parts of our lives and provided solutions to difficult problems, they offer a world of possibilities in healthcare, which remain largely untapped. Ultimately, the widespread adoption of digital technologies can help give people everywhere greater access to better, more sustainable and more convenient care and improve the patient and staff experience. But I’m also conscious that this must be done in a way that works within the existing infrastructure and is supported by the healthcare professionals using these technologies. Let me give you some examples:

Caring for patients in the hospital and at home

At Philips, we like to say that the smart hospital of the future is one without walls. Virtual care, for instance, already enables care to move beyond the hospital. The pandemic drove this shift out of the necessity of patients to be able to access care during COVID-19 lockdowns. Perhaps you accessed virtual care during the height of the pandemic and continue to do so. The greater adoption of virtual care can continue to extend specialist care outside of the hospital and even into the home. It can also be more convenient for many patients, such as those with chronic diseases, and it reduces the burden on busy hospitals and healthcare professionals.

These are just a few examples of how digital technologies can help address increasing workloads for doctors and nurses and staff shortages. It comes down to the interplay of technologies and how they connect and communicate with each other, integrate within existing infrastructures and help care providers. As technologies develop, we must continue to rethink the delivery of healthcare and help health systems become more agile, supported by technology, so they can continue to adapt and address challenges.

The goal must be to always deliver people-centred care, so patients get the care they need, when they need it, despite any challenges that may arise. This means engaging and empowering doctors and nurses and giving them access to intuitive technologies that reduce workload pressures and truly help them to deliver the best possible care. To achieve this, both patients and healthcare professionals must remain at the heart of healthcare.

Technical Doctor's insight:

Contact Details : inquiry@technicaldr.com or 877-910-0004 www.technicaldr.com

[deltabusinessadvisors]

Housing Starts Are Down

No surprise that housing starts are down as interest rates are up, however builders are completing existing orders. Data out this morning tells a familiar story about the current state of the housing market. Demand for new homes has plummeted, so homebuilders are breaking ground on fewer of them. - But there is still decent news on housing supply: Builders continue to complete homes in their massive backlog at a rapid rate — an inventory boost that could also help bring down prices. What they're saying: "A huge wave of residential units under construction built up during the supply chain turmoil of the last few years, and it is going to wash over the housing market in 2023," Bill Adams, Comerica Bank's chief economist, wrote in a note. - "The turn in the housing market is bad news for GDP, but good news for inflation." By the numbers: Last month, homes completed rose to an annualized 1.5 million, a 15-year high. In fact, homebuilders finished homes faster than they broke ground on new ones. - A huge drop-off in single-family units pushed overall housing starts down. - Construction of single-family homes dropped to an annualized 828,000 rate, the lowest since the early days of the pandemic and down more than 30% from last year. Where it stands: Mortgage rates have fallen from the highest levels of the year, but they remain twice as high as they were last year. Builders have struggled with sky-high costs for materials and labor, and shortages of both have slowed their ability to finish homes. But there are some signs those troubles are receding. Axios Macro By Neil Irwin and Courtenay Brown · Dec 20, 2022 "Housing starts surprised on the upside in November, but permits plunged to the lowest level since June 2020," Jefferies economists Aneta Markowska and Thomas Simons said in a note Tuesday. "Permits are now running below starts which is very rare and suggests construction pipelines are drying up very fast, creating further downside for activity." Housing is the largest component in services price pressures and broadly makes up roughly a third of the overall inflation index, according to a note from Stifel Tuesday. "Without a meaningful retreat in housing prices, along with a broader decline in headline inflation, the Federal Reserve will find it increasingly difficult to move away from its newly affirmed hawkish position and commitment to reinstating price stability as we head further into 2023," Stifel Chief Economist Lindsey Piegza said in the note. Building Permits Sinking to Two-And-a-Half-Year Low Accompanies Move Higher in US Equities MT Newswires Read the full article

[webuyhouseslosangelesca]

New housing in Los Angeles leans heavily on ADUs

Clayton Przekop has been living in his garage for the past six months while his home is being rebuilt. It's a great garage - it has everything he needs. The ADU, or additional dwelling unit studio apartment, was rebuilt from an older standalone garage. The process of permitting and construction spanned two years and cost $150,000 altogether. New garages are residential living spaces instead of storage because many homeowners had been struggling to find housing. In 2017, California made it easier for people to turn their garage into a mini apartment or build small structures in the backyard. Many cities have followed and even started promoting ADUs as a way to help close the chronic housing shortage gap. This includes Los Angeles; which projects a need for almost 500,000 new units in the next few years. We Buy Houses Los Angeles CA “It’s a good way to help solve the housing crisis, increase housing stock and increase the value of the property,” Przekop said, adding that he hopes eventually to rent out the garage to other Angelenos and make some money. By the end of 2021, 3,371 ADU permits had been granted. 5,188 permits were granted by the end of that year. This number will be reached this year; 4999 permits were given out in just the first eight months of 2022. Since 2017, approximately 25,000 ADUs have been authorized in Los Angeles. Approximately 50% of the completed ADUs are now liveable out of the 25,000+ that have already been authorized since 2017.

Housing units in Los Angeles has increased

The number of housing units in Los Angeles has increased significantly because of the ADU policy. Last year, ADUs made up for 22%new planned housing developments. The rise in popularity of these types of dwellings reflects just serious as Los Angeles's overall housing crisis has become. According to the city's own goals, it should be building 57,000 new units each year for the next eight years in order to meet its objectives. However, according to the Los Angeles Department of City Planning, over the previous several years only 16,700 new units have been approved per year. ADUs have become a much more significant aspect of the city's housing policy than previously anticipated. “There’s no doubt that ADUs have been a major bright spot in the city’s housing policy of late, producing a consistently high volume of new units each year,” said Christopher Hawthorne, the chief design officer for the city. “But they are not a silver bullet by any means.” Presently, 49 percent of households in the city cannot afford to pay their rent or mortgage, and over one-third of renters spend half their income on housing costs. If new construction doesn't double in the coming years, Los Angeles' homeless problem—estimated at around 42,000 individuals this year—will get worse. The impacts of this could be broad and felt by many. Lower-income neighborhoods will see a more rapid gentrification process which has the potential to push out long-term residents. Those who can't afford city living may have to commute from further away (making LA's other issues of traffic and air pollution worse) or completely leave the city. Hawthorne believes that, in some respects, ADUs are like Trojan horses-- giving rise to neighborhoods where it would be difficult to construct housing. However, because they provide a way to sneak new units into areas where there wouldn't normally be any development potential, they could potentially boost the density level of living areas by utilizing the nearly 70% of residential land city-zoned for independent homes. The City also emphasizes how one ADU may fulfill different demands at various times, particularly for multigenerational families. For example, an ADU might initially function as a rental property before becoming a cheap place for a youngster who graduated from college. Later it could become a “granny flat” for an elderly family member.

[m4a1-shermayne]

You honestly believe the allies would have crushed the Soviets in 45/46? Because honestly I find it hard to believe, given the Soviets superiority in numbers and material. Not to mention, how could the allies justify turning on a key ally even if they won?

The idea that the Soviets had a superiority in numbers or equipment is laughable to say the least. When we look at the losses that the Soviets sustained during the war and the final resting positions of their divisions in June of 1945 we notice numerous key factors. 1. The Soviet division is much much smaller than the average Allied division so it would look very much like the Allies are completely outnumbered almost 10 to 1. To add to this, the remnants of the Wehrmacht would have rightfully wanted revenge for the last few years of the war and in theory around 100,000+ would have joined the Western Powers to take up arms against the Soviets Again. While the Soviets might have an advantage in numbers if the war was to begin here, it's foolish to think that the Western Allies wouldn't redeploy some of it's other Armies from numerous other fronts (Italy for example)

2. The Navy. Not only did the Soviets not have a Navy but the US had millions upon millions of veteran troops stationed in the pacific *still* fighting during May which would have been vital for not only reinforcing but eventually outnumbering the Soviets. The United States lost roughly 500,000 of the 16 million men they put in boots while the Soviet losses were astronomically higher. At the same time, the addition of the largest navy ever put into action was still fully fit and ready for action which would have allowed for massive amounts of logistical and fire support for any operation.

3. The Tank Issue. Russian tanks were not popular due to their reliability, ergonomics, and just overall poor efficiency. The T-34 seeing a loss rate of 80% through out the war and their factories still producing tanks such as the T-34-85 and IS-2 with quirks that made both of these vehicle suffer efficiency issues. But instead of fighting German tanks that were often plagued with similar issues and were employed improperly they're now facing well lubed and battle hardened machines that would only grow in number given time. United States supplied Sherman tanks were superior to the T-34-85 (in numerous ways) which would have given most US armored divisions the edge against their counterparts. IS-2 tanks would be seen as hard targets but not impossible to dislodge considering the fielding of new 90mm Anti Tank Guns as seen on the M26 and M36 vehicles.

4. Logistics. The Soviet Union suffered a Famine in 1946 due to numerous reasons such as the ending of lend lease and the difficulty of growing a multitude of crops in such a short span of time. With the tap of lend lease being turned off the Soviets will now find themselves with severe shortages in raw materials, consumer goods, war material and even food. The Soviet Army would have a matter of months to go before it faced a massive supply chain breakdown.

5. Air Force. The VVS had been heavily reliant on American and British gasoline imports since the war started. Soviet Aircraft engines were rated to run on a much lower octane level in comparison to Western Engines which resulted in poorer performance. Lend lease provided over 50% of all Soviet Aviation Gasoline during 1941-1945 which would imply that many units of the VVS would be grounded due to shortages after such a change in supply. On the contrary, the advanced designs of the allies and the superior logistics would allow for an edge in air superiority against a now weakened enemy air force. Late war production aircraft would be shipped to the ETO and allow for an even greater efficiency. Since most fights happened at low altitude on the Eastern Front the Soviets never bothered to produce high altitude interceptors they would haven't had any dedicated defense against the current B-17 or B-24 fleet let alone the much newer and more effect models such as the B-29.

What a lot of people fail to realize is how close the USSR was to running on fumes during the early parts of 1945 and without lend lease a lot of their major offensives (such as bagration) wouldn't have been nearly as successful without said supply. At the same time the Soviets will no longer be fighting kids armed with panzerfausts or armored vehicles that are deprived of fuel and instead the Veteran armies that they called allies for the past few years.

The justification for such an invasion could quite easily be something as simple as the rape of Berlin or the numerous early war Soviet aggressions. The bottom line for this invasion is that the Soviets had 6 months~ to secure victory and after that would haven't been able to keep up in supply, manpower or vehicles. But at the same time no one really knows what would have happened as all of this is just speculation.

[lovelylapins]

day 1: firsts/confessions

so it's caitvi week over on twitter... thought i'd bring the party here :D

(it's also up on ao3 pssst)

“You know,” Vi says one day, gazing at Caitlyn from the opposite side of her desk, “you were my first kiss.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Caitlyn replies with, unable to stop the chuckle that escaped her lips. Not looking up, she continues to shuffle through the various papers in her hands.

At least, up until she realizes that Vi has yet to join in. Glancing up, she notices the uneasy way that she shifts in her seat, still silent.

“Really?” she asks, voice betraying her disbelief even as she fought to maintain a cool composure and let the papers fall from her grasp. “You can’t be serious.”

Vi scratched the back of her neck and turned her face, away from Caitlyn. “Do you really think I’m the type to lie about something like that?”

“Of course not,” she answers, a bit too fast for her liking. “But you’re… I just always assumed that you were…” 

Caitlyn gestures in the air towards Vi.

“Gay?” Vi offers, finally looking back at her and unable to hide the smile decorating her face.

“No,” Caitlyn says, embarrassed. “You know what I mean.” 

“I don’t think I do. Mind explaining it for me?”

Clearing her throat, she tries again. “I mean, it just always seemed to me like you had dated a few girls when you were younger or- “ 

Vi cuts her off, raising a brow.

“You do remember I was in Stillwater for most of my teen years, and more than half of my time there was stuck in solitary confinement, right? It was kinda hard to even talk to some inmates half the time, much least date around.”

Caitlyn felt her ears begin to burn as she responds. “Right. But, before that, when you grew up in Zaun- “ 

Caitlyn’s stopped again from continuing, but this time with a laugh. It’s the kind of hearty laugh that so rarely appeared from Vi, one that came straight from her stomach and almost always caused her to throw her head back in delight. Usually, it was the most endearing thing for Caitlyn to witness.

Usually. 

Being at the receiving side of the laugh though, Caitlyn could only register the warmth that began to bloom on her cheeks, at a lost for words in the way that only Vi could do to her.

“You really want to believe that I was some kind of playboy, huh?” Vi finally says, wiping the corner of her eye as the last of her laughs subsided. “Why, Miss Caitlyn Kiramman, I expected better from you.”

“Oh, have all the laughs you want.” Straightening her spine and letting out a small huff, Caitlyn grabbed the papers that she had scattered over her desk, mindlessly sorting them as she spoke. “I just… I always pictured that it was never that hard for you to find a girl who was interested in you is all. At the very least, it wasn’t hard to assume that after seeing how many girls throw themselves at you whenever we go out.”

“Now, is that a hint of jealousy I hear, cupcake?” Vi teases. Leaning in, she let her elbows rest on Caitlyn’s desk and brought her head to sit in the palm of her hand, watching her girlfriend work.

“Please,” she says, gaze focused on words she hadn’t even bothered to begin to understand. “Why would I be jealous?”

Caitlyn was lying, of course. But even while she delivered the line with a perfect unwavering face and just enough of a shrug that anyone else would write her off, Vi saw through it easily.

She could also tell what Caitlyn was referencing as well.

In the months and soon to be year that consisted of their relationship, and amidst the various events Caitlyn had to attend to on behalf of her family or the Piltover law enforcement that Vi would accompany her to, the two had noticed that there was no shortage in the amount of women who would either try to invite Vi to dance or slip a number not-so-subtly into her hand. 

However with every attempt, Vi would consistently (and somewhat amusingly) turn down each request with a small smile and toss the courting pieces of paper into a wastepaper bin as soon as she was able to.

They both knew nothing ever continued past that, besides the few stifled laughs that left Caitlyn’s lips while she got to witness each interaction take place before her. And yet… Caitlyn could never help herself from thinking far off, to how Vi would have reacted differently under different circumstances, or in past endeavors perhaps. 

A far off place that never existed, apparently.

Vi lets her free hand dance over Caitlyn’s desk, tracing random lines into the worn yet finely crafted wood. “You know,” she begins, “as much as I love the idea in your head that I was some accomplished lover of many, many women, I gotta say it’s way better than anything I got to do growing up. Honestly, the most I experience I ever got was when Vander had me drop something off over at Babette’s and I got to peek into some of the brothel rooms. Nothing to brag about, especially when you’ve certainly had better luck in those rooms than I ever did- ”

“Do you really have to mention that?” 

Vi keeps going, even while she let out a laugh at Caitlyn’s interruption. “And sure, there were girls who liked me, but I was always more interested in keeping our mouths fed and finishing a job than ever pursuing anything.”

“I see.”

Abandoning her papers, Caitlyn let her fingers run across the grooves of her desk as well, meeting Vi’s hand in the middle of the desk. Ending their movements, they came to rest together, calloused palms touching and fingers moving to envelope the other’s hand.

In silence, they stay there for neither knows how long, up until Caitlyn suddenly breaks the silence. 

“So… I really was your first kiss?”

“Don’t tell me you still don’t believe me,” Vi retorts, squeezing her hand in response. 

“No, it’s not that.” She smiles, bringing her other arm up on her desk to cushion her head as she lowered her head down. Left side of her cheek pressed up against her upper arm, she kept her eyes steady on Vi, intently watching her grey eyes and the way her brows were scrunched together in confusion. 

“Then what is it?”

Caitlyn’s voice is strangely, shyly, soft as she confesses her true desire.

“I just… want to hear you say it.”

At that, Vi doesn’t quite say it but does it, leaning forward and bending her head down to capture Caitlyn’s lips in a kiss.

It’s not their first one together, but it certainly won’t be the last to occur between them.

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬

a/n: hey everyone! hope you enjoy these college headcanons! part two can be found here! warning for nsfw in jean's, and mentions of alcohol/partying throughout!

jean kirstein

jean shows up to college thinking it’s gonna be high school part two, and quickly gets put in his place

his old antics (for both school and girls) won’t fly anymore, so he tries his hardest at both

i personally see jean as not the smartest, most gifted kid (in college!) but definitely one of the hardest workers

this man comes in pre-law and changes to sports management real quick

he definitely plays some kind of club sport, lacrosse or basketball or maybe even both and he is way too into it

like club lacrosse is his life.

he 100% has eyes for cheerleaders, because he loves idea of someone rooting for him, and if you are one, then it’s instantaneous

he notices you at one of his games, giving a shove to conny and asking if he knew who you were

which is met with “what do i look like, a phone book?”

he builds up the courage to ask you out eventually, to which of course you agree, and it’s pretty much a happy ending after that

makes for a lot of sweaty, post-match sex, with him still in his jersey and you in your uniform hiked up

reiner braun

frat bro reiner is a business major with a focus on finance

reiner is the guy who dedicates 100% of his time to school during the weekdays, and the weekends are for the bros

he’s the first in the library, last to leave lecture because he stayed behind to get clarifications, and pretty much aces everything

halloweekend, he decides to drag annie and bertholdt to a party, because they are in desperate need of letting loose

probably dressed up as something mildly douche-y that didn’t require a lot of thought: a foot ball player jersey with eye black improvised by annie

he is a heavy-weight if you’ve ever seen one, probably on his fifth cup of cheap beer and not even slightly buzzed

annie and bertholdt are sloshed, so he keeps one eye on them to make sure they’re alright

you, on the other hand, are serving as designated-driver for the night and sipping on soda

i think any kind of sweet, innocent costume (angel, fairy, woodland creature) would get his attention immediately

he goes over to you to try to make conversation, and finds himself stumbling over his words even though he just swore he wasn’t tipsy yet

but you find it cute, and given how you have seen him before around campus, studying all the damn time, you’re pleasantly surprised to find a sweet, interesting guy making conversation with you at a halloween party

eventually, your friends take off with their hook-ups, and reiner is left behind alone too after making sure everyone had a safe ride home

with no one left besides you two and his passed out friends, you offer him and his roommates a ride back to his dorm

after dropping annie off, you arrive at the dorm and help lug a blacked-out bertholdt to their room

you say goodnight and as you leave, feeling bold, you leave your number on the whiteboard hanging on their door

so that then turns into coffee-and-studying dates, and eventually a relationship before too long

armin arlert

i think we all know what armin is like in college: marine biology major and history minor

this is an effortless genius, so unlike reiner, he doesn’t have to spend all his time studying

i think armin would be the kind of guy who has school and life figured out, and he slowly realizes a healthy relationship is the one thing missing from his life

there’s honestly plenty of people who want to date him, if he had ever cared to return any of their gazes

i honestly see him being oblivious, so when a fellow classmate asks if he wants to study together, he goes “oh, sorry, i wasn’t really planning on studying, but maybe eren wants a study-buddy, i’ll let him know for you!” instead of realizing that was someone flirting

so it’s the same for you

you’re taking the marine sci class as a last resort, everything else was completely filled up, and you just had to get out of that physics class

but all this talk about oceans and sea-creatures is even worse, somehow. to put it short, you’re struggling, and armin is the kid who raises his hand at every question without so much as jotting down a note during lecture

you know mikasa through a friend-of-a-friend type situation, and ask her if armin would be willing to tutor you sometime

doesn’t matter that part of the reason you’re doing so poorly is because you’re staring at the back of his head most of class

armin and you get together to study on a saturday evening, and what began as a recap on the history of the ocean quickly turns into laughing, talking, and then “you wanna go grab something to eat?”

for someone so smart, he’s really dense

he thinks you’re being friendly and doesn’t want to assume you’re thinking this is a ‘date’ even though you’re internally screaming

it takes you leaning in for a kiss after he’s walked you back to your dorm for it to click

needless to say, he wasn’t quite so oblivious after that

eren yeager

eren was determined to get into the same college as armin and mikasa

my man is undecided, and then sociology after he’s forced to pick

not exactly a fuckboy, not exactly a stoner, just somewhere in between

procrastinates doing work and submits every thing a day late, even though he probably would have gotten full marks if it was on time

him and mikasa decide to take a marine bio class with armin, and he ends up falling asleep during lecture

i don’t see him going for a goody-two shoes type that wants to reform him, because he just wouldn’t want to deal with that

it’s not a toxic relationship, but pretty close to one

on again, off again ever since the two of you met in a dingy frat basement, absolutely hammered, and hooked up

this boy does not want to admit that he’s caught feelings, but eventually it comes to that because he is very much the jealous type

catches you engaging in polite conversation with reiner and he is seeing white in seconds

he realizes he has to make you his

marco bott

the most wholesome nursing major with a minor in english because he is a sucker for lit

i don’t think there is any shortage of girls who want to be with marco, just given how sweet and genuine he is

that being said, i feel like the few time he’s wanted to pursue a relationship with someone, they haven’t reciprocated/just saw him as a friend

which isn’t the easiest thing to deal with, but because he’s a mature angel, he doesn’t hold that against anyone

instead, he kind of succumbs to this false idea that people want to be his friend, and not his girlfriend, which he’s a little insecure about

that’s why i think you and marco would have idiot best friends to lovers, featuring everyone around you knowing how head over heels you both are except the two of you

you two meet in a particularly challenging class, and not recognizing anyone, you both turn to the friendliest face in the room to make study-buddies with

over a whole semester of late-night cramming (and talking), scribbling smiley faces on flashcards, and good luck texts before the exam, you realize how much you’re gonna miss constantly hanging out with marco

and on his end, he’s complaining to jean about how after the final, you two won’t have any reason to keep talking

“so ask her out then, you idiot”

“she probably doesn’t think of me like that…”

“are you blind?” jean says, with a roll of his eyes

after the class has ended and you’re both headed back home for winter break, you work up the nerve to text marco one last time

“let me know if you ever need help studying for another class :)”

you have no idea that he’s over the moon, and that finally brings an end to your friendship, and starts your relationship

bertholdt hoover

mister bertholdt is structural design and architecture major

there’s basically six of those total in your entire college, so he definitely gets a bit isolated/lonely sometimes

he basically came to college with reiner & annie, and figured he didn’t really need more friends than that

so when they’re busy, he’s just by himself

annie definitely makes fun of him for not spreading his wings and flying out of the metaphorical nest, but he’s comfortable with how it is

not a huge fan of the party scene, and prefers a quiet night of studying

i feel like you and him would be the last two studying in the library most nights, and sometimes walk out together after the librarian reminds you both the building is closing

so, when reiner and annie drag him to a party one weekend, he’s shocked to see you there too with outgoing friends of your own

he’s used to seeing you in the bright fluorescent lighting of the library, so this dim, hazy room after the shots have already gone to his head is hard to take in

you two eventually end up talking after your friends push you towards him

“funny seeing you here.” “i could say the same to you.”

he already has a crush (you do too, but he doesn’t want to accept that) so the alcohol inhibits his usual caution

a little bit of dancing, a lot of sitting on the pavement outside while looking at the moon, stars, and each other, topped off with a first-kiss starts your relationship

levi ackerman

teaching assistant levi is a staple of your college

almost infamous, really

you count your lucky blessings that he’s still a year or so away from graduating with his ph.d. in molecular biology and that he’s ta’ing this microbiology class

you’ve definitely heard all sorts of rumors, but you really don’t know what’s truth and fiction

he definitely hasn’t slept with a third of his students (right?) but the lingering way he looks at you isn’t helping quell your thoughts

technically speaking, teaching assistants and students are not allowed to date, interact, etc

until the semester in which you are their student is completed, at least

it doesn’t take long after that for you two to constantly run into each other

“how’re your new classes going? any hot ta’s?” he asks, sipping his tea from the bookstore cafe. you choke on your hot chocolate.

all this being said, you’re an upperclassmen about to graduate, possibly start a ph.d. or masters program yourself. i see him teaching upper-level courses exclusively.

it’s not long after that you admit your feelings to each other, since after all, there’s no time to waste

erwin smith

you’re a second year masters program in the history department. your specialization is military history, so of course professor smith is assigned as your thesis advisor.

i mean, he’s only written several textbooks on the subject

on first sight, you can’t believe he’s a professor. because certainly, this is a some cruel twist of fate. he’s closer to your age than some of his colleagues.

you both try to keep it strictly professional

at first least. this gets gradually harder and harder

there’s a certain chemistry there neither of you can deny.

having a mutual interest in the same subjects doesn’t help too much either. suddenly, you guys are spending hours pouring over topics for his next textbook and your thesis.

the conversation continues over chinese food in his office, long after the rest of the building has cleared out for their friday evenings

“well, i won’t keep you any longer. i’m sure you have much better plans on a friday night than talking military policy with me.”

“there is no where else i’d rather be.”

hope you all liked it! :)

[cinnamonest]

Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask.  Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.