#would she even comprehend job-home-sleep structure?

[here-on-occasion]

If I ever acknowledge just how ooc the mcdonald's stuff was for sylvie I'll probably never get over it so i'm gonna ignore the whole thing

[certifiedskywalker]

Your Gentle Touch - Dyn Jarren (The Mandalorian)

books-with-tea-with-a-record-on said:

Sorry if request aren't open but if they are may I have one with The Mandalorian with a s/o whos not a fighter but a healer/nurse and she's very sweet and motherly and one day he sees her with baby yoda and is like "crap I love her". And one day they get ambushed and he tells her to go hide but she sees baby yoda in danger and risk her life for him and gets injured and after the fight, he runs over to her and helps her up and confess how he loves her and never been so scared before.

Dyn is forgetting his old ways but, with clear eyes, he finds something he didn’t know that he was missing out on.

Dyn Jarren was not a true-born Mandalorian despite living the earliest days of his young life within the Mandalore system. He had lived on the outskirts, on a planet tuck behind an atmosphere of Imperial pollution and asteroids. Once the Trade Federation brought the war to his home, Dyn fell into the Mandalorian’s arms. They took him in without hesitation. They raised him; they trained him; they even tried to teach him their native tongue, Mando’a. While most of the intricate sounds and words of the language were lost to him, Dyn was pleased to have been taught.

Above all, the Mandalorians gave Dyn a semblance of belonging to something greater when he had virtually nothing. 

As grateful as he was to the Mandalorians for giving him shelter, Dyn had found something better. He had found a family. Family was something he thought he had lost, something that he could never truly build for himself. The last time he had a family, they died. His mother and father had been cannon fodder towards the war. His parents, his innocence, had been an easy price to pay for cruelty; but, now, looking at the sight before him, Dyn Jarren was pleased he wasn’t a full-blooded Mandalorian.

If he had been born into their warrior culture, Dyn imagined that he would have never found this his new family. That thought alone was enough to make the bounty hunter shudder.

“Not all at once! Take little bites!”

Dyn cocked his head to the side as you instructed the Child. His small green hands were wrapped tightly around the hunk of ration bread you had given him. Part of the portion was already in his small mouth. Happily, the Child gurgled and bits of bread flew from its lips. Dyn heard your laugh, in all of its pure lightness, and smiled from beneath his helmet.

“You might choke,” you managed to get out through giggles. 

The Child, seemingly unaware at the possibility, proceeded to swallow the rest of the ration bread. The creature swallowed, a horribly loud sound, and let out a little belch. 

“Feel better?” Dyn felt his chest ache at the teasing in your voice and he wasn’t the one you were talking to. The Child gurgled and you, with more grace than Dyn had ever seen in his entire lifetime, scooped the creature up in your arms. “I bet you do!”

Dyn watched as you made your way towards him. There was a tender smile on your lips that made that ache in his chest return. The dull pain grew worse when you looked up from the Child and met Dyn’s gaze. In your eyes, the bounty hunter saw everything he ever wanted.

“I don’t think we need a trash compactor with this one around,” you joked. Your path had landed you standing right in front of Dyn. Even through the beskar, he could feel your warmth.

“Good to know,” Dyn said softly, almost as if the words were a passing thought. In reality, that was exactly what they were. He was so completely enraptured by you in that moment that everything, including his own body, ceased to exist. 

“We could save on some credits with him,” you continued, “but they might go into feeding costs.” The Child chirped and you smiled, turning your gaze back to the green being cradled in your arms. “He likes the sound of that.”

A stint of silence passed with Dyn watching you watch the Child. The tender slope of your cheeks pulled him in. He had to force his hand to be still; he kept his arm at his side despite wanting to reach out to you. It was then when you looked up at him. It was then when you both realized how close you were to each other. 

You cleared your throat and took a step back. “He seems healthy; no wounds or bruises. You did a good job getting him out of there.”

Dyn nodded silently, still too caught up in your presence to speak up. He watched you place the Child in the seat he had made while you were checking on the creature’s vitals. It was an ugly thing; the cradle was made of a few boxes and sheets of metal he had bent into shape. The structure would do for now and, for the most part, the Child was safe.

“There we go,” you pet the Child’s head soothingly. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

The Child, trying to speak in its own language of chitters and chirps, made a series of sounds. Dyn watched as you smiled down at the creature before turning away. The Child’s big, dark eyes followed you as you walked back over towards Dyn. 

“You too,” you said as you stood before the bounty hunter. Dyn shifted trying to not lean in close as he had before.

“What?”

“You’ve had a long day too.” Your hands lifted to Dyn’s shoulders and you pressed down on the plates of beskar fastened there. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I’m fine,” Dyn began to protest. It was a feeble, half-hearted attempt to stop you; and when you continued to push Dyn into the nearby chair, he didn’t fight back. You were right, after all. It had been a long day and there wasn’t enough strength left in him to combat his longing.

Once he was seated, you wandered back to the cot where you had checked on the Child’s life signatures. Dyn watched as you gathered your medical supplies. When you had all the bacta patches you could carry, you started to make your way back to him. Quietly, you set to work sorting your tools and preparing gauze. After you spread out a large section of heavy fabric, you turned back to Dyn.

A silent question, a question Dyn had heard you ask before, was balanced on your lips. Knowing well what it was, Dyn began to unfasten pieces of his armor. Even within the context of a medical check-up, removing the beskar was an intimate process. Carefully, you would take each portion of armor and set it on top of the heavy fabric you had laid out. The process continued as Dyn removed more and more hunks of metal from his body.

Dyn felt truly exposed. He was left in only his clothing and his helmet, the latter of which he never took off. At least, he never took his helmet off in front of you. No, that would be too much. That would be crossing a line carved in stone; a step that Dyn could not come back from.

To distract himself from the temptation, Dyn watched you as you pulled a seat up for yourself. You were now sitting at his side, careful hands already reaching for his arm. When you hands gripped loosely at his wrist and elbow, Dyn fought the urge to melt under your fingers.

“You fell on this side, right?”

“Y-Yeah.” Dyn had hoped his reply would come out steady. Instead, much like his heart, his voice faltered with you so close in proximity. 

“Your arm feels fine,” you gave Dyn’s arm a slight squeeze. “That hurt?”

“No.”

Dyn watched you carefully as you set his arm down to his lap. Each touch was tender, laced with a softness that he had never felt outside of your presence. Nothing had ever felt so comforting to him before. When he met you, when he offered you a spot on the Razor Crest, it was like a new world had been opened to him. A world outside of the Mandalorians training and cold shoulders of the bounty hunting realm.

“May I?” 

Your question broke Dyn from his thoughts. His eyes focused on your face than your hand which hovered above his abdomen. Heat emanated from your open palm, warming the flesh of his side even under the shirt. It was as if some unseen force was melding you both to each other; though that wasn’t rational and Dyn blamed his lack of sleep.

He nodded wordlessly and your fingers hooked under the hem of his shirt. Your gentle touch, the barely-there brushing of your fingertips stirred something up in Dyn’s chest. It wasn’t ache from before; no, this was something entirely different.

“It looks like,” you lifted Dyn’s shirt a little higher, “that when you fell...the beskar bruised your side.”

“So much for protection,” Dyn muttered. As he spoke, your hand splayed across his stomach and Dyn had to keep his breath from hitching. Your palm was warm against his skin, soothing in a way his brain failed to comprehend. 

“You’re not dead,” you said as you pulled away. “I would rather have you bruised than not have you at all.”

Dyn cocked his head as you lifted yours to meet his gaze. That feeling returned in his chest; that feeling he could not describe. There was not a word in the common language that could label the tickling in his chest and the twisting in his gut. Almost like an echo, a word in Mando’a resounded in his mind: chaab.

Chaab, fear.

“Here’s a cooling bacta for that.” You raised Dyn’s shirt once more and pressed the cold patch against his skin. He watched you work, watched every little movement of your fingers as they hovered above his skin. 

Yes, it was chaab. He was feeling fear and it’s tightening grip on his body. Dyn let out a shaking breath as the cold bacta soaked into his skin; at least that was what he blamed it on. He knew it was fear...but what was he afraid of?

“Just rest now,” you sighed. You stood up and wiped your hands on your pants. Dyn’s eyes never left your face. He was still trying to figure it out. Dyn wasn’t scared of you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the helmet altering his voice in such a way that hid his confusion. You smiled at him and reached to squeeze his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want you to disappear, would we?” 

The feeling returned with a new vengeance. That was what he was afraid of and that was a world without you.

“Well, look who’s callin’ the shots now, Mando!” Toro’s threat fell on deaf ears. All Dyn was focused on was the Child caught in Toro’s arms and you, kneeling on the ground before him. Your cheek was red and swollen, the beginning of a bruise blooming on the side of your face. On pure instinct, Dyn curled his gloved hands into fists. 

“Let them go.” Dyn’s voice was steady, much to his own surprise.

“Do you know how much is on your head? I could fund my membership into the Guild and then some!” Toro pointed the blaster in his hand to the Child’s head. Dyn’s heart lurched in his chest and, as he found himself stepping towards them, he saw you. At first, it was a blur. Dyn saw your face then your hair, then a blast.

“Y/N!”

You crumpled to the ground, unmoving and all Dyn felt was that twisting in his gut, how it mingled with a dizzying lightness in his chest. Fear had planted itself firmly in Dyn’s heart when he watched you hit the ground. Everything after that was pure anger. 

Dyn didn’t feel himself throw the phaser. The blinding, blinking light did little to hinder his movement. He strode through the light, guided by his instinct and his yearning to find you, to save you; to protect you. But he saw Toro as the younger man regained his vision. Without hesitation, Dyn raised his blaster, aimed at his chest, and fired.

Then, Dyn found you. Smoke, in a small plume, rose up from your chest. Dyn fell to his knees, seemingly not seeing Peli, the engineer working on the Razor Crest, holding the Child in her arms. His sole focus was you; it had been since he met you.

“Y/N.” Carefully, Dyn reached out for your shoulder and turned you on your back. Your body was mostly limp but still warm as your arm fell into his lap. Toro’s blaster bolt had shot through your right shoulder, dangerously close to your neck. “Y/N?”

Your eyes were pressed closed and the rest of your face horribly relaxed, too peaceful for his liking. Fear told Dyn that it was too late for you but some primal part of him, a hopeless ache in his heart, drove him to try. He reached for a pouch attached to his belt and pulled out what medical supplies he had on him. It wasn’t a lot and he was not trained in the art of healing as you were but Dyn tried. He lifted you up, cradled you in his lap and pressed a bacta patch to your wound. 

“Y/N...” 

Peli had never met a Mandalorian before. She had only heard that they were fearsome warriors, Hell-bent on killing whatever stands in their way. Peli would have never guessed that Mandalorians were capable of such softness as the one before her now. The way he said your name made Peli hurt; the Child seemed to sense that too and let out a whimper.

“Y/N, I need you.” 

His voice was trembling as he spoke. Chaab, fear, it gripped Dyn so tightly it was squeezing the air from his lungs. His family was slipping through his fingertips. Dyn did not want to be alone again, he couldn’t. Not after he had a taste of what family could be.

Dyn lifted a hand, trying to be as gentle as you were with him, and traced the side of your face. He began to shift, preparing himself to a new harsh reality that entailed leaving you behind. As he moved, your arm lifted. Weakly, your fingers wrapped around Dyn’s wrist and held his hand to your cheek. 

“You need me? Never thought you would admit that.” Despite your teasing, your words came out hoarse. When you fell, the wind had been knocked out of you and your following breaths were incredibly shallow. Dyn tenderly brushed his thumb along your cheek, the on side of your face that wasn’t bruised and battered. Although the sight of your wounds renewed the sense of rage buried in his chest.

“Yeah,” his voice broke but he was too overwhelmed to care.

“Where is he?”

“Dead.” At Dyn’s reply, your eyes widened. “Toro, the Child is fine.”

“Thank the Maker,” you sighed. Wordlessly, Dyn tucked one of his arms under your legs and the other beneath your neck. He scooped you up in his embrace and turned to face Peli. The moment you saw the Child, it was like you had found a second wind. “There you are.”

The Child cooed at the sight of you, reaching out from Peli’s arms and toward your face. The fizzy haired engineer smiled and gingerly set the green creature on your lap. Dyn, whose blood was still pumping wildly, did not flinch at the added weight. If anything, he felt stronger with his new, little family in his arms.

“You take them inside,” Peli began, “pay me later.”

“Thank you,” Dyn said quietly before walking up the ramp and into the Razor Crest. 

With each step, the anger left him and he was suddenly tired. Shock and adrenaline were wearing off, leaving Dyn with you in his arms. He would have held you longer if it weren’t for the discomfort spread along your features. Carefully, he set you on top of a storage box. The Child gurgled excitedly with the motion and wiggled in your lap.

When you were sat and steady, Dyn kneeled down in front of you. Still giddy, the Child reached out and slapped his small hands against his helmet. Dyn watched as you pulled the Child back in a restraining manner. Yet, you never scolded the creature. 

“We should give Peli more than we owe,” you said seriously, looking into the eyes of Dyn’s helmet. He nodded in agreement, bringing up on of his hands to rest on your knee.

“I will, but you need to tell me what to do.”

“What to do?” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you shook your head. “I’ll be alright, Dyn. It just needs time to heal.”

“I….” 

Dyn trailed off, lost in his tangled thoughts. There was too much he wanted to say, too much he needed to tell you. He wanted to speak but the feeling of wetness, tears falling from his eyes, drove him into silence. It was only when you set your hand on top of his that he found a grip in reality for himself.

“What is it?”

Dyn let out a shaking breath, “I was scared….I thought I lost you.”

The words were as unfamiliar to him as the feeling of dread. In his time with the Mandalorians, Dyn had grown around a code that barred the intimacy his words implied. He had taken the title of bounty hunter, as gunslinger, and worn both with pride. Now, he was a mess. His composure, his mask, was failing him and it was all because of you.

“You didn’t,” you whispered, your hand moving to the side of his helmet. “I’m still here. I’m still with you. Bruised, but not dead.”

“Bruised, but not dead,” Dyn echoed. You gave him a half-smile and he felt his chaab melt-away. He would not be scared anymore.

Slowly, he lifted his hands from below his helmet. Your eyes widened and you lips parted, ready to protest. But there was no stopping Dyn when he set his mind to something. Even when that something was blasphemous to others. Before your words could find purchase on your tongue, Dyn’s helmet was on the ground.

There was no hiding, not anymore. He wanted you to see him. He didn’t want fear to control him any longer; Mandalorian customs be damned. You were his family and he needed you to know that he was there for you.

Dyn didn’t care that showing you meant you seeing his red-rimmed eyes or his tear-stained cheeks. You didn’t care either. Instead, you reached and let your trembling hand rest against his cheek. You took in the sight of his messy, dark hair; you met his sharp gaze and deep brown eyes. There was something in his eyes that you had known for years.

“I love you.”

Those were the first words you heard that were said in Dyn’s true voice. Each syllable rang in your ears like a small chime. Dyn did not feel chaab, all he felt was love looking into your eyes for the first time, unhindered by his helmet.

“I love you too,” you replied. Dyn felt his lips pull up in the smallest of smiles and, as if he could sense the joy in the air, the Child chittered. “So does he.”

Dyn looked into the Child’s wide, dark eyes and sighed. “Little womp rat.”

The hand you had rested on his cheek moved and brushed through his dark hair. At your gentle touch, Dyn lifted his gaze to yours once more. In that moment, there was just the three of you, safe and together. Dyn found, in that same moment, that this family was all he would ever need.

[writingithink]

Improbable Multiversal Transcending Temporal Spacetime Event Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Rated: T Word Count: 7,101 Summary: The best way to show someone you care is to blow up their job ... right? Notes: I'm back! And it's not a Tangled Timelines update (sorry!) But it is something? I've had this in my WIPs for awHILE now, and when I was cleaning my studio the other night I found a planning page for it in a random tote bag and was like ... oh yeah. And the ending just came to me and I love it when that happens. Hopefully there will be another chapter up for Tangled Timelines soon, though!

As always, infinite thanks to my wonderful beta, @hey-there-juliet​ who is fine with me randomly sending her fics at all hours and with no warning XP

All mistakes are mine, as always.

<<READ IT ON AO3>>

If the other him in the other universe had taken the time to imagine their human life together in a parallel universe, the Doctor doubted he would have pictured this. His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was always quite whimsical. Happiness had made him impractical, really. Because despite all of the drawbacks, all of the reasons he currently loathed himself, the Doctor knew every single reason why the other truly felt like this was the best possible option.

But maybe it wasn’t.

Sometimes, despite it not occurring too often, he was wrong.

They had spent five and a half hours on the beach at Bad Wolf Bay.

(I create myself.)

She had been so upset; said that after everything they’d went through, everything she did to get back, the other him owed her a proper goodbye. She had stopped speaking to him when he told her that, actually, he would never give her a proper goodbye.

And she didn’t let him explain why. Now that he finally could.

Now it had been 57 days since she’d last spoken to him. Since he’d gotten more than a brief glimpse of her with his own eyes. That he’d spent piecing together a picture of what her life had been like here, without him. Such a short time, really, now that it was over (almost over), but yet also some of the worst moments of his entire existence.

It seemed fair that the multiverse would demand just that extra sequence of pain, considering everything he could potentially get in return. What another version of himself could only hope for, bitterly gambling eternities, following their timeline through all of it’s complicated swirls and turns, names weaving around each other, stamping themselves on the structure of creation.

Forever isn’t something that ends.

(How long are you going to stay with me?)

Quite the opposite, actually. And he knew, eventually, she would remember that. Knew it, but didn’t feel it.

The Doctor finally understood what all of the human writers meant about falling in love. Not just the terrifying sensation of the unstoppable freefall, but also the immense pain of crashing into the immovable object at the end of the journey.

They had sat on opposite ends of a Zeppelin. He had gone back to the Tyler Manor with Jackie, and Rose had gone back to her flat. Hoping to see her, talk to her, he had immediately joined Torchwood (once they agreed to his very detailed, highly specific, entirely ironclad contract). Their paths rarely crossed, and when they did it was just tiny, insubstantial moments.

A flash of her at the far end of a hall. Her name in a report (a lot of reports). Snatches of her voice, there one moment and gone the next.

It all made everything hurt so much more, somehow, having her so close but yet further than he could have possibly imagined.

But yet …

His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was still quite whimsical. So when he tried to think of the bigger picture, waxing poetic, alone on his office couch, the Doctor tried to look at the last few years as the impact, and this as the aftershock. Still, philosophical jaunts weren’t exactly a solution to his problem. A temporary solution was moving his office even further away, so that’s what he did. 

Plus, he found it kind of fitting, commandeering the inside of Big Ben. UNIT may have it in the prime universe, but in this universe he had the fancy landmark office. Well, office-slash-home (without Rose Tyler, a proper house with doors and things was absolutely unthinkable). Not that it was just about having a private laugh. The gears soothed him, the sound of ticking helped the gnawing emptiness that had filled his mind ever since the TARDIS dematerialized without him in it. The Doctor had thought it was kind of fitting - the closest he could possibly be right now to time.

Not that he wasn’t spending every possible spare moment working on the baby TARDIS, just a tiny piece of coral still, currently sitting in the extended electro-percussive environment chamber. He wondered if, in three years (his best-possible projected timetable), when the new TARDIS would be ready for flight, she would still not be speaking to him.

Incidentally, the emergence of that thought and the start of his supposed ‘self-isolation’ coincided to an alarming degree for how coincidental the two really were. The fact of the matter was, he was busy. Tons of experiments to run, alien equipment to identify, classify (and more often than not remove from Torchwood entirely), a baby TARDIS to tend to, and a backlog of Rose’s mission reports to hack into made spending slightly over three weeks in his tower easy.

The problem was the fact that during that time the Doctor avoided sleeping, barely remembered to eat, and existed on overly sugared tea alone. Not sleeping didn’t put the demons at bay, but at least when he was awake he wasn’t forced to confront the man he never wanted to remember being.

It had been 57 days since Rose Tyler had last spoken to him, and the Doctor detonated a bomb in the abandoned annex Torchwood had scheduled to be demolished and rebuilt.

Then the counter reset to zero.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she yelled, barging into the top floor lab where he had been checking the readings on the EEPEC.

Everything that he wanted to say to her, and the Doctor was struck mute.

“Whatever plans you think you have, however good of an idea it is, for the good of the planet or, or the galaxy or what, you don’t just go blowing up buildings without a word to anyone! Do you know that everyone else was too scared to come up here and have a word with you, because that highly confidential ridiculous contract you drew up made its way through the gossips and isn’t so classified anymore. Now no one wants to go toe to toe with the man who ‘speaks for the planet’,” Rose growled through the air quotes. “So tell me, Doctor, what genius reason you’ve got for blowing up the Records Annex?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“It worked.”

“What?”

“Remember ‘run’?” he asked, bouncing away from the baby TARDIS and circling her, picking up his new sonic screwdriver as he did and deadlock sealing the only door off the floor.

“Run?” she frowned as he circled back.

“Run,” he whispered in her ear as he passed, running up a small set of stairs to flip a giant switch that activated the clock-lights outside of their automated timer. Likely no one noticed outside with the sun still out, but it lit up the lab. “Henrik’s basement, Nestene Consciousness, shop window dummies, you and me. How did that night end?” he asked, with a manic grin as he skidded to a stop in front of her.

“Oh, that ‘run’,” Rose breathed, trying to fight back a smile. “You blew up my job.”

“I blew up your job.”

She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, and crossed her arms. His shoulders fell, exhaustion pressing down onto each and every bone of his new, much more fragile body.

“I just want to talk,” he told her, only a moment away from begging.

“Alright then. Talk.”

Everything he wanted to say to her, and all of it felt disjointed in his overtired mind. Yet she was here now, and if she left he didn’t have a new idea for getting her back again. So he talked.

“I’m sorry. That I made this choice for you, even if it was technically a different me who did it. I’m sorry that this is the best option, the safest option. I’m sorry I never got the chance to explain everything to you before. But I am never going to say goodbye to you, Rose. Never. And I know that the power of words doesn’t translate as well for you, the science of psycho-kinetic-telepathic influence on the elements of creation. But there are some things I can never risk saying aloud. There are some beings that exist, at least in our original universe, that could easily- … still, no matter what universe we’re in, I’m never going to say it. Forever, Rose Tyler. It’s longer than you can comprehend. An eternal silence stretching infinitely ahead, timelines swirling in every direction. This one is ours, if you’ll- if you could just- if you could see in twenty-odd dimensions and focused on individual temporal waveforms, the quantum reality of specific-”

“Doctor!” she shouted when his legs gave out, immediately grabbing hold of him, joining him on the floor.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he moved to get back up she easily held him down. Rose gently manipulated his face, giving him a basic medical check. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how much she had learned while they were away, only to then frown at how hard he imagined it all must have been for her. Floundering, he tried to make a joke. “So, I’m still the Doctor?”

Which went ignored.

“You look like a wreck,” she told him, and it wasn’t new information. The Doctor now made much more frequent trips to the restroom and was well aware of how pale he was, of the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He had at least been making a disjointed effort to shave, which was another activity that had increased with his meta crisis, and admittedly it had slipped his mind for a couple days.

“It’s not easy, doing this without you,” he admitted. “But if you need more time, I want you to take it. I really am alright. There’s just so much I need to tell you, now that I can.”

“What do you mean, ‘now that you can’?”

“Different universe, firm walls in between. I don’t have to worry about using the wrong words at the wrong time and having cosmic consequences … for a lot of things, not all things. With our timeline in a different dimension and reality back as it should be, at least for the moment, I can tell you all sorts of things. Though the most important one, the one I’m never going to miss an opportunity to say, is that I love you, Rose Tyler. Forever.”

“I love you, too,” she sighed, caressing his cheek for a moment before helping him up. “But I’m still mad at you. Now you need sleep.”

“But I’m not done talking,” the Doctor complained, dragging his feet as she led him over to the sofa in the corner.

“We’ll talk more after you’ve gotten some rest, okay? I promise.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, more horizontal than he remembered being just a moment ago. Something soft and warm ensconced his body. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been until just then.

Another breath and black oblivion overtook him. Peaceful until it suddenly very much wasn’t. 

A shockwave. A rift in time and space. A breached void. A crack in reality. A big red button. No more. Howling, howling, howling.

“Wake up!”

His eyes snapped open.

He didn’t know where he was. Nothing felt right; not the air, not time, not even his own body. The Doctor tried to do a quick systems check, and the results were all wrong. His hand flew to his chest, where only one heart was beating.

A choking scream echoed through the space, which seemed to be tick tick ticking, and he didn’t realize that it was him who shouted until soothing hands were brushing through his hair. Vision focusing, he saw Rose Tyler kneeling next to him, or at least it was something that looked like Rose Tyler. She felt too cool. Or maybe he was too warm.

“Are you real?” he asked, hoping that she wouldn’t lie to him.

Just one heart working, and it was beating too fast, refusing to slow down. The air was too thick, he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah.” A sad smile. “I’m real.”

The Doctor didn’t know if he believed her, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the moment she inevitably vanished. “I’m dying,” he told the being-who-might-be-Rose as he shuddered and collapsed back onto some sort of sofa.

“You’re fine,” she lied, but it was a lie she seemed to believe.

“Only got one heart beating,” he admitted, trying to get his breathing under control as his malfunctioning body began to sweat. The room ticked away, and he wondered if all of this was about to explode, if he should be running, if he even could run. His legs felt like lead. So did his arms. The air was too thick, dragging him down.

“That’s-”

The Doctor shut his eyes tighter, tears escaping that he hadn’t even realized were there. She must have vanished, just like he knew she would. And if she was never real to begin with, why did it have to hurt so much for her to go?

A weight rested on top of him, and he would never forget the feel of her. He vaguely wondered what it meant for him, to be having tactile hallucinations. Olfactory hallucinations. Even the buzz of time that had never left her skin after she took in the vortex was present.

“You’ve still got two beating,” Rose whispered as his arms wrapped around her in a tight hold that didn’t feel nearly strong enough to keep her. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her.

Her heart beat steadily over where his right heart had failed.

“I’m scared,” the Doctor admitted, eyes still closed though it was oddly easier to breathe.

“I’ve got you.”

“Please be real,” he whimpered, even as his mind grew foggier.

She said something, but he didn’t know what. Everything was fading away, darkness becoming darker, becoming void.

Nothing.

The Doctor awoke alone on the couch in his office. According to his time sense, he had slept for eighteen hours and twenty-one minutes. He felt better than he had in weeks, but also so much worse. He grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.

“What’s wrong now?”

The pillow dropped from his hands and his eyes locked with Rose’s as she raced up the slight stair onto the platform that separated his primary workspace from the rest of the top floor.

“What?” His voice cracked.

Rose Tyler sat next to him on the couch, hand immediately resting on his forehead, primitively gauging his temperature. The Doctor cleared his throat before trying again.

“Rose, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad, I’m so very, very glad you’ve come.” Her hand dropped away and he was able to get a good look at her, dressed in a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts (Jackie had bought him a ridiculous amount of clothes before he left the manor, all of which he sent out to be cleaned). He swallowed audibly. “W-why are you wearing my clothes?”

“‘M locked in here. Door’s deadlock sealed.”

Flashes of memories began to speed through him. Attaching a re-calibrated Tziklian implosion grenade to a newly-repaired retroreflective Clishtahrr drone. Obsessively trying to circumvent his vision in order to peer at his own timeline, making himself sick. A contained rift event in the lower levels of the tower that made him feel like he had looked into the untempered schism again.

(Run, run, run!)

“I’m sorry. I don’t … I’ll just …”

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs, found his sonic screwdriver and unsealed the door. And he wished he hadn’t trapped her with him, even if he was starting to remember why (inky black terror crawling up his spine, wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe).

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” she asked, following him as he went to check the TARDIS on autopilot, looking as if she was worried he would collapse (again).

“It’s coming back to me,” the Doctor admitted. Still had a good four hours to go before the shatterfry process would be complete. He straightened his shoulders, trying to stand tall as he turned to face her. “Things got a little, uhm, unpleasant. I’ll do better.”

“Unpleasant,” Rose scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you had a bleedin’ breakdown!”

“It’s been a difficult regeneration,” he deflected, turning away, leaving the platform and making a beeline to the tiny kitchenette tucked off to the side. Tea. He just needed more tea.

“So, this how it’s gonna be, then? All that stuff about wanting to talk, but now you’re just done?”

He nearly spilled the kettle with the speed of his turn, brows furrowed and mouth falling open. “What? Of course I want to talk!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Just, er, what did I say? Before?”

Memory was still a bit of a blur. Successful energy funnel for the TARDIS’ growth tank. Vodka tasting different in a universe without potatoes. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. No contact.

“You don’t remember?”

“I said it was coming back to me, it’s just not coming in the right order.” he sighed, refocusing on the tea.

“Well, what’s the last thing that you vividly remember?” Rose asked, moving around him, easily finding mugs and sugar and milk.

“Thirteen days ago, creating a temporal disruption chrono-field manipulator. Needed to siphon rift energy for our TARDIS. She needs a very specific growth environment.”

“Thirteen days?! Wait, siphoning the-” She leaned against the tiny countertop and covered her face with her hands. The only sound for a few moments was of the electric kettle quickly boiling the water. “Our TARDIS?”

“If you want,” the Doctor muttered, lifting a hand, wanting to touch her, but then thinking better of it. He clenched his fist as it dropped to his side.

Rose groaned as she turned back to him. “Of course I want that, you daft alien git! But you don’t exactly make things easy, do ya? I spent years getting back to you, and then suddenly there’s two of you and one of you abandons me just like I was always afraid of, but one of you stays and I’m expected to be able to process any of it? And then for weeks it’s an effort just to give myself space, knowing that wherever I go you’re so close, part of me wondering why I’m even trying to stay away when all I wanted for ages was to be back with you. Then suddenly you’re gone! I still know where you are, but there isn’t a chance that I’d actually run into you. And I still don’t know what to feel, but coming here yesterday, seeing you … I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so broken.” There were tears in her eyes. His nails dug into his palms with the effort it took not to wrap his arms around her, to wipe them away. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not. It’s my own fault. You haven’t done a single thing wrong,” he assured her.

“That’s not true and you know it,” she tried to laugh, but it came out watery. “I’ve been an absolute cow. And I still haven’t answered your question. You’d said some things about words being a type of science, and that you could say things here that you couldn’t in the other universe. Like you were paranoid, under surveillance or something? I think you tried to describe how your time sense stuff works, but you almost fainted.”

“Fifty-seven days without you and that’s what I was talking about?” The Doctor grimaced.

The kettle clicked off.

“If it makes you feel better, it was kinda romantic. The stuff about not saying goodbye and forever and blowing up my job.”

“Blowing up your what?!”

“That’s why I had to come here. You blew up the old Records Annex.”

“Riiiiight. That explains the drone bomb. It’s not like they weren’t going to blow it up anyway. Didn’t I help?”

Rose rolled her eyes before moving to fix both their teas. “We’ll get into that later. Right now I don’t even want to talk about us. I wanna know about you, what you’ve been doing these past two months. Because I didn’t even stop to think what this all must be like for you.”

Cuppa in hand, the Doctor led her back to the couch as he tried to think of how best to explain something that he barely understood himself.

“I was created in a two-way human-Time Lord instant biological meta crisis. Hundreds of years as one being, then suddenly two. Exact same mind, almost the exact same body, but different enough that I can barely comprehend existing in it. If you remember, the first forty-eight hours of the regeneration cycle are complicated and dangerous. Barely a few hours into mine I was dropped outside of the prime universe that all Gallifreyans are meant to exist in, cut off from all telepathic contact as the walls of reality continued to sway, slowly falling back into place. It’s been … an adjustment. Sometimes things don’t feel real, even when they are. Sometimes things feel incredibly real, even when they aren’t.”

“You had a nightmare,” Rose told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles through his layers. “I woke you up, tried to help. You didn’t think I was real. You thought you were dying, because you only had one heart.”

He tried to smile, and the action felt painful. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been so selfish-”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I want you to put yourself first.”

“But I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this. What can I do to help?” she asked, a desperation in her eyes that he couldn’t bear.

“You’re already helping,” the Doctor sighed, finally giving in and leaning into her touch, lying his head on her shoulder. It was the closest he’d felt to time since they’d been left on that bloody beach.

Memories were still racing through his head. Energy coils radiating artron energy into a centrifuge. The smell of burnt flesh against the remains of a Bverni navigational system. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. No contact.

“The other Doctor said that you needed me.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yes, because he needs you. He also said that I was dangerous. I am. He is. We are. But you already knew that. It’s easy, you know, to yell at yourself. Not often that there’s actually a separate you there to yell at. I destroyed the Daleks, but we’d already done that before we met. In fact, so did you. The other me was lashing out, knowing what he would have to do but not wanting to do it.”

“That’s another thing,” Rose said, moving to face him, dislodging his head, “you said that us being here, in this universe, was the best, safest option. What was that about?”

“Something’s coming. Has come. Ended and began. There’s a massive paradox surrounding me in the other universe. Incredibly dangerous, potentially catastrophic. All I know is that it has something to do with a woman named River Song who claims to be my wife.”

“Your wife?!”

“I said claims. And she did seem to be telling the truth, besides the fact that what she was saying was entirely preposterous. My soul is entirely bound to yours.” The Doctor took her hand and squeezed it. “So I think I have an idea of the kind of man I’ll have to become in order to keep the universe intact.”

“What’s that?”

“A liar. If she is going to believe that I could possibly join myself to someone else, someone who isn’t you, I’m going to have to lie. I’m going to have to forget. I’m going to have to lie so well and for so long that even I believe the fiction I’ve created for myself.”

He wondered what the other him in the other universe would think, then, whenever he caught a rare glimpse at their timeline surrounded in gold, bound with Rose’s for all eternity. What kind of explanation he would craft. The Doctor shuddered.

“But that sounds horrible!” she cried.

“It’s the sacrifice he’s making for the sake of the universe. My timeline is dangerous and someone, something is tampering with it. You and I made one tiny little paradox and it almost destroyed everything. This one is circular, might be able to be maintained, but the scale of it, Rose. And who knows if it will even work. River seems great and all, at least I hope so, but I don’t think she has much of a handle on time travel. That, or she’s a manipulative psychopath. Suppose that’s a surprise for the other me to find out.”

Rose sniffled and he pulled her into a hug.

“He’s going to be all alone.” The words were muffled into his shoulder, his shirt growing damp with her tears. He cringed and tried to think rationally, that of course she would feel this way, that it had nothing to do with how she felt about him him. But then again, maybe it did.

“He won’t be alone. He’ll find someone. I always do, eventually.”

“B-but I-”

“We’ll figure it out. How to get you back there, once it’s safe,” he whispered into the top of her head. Maybe that would be it- what she needed this him for. And if so, it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“Really?”

The Doctor nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“So it’s not- you really weren’t abandoning me here?” Rose lifted her head, eyes brimming with a hope that had been missing before.

“Never.” The word felt as if it was torn out of his very being.

She cupped his cheek, stubble beginning to smooth out into the beginnings of a beard. He really needed to shave.

“I thought you said to never say never ever?”

“That was before.”

It occurred to him that he had tea, so he took a sip - it had gone cold.

“Oh, right, all the, uhm, psychic-kinetic-telepathy science stuff.”

He opened his mouth to correct her - she was very close, though - but was interrupted by the ringing of the giant clock. It was heavily muffled by the sound proofing adjustments he had made while setting up the office, but still audible enough.

“It’s eight now, yeah?” Rose asked, even as she moved away.

“Yes.”

She walked over to his desk, where the Doctor now noticed a pile of her folded clothes sat. He frowned when she brought them over to him.

“Do you think you could sonic these clean for me? I’m gonna quick hop into your decontamination shower.”

“Th- there’s a proper shower, it’s two floors down. First left, third right, door marked ‘Security Level Alpha’.”

“What, really?”

“Didn’t want random lab techs using it. Has a retina scan. It’ll let you in.”

Rose laughed, ruffled his hair, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing to get ready for work. The whole thing left him confused. He went through his list again, checking and double checking to make sure that this all was real . It was, just as it had been all morning.

More memories. Recalibrating the tower’s new sub-basement weapon’s vault. Burnt toast and no more jam left. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. Contact made.

It wasn’t fair that she had spent almost an entire day with him yet he had missed most of it. Still, he sonicked her clothes, as well as his tea. Finished his cuppa, and then had a second before Rose came back from her shower.

“Why’s there no one around?”

“Dangerous radiation leak,” the Doctor shrugged. “I fixed it almost as soon as it happened, but apparently there’s ‘procedures’. How’d you get in?”

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Mighta shot a few of your doors,” Rose admitted, picking up an electro-pulse blaster off of a nearby cart. Non-lethal on organic matter. Very effective on fancy doors. “Nobody told me anything about a radiation leak, though.”

“Classified radiation leak.”

“And why’s that?” she scowled, hands on her hips.

“Everything to do with time travel is classified to this office. Bethany is not being very cooperative about putting you down as a liaison-whatever. Please believe me, I wasn’t trying to keep anything a secret.”

“Oh.” Rose glanced over at the EEPEC, absently biting her thumbnail.

The Doctor didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t know if he should ask. After a moment she disappeared into the loo to change, promising to be back in a tick.

It was a funny multiverse, really, that his reunion with Rose Tyler would be such a stilted thing. That it would be about him and her, but not this him. Acknowledged with a few questions after his health, sure, but that was just polite. She’d always been compassionate, caring for others. Rose didn’t see him as the Doctor. Not the proper one. Sure, she used his name, but it would be easier for her to do that this time around.

He looked just like him.

He was him.

But he wasn’t.

Memories were still coming. Adjustments to Torchwood’s alien tech retrieval protocols. Nutrition shots. Reports reading: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. Contact made.

He went through the list again. Still real.

Unless it wasn’t.

Unless he wasn’t.

What would have stopped the other Doctor from knocking him out and uploading him into a matrix? Giving him a half-life with a programmed Rose Tyler?

The air here felt wrong.

(Wrong universe. Wrong universe. Wrong universe.)

“Doctor!”

(Daleks exploding. “What have you done?!”)

Pressure against his hands. Why was it so dark?

The Doctor opened his eyes to see Rose in front of him, pulling his fingers away from his palms. Oh. He was bleeding. Hadn’t even noticed.

“Sorry, sorry.” He spun away from her in order to grab the first aid kit from his desk.

“What happened?” she asked, vibrating with barely contained panic.

“Nothing, nothing. Things just got jumbled for a second,” he assured her, efficiently cleaning his palms and wrapping them in gauze in a practiced motion.

“How often do you-”

“Hard to say. I’ve been graphing them. Seems to be stress contingent, but generally decreasing. My senses are gradually acclimating to this universe, so I have to hope that once they do, I’ll be fine. Perfect. Molto bene. No inconvenient lapses.”

“Stress? What h- oh.”

He didn’t like the sound of that ‘oh’. The Doctor clenched his jaw before facing her.

“We still haven’t talked about us,” Rose pointed out, approaching him slowly. Like he was a wild animal. Like he would hurt her. “And you … you don’t really remember yesterday still, do you?”

“Not really.”

His hands hurt. His body ached. One heart, and it was beating so quickly that he was sure it would give out.

Rose wrapped her arms around him and he automatically returned the embrace.

“Maybe I should just call in,” she suggested as she pulled away. “We can just take the day?”

“Or don’t and stay anyway,” the Doctor couldn’t help pointing out. “Some bits have come back, and didn’t they send you here?”

She burst into laughter. “Oh my god, they did!”

And it was beyond words, how great it was to hear her laughing again. To see her smiling.

But …

That was wrong.

Rose was upset with him.

Time didn’t feel right.

The air tasted off.

Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe.

The Doctor staggered backwards.

His respiratory bypass was malfunctioning. It was like it wasn’t even there. He couldn’t get air into his lungs.

Everything went black.

There was a shot of gold, and then a different kind of black.

“Doctor,” said a whisper in the dark. “The timer went off for the TARDIS. ‘M I supposed to take her out of that thing?”

A TARDIS timer?

TARDIS … timer …

The timer for the extended electro-percussive environment chamber!!!

The Doctor shot up from where he had apparently been lying on the couch and ran over to the EEPEC, swiftly shut it off, removed the tank housing their baby TARDIS, and then poured in the pre-prepared aqueous nutrient solution before inserting the tank into the quasi-dimensional artron chamber (currently set to it’s highest opacity setting). 

���Hah!” he exclaimed, punching his fist in the air and itching to switch the chamber’s outside view settings to transparent. He turned to Rose, opened his mouth to ask her, and then paused.

It all came back to him, all of it, not just the jumbled recollections he had been getting earlier. Apparently he had fallen into a healing coma, and it seems to have been just what he needed … but it all truly hadn’t been fair to Rose. Though, to be fair, she was currently smiling like it was Christmas, so-

Christmas. Healing comas. 

Huh.

“Shall we switch it to transparent?” the Doctor asked, unable to reign himself in any longer. “It was clear when Benny - quite the coincidence, right? - helped me set it up. This is a quasi-dimensional artron chamber. It’s funnelling in rift energy and centrifuging artron particles, and the end result in that chamber is the specific environment needed to properly grow a TARDIS. Well, along with the chrono-nutritio aqueous habitat. Benny describes looking into it as being similar to taking DMT, which, by the way, is completely inaccurate. It’s exactly like looking into an Eye of Harmony. If it’s malfunctioning, it’s like looking into the untempered schism, which I don’t recommend. But everything’s stable now, we could-”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to look into the vortex?” Rose interrupted, and …

“Right … erm, well ,” he hedged, scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, it isn’t actually the vortex, but you’re probably not completely wrong. Best not risk it.”

Excitement abating, the Doctor slumped against the chamber and at that moment realized that he had been changed into jim jams.

Jim jams. Healing comas.

Huh.

At least these were his own pajamas, and not some ‘friend’ of Jackie’s, though how strange was it that he owned his own pajamas in the first place?

“C’mere,” Rose said, beckoning him back toward the couch, which she was sitting next to, but not on. Not your typical decision, but he had likely taken up all of the space earlier. “I made you some tea.”

It really wasn’t worth it, cataloguing the similarities between this and when he had first regenerated into this body … even though the list did seem to be growing.

“Perfect! Just what I need!” the Doctor smiled as he walked over, taking a seat next to Rose on the floor.

Silence fell as he sipped his tea, and he found himself unsure of what to do or say next. There was too much to say, and he’d certainly done a piss poor job of organizing his thoughts earlier. 

“Feeling better?” she asked, after another moment. 

Small talk. He could definitely do small talk.

“Mmm yes, very much so.”

“Better enough to talk?”

The Doctor coughed, having swallowed his tea incorrectly (bloody hybrid body, still acting up), before nodding. Rose moved onto the couch and he scrambled to join her. 

“So,” she began and paused, face scrunching up in concentration (it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who found this whole business incredibly awkward), “I guess … what is it that you actually want? Aside from a working TARDIS, that is.”

His brows furrowed.

Sure, there were plenty of ways he could answer that question and have all of them be true, but he had a feeling that she was looking for a specific type of ‘want’. 

Problem was, the Doctor wasn’t quite sure what that was .

“What?” he asked, in lieu of any better things to say (as the runner up response was to ask for some jam, or maybe a banana, or some of the takeaway from the shop down the corner and blimey, he was hungry). 

“This whole time, all of it, since you c- since you were- since you stopped just bein’ a hand- ” the Doctor had a list of complaints and corrections that he barely held in “- nobody’s asked what you wanted. The D- the other Doctor chose for both of us, really, and I hadn’t really looked at it that way before. An’ I wanna know. What do you want?”

Removed from the actual experience itself (and therefore not feeling incredibly, deathly ill), visions of the slight peek he’d gotten four days ago of his own timeline played in his head.

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

“I want this.”

She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Because as long as you’re happy, everything else is just- just semantics. I mean, obviously it’s going to be a bit dull until the TARDIS has grown enough for proper travel, but I think we can make do?” At least, he really hoped so. It hadn’t been going swimmingly so far, but the Doctor sincerely hoped that he could chalk all that up to the initial side effects of the meta crisis, compounded by all of the, er … technical difficulties he had run into while constructing the TARDIS’ growth tank. Also, his new hybrid body needed much more maintenance than he was used to, including sleep. Really was rubbish without regular sleep. Such a waste of time.

“So, if I were to suggest you moving into the flat?”

He opened his mouth, intending to immediately agree, but then frowned. The TARDIS was here, after all. And he absolutely could not move her. Not at this stage. Not until she could connect to other dimensions on her own. The Doctor looked over at the quasi-dimensional artron chamber, once again wishing that he could switch it to transparent and watch the process unfold.

“How moved in is moved in?” he asked once he forced himself to turn back toward Rose.

“You’d sleep there, shower there, eat some of your meals. Most of your clothes an’ stuff would be there. Y’know. It’d be where you live. With me. If you want.”

“And that’s what you want?” he double checked, trying not to telegraph his surprise - he must have missed a lot while in a coma, as last he knew they were teetering on the edge of a row.

Rose rolled her eyes, and that was much more in line with where he thought they were at, er, relationship-wise.

“Well, I don’t fancy living in a clocktower office. When I’m done working, I’d like to not still be at work, ta.”

She did make some excellent points … but still, it all implied that they would be staying together. And that was what he wanted, of course it was, but the Doctor still couldn’t help but feel he had missed something crucial despite the fact that he could now remember everything clearly.

“You blew up my job. ”

“I love you, too. But I’m still mad at you.”

“You’ve still got two beating.”

Maybe there wasn’t something to have missed. Human emotions were relatively complex, after all, and there was no rule requiring them to happen in isolation.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, realizing as he did that to Rose it was coming from seemingly out of nowhere.

This was confirmed as she blinked, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know. Maybe a little, but …”

“But?” the Doctor repeated, unable to stand the suspense.

“It’s hardly the first time we’ve had a fight, yeah?”

He nodded, unsure of where she was planning on going with this and hoping that he wouldn’t need to begin apologizing for every insensitive thing he’d said or done since they first met. It would take ages.

“Well, we always end up workin’ it out. And we did live together, travelin’ on the TARDIS, whether we had a row or not, so …” Rose shrugged, now examining her fingernails.

Speaking of the TARDIS, though …

“First things first,” the Doctor began, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up and began pacing, “I want it on record that I would absolutely love to live in a flat with you, with carpets and doors and things. Assuming we’d spend much of our time traveling about, that is.” He turned back toward her, having paced his way back over to the TARDIS’ QDA chamber. “The thing is, it’s … I don’t want you to think that- the TARDIS. She needs me here. This is a critical development period. For the next three to six months, the TARDIS will be growing in the chamber, learning how to connect to and create dimensions. Until she can manage it, I can’t move her and she requires near-constant monitoring. Every hour or two.” 

“She’s like a newborn baby,” Rose commented, getting up and joining him at the chamber, where she stroked the side.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose this’ll have to do then,” she reluctantly … agreed? “As long as we’re living in the flat as soon as she’s moveable, mind. The bathroom here is two floors away.”

“It’s a clocktower, Rose! There’s only so much space.” The Doctor scrunched up his face as he said the word. 

“Then why’d you pick this place? I know because of the Rift, but doesn’t it stretch further than just the tower?”

“Nope,” he shrugged.

It’s not as though he hadn’t checked. 

“Really?”

“Small rift.”

“Yeah,” Rose laughed, “a small rift right under Big Ben.”

The Doctor laughed with her, amazed that he finally could.

Then he frowned.

It was all a little too good to be true.

Was this real?

“Hey.”

He refocused. Rose was right in front of him, their eyes locked.

“You were getting that look in your eyes,” she informed him.

“Look? What look?” the Doctor asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew. Some sort of dazed tell, some sort of glaringly obvious indicator that his grasp on reality was failing him.

“This look you get when you start thinkin’ you’re in the wrong universe.”

Wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe.

“Well, I am in the wrong universe,” he couldn’t help but point out.

“Yeah, I know. Me too. But y’know what?”

Rose wrapped her arms around him, and it was almost as if she were his tether, grounding him to this new reality they’d found themselves in.

“It’s better with two.”

[scotianostra]

Vigil Cairn, Calton Hill.

An often overlooked monument on Calton Hill, but an important one.  You don’t have to be a patriot of Scotland, or indeed a supporter of the Independence movement to go and inspect it, the Cairn is the first place I learnt about the Scottish missionary Jane Haining, who, rather than save herself, decided to stay with the Jewish children she was helping in Hungary and was shipped to  Auschwitz II-Birkenau death camp and ultimately the gas chamber......

The following is from one of those that was involved with the Vigil throughout it’s years and was first published in The National in 2018. 

In the 1992 General Election Scotland’s democratic deficit was exposed. Out of 62 Scottish seats the Tories only managed to get 11. But it mattered nothing as the overwhelming victory of the Tories in England guaranteed five more years of Tory rule for Scotland. We were already fed up with the greed-obsessed, destroy-the-unions and support-the -rich policies of right-wing ideologues.

As the results came out on April 11 a demonstration was quickly organised for the weekend. Originally set up by the Scottish Campaign to Resist the Atomic Menace (SCRAM) by the time they got to Edinburgh, they were met by several hundred people outside the Royal High School, on Edinburgh’s Regent Road., at the bottom of Calton Hill.

The word had gone out to anti-nuclear, Green and anti-Poll Tax groups and among the gathered crowd there was a strange combination of anger, resentment against the political system that forced us to follow the wishes of the English electorate and a feeling that something had to be done.

Initially the plan had been to carry on the protest till the following Monday but pretty soon the discussion was around the need for a more permanent protest. People knew fine well that Scotland’s voice was always ignored in Westminster – where the posh-boy ruling elites had always acted as if Scotland had been absorbed into England after the odious Treaty of Union in 1707.

There was a great deal of anger but above all was the awareness that something had to be done. There was widespread agreement and so The Vigil for A Scottish came into being.

From the beginning the plan was to maintain a vigil till the need for a Scottish Parliament representing the wishes of the Scottish Electorate was recognised.

In those first heady days people were sleeping on the pavement outside the gates of the RHS and those few hardy souls were joined by many others during the daytime

This was not led by any political group but was a spontaneous eruption of political activity that throughout all the years of its existence managed to avoid being dragged into the posturing and infighting that bedevils standard politics. Some level of organisation was however needed, especially when a fire was lit in an old oil drum that appeared at the site. This was the symbol of the will for change, a fire that would be kept alight till Scotland’s voice was heard.

And so it was that the organisation called Democracy for Scotland – still an aspiration more than two decades later – was born. A street-level gathering of environmental campaigners, anti-poll tax activists and a wide variety of concerned individuals came together to form what became known as The Vigil.

Basic organisational necessities like finding wood for the fire and making sure there was a rota that ensured a permanent presence on Regent Road – and finding enough people to fill that rota – were the order of the day. Within a few weeks of the start a weel-kent Glasgow singer donated a Portakabin that made life a great deal more comfortable for the hardy souls who were prepared to sit by the fire in all the varieties of inclement weather to which Edinburgh is so prone.

As the political reaction to the glaring democratic deficit developed, other, bigger groups like Common Cause, the suspiciously short-lived Scotland United, the Campaign for a Scottish Assembly and the Scottish Constitutional Convention all began to organise protests and other events, and The Vigil, directly opposite HQ St Andrew’s, variously referred to as Colonial HQ or the Lubianka, became the focus of many meetings.

At The Vigil there was resistance to the idea of The Vigil being dominated by any party political organisation but everyone was welcome to come along to the fire. And people came, from all over Scotland, from the Borders and Gallloway, from the Highlands and the northern isles. Some came once a month to do a shift or two while others living nearby became regulars.

However the commitment of The Vigil to decide everything by consensus was tested early doors as some experienced political activists tried to create a party structure for Democracy for Scotland. Thankfully the commitment to consensus decision-making, by whoever was around the fire at any given time, eventually ensured that DFS never became a “real” political party.

Hand in hand with the idea of consensus decision-making was a sense of fun about The Vigil – and not because it was staffed by young people. It always attracted a broad spectrum not just of political opinion but of age and background. Unemployed labourers and university lecturers, nurses and social workers, waitresses and hotel porters, bus drivers and builders – The Vigil was always a real reflection of the disparate make-up of Scottish society.

In order to publicise the cause, whole series of events were staged over its five years, including history lessons, open-air concerts at The Vigil itself and on Calton Hill, pub gigs, even a Pavement Party in the first year, timed to coincide with the Royal Garden Party at nearby Holyrood. – and some folk attended both! From the start, though there was considerable interest from the foreign and English media, only in Scotland did the media seem to be frightened of what The Vigil meant. Or perhaps they were so hide-bound in their involvement with the main political parties that they could not comprehend what The Vigil signified.

This was shown most forcefully on December 12, 1992 – the date of a vast demonstration for Scottish Home Rule that attracted more than 25,000 people on to the streets of Edinburgh. The media coverage was grudging to say the least, all the more remarkable when this is the equivalent of a quarter of a million people marching in London.

There was then a reluctance to deal with the depth of anger at the continuing lack of recognition for Scottish political dissatisfaction among the media. One point should illustrate this. The demonstration took place exactly 200 years to the day after a convention took place in Edinburgh calling for democratic reform, the result of which was a series of show trials of leading reformers, ending in deportation to Botany Bay for those selected as being ringleaders by the Establishment of the day.

The first group of those transported – known as the Scottish Political Martyrs, one of whom was Thomas Muir – have a memorial to them in the Calton Cemetery on Regent Road, though there is no plaque or other mention of this magnificent obelisk raised by public subscription in 1840.

The fact that so many Scots were echoing the demands of the Societies of Friends of the People in 1792 was not thought worthy of notice!

All of the Scottish media were informed of this remarkable anniversary but through pusillanimity or the exercise of political control saw fit to ignore it.

It wasn’t only the media who were unsure how to deal with The Vigil. The democracy march was strongly supported by The Vigil, who helped to organise it, but on the day we found ourselves excluded from the platform in the Meadows where the march ended.This wasn’t the only time this happened – the dead hand of political party influence making sure that what they couldn’t control they would ignore. The Vigil was kept going and supported by people of all political parties and persuasions but because it would not conform to others’ rules was seen as a threat.The extent of support was remarkable – one day a brand new Mercedes drew up and a well-dressed woman, yes she had blue-rinsed hair and was wearing a twin-set and pearls, came over to the Portakabin and said: “I am a lifelong Tory voter, but I think you are absolutely right that the democratic wishes of the Scottish people are not well served by the current arrangement. I think you people are doing a remarkable job and I wish you every success.”She then put a 20-pound note in The Vigil collecting tin and drove off.

That is an example of what people at The Vigil found all over Scotland. For its first anniversary, pro-democracy marchers came in from the four points of the compass to meet at The Vigil and raise the Democracy Cairn on the top of Calton Hill. The marchers, a handful that grew to a small crowd as they neared the capital, found support and friendship everywhere they went.

For that is the other thing about The Vigil – it survived on the generosity of the ordinary people of Scotland. Sure, there were T-shirts and posters and badges but most money came from collecting tins. Just as the wood to keep The Vigil fire burning was delivered by a veritable host of friends. Builders, joiners, gardeners and DIY enthusiasts all turned up – some regularly, some just once – to make their contribution, a contribution that always made those at The Vigil feel proud.

Famous and not so famous artists created sculptures andbanners, posters and artwork – much of it of a humorous bent – and many musicians and bands played for free at Vigil gatherings and ceilidhs.

I have not mentioned any of these wonderful people by name – because I believe that everyone who contributed was as important as everyone else. One or two people put in remarkable hours at The Vigil through vicious winter months, others tirelessly kept up the necessary logistic support and yet others came only once for a few hours and made their contribution as so many did by simply putting their hands in their pockets.

The personnel changed over the years, though there was a core group who stuck it out for almost the whole five years. Some people put so much effort into The Vigil they burnt themselves out. Others found love and left to build new lives – there were several Vigil babies. Others moved away and yet others found other responsibilities to fill their spare time.

In the years since The Vigil closed – on the announcement that the Scottish Parliament was going to happen – many stalwart Vigil people have passed on but their legacy can be seen in the current resurgence of the Yes movement.

Looking back it seems that The Vigil played a key part in the agitation for our parliament – not by force of numbers or even by argument, but simply by existing.

In the early 1990s the dumbing down of the British media was proceeding apace and increasingly newspaper editors wanted pictures before they would run a story.

The topic of devolution, despite the best efforts of Labour and the Tories, would not go away and partly this was because those editors always knew The Vigil was there – it was a permanent photo-op! The actual site of The Vigil fire disappeared due to road-widening many years ago, but as we carry on the fight to create true democracy, you can find the Democracy Cairn on the top of Calton Hill. And, opposite the gates of the Royal High School, the original choice for the location of a new Scottish Parliament in 1979, there is a small brass plaque.

And this I do know. In the five years that The Vigil sat it was a privilege to work alongside the many individuals who gave of their time and energy to keep the struggle going. The Vigil was never specifically nationalistic – it was about getting the parliament – but the devout wish of all who did a shift or more, that Scotland would in time be a true democratic land, is at last in sight.

[daisiesforlacey]

clouds - chapter 4 : altostratus

Pair : Julie x Alive!Luke

Summary : After her mother’s death, Julie Molina moved away from Hollywood, across the country, to Ithaca, New York. She’s left behind her two loves in life: her best friend, Luke, and her music. There, she finds new friends and enemies, new experiences and joys, she might even find herself. Every night, Luke calls Julie to talk about the clouds. But what if Luke is hiding something?

Word Court : 4,148

Warnings : N/A (Unless you see any, if so please notify me!)

Notes : This is really just fluff!! I love Alex and Willie, absolute babies. Please please leave feedback, I love knowing my writing is appreciated!!

Masterlist

Taglist

---

Julie didn’t hate English. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She was good with words, they came naturally to her. She seemed to think in sentences, which made writing essays one of the easiest things for her to do in school. Her favorite thing to do was to write songs, and they seemed to be everywhere, in every part of literature: poems were songs without a backing track, metaphors described heartbreak and being alive and feeling free just the way lyrics do, sentences were structured with a sort of reading rhythm, a pulse. She really did enjoy English. 

It was just sometimes, English could be a bore. 

Her teacher was going on and on about the importance of how authors write their stories or tales, and yeah, Julie could get behind that. But right now, as she drew shapes with her eraser on her desk, the monologue was putting her to sleep.

She pushed her loose curls back from where they were casting a curtain over her eyes and looked across the classroom until her mind wandered far enough away to where she couldn’t hear the teacher.

Last night, Luke had seemed weird. Weirder than normal. She wasn’t used to having to pry information out of the boy, he was usually an open book. Her brow furrowed; he had seemed so reluctant to tell her about Reggie and Alex, people she had already met last year. 

And why hadn’t he told her about his family? Emily and Mitch had treated her like their own daughter, always inviting her to stay for dinner and to ‘stop by whenever, you’re no burden,’ and they treated Luke like he had hung the moon. The last thing she had heard about them was a few months ago, when Luke had ranted about how they just didn’t understand them sometimes, but Julie had figured that that was pretty normal. She pursed her lips and thought maybe it had just slipped his mind; she didn’t tell him too much about Carlos’ ghost hunting, or her father’s new photography excursions. 

But she couldn’t help but worry. She and Luke were thick as thieves, they would talk for hours, although that had been cut short as of late, about everything. What if he was hiding something big from her? What had happened to one of his parents? Julie would totally understand his aversion of the topic. 

But what if he and his friends were in trouble? What if they had gotten arrested? What if he was locked away in some juvenile institute where he only had one call a day, and he had used that to call her? What if he had tripped, or fell off of a ladder, or got hit by a car, or done something so completely Luke that he had landed himself in the ICU?

Oh god, what if he was doing drugs! Julie didn’t know if she could handle it if Luke had gone off the deep end. 

“Partners?”

Julie stopped her doodling to look up to her left at the blond. She smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, of course.”

Nick was in two of her classes, music and English, and so far, had proved to be nothing like his girlfriend. He was sweet and smart and all around helpful; he had been her tour guide on the first day of school. She just didn’t understand how someone as nice as him, could end up with such a foil of himself as Carrie. See, she did pay attention. 

“I’m not going to lie, I completely zoned out. What are we doing?” She looked down to see that she had an assignment on her desk.

Nick laughed as he explained the assignment to her, having to do with last night's reading. As they completed it, they chatted.

“Your guitar solo yesterday was pretty killer,” Julie winced, she was yet again picking up more traits of Luke’s, “Did you write that yourself?,”

“Thanks! Yep, I tried to make it Brian May-esque with a hint of Jeremy Spencer. I don’t know if that had translated, though.”

To be honest, Julie didn’t know either. She knew some names here and there, she certainly knew Brian May, but this was more Luke’s territory. And even if she did, she wasn’t exactly paying close attention to it. So she played it safe.

“I think you definitely achieved the vibe you wanted.” Julie scribbled down an answer. She knew he wouldn’t bring up her lack of a performance.

Nick hummed, changing the subject, “You go to the park a lot.” Her eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened. “Oh, um, not to be creepy or anying. Although that really did sound creepy, it’s not like I watch you or where you go. I barely notice you! I mean, no, not like that, well I mean I do notice you, we have classes together. We’re talking, we work on projects, but I guess you know that.” He hadn’t looked up from his paper, if anything, his shoulder seemed to shrink in on themselves. 

“What I meant to say is that I have workouts out there sometimes, and you always seem to be there.” He ran a hand over his face before shooting her a lopsided grin. 

Julie huffed, “Yeah I like to look at the sky a lot. Or sometimes I just go there to clear my head.” She sent a sideways glance his way, she had never heard him rant like that, “Are you okay?”

“For sure. Me? Tip-top shape.” He nodded before flicking his hair back. 

While she didn’t particularly like small talk, yet she somehow felt obligated to continue, “How’s practice been going?”

Nick launched into a full fledged word dump of phrases she didn’t know the meanings of, and didn’t want to interrupt to ask. He became enthusiastically animated, forgetting his work and talking with his hands, seeming to bounce out of the seat. His face shone like the sun in the dreary classroom as he went on to talk about strategies and game plays and how they would win this year's championship if only so and so would tighten up here. She didn’t comprehend half of what he was saying, but she couldn’t help but listen. 

She wondered if that’s what she looked like talking about music.

---

Julie sat down at the piano bench with a sigh. Mrs. Harrison, thankfully, had let her redo her piano piece today, which would hopefully save her spot in the music program. Her class stared at her with disinterest, she knew that they didn’t expect anything, but she was ready to prove them wrong. She had copied down Luke’s song onto sheet music and had set it on the piano, then looked to Flynn. She shot her an ear splitting grin and a rigid thumbs up.

Julie could do this.

She played the opening chords of the song, hearing a few gasps from her classmates. Julie moved her hands up, then down, down, down, then back up. The chord progression was nothing revolutionary, but for her, it was everything. This was Luke’s song. She could see Nick smiling from the corner of her eye. 

“‘Sometimes I think, I’m falling down. I wanna cry, I’m calling out, for one more try to come alive.’” Her voice was strong, and had yet to fail her. Julie had worked on the song before the school day with Flynn’s support. She could feel a smile carving onto her face.

“‘And when I feel lost and alone, I know that I can make it home. Fight through the dark and find the spark.” She could feel pure joy fill her soul, “‘Life is a risk, but I will take it, close my eyes and jump. Together, I think that we can make it. C’mon let’s run!’”

Julie threw her head back, “‘And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever. And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together, bright forever.” These were Luke’s lyrics, about the two of them, about their friendship. She could almost hear him singing along with her. 

Julie could hear Carrie whisper to Nick, “Is this really happening?”

Nick nodded, not taking his eyes off of Julie, “Just go with it.”

“‘In times that I doubted myself, I felt like I needed somе help, stuck in my head with nothing left. I feel somеthing around me now, so unclear, lifting me out. I found the ground I'm marching on!’” Julie nodded her head along with her fingers running across the keys. Luke had been there for her through all of this; her mother’s death, her moving away, her finding new friends. This was their song. 

As she finished playing, she didn’t register what was happening. She stood up and Flynn raced to tackle her in a hug. Her class clapped politely, but she could hear Nick over them all. Maybe she shouldn’t have played such a song like that in front of all of her classmates, but she couldn’t take it back now. Anyway, it seemed like she had done a pretty good job.

Mrs. Harrison set a hand on her shoulder, “That was wonderful! I’m so glad that you have decided to share that with us, what a song!” She spoke in a quieter tone only for Julie to hear, “I’ll email your father later.”

At lunch, Flynn showed her the video that she had taken. It was grainy and a backpack was covering half of the screen, but you could hear her voice ring out. She had Flynn send it to her, to which she then texted it to Luke.

“That was Luke’s song?” Flynn screeched. “All about you two; your friendship, you supporting each other? Where can I order friends like that, because it’s not on Amazon!”

Julie blushed, “Luke and I used to write songs all of the time. And, hey! I’m your supporting friend! You didn’t even have to order me, I was delivered from L.A just for you.”

“True, true. You also have unparalleled math skills.”

“Try telling that to Pythagoras.” 

Julie almost choked on her chicken nuggets as Nick walked over to their table, having to go out of his way to get to their part of the cafeteria. Carrie and the rest of her friends had yet to show up, and Nick had already set his lunch box at his own table. He slid into the seat across from Flynn and Julie. 

“That was amazing! Your performance in music class! If you have a talent like that, why haven’t you used it beforehand!” He unknowingly echoed Luke’s words.

Julie tried to act casual and shrugged stiffly, “I don’t know. It just hasn’t been the right time.” That wasn’t completely a lie. 

“You have to perform at the dance! Literally, you belong on stage. That was pure magic.” Nick’s eyes were wide in disbelief and he had a stunned smile on his face.

Julie froze, “Oh, I don’t know, that was only in front of the other kids in music class-”

“That’s perfect!” Flynn cut Julie off, “You have to!”

Julie gave Flynn the most withering glare she could muster, “I don’t think I’ll be able to come up with a whole set in two weeks. Although, thanks for thinking so. Anyway, they probably already have a band booked and everything.”

Nick shook his head, “Nope, they were just going to get the computer teacher to jerry rig a playlist, or at least that’s what I overheard. And Dirty Candi will also be performing, so I’m sure Carrie wouldn’t mind sharing the stage for a song or two.”

Julie and Flynn shared a glance. There was no way that Carrie would do such a thing. 

But Julie nodded, knowing that she definitely wouldn’t play at the dance, “I’ll think about it.”

---

Alex had had a pretty rough day so far. He had woken up late for school, smashing his hand on his alarm in frustration. The sky was way too light for him to have not slept in. When he saw the time, he quickly moved to put on clothes, hopping into his shorts as he ran to his bathroom to brush his teeth. His hair was a wreck, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had dried drool on his cheek, but before he could fix anything, he heard Reggie’s blaring car horn and a muffled shout.

“Alex! Your friends are here!” His mother yelled from the kitchen. 

He grabbed his jean jacket and an apple from the kitchen, before kissing his mom on the cheek and dashing out the door. He got into the passenger's seat of the blue Honda Civic, taking a bite.

“Wow, you look absolutely terrible.” Reggie said with a low whistle.

Luke punched his shoulder from the back seat, but then ruefully nodded. “You’re not exactly prime Alex right now.”

He glared at the two of them, grumbling around his apple.

Reggie raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off of the road because he was a safe driver, thank you very much. “What was that?”

“I said, at least my bad days look better than you guys’ good days.”

Luke let out a hearty laugh, “Sure, like you didn’t just find out how to dress yourself.” Alex had had a… difficult time figuring out what his personal style was. As they moved out of middle school and into high school, everyone seemed to find their signature thing except for him: Luke barely knew what sleeves were, and Reggie wouldn’t be caught dead out of his leather jacket-flannel combo. Alex had tried a few different things but nothing seemed to feel like him. After a few years, he decidedly settled on a few signature items; a pale pink hoodie, a denim jacket, and his fanny pack, which carried around his EpiPen and inhaler along with a few first aid supplies. He quickly found out that Luke’s sudden growth spurt over the summer before junior year came with it’s fair share of clumsiness. 

Alex went to reach for his fanny pack before realizing that he forgot it at his house. “We have to turn around. I left my fanny pack at home.”

Reggie tapped his finger on the steering wheel, “If we do we’ll be late. Again.” He shot a look through his mirror at Luke who gave a timid smile. 

“Please,” Alex whined, drawing out the ‘e,’ “I’ll go pick up a pizza for practice if we do! I promise.”

Reggie mulled it over in his head before swinging a uey, “Fine. But you better not get pineapple on it. That shit’s nasty.”

“It is not!” Luke placed a hand over his heart as if he was Caesar on the Ides of March. “Pineapple on pizza is a gift!”

“No! What’s a gift is my country songs, especially Home is Where My Horse Is. Pineapple is unnecessary and an unholy offense.”

“Puh-leeze, your country songs are the unholy offenses! Don’t even try it!”

Alex just rolled his eyes at them.

Now, Alex was walking downtown to pick up said pizza; half ham and pineapple, half pepperoni. The pizza shop was only a few minutes from his house, and yeah, he could’ve borrowed Reggie’s car, but he needed to clear his head. Twilight was setting in like a blanket over the world. Or at least, his part of the world. There was a slight chill in the air as he gripped his fanny pack slung across his chest with two hands.

The day just kept getting worse. He had failed a Physics test, even after Reggie had helped him study. He spilt chili from his hot dog on his hoodie, leading him to steal one of Luke’s extra shirts he kept in the car, surprisingly one with sleeves. He then proceeded to choke on that same hotdog in front of the whole cafeteria, forcing Luke to perform the Heimlich. And after all of that, his hair still wasn’t even remotely tamed, sticking up in every direction. 

His terrible day wasn’t helped by being crashed into. 

He fell to the ground with a yelp, and so did the skateboarder. The wind was knocked out of him as he tumbled and coughed, before standing up.

��Aw man, you dinged my board.” The other boy said, inspecting his skateboard. 

Alex couldn’t believe him and scoffed. The nerve on some people. “I dinged your board? Dude, you ran me over! You’re lucky I didn’t-”

The skateboarder took off his helmet to reveal locks of soft looking brown hair. Time seemed to slow down, or maybe stop, Alex couldn’t be sure. What he was sure about was that he was one of the most handsome people he had ever seen. He had high cheekbones and warm looking brown eyes and the softest looking lips. Alex was going to hyperventilate if he would ever remember to breathe. 

He swallowed as the boy's eyes softened, “Hey, sorry I ran into you. I thought you could hear me coming.”

Alex let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, sometimes I just get wrapped up in my head.”

They stared at each other, and he was sure that the skater’s eyes traced him up and down as he stuck his hand out, “I’m, uh, I’m Willie.”

Alex grabbed his hand to shake. Could a handshake really be that attractive? “Oh, uh, Alex.”

“So, um, what brings you to downtown, man? You sightseeing?” Willie gestured up to the brick buildings lining the street.

Alex nodded before letting out a humorless chuckle, “Yeah, actually I was having a minor crisis. I came to pick up a pizza for my friends, but my day has not been too great. I was just trying to clear my head before you tried to crack it open.” He wanted to facepalm, his attempt at small talk was abominable. And why the hell was he telling a complete stranger all of this information? For all he knew, Willie could be a secret spy looking to murder him in a back alley for some reason unbeknownst to him. 

Willie laughed, his eyes crinkling, “I did pancake you, huh?” Alex nodded at the ground, before he heard his laugh die. “Uh sorry, minor crisis?”

“I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, literally. And my day hasn’t gotten any better, it’s just been mishap after mishap. Shouldn’t we catch a break?”

Willie tilted his head, “Who’s we?”

“Oh, uh, me and my band mates. We all seem to have the worst luck in the world.” Alex shoved his hands in his pockets and chuckled. “Yeah, I almost died eating a hotdog.”

“Woah! No way! Weirdly,” Willie gave him a lopsided smile, “Mozart died eating a hotdog.”

Alex nodded, “Wow, that’s actually comforting. Thank you.” He smiled at Willie, “Hey do you mind if I ask you to tag along to come pick up this pizza? I mean, if you’re busy then obviously don’t, or like, if you have someplace to be. But I mean it’s almost dinner, and you can have some of it, I mean I didn’t pay for it, as long as you like ham and pineapple, because only one of my bandmates like it-”

“Yeah, totally. I don’t have anything on my schedule.” Willie smiled, and Alex knew then that his day had gotten exponentially better.

---

“I love my family, I really do, but I’m so glad that I can come over to your house.” Flynn had flopped on Julie's made up bed, scrolling on her phone, as Julie finished up her homework at her desk. “Like three screaming brothers? No thanks.”

Julie nodded as her phone dinged, “Well you’re always welcome here, you know Dad loves having someone to rant to about his photography.” She checked the message, it was from Luke.

Luke : You killed it! Stabbed-it-in-the-heart killed it! Knew you would :D

Julie rolled her eyes and shot him back a message.

Julie : Thanks for the song! I won’t be able to talk today, Flynn’s spending the night and I don’t want to be rude :(

The three little dots showed up, then disappeared. She frowned. It’s not like they haven’t missed a call before, so she sent him another text.

Julie : Maybe we could facetime and write some songs tomorrow???

When she didn’t get a response she set her phone down and finished the English assignment from earlier. When she finished, she pulled up their favorite show on her laptop, then joined Flynn on her bed. “I thought we could catch up, I missed Sunday’s episode.”

Flynn’s eyes bugged out of her head, as she whipped her neck so hard Julie thought she had gotten whiplash. “You missed it? Oh my god! You know I’m not one for spoilers, but shit went down. Like seriously. You’re going to blow a fuse. We are totally watching it.”

And they did. And Flynn was right. Shit did go down. And Julie totally blew a fuse. Turns out, her favorite ghost boy band characters had gotten themselves trapped in a deal with some other evil ghost: either they play at his club forever or they disappear from existence. It was a lot more emotional baggage than Flynn and Julie had signed up for when they first started watching, but now they were hooked.

“Oh my god, that was such a cliffhanger. How could they do that?” Julie wailed as she threaded her fingers through her hair. “They deserve so much better than this cruel world!”

Flynn nodded solemnly, “And we have to wait until Sunday to see what happens next. Life just isn’t fair.”

Julie hadn’t noticed Luke had texted her back until she got up to use the restroom.

Luke : Ok

Julie scoffed. The response was totally unlike Luke. No, it was totally like Luke when he was in a bad mood that he knew, deep down, was just him being overdramatic. She rolled her eyes and she knew she shouldn’t take it personally, but it still stung. They had told each other everything, even something as menial as a bad day. Whatever, his bad mood wasn’t going to stop her from having a fun night with her friends.

Her father called from downstairs for the two girls to come and eat dinner, and as she raced downstairs, she could smell the microwaved spaghetti. 

They made their way to the set dinner table, before they prayed and dug in.

“I think we’re being haunted.” Carlos started. 

Flynn rolled her eyes, “Nobody has died in this house or mine. It’s nothing like Kira and her Hologram Band.”

Carlos wagged his piece of garlic bread at her, “No, we’re definitely being haunted. By a ghost chef who never got to achieve his dream of making the best French Dip in the world. I have definitive proof.”

“Oh really? And where is this proof?”

“On my iPad.” Carlos made the move to get up from his seat.

“Mijo, eat your salad.” Ray said, then turned to the girl, “How was your day Flynn?”

“Pretty good, Mr.Molina. Julie performed that song that she was working on this morning, and let me tell you, it was amazing!” Flynn gushed.

“I saw the email. I’m glad that we don’t have to go through the options of choosing another elective for you. What were the options? Hospitality and Tourism and Marketing?”

“Yeah, nothing I am remotely interested in.” Julie picked the tomatoes out of her salad. “I think Mrs.Harrison and the class really liked the song, or at least my friends did.”

Flynn nodded, “Especially Nick.”:

Julie paled and fought the urge to elbow her friend. She looked down at her lap.

Carlos’ eyebrows shot up, “Lacrosse Nick?”

Flynn looked skeptical, “...Yes? How do you know about Lacrosse Nick? Floppy hair? Dating a demon?”

“Yeah, he’s an assistant coach for my baseball team. Something about community service and all of that. There’s another Nick on my team, but we call that one Lacrosse Nick. Because, well, that’s all that he talks about.” Carlos explained.

“Yes, it does make you wonder why he doesn’t coach a Lacrosse team, but nevertheless. Julie, how was your day?”

Julie looked up at her father, “About the same. I guess there's a dance in a couple weeks and I was wondering if I could go with Flynn.” She didn’t dare mention the part of her playing. She didn’t want her father as well and Flynn to egg her on. She wasn’t ready to go onstage, by herself, in front of the entire school.

“Of course, as long as it’s alright with her parents.” 

Flynn nodded, responding with a mouthful of spaghetti, making Ray cringe, “Yep, as long as I babysit the next day, they’re totally cool with it.” Flynn looked to Julie, but said nothing of playing the dance. 

--

Taglist: @siennanoelle01, @ scootermccall, @roses-and-ponds-and-bowties​ 

[myglogic]

Menace (Park Chanyeol x Reader) | 03

03 of ?

Other parts can be found in my Masterlist in my bio!

Genre: Mafia AU

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader, very light Jongin (Kai) x Reader

Word count: 3,7k

Summary: Y/N’s job is dangerous. Working for one of the most dangerous mafia gangs, EXO, was not easy and Carter was aware. Her newest mission was by far the hardest one. Pretending to be Park Chanyeol’s new secretary to find out more about his successful company. It was easy to kill people and do missions related to that. But it was not easy to not fall in love with Park Chanyeol.

A/N: Hi guys. I know it’s been a long time! I honestly do not have an excuse for why it took so long. But here it is! The chapter still isn’t the highlight but it is the start for the real drama! So stay tuned ♥

Your breathing was heavy. You tried to comprehend what just happened. An open window and a CD. Someone entered your apartment somehow. You were trying to look for any hints. You also grabbed your gun that was hidden in a closet. Back then when EXO trained you, they also showed you how to read all the signs of a break-in and how you knew for sure that your apartment was not bugged.

You slowly searched every corner of your apartment. There were no bugging devices or cameras. You closed the window and looked at the CD. The cover of the CD was empty. You were never scared. Ever. But this felt weird. For the first time in years, you were alone. You needed to handle this professionally.

You decided to take the CD, carefully analyzing it, just to make sure that it was safe. There seemed nothing wrong with it. You took it out of its cover and put it in the CD slot of your laptop. There were pictures of you and Chanyeol on it. You recognized them. Those pictures were from a few days where Chanyeol had meetings. You were walking the building. It was from work, nothing too bad, right?

Wrong. The next few pictures showed you and Jongin, Baekhyun and the others. You didn’t know when these were taken. You didn’t even remember what kind of day that was. You were in casual clothing, spending normal time with them.

This meant that the person, who broke in your apartment knew both your normal self and Lee Miso. That person knew who you were. You expected something like a threat. But there was absolutely nothing. What were they trying to tell you?

You decided to keep quiet and investigate on your own. If you would inform EXO then they might be in danger as well and do something rash. You had to make sure to be as discreet as possible.

Your night was restless but you managed to get a few hours of sleep. The next day at the office seemed normal. No one was behaving weird or anything. You needed to be careful. Suspecting was a part of the plan. Even though you liked your colleagues a lot, you had no choice.

You sat by your desk, thinking about last night’s incidents as the beeping sound on the phone brought you back to reality. Chanyeol called you and you slowly got up to see him. You didn’t see him after the supermarket incident. You really hoped that his mood was alright today.

“You called me, sir?”, you said as you entered his office and closed the door behind you.

“Yeah... You arranged a meeting with Daesung Electronics again?”, he said, his tone surprised.

Daesung Electronics was a company that Chanyeol wanted to partner up with for a very long time now. You messed up his schedule back then and he missed his meeting with Daesung Electronics. You knew that this was very important to him, so you went there personally and convinced them to give Park Industries another chance. They seemed to be impressed by you, so they said yes. You were very proud of yourself of course.

“Oh, yes, I did!”, you told him and smiled.

“I called them and they talked about you. They told me that you went there by yourself?”, Chanyeol said and looked at you.

“I messed your schedule up, Mr. Park. I knew that this was very important to you. I had to do something.”, you explained.

Chanyeol smiled. He genuinely smiled for the first time. “Wow. I thought that it was over for sure. Thank you.”, he said. “Seems like you’re not that useless.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Don’t think that I didn’t see your eyes rolling!”, he said but in a joking way.

You grinned. “Sorry.”

He seemed... different. Yeah. It was like someone else was talking to you. You liked this Chanyeol a lot more than the hard-ass boss. “Oh and Ms. Lee?”, Chanyeol asked.

“Yes?”

“Please clear my schedule next week on Wednesday, okay?”, he commanded.

You wondered why. “Of course, sir.”, you nodded and left the room. What was his plan? You didn’t know why you were so curious. Maybe Chanyeol himself was starting to become interesting. He even opened up a little bit. Maybe you would be able to get information out of him. Maybe.

You went to the office kitchen to get coffee, just to see Kang Seulgi. “Hey, how are you doing?”, you asked her and got a cup.

“Same old, same old. What about you though? Looks like you’re getting the hang of your job?”, she said and smiled.

“Yeah. It looks good for now.”, you got a second cup to make some ginseng tea for Chanyeol even though he did not ask you to do so. “I have a question.”, you said.

“Shoot.”, Seulgi leaned on the counter and sipped on her coffee.

“Chanyeol told me to clear his schedule next week on Wednesday. Do you know why? Does he have special plans or something?”, you asked, getting more curious.

“Is next week the 27th? It must be. I think that’s his birthday. He does that every year. He never works on his birthday. Maybe he wants to celebrate. No one really knows what he does though. Why are you asking?”, Seulgi asked, raising her eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“Well... Chanyeol is a workaholic, we both know that. He wouldn’t just ask me to clear his schedule because of his birthday. It just doesn’t seem like him.”, you asked yourself.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“I’m not crazy, Seulgi.”, you laughed. “I have to work now, see you later!”

The evening arrived quickly and you didn’t even notice that you were alone in the office. Chanyeol’s schedule was busy as hell and you had to work your butt off to make no mistakes. Your job was not easy but you tried your best.

Still wondering, what Chanyeol was doing on his birthday, you decided to buy him a small gift. Even though Chanyeol seemed like an asshole at first, you knew that deep down, he was a good person. You went outside and wondered what you could buy for him.

On your way home, you encountered a teenager, sitting at the bus station you were heading to. His clothes looked like a mess. It was cold and he seemed to be freezing. He tried to close his eyes and get a bit of sleep. He couldn’t. His eyes opened every few seconds. It hurt you. Seeing such a young person like that. It was pretty late and you suddenly saw yourself in that boy. When you were around that age, you had lots of troubles too. Just like that kid. At least to you, he looked troubled.

It was cold. A winter night. Even though you did manage to work here and there, you couldn’t afford a motel on this particular night. You did know that you could go to a few places that supported people like you without a home.

But you were so tired. You were tired of this life. You weren’t a person to give up that easily but sometimes life forced you to feel down. You sat at a bus station. It was close to the bar you worked at. It was cold and you were shivering. Sometimes you wondered if you would die on the streets. You didn’t expect your freedom to be like this.

You had very dark thoughts every now and then. Thoughts that should never be said out loud. You were physically and mentally exhausted and drained. Maybe today was that day. The day you would finally give up. It was still better than living such a miserable life. Better than working in a bar, where disgusting men eyed you.

You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. You gulped hard. Why were you like this? What did you do to deserve this?

Hugging your old jacket close to your body, you hoped that you would survive this night without breaking down. Your gaze was on the ground. Suddenly a pair of shoes appeared in front of you. You looked up and saw a young man. He looked around your age and had a sympathetic look in his eyes. He looked a lot better than you. Healthier, warmer. He had black hair and a very nice-looking bone structure. His clothes seemed warm, warmer than yours. You felt a pang of jealousy just because of his healthy state. You did not even know why you thought that, when you looked horrible next to him. You were ashamed of yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?”, he asked you in a quiet voice. “It’s very cold, you must be freezing!”, he said and put his scarf around your neck.

You looked at him with your glossy eyes. “I’m fine.”, you said, not wanting to show your vulnerable side to a stranger.

“I’m Jongin by the way. Look... just a few months ago I was in the same situation as you. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

You coughed. “I said I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine to me. I’m not telling you to come with me or something. But I do know a place you could stay at, just for tonight. It’s specifically for women, it’s just around the corner.”, Jongin said, with concern in his voice.

“Why do you even care? I don’t even know you.”, you were very defensive. Even though he didn’t look dangerous. But you trusted no one.

He sighed. “Okay then. But I will come back and you will let me help you.”

That was the first time you met Jongin. It was a rather harsh first meeting, considering the situation you were in. He didn’t give up on you and you were glad that he was persistent. You would not be here if it wasn’t for him. Who knows what would have happened? You could be selling and taking drugs. Or even worse, prostitution.

You didn’t even want to think about those scenarios. Of course, your life still wasn’t perfect. I mean you did kill and scam people for a living. But at least you didn’t have to sell your body for that.

That kid looked exactly like you, freezing and alone. You sat down next to him and just like Jongin, you gave him your scarf. “You shouldn’t be out here.”, you muttered.

He looked at you, panic in his eyes. You couldn’t tell why. “Uh, thank you, miss.”, he said. He was looking around him. As if someone was chasing him.

“Do you need help?”, you whispered. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.”, you assured him.

“You shouldn’t be talking to me… Take the next bus and leave as fast as you can.”, he said, a scared tone visible in his voice.

“Look if you’re in danger, I can help you out…”

“No. You should really mind your own business, lady.”, he said and got up. He ran without even looking back.

That was a weird encounter for sure. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that this boy was here for reason. You couldn’t put a finger on it though. Before you could comprehend what happened a very nice and sleek looking car stopped in front of you.

As the windows rolled down, you noticed Chanyeol sitting in the car. “What are you doing here this late? Shouldn’t you be home by now?”, he asked you.

“Oh, I kind of worked overtime. It’s no big deal though!”, you quickly said.

“Ms. Lee, you really shouldn’t be taking the bus. I mean the bus comes only once an hour at this hour. I can drive you home, get in.”, he told you.

“Mr. Park, you can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m using you for free rides. It’s fine, really!”

“Get in. This is an order.”, he said in a serious tone.

You rolled your eyes and got in. “Are you this bossy with every woman?”, you asked him as you put on your seatbelt.

“Only to the ones that don’t listen to me.”, he smirked. “Mostly, they do listen to me.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You can be very intimidating.”, you smiled and looked out of the window. “I heard your birthday is next week.”, you said and looked at him.

He didn’t say anything at first. His facial expression was neutral. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Are you having a party or something?”, you asked.

“No. I never celebrate my birthday. Also, you shouldn’t be this nosy. I just told you to clear my schedule, not to ask me what I’m doing that day.”, he said in a stern voice.

You sighed. “Sounds like you are spending your birthday alone then. That is kind of sad.”, you said, rather to yourself than to Chanyeol.

He drove to your neighborhood and you started recognizing your surroundings. “You don’t even know what I’m doing. You are just assuming things based on what you’re hearing in the office.”

“I do not do such a thing. I am assuming things based on what I see with my own eyes. Ever since I started working for you, I didn’t see a family member or a girlfriend or whatever. You kind of seem lonely.”, you didn’t know why you were saying these things to him. Maybe you felt the same and talked about yourself. You were just as lonely as him, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

Chanyeol was just quiet. “My loneliness is none of your business, Ms. Lee.”, he said. You could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Maybe you hit a spot. Maybe you were saying the truth.

“Sorry, I just talked without thinking. I should take more breaks or something.”, you said looking down. “But still, no one should spend their birthday alone.”

He sighed and stopped in front of your house. “Okay. You really want to know what I’m doing, huh?”

“No, I didn’t imply that.”, you quickly responded. His eyes looked genuine for once.

“Look, how about you come with me? Since you’re my assistant after all.”, he looked at you. “You don’t have to work then. I’ll send you the time and the address, alright?”

You didn’t know why but your heart started fluttering. You wondered where he would take you. “O-Okay. I really didn’t want to be too nosy. I can stay at work if you’d like-“

He interrupted me. “No. I want you to see it. I’ll text you.”

After getting out of the car, you waved at him as he drove off. You looked around and made sure that no one followed you. It was weird for Chanyeol to be like this.

You sat on your bed and wondered what would happen on his birthday. You wanted to make sure to get him the perfect present. Taking your laptop out, you ordered his gift. He might or might not like it but at least you wouldn’t go empty-handed.

The 27th arrived quickly and you weren’t sure what was expecting you. Chanyeol told you that you should just wear casual clothing, so you went for a nice sweater with some jeans and white sneakers. What confused you to was that the address he sent you was an orphanage. Why would Chanyeol meet you at an orphanage out of all places?

Chanyeol arrived, again in his expensive car, and parked. “Well, Ms. Lee. You are probably why I would meet you here.”, he said and gave you a smile.

You looked at him. “Before you explain why we’re here… Happy Birthday.”, you said, a little embarrassed, giving him a little gift, wrapped beautifully.

Chanyeol was perplexed. He did not expect you to bring him something, especially a gift. “Ms. Lee, I appreciate that but you really didn’t need to do that.”, he said, rejecting the gift.

You sighed. “I want you to have it. See it as a thank you for not firing me already!”, you gave him a sweet smile.

Chanyeol sighed and opened the gift, just to find a new mug that said: Bring me my ginseng tea! You had to bring him that stupid ginseng tea every day in his favorite mug. You remembered that he dropped his special mug and it broke (you had to clean it.). It wasn’t a huge gift. What could you buy a man that already had everything he wanted? “Oh… a new mug.”, he couldn’t hide his smile. “At least no one will mix up my favorite tea now… Thank you.”, he said and gave you an even bigger smile.

You were relieved because you didn’t know how he would react to his gift. But seemed to genuinely like it. “No problem. I had to buy you something.”, you said. “Well, explain now. Why are we here?”

Chanyeol turned to the orphanage. “Well, I visit this orphanage every year on my birthday and bring some gifts for the kids in there.”, he explained to you as he opened the trunk of his car.

You saw lots of toys in his trunk, really expensive ones too. “Really? Why would you do that and keep it a secret like this? I mean you were really secretive about it…”

Chanyeol didn’t answer your question. “How about we go inside?”, he said and went into the building.

You tried to understand why he avoided the question but your heart still warmed up thinking about the fact the visited these kids every year instead of partying. You really wondered how his company, and Chanyeol himself, could be connected to the rival gang. He didn’t seem like the type to do illegal business.

After walking inside, you heard a few squeals of joy. Some kids immediately walked up to Chanyeol and hugged him. The kids took you by surprise and hugged you too. “Are you Channie’s girlfriend?”, a little girl asked you immediately. “Are you married?”

Chanyeol’s went as red as yours. “Oh, no! I am working with… Channie.”, you said, not trying to laugh out loud. Chanyeol glared at you after hearing his nickname and you just gave him a grin.

“Kids, I brought every single one of you something!”, he said brought in the toys.

An older woman came in and smiled. “Chanyeol is back. I almost started to wonder if he would come!”

You looked at the woman who seemed kind of familiar to you. “Hello, I am his assistant… Lee Miso.”, you said.

“Oh, Chanyeol brought someone with him? That’s a first!”, she said, excited.

“Like I said, we are only working together!”, you told her.

She winked at you. “Yeah, sure!”

You sighed. “Can you tell me why he does this?” And why was she addressing him so casually?

The woman gave you a sad smile. “Well, Chanyeol was one of those kids a long, long time ago.”

Then you remembered your research. You knew that he didn’t have much, to begin with. But you didn’t know that he was an orphan.

“His parents died when he was around eight and none of his relatives wanted to take him in… so he ended up here.”, the woman added. “But he never forgot about us.”

Once again, you had a warm feeling inside of you. You really should stop feeling like this but you couldn’t help it. He was a good person and deep down you knew something was off. He couldn’t be one of the bad guys.

Chanyeol walked up to you. “I guess you know why I am here instead of celebrating. I celebrate my birthday with these kids.”, he said and smiled at you. Then he hugged the woman. “Jangmi noona always helped me through the hard times here. I wasn’t one of those lucky adopted kids but she still took care of like my own mother would.”

The woman, Jangmi, started crying. “Of course, I do that with every kid. They need and deserve attention. Who else would do that if not me?”, she said and hugged him back. “I’ll look after the kids for now. Thank you for visiting Chanyeol.”, she said and went to the room where the kids were.

“No one ever dared to ask me why I took the day off, assuming that I would just party. You were the first person to ask me that. Why did you ask me?”, Chanyeol wondered.

“I only worked here for a little over a month… But it just doesn’t seem like you take a day off. You didn’t even want to go to Hawaii for vacation. I don’t know… Maybe it was a gut feeling?”, you told him, not really answering the question.

He seemed satisfied with your answer. “People might not see what I see. But you know what you are doing. You are a very perceptive person.”, he looked at you now. “Something about you is off… When I compare your CV with you… you seem like a different person.”

Your heart started beating faster. Did he find out who you really were? “You make mistakes but you fix them. You aren’t as perfect as your CV described you… but that’s what makes you Lee Miso.”, Chanyeol added. “There is more to you than meets the eye.”

You felt sad. There was more to you, that was true. He became an orphan at a very young age and you felt like one your whole life. Your past was not as shiny as Lee Miso’s and you wish your life would have went just like Chanyeol’s. But it didn’t and you had to live with the fact that you kill people for a living. That you faked being a completely different person and lied to the honest and hard-working person standing in front of you.

You felt not only sad but sick. Your mission was clear to you but now you had to work even harder to prove that Park Chanyeol was not doing illegal business, otherwise, he might be in danger. It wasn’t just a job anymore. You had to prove this man’s innocence. Your gut feeling told you that he was innocent and you believed it.

[thetravelerwrites]

Elsabet (Female Lich) SFW

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Lich x MTF Trans Reader Additional Tags: Reader Insert, Exophilia Content Warnings: MTF Trans, Pre-HRT, Dysphoria Words: 1536

I got a request from @chaoswolf1982 for a fem trans reader and a Lich lady, and managed to knock it out in a few hours! This was a fun one, since the Elsabet is from the 1600s and speaks all fancy, and I haven’t done a MTF trans woman before now, so that was a new experience, too! Please enjoy!

I accept requests, but they are limited to 1500 words. Anything more than that, and I’m afraid I’ll have to charge.

The day it happened was actually your first day on the demolition site. It was a shame; this crumbling ruin must have been glorious when it was first built. You could see the structure of the fallen parapets and towers in your mind’s eye. There weren’t many real castles in your country, and even though it was the job you’d been given, you thought it a pity to get rid of it.

The other construction guys had been looking at you sideways all day. You hadn’t started hormone replacement therapy or undergone any surgeries yet, so even though you’d grown your hair out and despite wearing black jeans with flower embroidery and a feminine-cut button-up shirt with thin, pink pinstripes and a half sleeve, you still had a five o’clock shadow and a tell-tall adam’s apple. You knew you didn’t quite pass yet, but you didn’t care. You’d spent too much of your life hiding yourself and you just plain refused to do it anymore.

At least they had enough consideration to hold their tongues while you were in earshot. Not that it mattered, of course; you were the only explosives expert within a hundred miles that they could hire, so what they thought about you and your life choices didn’t make a difference either way.

“Okay, so, that tower that’s leaning,” You said to the tear-down team. “It doesn’t need explosives. If you take out those three support stones underneath it, it’ll come down pretty quick. The main hall is the one thing I’d say we’d need to rig up, but we’ll work inward toward it and leave it for last.”

“Okay, boys,” the team leader said. “You heard the…” He paused, side-glancing at you. “Start on that tower. I want to have at least half of it cleared out by dark.”

You shook off your annoyance and started mapping out the plans for the main hall. You heard distantly the sound of the supports being smashed away, looking up to make sure the men got out of the way before returning to your measurements.

Then a blood-curdling screech shattered the atmosphere around you. You stood up straight and saw the men scattering, yelling and cursing.

“What the hell is that?” You asked the men as they ran past you like rabbits from a fox. They all jumped into their trucks to flee.

“Wait!” You called, but they were gone, kicking up dust as they sped off. “It was probably just a coyote, you fucking cowards!” You shook your head and growled at them, as they left you here. You reached into your own truck and pulled out your high-impact airsoft rifle. You weren’t really a fan of guns, but you worked in the country a lot and predators were a common problem, so at the very least, a non-lethal deterrent was necessary.

You approached the fallen tower with your rifle up and ready, whistling loudly.

“Alright, whatever is in there needs to fuck off! I have a job to do here,” You said loudly, your voice echoing off the stones. You grimaced at the sound of it. You didn’t have a lot of body dysphoria, but your voice was one thing about yourself that really bothered you. You didn’t know how to make it sound more feminine without feeling like you were pretending.

You didn’t see any movement inside the main structure, so you called out again. “I’m serious! Get out of here!” You even cracked a BB off of the nearest rotting wooden window pane in warning, which you assumed once had glass.

To your immense surprised, a largish rock came sailing out of the darkness in your direction, and you ducked with enough time to avoid getting brained.

“Begone!” A voice inside said. It was a rasping, crackling voice, as if whoever it belonged to hadn’t used it’s own voice in quite some time. “Let this accursed woman rest! I have paid your infernal tax well into the next decade! Get thee hence and vex me no more!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you said, lowering your rifle but stepping tentatively into the main hall. It was still pretty solidly standing. “This place has been scheduled for demolition. You can’t stay here.”

Another stone was lobbed at you, and you dodged it.

“Dost thou intend to eject a lady from her own dwelling? Bought and paid, I have! This land and all that exist within is my own! I shall not suffer thee! Darken my doorstep no further.”

“Ma’am, please,” You said. “This property is owned by the state. They’ve plans to turn it into a resort. You can’t stay. If I have to call someone to get you out of here, I will.”

“Threats?” You saw two pinpricks of light in the dark, moving around the room, and froze. “I should like to see thou maketh good on thy foolish promise. Come, then! Come and see that which you so blithely provoke.”

The person to whom the voice belonged stepped into the sunlight, and you immediately pulled your gun up again.

It was… a corpse. A walking, talking corpse made of tanned leather skin stretched over a skeleton with no muscle or organs beneath. It’s lips were drawn tightly back, leaving it’s long teeth exposed. The lights you had seen were coming from the sockets of its eyes, deep in the darkness of it’s skull. It was tall and wore a tattered, ill-fitting dress; old-fashioned, perhaps centuries old.

“Dost thou comprehend now?” It asked. “Dost thou see what it is you seeketh to expel from her own domicile?”

“What are you?” You asked in shock, your rifle forgotten in your hands.

“I am an undead thing, bound to this castle,” It said. It peered at you curiously. “What is thou?”

“I… I am a woman,” You replied, your heart skipping a beat. It was the first time you had ever said that sentence out loud.

The lights of it’s eyes dimmed, as if it was squinting. “Lookest ye not like a woman.”

“Neither do you,” You retorted, bristling.

You expected a barbed reply, but instead it said, “Thou dost not speaketh a falsehood,” It--she--sat on a moldering wooden chair. “This curse hast robbed me of much. My womanhood is but the smallest facet of the jewel that I once was.”

“How did this happen to you?” You asked, setting the rifle aside.

She waved a bony hand dismissively. “Money and power breedeth hostility. Any number of the vulgar rabble would revel in my misfortune. I am the last of my damned line. The curse hath fixed me so that no further children of my blood would be born, but that my house and name continue in death for eternity.”

She waved her skeletal hands at the remains of her castle. “All that you see is the remnants of my home and my prison. Eternally shalt I pay for the sins of my forebears, though no such sin did I commit.” She looked introspective, her angular shoulders hunched. “Perhaps, if thou dost breaketh down these walls, I shall crumble with it. Perhaps I, too, may fade.”

You knelt down. “How long have you been trapped here?”

“What is the year?” She asked, and you told her. She gasped softly in surprise. “Has it really been so long? I had grown melancholy that I thought to sleep for only a few years, just to pass the time. I have… severely miscalculated.”

You had the strange urge to reach out to her and take her hand, and you did. She looked at you in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I can’t stop the demolition. It’s not up to me. You scared off this crew, but they’ll hire more.”

She shook her head, the wisps of hair still left on her scalp floated around her ears like dandelion fuzz.

“No,” She said. “What must be done shall be done. I shan’t stand in thy path or interfere in thy work. The time has come for the end, as all things must.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “What will happen to you?”

“I do no know,” She said. “But circumstance will be different. That shall be well enough.”

“What’s your name?” You asked her.

She frowned, thinking. “It… it is Elsabet.”

The next week, you began planting explosives around the main hall. Elsabet had retreated to the treeline to watch from a distance. The other workers hadn’t spotted her; the faded green hue of her clothes and tan of her skin made it easy to blend in with the foliage.

You twisted up the charges and set it to the trigger, calling for the team to clear the area. Once it was free of people and everyone was behind a blast shield, you glanced in Elsabet’s direction, and she nodded once. You pushed the plunger down, and the entire main hall blew out from the bottom and fell straight down, shooting dust and debris across the forest floor.

That evening, after spending at least twelve hours cleaning up the wreckage, you made it home and sank onto your couch with a groan of exhaustion.

You felt something push the hair away from your brow, and your eyes jerked open with a start. Elsabet knelt in front of you.

“This place hast not the grandeur of which I am accustomed,” she said. “But… it doth retain a… charm. Perhaps, if thou wouldst enjoy my company, I may stay with thee? I shall endeavor not to be troublesome.”

You smiled at her and touched her cheek. “Only if you want to.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[moriskous]

Autowash with My Girl

… and further will I remain undisturbed. I couldn't do a better job myself. Once a month I imagine all human beings with a gun barrel between their lips, they will only babble as soon as they watch their lives vanishing. We all are the same, same blood color, same suicidal-critical moments, same race, or that’s what I remember you said last night on my bed.

Get closer, bae.

Well, People tend to congregate when they start discussing about sexual orientation, indigenous’ massacres, human slaughtering, kamikazes, … , but we all know that at the end nobody gives a damn, not even about themselves. Let me tell you a fun fact, just at the moment that there's sleep deprivation on someone's life, everything starts to be seen as real, real as a film. That’s why we never realize that we've been the winning-award directors of our own lives the whole time because we never sleep. We’re excessively busy thinking about getting a job, having the perfect couple, wearing some Carats, being spiritually and mentally stable, carrying a Pomeranian. So let me tell you for the record, that we're not our fancy pants, our Stuart Weitzman shoes, our Yamamoto shirts, nor a propaganda's exemplification. We are a cumulus of experiences that molden our thinking structures through time, and that’s why we gotta do what’s best for our well-being after we gathered all the necessary information for our existence.

Hey! You know I’ll fall for your caresses. Stop it, I’m philosophizing.

Then, let’s continue. I think love is worth saving. You remember that time we had sex at my nanny’s home, and afterward you try to commit suicide because you had a depressive crisis. Remember I changed your mind by telling you how much I love you, and how you would've ruin my life if you die because I will never find someone like you, so sweet, passionate, smart, fearless, loyal, and hilarious. Thereafter, everything made more sense to me when I started to bawl and you stopped what you were trying to do, just to take me between your arms and whisper me that you love me so much that you’ll never leave me alone. Immediately, I comprehended that It was only a scream-for-help kind of act because your parents were divorcing, and you didn’t want to move with your mom and her new girlfriend to Aberdeen. What a day we lived on our anniversary! Don’t worry, I know it won't happen again. 

(Such a lie, she thought). I won’t recall it anew, my puddin’.

And where was I? Right, the outcome of depression as a result of our incompetence is ruling and molding us into puppets of the market. Everybody knows it but who cares? I’m not the new Gandhi, neither a spiritual guider, I’m just a girl expressing what others are afraid or too busy to say. They just want you to be docile, fragile, scared, so they can shape you. But I’m not telling to go out and beat the hell out of your bullies. No! I’m just trying to instruct that you should come out of your catatonic state and be brave. This is a woman’s world and we would be nothing on the absence of our daring Valkyries. Strong women ready to speak up and establish the status quo in our civilization, where decisions are made of needed feelings. Wow! From time to time, I put on practice what I learned in my debate club.

Now, let’s lose ourselves in complete oblivion. I want you to kiss me ‘till the end of our periods while my fingers penetrate you, my cutie pie.

But first, let me ask my readers, are you really living it? Or just bearing it? Is it working for you, to be ingenious? Is it worth being owned by your greedy surroundings? If not, stop the stupidity about keeping your senseless stubbornness and, the idea of breathing and thinking correctly, that's already part of your human nature. What you got to do is...

Lost in paradise! She moaned while trembling.

[stupidpianist]

8 november 2018

07:32: There goes alarm number one

07:44: There goes alarm number two

07:45: And number three

07:50: Not gonna snooze this one I SWEAR. Anyway, like, if you don’t at least snooze your first three alarms, what kind of a sociopath are you?? Have “big plans” today, if “big plans” means just having a productive day where I don’t make continual bad decisions. Don’t have a good reason for not liveblogging yesterday, it was just, I stayed up way, way, way too late on the night of the sixth, which resulted in me waking way, way, way too late on the day of the seventh, and in a complete state of brain fog, and entirely incapable of thinking in general. Spent the, uh, spent the afternoon hahahahh cause that’s when I woke up, Jesus, spent the afternoon doing administrative-related things, then had a work shift. Managed to touch a piano for, like, ten minutes before my shift started. Then did work. Then went home.

Felt pretty dysphoric for all of yesterday, as a result of just knowing that it was due to my own stupidity that I wasted an entire day. And not only wasted it, but that I wasn’t in an acceptable mental state for the entirety of the day as well. Was a bit of one of those “wake up calls,” or something, like, a personal “get your crap together, dude” moment, which made me decide, like, “okay, you’re sleeping before the sun rises tonight. you’re going to bed at midnight, no compromises. then you’re going to wake up early and DO THINGS, and not be in a completely debilitating stupor for the entire day.”

Seems like I’m off to an okay start, got seven hours of sleep, which is, like, for me, just above the bare minimum I get so that I don’t feel like I’m incapacitated at all. If I get less than six-and-a-half hours these days there’s a definitive, quantitative difference in my performance both mentally and physically, so, like, seven is, like, okay, nice job, guy. Been getting less than that for so long, and it’s one of the worst feelings, for me, at least, to go through a day in some fugue state, knowing that you’re not thinking clearly. Extremely frustrating, like knowing something is wrong, but not knowing what, exactly the cause/root is. Not worth it to stay up and enjoy the “festivities of the night” most of the time, unless it’s like, a get-together, or a celebration, because just the crappiness of feeling disgusting the next day outdoes so much of the fun/productivity that you could’ve just displaced with sleep and felt, overall, better. Don’t know why I keep getting less sleep than I need, it’s not for any productivity-related reason, it’s just self-indulgence. FEeling good that I’ve “reset” the sleep schedule today, going to see if I can continue it?? Know for certain that I need to wake by, at least, 11h on Saturday morning, so I can’t “go too hard” on Friday night, but Sunday I’m free, might be sleeping in on Sunday until noon, I fear… But probably not, I have nothing planned Saturday night, so I think a one, or two bedtime isn’t too late to be up by 10h or 11h again and feel, like, well-rested, even if I’ve had a bit to drink.

Outline of the day:

-go to health clinic (routine blood test just to make sure i’m not diseased or something)

-go to mclennan library to update liveblog

-go sign new work contract in music building

-practice (if time)

-go to actual appointment (since first visit to the drop-in clinic can only assign you a time, you can’t just jump into the appointment)

-go home for lunch/slight break, before heading to blood-work (since the actual appointment is just going to get me a blood-work time)

-go to music building to update liveblog

-practice

-go to piano organization meeting

-grab 710mL can of beer en route to home

-work out

-consume beer while reading/browsing internet intermittently

-shower

-bed

08:00: Teeth brushed (oh, did I mention I flossed last night?? That’s right I’m getting back on my floss game before I lose all my teeth and gums to decay!!!), face washed, hair wetted (it’s naturally looking good today, somehow, like, my bed hair looks pretty nice, so, minimal product needed), thermal shirt on, Champion hoodie I took from Corrina (on the night of Dungeon World, she had this bag of clothing she was going to donate, and offered any of it to us, and there “just so happened” to be this amazing coral or light-pink Champion hoodie that fits me PERFECTLY) on, brown slim pants on. Making a G Fuel shake, feeling a little out-of-it, probably because I’m really not used to waking this early, but I’m sure after a day or two it’ll be fine. Weather today should be good, for the first time in a while, we haven’t got much sun in a long time…

08:10: Taking this G Fuel “straight to the face,” really chugging it while updating music on iPod. Putting some more black metal on it, feel like I’m in the right mood today to listen to something bleak and aggressive but still feel good while doing so?? Not sure why I feel this, but, I mean, just going to “go along with it.” Could have left a bit earlier, but, like, I only have to sign the new work contract at 11h, which gives me way enough time, if I get there when the clinic opens at 08h30 there might be a substantial line already, but it’s not going to be, like, two-and-a-half hours long substantial. Feeling like I’m “leisurely treating myself” by allowing myself to leave by 08:30.

08:21: En route to clinic now. Witnessed police stopping bikers for some kind of infraction at an intersection, who look like students. Jesus, imagine just trying to make your 08h30 lecture on a frigid morning, biking and not driving, and you get stopped by a cop?? Who’s going to write you a ticket?? That’s going to cost an inordinate amount of money that you can’t afford because you’re a student?? And then it’ll make you late for your lecture?? That’s gonna throw your entire day off, like, what the heck, I understand they have a quota and they need to write a certain number of tickets, but why give it to a student… Who’s clearly on their way to class… I don’t know, this upset me, I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all. Keep turning backwards to witness the cop writing the ticket, trying to internalize their face.

08:36: Okay, got my ticket, number 90, the last number that was called was, like, 72? So I’m really not that far off. I know that people like to “trash talk” this clinic, and I know individual experience is no way to accurately report anything, but I guess I’ve always been lucky in that I haven’t yet had a bad experience with this clinic. I mean this in the physical sense, like, for physical ailments, I have no concept of how the mental health side of the clinic operates, though from what I hear it’s, uh… It’s not the greatest…

One of the comfy chairs is available, and not just the wooden benches, miraculously, going to read Foucault. Feeling alert, and, like, sort of preppy?? This is unlike me, I almost never feel like this. I think it’s just because of the early start, and my optimism with finally “setting things straight” in my life. Also feeling excited to go to arcade with A on Friday, feeling like I need to “earn” it, need to accomplish my lists of tasks for the day or else I can’t allow myself any relaxation time. Seems like this is a good thing to do, if done responsibly.

Always feel a strange sort of social structure exists at the clinic, not sure why I think so, though… There’s a weird sort-of tension between the students, and the secretaries behind their desks, like, a palpable but under-the-rug aggression between them, and then between the students there too seems to be a weird no-holds-barred sort-of attitude that I can’t place. Need to think more about this, maybe it has something to do with the stress that comes with being ill, and also the mutual struggle of attempting to see a limited amount of doctors?

09:45: Okay, my number was called, wow, that went by a lot quicker than I thought it would. Making my way through the Foucault, so far it hasn’t been terribly difficult to comprehend, though that’s one of the reasons why I chose this book and not other philosophy books I was looking to “get into.” Wanted to explore postmodern philosophy since I am not well versed in it AT ALL, but didn’t want to immediately start with a philosopher that writes primarily through references to other philosophical concepts, or presupposes a wide array of knowledge of other philosophers, because I just don’t really know much about philosophy at all. His rhetorical strategies are so efficient, was sending a message to [removed] about it being, like, “he’ll introduce an argumentative position you didn’t even know you had, and then he’ll explain why it’s invalid, before you even realized you could take that perspective.” Not sure if I’m describing this well, I hope I am…

09:47: Got my time for the appointment: 12h exactly. Going to head to McLennan now and update liveblog, which should take me right up until when I need to head to the music building to sign the contract. Mission: Accomplished.

10:43: Just finishing up this first liveblog update, feeling mental state continuing to ascend from a place of grogginess to a place of awareness. Really enjoying this feeling, like, really appreciating that it’s happening, and wanting it to continue. Realize, too, that even if I get adequate sleep and wake early, it doesn’t guarantee days like this, but also know that it caters to them a lot more than sleeping at 3, or worse.

Appointment time also means I’ll have adequate time to get a bit of practicing done, can at least get through my finger exercises and maybe some run-throughs, though maybe I should focus more on passage work at this point? I don’t know, I’ll “feel it out” once I’m in the practice rooms. Need to leave soon for the music building.

Also know I shouldn’t have more caffeine, but?? Like?? A coffee and a donut sounds so good right now? Do I do it, do I “become the slob?” Picturing myself as this giant amoeba sac right now, just sort of flopping along the ground, trying to get somewhere in the least efficient manner possible. I think, yeah, yeah, I think I’m gonna do it… but not yet… Going to do it before heading to the clinic again… Yeah, yeah, going to get that donut after I finish practicing. Then I’ll at least feel less guilty about spending money out on a coffee and donut. Remembering when I used to go to MIT on the weekends and my dad (who drove me there) and my little brother would sit in the student centre and get Dunkin Donuts. Dad would do work on his laptop and brother would study, or play handheld video games, and brother would always get the “glazed stick.” Was his favourite of all the pastries they had there. I don’t think I really have a favourite donut?? Depends heavily on my mood, but, like, okay, George’s Most Frequently Consumed Donut: jelly. Yummie. Gimme that jelly, need it, need that, need that jelly-- gimme.

Walking to music building now “with a pep in my step” hahaha

11:05: Finished signing the new contract. Took all of five seconds, though I don’t really know what I was expecting?? It’s, I mean, it’s just a contract, I have no idea why I thought it would take anything longer than that… Also have to make an amendment to the daily schedule, I completely forgot that the bloodwork lab is just walk-in as long as you have the right forms from your appointment, so I should be able to go directly from my appointment to the bloodwork lab, get my blood drawn, and then leave right after!! Less time wasted, can also mitigate it further via reading more Foucault while back in the clinic. Have a bit of time now to try and practice.

11:07: All piano rooms taken. Seems to be par for the course these days around this time, but it would have been nice to have an upright, even for a small chunk of time. There’s some uprights available on the third floor so I’ll just take one of those, even though almost all of them, like, literally, 99% of them are just horrendous. But, most people never even get the chance to touch a piano, so who am I to complain?

Going to run through my Alkan and Thalberg, and then going to focus work on Beethoven. Not too unprepared for prescreenings, and will definitely not be unprepared for auditions, for once, feeling confident about this. Just have a handful of passages in these two romantic-era works that I still stumble on that I’m not 100% feeling comfortable with, but, I mean, they’re not out of reach, or anything, I just really hate detail-oriented practicing.

Upright I got is one of the “absolutely atrocious” ones. Surprise, surprise. Terrible touch, terrible sound, feels more like I’m playing on soggy bread than a keyboard. Going to “make the most of it,” hopefully will get a grand in the next practice session.

11:50: Heading back to clinic for actual appointment and bloodwork. Shouldn’t take too long, I’m anticipating, so there’s still a huge chunk of the day left to practice piano. I’ll start studying for the second behavioural neuropsychology midterm on Saturday and Sunday, that should be enough time before Monday to make my way through all the lectures that are being tested on, not too worried about this. Thank god the bulk of midterm season is over and I don’t have to honestly worry about finals for a bit, feels good not to be freaking out every single night over not spending enough time studying.

12:50: Okay my appointment time was 12:15 and I’m still waiting…

13:15: Yeah, I guess they’re running way behind. I should have anticipated this, “should have known” not everything clinic-related would go so smoothly. I’m not angry, or anything, like, they have an enormous volume of students to handle and not enough funding to do it properly, it’s not their fault, just would’ve liked to get “in and out.” Making good progress on the Foucault, on a particularly difficult section now where he discusses the concept of soul in relation to penal systems. Having to reread a bunch of sections to understand what he’s talking about, I hate when this happens, always gets me annoyed/frustrated and makes me want to hurl things against walls, or something. Keeping me occupied, at least.

Also feeling first surge of exhaustion of the day; I figure this is just cause of the earlier wake time than I’ve been used to in a while, also that I got just over my threshold of sleep, this always happens, feels like this happens to most people a few times a day anyways, especially when they’re just sitting in a warm space on a relatively comfortable surface while reading. Fighting it off via taking massive breaths and shaking my head.

13:25: Hey, okay, the consultation is done! Went in, doctor was real nice and all. Got my forms for all the blood tests that they’re gonna run, “making my way” to the bloodwork lab. They’re closed for lunch until 13:45, but that means I might be one of the first people in before they get back, so I’ll definitely not have to wait long for someone to stab me with a needle.

14:25: DONE. WE DID IT. They’re only gonna call me if I need to come in for some reason because of some concerning results or whatever, so if they don’t, I should be A HEALTHY HUMAN from the perspective of BLOOD. Got message from [redacted], going to go and have lunch with them instead of lunch at home; nice that we have this weekly Thursday lunch recap thing, feels wholesome, and a nice way to “keep in touch.” Always enjoy talking to them. Will probably splurge and get a banh mi, keep telling myself I’m making the “big bucks” now post-promotion, but, like, should still probably “keep a wrap” on how much I spent eating out… Walking to music building now, feeling high levels of excitement.

15:49: Lunch/talk with [redacted] done. Seems like we never have a shortage of things to discuss, it’s always rapidfire conversation from the second we see each other until one of us or both have to leave. Glad to have people like that in my life, where conversation never seems to be exhaustible, in a natural, non-forced way. Still going to head home, though; not going to my cog sci lecture. Feeling like it’s “not worth it” because I’m behind on the readings and I know, from attending a bunch of previous lectures, that I’m not going to be able to follow much what’s going on. Don’t have to study for the final for this for a while longer, thank the lord, but I do have quite the backlog of readings for this class. Imagined myself saying “I do have quite the backlog” with a heavy British accent of some sort. Reminds me of Dunkirk, that Christopher Nolan film, was rewatching parts of it last night. Feel like it’s definitely one of my favourite films, one of the few films without much dialogue and with a huge focus on pure action that still makes you endeared to the characters and story, even if the story is all but nonexistent, in my opinion; I feel like the way it was structured, which confused some reviewers I like, was really good and made a lot of sense; feel like if the story was told entirely linearly, things wouldn’t have coalesced and climaxed in the way that it did; by splitting the story into three timelines shown on screen at the same time, but taking place in actuality at different moments, and depicted on-screen at differing speeds, only to finally come together, where the viewer can see all three parts merge, really makes the film; first time seeing it in theatres was with my parents, I was immediately like, “I have to see this again, I can’t watch this 70mm film on my laptop.” This was during one of my breaks, and I headed back to school soon after, and then I literally saw the movie another two times, and even bought a ticket for one of my friends to “coerce them” into seeing it before it was taken off screens.

Gonna walk home now and just recuperate for a moment, not going to risk lying down in bed, or anything, but it’ll be nice to be back in my apartment even for ten minutes or so.

16:32: Okay, spent twenty-ish minutes idly watching tech-related YouTube videos, now going to head back to school for some practice. This little forty-minute diversion cut a chunk out of practice time, but felt it was worth it, was feeling a little strained after the talk with [redacted], not because of the talk, but, right after the talk ended, I felt another surge of tiredness. Realizing now the first surge might be because of the caffeine crash after the G Fuel I had in the morning, combined with having just eaten, which has a whole host of reasons why it naturally makes people feel tired. Gonna “do the ol’” Beethoven, it’s the opus 110 sonata, my favourite sonata he ever wrote, but I think I already told you that?? Whatever, I’m telling you again, this is my blog, shut up.

18:22: In McLennan now, gonna use these forty minutes to update the liveblog. Piano meeting “looming,” imminent piano organization meeting. Great way to end the penultimate weekday. Tomorrow though I do have a really really long all-day work shift that’s not going to end until 22h, which I’m sort of miffed at, actually. Still, it’ll be a good impetus to get me out of bed again at seven-thirty-ish so I can practice before my 10h lecture, because right after the lecture my shift starts, and then right after the shift I’m meeting up with A. Glad I also got that banh mi in my stomach earlier, feeling minimally hungry. Today was a productive day.

Might be the last blog post of the day, if I have beer I usually don’t really feel the need to update the liveblog, because I’m just sitting in my apartment sipping beer and reading things. This might be it for today, I love you people so much, and I hope your days were good too!!!! See you soon!!!!!!

[ithisatanytime]

To be honest im very glad she loves her boyfriend so much, initially i asked about her relationship status and she said it was open, and was very firm about that fact, emphasizing it to the point that it was the only thing leading me to believe she was at all receptive to my advances, of course thats not enough because i was so forward, and i knew she just likely wasnt that into me. but today when i pressed the issue, as i am a horny man and frankly im in a damn hurry, she changed her tune, now he was her soul mate. and you know what nothing could have made me happier. my last serious girlfriend was in a committed relationship but it was on the rocks, in part do to her going off her birth control (i was high test compared to her boyfriend, he had better musculature but prenatal test exposure was lower in the womb as evident by me being 6′2 and having masculinized bone structure in comparison to his.) and losing all attraction to him, also i kind of fucked their shit up by randomly confessing my feelings for her, we had known each other for close to ten years at that point, but i never made my feelings known because she was so fucking hot to me i just never thought of her as a possibility quite frankly, i was fucking SHOCKED to find out she felt exactly the same. this same exact scenario played out for me when i was a young man and i literally forced my girlfriend to go on hormonal birth control, the hormones in birth control literally trick your body into thinking that your pregnant, and pregnant women have different taste in men, they are looking for a provider obviously, their behavior changes dramatically, in part because they lose interest in higher testosterone but good physical genetics mates as they need someone to be their when they raise their baby, typically (naturally) this only lasts for 9 months than the baby comes, if the man who fathered the child is able to weather the emotional shit storm, he will stick with you through anything, and is thus a good potential provider for your offspring, the opposite is true if they met you while on hormonal birth control, as they value you for your provider traits and when they go off the bc their body thinks they are no longer pregnant, hence her looking for a big strong bull (me) too impregnate her.

    she knew this indian guy since they were children, it was fucking obvious they were meant to be together, i hated being responsible for the heartbreak i caused BOTH of them. dude still wanted to be with her after she kicked him out of her life to fuck some drug addicted retard (me) but  heres the thing i am not talking shit about her, they literally cant fucking help it, we are slaves to our hormones. i was very pleased to find out that she was hesitant to go on birth control as it “makes her crazy” i was so glad she brought it up and felt that way, as imagine going over this shit with a potential girlfriend, imagine how well thats going to go over! i have been familiar with hormonal BC’s effects on womens sexual preferences and ability to pair bond since i watched a documentary on the discovery channel about sex with i was 13, i was trying to masturbate, but i learned a lot instead, despite how crazy this sounds, all of this is accepted science and new papers get released about it every couple of years or so, its fucking insane that women arent made aware of this common side effect of birth control, so imagine how fucking conflicted i felt when she was adamant about getting back on birth control, i was 99 percent sure she would fall out of love with me, and at the time , it was insane to me how much she clearly loved me, she promised shed get off birth control as soon as i asked, i pleaded with her, saying that by the time she was on bc for even a couple weeks shed no longer love me or give a fucking shit what i had to say anymore, which seemed RIDICULOUS at the time, but she promised shed go off it as soon as i asked, i knew that would not be the case. within literal days after getting the hormonal IUD put in, she stopped looking at me the same, we started fighting all the time, it was horrible to see, especially for the second time, all men know what i am talking about, when that lok disappears, and of course she didnt get it taken out when i asked, and of course the fighting got worse and worse, who the fuck could stand living with me without loving me, suddenly all the bad shit about me (no job prospects, bad provider) that she had already been aware of for years became an issue, blah blah blah, it wasnt her fault, imagine being forced to live iwth someone who you didnt love, who loved you and stil wanted to fuck you. and of course as the fighting got worse and she slept on the couch, i could no longer sleep, i became obsessively jealous (mate retention strategy caused by testosterone masculinizing the brain) i knew she wasnt cheating on me, there was literally no way, but my guts were twisting and churning every single day, my behavior became increasingly erratic (men behave irrationally as well, in their own way) it all came to a head, after a solid month of the cold shoulder, i had finally landed a job interview to be a car salesmen (i built up a relationship with the neighbor i smoked iwth, and he landed me the job) but the  day before i was set to be interviewed we had a massive fight which i started, because i tried to reason with her (in love men and women arent governed by reason) that she had been giving me the silent treatment for a month and i had been on my best behavior, which i had been, buying her gifts and flowers with the profit sharing check i got from my old job, but she started grabbing her stuff to leave, she wouldnt tell me where she was going and in my irrational state i was sure she was going to fuck an entire football team, an unbelievably searingly painful thought for a man, women literally cant comprehend this as they dont experience jealousy in the same way men do. so i slammed out of the house first into the streets of new york city, huffing and puffing trying to to cry as i pushed past the crowded streets, it was like 4 pm in the middle of queens. i found a bar and sat at the center of the bar, it was pretty empty when i walked in since it was like four o clock in the afternoon. i had 300 hundred dollars in my pocket and i spent it all that very night on beers and shots and whiskey sours, i had never gone to a bar of my own volition before and can count on one hand the amount of times id set foot in a bar, but i had been drinking more than i ever had in my life. the pain of jealousy and losing someone that i sincerely loved, and intended to marry was so intense that i started drinking and basically didnt stop until we were separated (havent really touched the stuff since, i dont really like alcohol) but i was losing the girl i loved, she was supposed to be my wife. i drank like there was no fucking tomorrow, just waiting for her to call me, which she did, but there was no love in her voice, no news on where she was, or who she was with (her girlfriends, studying for an exam) so i hung up and went back to drinking, my bartender was a young women, who may have been pretty i was not paying attention, so much so that when she finished her shift and left the bar, and a young woman sat next to me at the bar and tried to talk to me, she grew angry with me that i didnt realize it was the same bartender, who had been serving me drinks all night, she left in a huff, soon i felt people pressing up against my back as i finished my 20th drink of the day, i was way past my limit, but i was about to lose the girl i loved and become homeless on the streets of new york in my mind, she would never have done that to me, but my “home” had evaporated as soon as i left to new york, and after i lost my job delivering refrigerators he made it pretty clear he didnt want me around. he was not my real dad after all, just another of my mothers boyfriends, its not the same as a biological dad, for as good as he was and as much as he did for me, i was becoming too much, i cant describe the fear of the streets for someone who spent their lives homeless or near homeless is like, its always there. so i drank that way as the NYC bar grew very crowded and noisey, i had picked the hottest socail spot in the city to drown my sorrows,. i would drink until i couldnt feel the pain anymore, go home, puke my guts out, not remember anything and then regroup in the morning after she got home from her boyfriends house, thats a problem for tomorrow me. i was just waiting for her to call me and maybe show me some sign of warmth, some sign of the person i fell in love with. she did call me in fact, i was too drunk and the bar was too loud for me to hear it, i got up to take a piss and only then realized how crowded the bar actually was, people were dancing behind me the whole time and i didnt even realize it, it was packed from wall to wall, as i got up to take my piss, my last five fell out of my pocket onto the ground and i nearly fell over trying ot pick it up, plus the last shot i took i just spilled down my shirt sleeve, it was time to go home. i drunkenly stumbled towards the door the bar was so packed i literally had to raise my arms into the air (this detail will be important for later) as i made my way towards the exit suddenly she appeared in the doorway, i cannot describe to you my relief in this moment, how did she even find me? it was the last clear memory i have from that night, the only other memory i have is foggy, me drunkenly bragging that i could have beat up every dude in the bar and girls were totally trying to fuck me (see? im valuable) as she drove me home, the rest of that night is completely lost to me, i found myself suddenly in our bed, in the morning, i felt more hungover than i had ever been in my life by a factor of ten, i was shaking uncontrollably still half drunk and frightened (if youve never blacked completely out before you cant know what thats like) she informed me that i had pushed her, i was horrified, how could this have happened, and what more could i have been capable of, i didnt have time to process that however as her dad was on his way over from upstate new york, in my half drunk and frightened mind i knew he was coming to fight me, i went into fight or flgiht mode *if your dead comes here i wil lfuck him up!” even i couldnt believe i said that , her father was an unbelievably kind and gentle man, but i was frightened, i was gonna be homeless on the streets of new york, a forgotten man who fell through the cracks in the safety net, and worse i deserved it, my sense of self was shattered, how could i have pushed her? she made the right decision in having her father turn around, and head back to upsate new york. i cried like a fucking baby, how could i have done this? my father was a drunk who beat the shit out of my mother, and i remembered it vividly. i sobbed and sobbed, i had been doing a lot of that, i loved her from the beginning and worse, she had loved me too. i had no way of contextualizing it either, for me it was as if someone had woken me up to inform me that in my sleep i had punched a child, think about that, how do you process it? i had prided myself in never putting my hands on a woman unless she asked first (thats its own story that i will never fucking tell)  i ddint even remember it, like at all, i ddint even remember us fighting, apparently i was barfing and doing somersaults of the bed and shit, as you do when you are blackout drunk. and she had never drank a drop of alcohol or smoked a single weed in her life, she must have been absolutely terrified. i wanted to die, it was over for good. we had made up in a sense, as the reality of the situation set in, we only ever held each other on the first and last night i was in newyork, and both times, you wont believe this but i have to say it because it was so strange, we cuddled face to face while her two cats cuddled each other inbetween us, only the first and last night.

  part of why it was so hard for me, was because i knew i would miss her bitterly for the rest of my life, literally every day until i died, i knew from experience, and she woudl be really upset for a few months maybe and then never think about me again. my only hope was that she got back together with tha tindian boy she grew up with, he fucking cried outside of their apartment, and stil  asked about her when she left him for me, this tore me up, as id been on the other end of that, he loved her better than i did, they were meant to be married but hormonal fucker and jewish sabotage has a combined effect of just fucking women right up, men too but i feel worse for the women. if you fuck a guy you should just stay with them honestly, you will be much happier long term. this started out as one thing, and then turned into something different, as i had been meaning to tell that story for years now. i know it seems like a lot of self pity and to be fair theres a lot of remorse too even to this day, i barely touched a drop of alcohol in the years since, and occasionally it will hit me like a ton of bricks out of the blue and i will excuse myself into my room to cry into the macaroni and cheese i was eating.

[jisungjuice]

Title: Attraction

Pairing: Harry x Luna x Draco 

Words: 2400

Dedicated to @hauntedhogwarts for inspiring this lovely triad.

Harry leaned back, looking up at the intimidatingly high outline of Hogwarts and falling in love with it all over again. The grass tickled his cheek and a soft hand played with his hair.

“You should grow a beard,” Luna said out of the blue, her small voice filling the silence of the night.

Harry chuckled and turned on his side to look at her. “You think?”

Luna nodded, her big eyes shining in the dark. “It would suit your face structure.”

Harry leaned closer, their noses bumping together before he kissed her. Luna’s lips were the softest thing he has ever felt and it never stopped surprising him.

The feeling of kissing her while they let the night wash over them in the grounds of Hogwarts was something that Harry wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. The students were asleep (except the ones sneaking around, probably) and it felt like the whole place was theirs. He wasn’t even thinking about all the exams he had to correct for the next day.

“I like that you’ve been thinking about me with a beard,” Harry confessed softly in between kisses.

“Me too,” Luna said. “Although I had never considered it before Draco brought it up.”

Harry froze. “What? Malfoy?”

Luna nodded again. “He talked about it at lenght the other night. Though, he was quite inhebriated so I don’t know if he remembers.”

Harry frowned, feeling slightly confused as to why was Malfoy talking about Harry having a beard, of all things. Was Malfoy never going to stop making fun of him, even after all these years?

“When was this?” he asked Luna.

“Two nights ago, I think. He spent the night at my place.”

Harry sat up, his mouth going dry. He knew he and Luna weren’t exactly exclusive yet, this was only their third date, but he would have never imagined that she was already seeing someone else…much less Malfoy.

Luna sat up too and cocked her head to the side. “I should have told you before, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Harry lied, because imagining Luna sleeping with Malfoy was not alright. But he also had no right to tell her what to do.

“I like you, Harry.” Luna’s fingers grazed Harry’s cheek and he smiled. It was almost funny if he thought about it. Of course he couldn’t simply have his dream job and fall in love with an old friend; it would have been too easy to be true. He was about to tell her that he liked her too when Luna spoke again. “And Draco likes you too.”

Harry laughed incredulously, moving away from Luna’s hand. But Luna wasn’t laughing, and in fact she looked even more serious by the second and it scared Harry. His laughter died out and he was left with a strange feeling in his gut. “What are you saying?”

“Not much,” she shrugged, fixing her stare on the moon above them. “I’m saying that I like you and that Draco likes you. I’m saying that I like Draco, and I know you like me. And I’m saying that maybe you should think about it.”

If Harry thought his mouth had gone dry before, it was nothing compared to way it felt like sandpaper when he swallowed now.

Luna glanced at the watch on her wrist. “I have to go feed the clabberts, otherwise they’ll start feasting on the pixies.” She stood up, looking down at Harry through long strands of blonde hair. “I’d ask you if you want to come, but I think I burned that bridge when I mentioned Draco. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry.” She bent down and kissed Harry’s forehead before walking away.

Harry remained there for a while, trying to make sense of Luna’s words, or his own feelings for that matter, but both quests were useless and he had no other choice but to return to his chambers and spend the night grading second year’s exams.

.

Harry had just started his first year as a teacher at Hogwarts, but from day one he didn’t really enjoy sitting at the teacher’s tables in front of the students, so if he didn’t absolutely had to, he would just wait until headmistress Mcgonagall finished eating and then find a place at the Gryffindor table. Sometimes Luna would eat with him, sometimes she would stay at the teacher’s table, and sometimes she wouldn’t show up at all. Today was one of those times, so Harry ate alone, mostly worrying about his next class with the seventh years, when his eyes landed on Malfoy.

He always sat at the teacher’s table, usually at the very end, and only making conversation with Madame Pomfrey, or Luna of she was there. After Luna’s revelation the other night, Harry couldn’t stop picturing her and Malfoy in a completely different light.

How long had they been ‘dating’? They’ve both been teachers for over a year now, but they were clearly not a couple, and Harry was terribly curious about the nature of their relationship. Malfoy looked up, his eyes locking with Harry’s. As soon as he noticed that Harry was looking at him, his cheeks tinted with a soft pink and he immediately looked away.

Harry decided it was time to find out.

Harry’s chambers were nicer than he could have hoped for, as they were basically a miniature version of the Gryffindor common room, with a small bedroom on the back, and he had a brilliant view of the quidditch pitch. His heart sped up when there was a knock at his door and he took in a deep breath before opening it. He was expecting to find Luna, but apparently she was late, as only Malfoy stood at his door. Maybe Harry’s mind was playing tricks on him, but he had the impression that Malfoy look more put together than usual, if that was even possible.

“Potter,” he greeted with a nod. “I uh, I brought some wine.“

Harry accepted the bottle from him and stepped aside to let Malfoy inside. “Thank you. Make yourself at home.”

Malfoy walked inside, his eyes roaming over the room and then settling on the window. “Nice view. Have you seen any matches from here?”

“Only a couple, but they were both terrible to be quite honest.” Harry chuckled. “Were we ever that bad?”

Malfoy turned around to face him with a smirk. “Maybe you were.”

Harry held Malfoy’s gaze, refusing to back down while his brain came up with an adequate comeback, but there was a knock again and the moment was lost.

Luna was wearing a deep purple dress with tiny shiny dots all over, making her look like a lantern full of fireflies. Harry kissed her cheek before she walked in and then she and Malfoy greeted each other with a smile, but neither of them made any attempt to touch each other.

“I’ll pour some wine,” Harry said as they sat in armchairs around the fire.

-

After a while of polite small talk and stories about their own classes, there was an uncomfortable silence. At least for Harry because Luna, as always, seemed to be quite at ease. She looked from Harry to Malfoy and back before clearing her throat. Harry’s stomach flipped; he did not have a good feeling about this.

“Harry would like to know why you were talking about his facial hair the other night,” she said to Draco who tensed up considerably. Luna looked at Harry. “Or lack thereof. Did you shave today?” she directed the last question at Harry and he just wanted to bury himself in his seat.

Draco closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with one hand. “For fuck’s sake, Luna.” He dropped his hand and stared at her with his mouth open. For a moment Harry felt like he was about to watch a couple’s fight. “Did you actually talked to him about that during the date?”

Luna nodded with a smile and Draco sighed, his eyes falling on Harry. “I’m sorry she’s so bloody crazy, Potter. But you’d already gone out with her twice before so I suppose you already knew what you were getting yourself into.”

Harry definitely didn’t know, as he stared at the both of them for a long time, his brain trying hard to comprehend what exactly he was supposed to say or do next.

Again, Luna broke the silence. “I’m the only one who’s clear and direct about my thoughts and feelings, but sure, I’m the crazy one,” she said, shaking her head slightly and then standing up. “I’ll get more wine.” She took all their empty glasses and went to find the bottle.

Malfoy leaned forward in his seat. “Look, Luna said she liked you, so I was just trying to help her plan your date, and I got really drunk and I don’t know what I said. Merlin only knows why she’d mention us being together during your date, but don’t let that make you think she doesn’t really like you. I know she does.”

Harry pushed aside some of the questions he had to focus on others. “Why would you help your…” Harry wasn’t sure if he should put a label to their relationship.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Malfoy shook his head.

“Fine. Why would you help your, whatever she is to you, plan a date with someone else? Don’t you mind that she likes me?”

Malfoy leaned back again. “As I said, she’s not my girlfriend and I got the feeling she really liked you, so I was just helping her out. I guess I think you’d be good together.”

Harry had to bite his tongue several times not to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind, because he wanted to phrase his words correctly. He took a deep breath. “Luna said she likes you.”

“It’ll pass,” Malfoy said dismissively.

“And she said you like me.”

Malfoy looked slightly shocked as he looked into Harry’s eyes and then his eyes roamed over the small coffee table between them, like he was trying to find his glass of wine.

Harry noticed Luna coming back from behind Malfoy, so before she could hear he spoke again. “Do you?”

He had a feeling Malfoy would be more likely to communicate with him if Luna wasn’t around, but apparently he was wrong because Malfoy didn’t say anything and Luna came back and changed the subject, probably sensing that they were not ready for this particular conversation just yet.

.

“Mr. Potter?” Harry looked up from the Daily Prophet and was taken aback to find Malfoy standing in the threshold of the teacher’s lounge. He hadn’t seen Malfoy since that night with Luna in his chambers, and that had been over two weeks ago. Sure, there were flashes of blond hair here and there, and Harry tried to convince himself his heart raced every time because he thought of Luna and not of someone else.

“Do you have a moment to discuss something?” Malfoy asked in a tone that made Harry feel way too old, but Harry nodded nonetheless. The teacher’s lounge was empty and he was simply reading up on old news.

“Certainly, professor Malfoy.” Harry tried to be funny and make fun of Malfoy’s polite formality, but apparently Malfoy didn’t find it amusing, because his expression was deadly serious and he advanced on Harry with two long strides.

He seized Harry by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up to his feet before crashing their lips together. Harry’s whole body felt limp, and he clung to Malfoy’s shoulders as best as he could while Malfoy kissed him so deeply and thoroughly, that Harry thought it must have taken hours.

It was barely a minute when Malfoy let him go and Harry had to beg his legs not to give out under him. His hands dropped from Malfoy’s shoulders and he remained staring at two silvery pupils that reminded him so much of someone else.

“Yes. I do,” Malfoy said, bringing a hand up to Harry’s cheek and dragging it down softly. Harry heard the rasp of his stubble against Malfoy’s hand and he remembered that he hadn’t shaved for two weeks. No particular reason why.

Malfoy started walking away and Harry watched him, his brain reeling for a possible response. In the end, right before Malfoy exited the room, he murmured, “Nice talk.”

Malfoy smiled.

.

Harry leaned back in the grass and stared at the dark sky. “Do you think it was ever like this when we came to Hogwarts?”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked from next to him. She was sitting and working her fingers through Draco’s hair. Harry suspected she was doing a braid, but he said nothing.

"The teachers dating each other. Having nights out at various parts of the castle. Were we just too blind to see it?”

Draco laughed. “Oh...oh no.”

“What?” Harry asked, sitting up.

“I was just imagining if, like now, the potions, care of magical creatures, and defense against the dark arts teachers had been together.”

Harry’s face twisted in a mix of disgust and amusement. “So Snape, Hagrid, and…”

“Which DADA teacher are you thinking of?” Luna wondered, her eyes still concentrating on Draco’s hair. “Lockhart? Umbridge? Moody?”

Draco made a gagging sound. “I don’t know who’s worse.”

“I do!” Harry said almost indignantly. “Quirrell had two heads, and one of them was Voldemort!”

“Then they would have been four and not three, right?” Luna commented, making Draco and Harry laugh.

Draco turned his head over his shoulder and kissed Luna’s fingers before standing up. “Since I know you two live with your heads in literal clouds up in those ridiculous towers, I took it upon myself to bring food because that’s what you do on a date.”

Draco flicked his wand in the direction of a bag lying on the ground and containers of warm food started floating out of it and setting themselves nice and orderly next to Harry and Luna. Luna opened one and smiled down at the food.

“Just be careful with all the potion fumes down at the dungeons, Draco. Some of them attract nargles, and some attract flobberworms and there’s loads on the grounds.”

Draco shuddered and started setting down plates.

Harry leaned closer to Luna. “I think you attract Slytherins and Gryffindors,” he told her, kissing the corner of her lips and down her jaw. Luna giggled and softly pulled Harry’s chin up so she could kiss him properly.

“I think you attract blondes,” she whispered.

When they looked up, Draco was watching them with a smile, which quickly turned into a disinterested look.

“What do you attract, Draco?” Luna asked him.

Draco raised an eyebrow at them and inspected their faces carefully. He smirked. “Lunatics, clearly.”

Luna and Harry glances briefly at each other before them both launched themselves into Draco, bringing him tumbling to the ground.

[thekingdomofgod]

Revelation & Understanding

Revelation opens up new realms of living, of possibility, of faith. It is absolutely impossible to live the normal Christian life without receiving regular revelation from God.The Bible says ‘My people die from a lack of knowledge’ (HOS 4:6) Also PROV 29:18 similarly says, 

‘Where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint’.

A more correct translation would be ‘Without a prophetic revelation, the people go unrestrained, walking in circles, having no certain destiny’.

Revelation is so essential in our lives that without it we perish. Without unfolding prophetic revelation that expands your capacity to SEE LIFE FROM GODS PERSPECTIVE, you will perish. Without seeing your present circumstances through God’s eyes, you will spiritually die. It is so vital that Paul wrote to the Ephesians - those who seemed to have their act together in every area, who experienced perhaps the greatest revival recorded in the New Testament - and said he prayed that God would, ‘…give to them a spirit of wisdom & revelation in the knowledge of Him’ (EPH 1:17) If the revival steeped Ephesians church needed to be reminded of the importance of revelation, we need to hear it much more. Revelation is normal to the Christian life.

TUNING IN

The problem is that many Christians don’t tune in to Gods revelation. Paul put it well when he wrote, ‘Now we have received, not the things of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God…But the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; nor can he know them because they are spiritually discerned’ (1 COR 2:12-14)

Right now in the room where you are sitting, movies are playing all around you. If you had the right receiver or satellite dish you could pick them up. Just because you can’t see the waves passing through doesn’t mean they aren’t there. With the right receiver you could watch any number of television shows listen to conversations on cell phones and short wave radio. But without the proper receiver you won’t pick anything up.

Likewise the Bible says the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God. If God is speaking on FM radio and we are on AM, we can turn the dial all the way to the left, then slowly go over every station …we can quote versus from the Bible, we can claim the promises of God….but as long as we are on AM and He is on FM, we are not going to receive His message because the natural man is receiving. The key is to be spiritually discerning - to open up our spirit man to direct revelation from God. 

The Bible says; ‘But as it is written: ‘Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him’. But God has revealed them to us through His Spirit. For the Spirit searches all things, yes, the deep things of God’ (1 COR 2:9-10) The Holy Spirit searches for all things that have never been heard by human ears or seen by human eyes. He is the greatest search engine in the whole universe…He searches the greatest reservoir of information imaginable - the heart of the Father.  Psalm 139:18 says that God’s thoughts about each one of us outnumber the sands on the sea shore and according to Jeremiah 29:11, all those thoughts are for your welfare, benefit and blessing. God has been around a long time and He has had a long time to think about you. He has been living in the experience about knowing you long before you were ever born. For trillions of years, God has been thinking about you and the Holy Spirit searches that whole archive and brings incredible treasures to you at precisely the right moment - if your listening. RECOGNISING REVELATION

YOU WILL KNOW WHEN HE IS SPEAKING BECAUSE IT WILL HAVE A FRESHNESS TO IT. It will always be better than anything than you could have thought up yourself. And if He gives you new ideas, they will probably be impossible to accomplish in your own strength. His thoughts will so overwhelm you that you will want to draw close to Him so they can be accomplished.Most born again people know what its like to be in confusion or trouble and have someone speak a word that brings supernatural invasion of peace into their soul. You might not even have all the answers you thought you needed five mins ago, but for some reason, you just don’t care. Their words were the spirit of REVELATION from God Himself. THE SAME WAY THAT JESUS BECAME FLESH, THE HOLY SPIRIT BECOMES WORDS THAT ARE POTENT WITH POWER AND WHEN THEY ARE SPOKEN THEY BRING LIFE. We don’t even have to comprehend it to embrace it….we just have to wrap our hearts around it and eventually it will start making sense.

Proverbs says that ‘knowledge is easy to a man of understanding’ (PROV 14:6) Some people get torrents of revelation and others don’t. There are a couple of reasons why;

First, it depends on how we build our support structure. Once you have these in place, God delightfully adds to them, as a decorator decorates a house after the foundation and walls are secure. A man of understanding accepts Gods additions and doesn’t question them. He is not double minded about them. Thats how a person of understanding attracts greater understanding. You treasure something that God says and that builds a foundation for greater revelation.

Another way to attract revelation is to obey what we know. One man came to Jesus and asked what to do to gain eternal life. Jesus said, ‘What does it say to do?’ The man said, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind and love your neighbour as yourself.’ Jesus said, ‘Do that and you will be fine’ (my paraphrase) The man pressed Jesus for more, but Jesus would not give him any new information. He pointed him back to what he already knew. The mans first responsibility was to obey the revelation he had. Until he walked in obedience, he wasn’t going to get more.

Obedience is a signal to God that says, ‘God, I want to go to the next step.’ That tender heart draws the spirit of revelation to a person and/or a body of people. They begin seeing and hearing things they never heard or saw before. The Bible says, ‘He will seal up that instruction in our heart while we sleep’ (JOB 33: 15-16) REVELATION SETS THE BOUNDARIES

Revelation is for every single believer…the greater the revelation a person carries, the greater faith he or she is able to exercise. If I believe its not God’s desire to heal everybody then my revelation limits me every time a person comes to me who is sick. I have to settle it in my heart - is it really God’s will to heal people? As long as I shun the revelation that Gods wants everybody healed and whole, I have cut myself off from releasing faith in that area. Revelation enlarges the arena that our faith can function in, it broaden the boundaries for your faith to operate in THE MYSTERY

In Matthew 13, the disciples asked, ‘Why do You speak to them in parables?’ And Jesus said, ‘Because it has been given to you to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven, but to them it has not been given’   (MATT 13:10-11)

Revelation is not something you can dig out of a theological book or study guide. Its not even something you can unravel in the Bible all by yourself. Revelation is LOCKED UP IN A REALM THE BIBLE CALLS ‘MYSTERY’ A mystery cannot be hunted down and trapped like an animal. It cannot be discovered by persistent searching…it must be revealed. We don’t unlock mysteries; they are unlocked for us. And they are only unlocked and revealed to those who hunger for them. Jesus said He concealed truth in parables so it remained a mystery to some, but not for others. In the same way He put gold in the rocks and said, ‘If you want it, go find it and dig it out.’ The Bible says; ‘It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of Kings to search it out’ (PROV 25:2)

God doesn’t take the pearls of revelation - those things that were gained through hardship and difficulty, conflict and irritation - and freely throw them out to anybody. We cannot enter into revelation without the assistance of the Spirit of God.

1 Corinthians 2:6-8 says; ‘However, we speak wisdom among those who are mature, yet not the wisdom of this age, who are coming to nothing. But we speak the wisdom of God in a mystery, the hidden mystery which God ordained before the ages FOR OUR GLORY, which none of the rulers of this age knew; for had they known, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.’

Unfortunately, mystery is not something that most people in the Western world appreciate. We have this idea that God knows our address and if He wants us to have an insight or experience, He will send it to us. We don’t want to work for it or hunger after it. The spirit of self-pity has found tremendous home in this culture, but self-pity doesn’t attract a visitation of God…Faith does. Faith moves the economy of heaven. It is the very currency of heaven. Mystery should be a continual part of your life. You should always have more questions than answers. If your encounters with God don’t leave you with more questions than when you started, then you have had an inferior encounter. A relationship with God that does not stir up that realm of mystery and wonder is an inferior relationship.It would help all of us a great deal if we had to walk out of a few more church services, scratching our heads, wondering what just took place. He is a God of wonder, the God off awe! But tenderness of heart enables us to come into the realm of revelation that unlocks the mysteries of God. SEEKING REVELATION

‘Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great & mighty things, things which you do not know.’ (JEREMIAH 33:3) The word mighty is an Old Testament word that is similar to the New Testament word ‘mystery’. Its a picture of something that is out of reach, unattainable, behind fortification. God has hidden mighty and mysterious things for us, not from us. He has already allotted to us this mysterious realm of the Kingdom, but it doesn’t just come to anyone. It comes to those who are open and hungry for it. Jeremiah used the word call, which means ‘to cry out to the Lord in a very loud voice’ Picture a person desperate enough to open his or her heart fully and issue a deep cry from the spirit. That deep part of man calls to the deep part of God…’’as deep calls unto deep’ (PSALM 42:7). That opening of the heart determines the level of revelation we receive. Few people I know receive substantial revelations or visitations from God without reckless pursuit. Most people I know who rerceive revelation cry out day and night for that fullness of the Holy Spirit. Casual prayer gets casual revelation. Deep cries to God to ‘hear you’ and ‘answer you’ and ‘show you great and mighty things you do not know’

This is the Old Testament equivalent of the promise of Ephesians 3:20 when it says;

‘Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us’

1 Corinthians 2:9 says,’Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things  which God has prepared for those who love Him.’ Prayer - the desperate heart of man - initiates the beginning of revelation to your heart and mind. 2 Peter 1:2-3 put it this way; ‘Grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord, as His divine Power has given to us ALL THINGS that pertain to LIFE & GODLINESS, through the knowledge of Him who called us by glory and virtue.’ The spirit of revelation opens up our knowledge of who God is and from that comes the RELEASE OF POWER FROM HEAVEN. That power gives us access to ALL THINGS pertaining to life & godliness. That encounter with God will not only shape (transform) the world around you, it will shape (transform) the world through you. The most revered people in the Old Testament were the prophets because of the spirit of revelation that came upon them. Kings feared them. They knew that they could do anything in secret and the prophets would know. The Bible even says, ‘Surely the Lord God does nothing, unless He reveals His secret to His servants the prophets’ (AMOS 3:7) And now that spirit of revelation is not limited to people with unique gifts. It is liberally given to anyone who will pursue and ask. Hosea 6 says that we press on to know the Lord, meaning we seek an encounter with God, a revelation that launches us into a new awareness of how life is to be lived. ‘Let us know, let us pursue the knowledge of the Lord’ (HOSEA 6:3) The cry of Hosea was, ‘Lets press on - no, lets hunt down and chase the encounter with God that changes our understanding of REALITY’. That is the kind of relentless pursuit each believer should have about the things of God. We need revelation to renew our minds, to help us prove the will of God ‘ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN’ I cannot live life knowing that there are realms that are available to me but which I have not yet discovered. My spirit is hungry for things which are not yet known. And yet I know that as Christians, we will always live in tension between what we understand and what remains a mystery. Years ago a famous author made a comment on a series of bookshelves had written saying , ‘I don’t know what is wrong with them, but they are too perfect. They answer every question and remove the realm of mystery. So I know something is wrong. We cannot afford to live only in what we understand because then we don’t grow or progress anymore; we just unravel the same familiar roads we have travelled all of our lives…it is important that we expose ourselves to impossibilities that force us to have questions that we cannot answer. It is part of the Christian life, which is why the Christian life is called ‘the faith’. The normal Christian life is perfectly poised between what we presently understand and the unfolding revelation that comes to us from the realm of mystery. EXPANDING REVELATION This realm of mystery and revelation goes far beyond what we normally think of as ‘ministry’. There are VAST RESOURCES of revelation in heaven for the areas of education  and business, the arts and music, and these resources have yet to be tapped anywhere near to their fullness. There are melodies that have never been played or considered. There is lyrical content that would minister deeply tp the church and stir the world to conversion. Our job is to tap into the revelation of the Lord in our areas of talent or gifting so that we can accurately and powerfully reflect the King and His Kingdom. I’m convinced that the pace of revelation will increase very rapidly in these last hours of history. AMOS 9:13 says, ‘the plowmen will overtake the reaper’ meaning the seasons won’t be distinct anymore…they will overlap so that planting and harvesting occur in the same motion. We will live in a supernatural season when understanding will come much more quickly and bare fruit much more dramatically. We already see acceleration in history in the development of technology, science and medicine…the knowledge of man is increasing but don’t think for a moment that God will not do equally and more so for the church in spiritual matters. He is looking for men and women of understanding. He is ready to add the plywood to the frame of understanding, but we have got to have the framing in place first. He is ready to put on the dry wall and the decorations and release revelation to each of us in quantities that we have not yet known.

That acceleration of revelation is beginning in our day. God is presently wooing people into intimacy so they know how He thinks and moves. People are coming alive to that wooing and in the process, to their sense of destiny. Its not about the greatness or accomplishment of any particular person or church. Its about the purposes of God being unveiled on the planet. On-going revelation and encounters with the power of God launch us into understanding of things we’ve never understood before. Presently every denomination, church and group seems to have revelation into certain Kingdom matters. Nobody has the whole picture, God refuses to give it to one person or one group because He wants us to be interdependent members of one another. But in these last days God is going to release a Spirit of revelation over the church where we repent of all our areas of great difference because we see Him as He is, we hear His word as He declares it and we are literally taught by the Spirit. We are coming into an hour where there will be a common revelation, a time when the people of God will simultaneously hear and see similar revelation, no matter the group or the church.

[likeadiamondfrost]

42.---69. Drabble thingsys :3

I think it goes without saying that this is more… in Megan’s earth than SU. Also, the ones that don’t apply are crossed out.

42.  Enthusiastic

They were starting small. Best to work up to the bigger things than have her be taxed out later out.  “Good. Now slowly, focus on one spot. Block the rest out.” She spoke calmly. Much like Astrid had the first-time Emma had blocked out the onslaught. “You’ll get stronger of course with age and practice, but let’s try putting up a shield.” She held the girl’s shoulders, leaning down to speak into her ear. Encouraging her. They stood in Emma’s head, she showed her what she meant. “Think of it like your sandbox. Whatever you construct. For example, the Frost manor.” Her gazed moved over it, “Is set of doors, locks and keys and paths for someone to get lost in.”

Gently Emma brought them back into reality, “Your turn.”

It was a gentle prod until they sat in the empty void of the girl’s mind. White vastness met them. “Make it however you see fit, darling” She smiled standing back. Before her, things shifted and a slight swell of pride raced through her. “Fantastic Megan,” She clapped watching the structures take form and solidify. “Keep it going. Just like—perfect.” Emma pulled the girl into a slight enthusiastic hug outwardly in the real world. “Well done, love.”

43.  Exhausted [ aww baby feels]

And three. Two. One. Finally. Tiptoeing away from the crib, Emma snuck out the door before she exhaled the breath she’d been holding.  Oh, kids are a joy he’d said. Think of having a family, they’d said. It’ll be fine. Fun even. Fun her arse… She glared at the chair where to pile of papers sat, untouched for days. She made a motion to move from the door, before veering left toward the bed.  She was far too used to little sleep before but this…this was worse. Every. Two. Hours. She was beyond the point of exhaustion now. When Megan slept. Emma attempted to sleep. Gone where her tries to remain on top of her classes. Gone were the attempts to even be remotely interested in the outside world of Xavier’s.  She could hear the shouts and laughter from the window outside their room and glared into her pillow as she collapsed face down on the bed with a huff. I will turn their brains to mush if they so much as wake her up. She thought not even remotely sorry.

She could feel pulling her deep in, baby monitor clutched her in hand. Just fifteen minutes, she’d be good. She let her body relax, sleeping pulling at the edge of her mind. Glorious, glorious sleep. And then…the piercing sound of two very powerful lungs sounded over the baby monitor.

44.  Fascinated

She observed the girl. Taking in her form. Her features and mannerisms as she talked.  Like looking at a petri dish, the girls was clearly a spectacle Emma couldn’t look away from. The longer she look the more she found unnervingly similar. The cheekbones. The tilt of her brow. The nose—that was Scott’s for sure—the shrug of her shoulder. All very Frostian. How she spoke, how she held herself. She needed to look away.

45.  Frustrated

What part of this was hard to comprehend? Emma thought for a bitter moment as she looked at the girl. “Again.” It was invaluable that the girl learned how to control herself.  They had more than enough problems with others she wasn’t going to let her daughter be an addition. Perhaps she was a bit more frustrated than needed. “I said again,” she repeated stricter. Harsher words than needed. But she needed to learn. To be able to push past the exhaustion. To be better than Emma herself. As encouraging and supportive as she could be, this was not one of those times. Things were getting worse, peace a distant memory and Emma would be damned if her daughter didn’t know how to properly control her powers.  Scolding words lodged themselves in her throat. She expected perfection. Why would she settle for less? But this, how she was reacting and behaving made her pale slightly “…Take a break.” She croaked out the realization hitting her hard. She was turning into her father.

46.  Furious

“I’m sorry, what?” Emma repeated, steely gaze focused on her daughter and not the other in her office. “I don’t believe I told you to go ahead with that half-cocked plan, Megan. And You” Her attention sung to Oli, “I expect as much from your father but you?” It was like scolding children again. Only they weren’t children. “how could you two be so…stupid!” The words rang out in the silence of the room. A hand on her hip, Emma let out a long breath through her nostrils. “I know we taught you both better than that.” She was furious, it boiled just below the surface. “When your father finds out…” She shook her head, “Out. Get out now. No, Megan, you stay” Her hand pointed to the door. Doing the best to keep the fury below the surface. For her sake.

47.  Gleeful [ the cuteness aww ]

Her lips pressed quickly into the side of the chubby cheeks of the toddler as she sat in her lap. The blonde girl bounced and squirmed as she waved to the laptop in front of her. “Alrighty Megan,” She smiled nose touching nose, “Let’s show daddy, what you showed mummy, okay?” She spared a look at the screen before reaching to place the teddy bear a few feet from where they stay on the floor. The child in her lap giggled and Emma sucked in a breath the sound never ceasing to make her smile. Unalerted joy. Emma nodded with an approving when big blues met her icy ones. Standing on shaky, unsure legs, Emma chewed her lip, half watching the child and half watching Scott’s face. One step. The another. A pause. “Go on, you can do it baby.” She cooed giving her diaper-clad bum a little pat to move forward. Another step. Then another followed by the teetering on not so sure legs. A few more steps and the girl began to topple over, catching herself with her arms. “I told you,” Emma laughed, before scooping the girl up in her arms, swinging her in a circle. “That’s my girl, Megan!” She laughed alongside the gleeful giggle before sitting back down before the camera.

48.  Grateful

In one universe, she was her mother. In this one, she wasn’t sure where she stood amongst the pedestal her older, alternate self-stood upon. But here, in the dingy paint bar bathroom, Emma couldn’t help the smile. Speckles of neon paint clung to the flaxen hair of both women, swatches of it smeared on their cheeks and forearms. It was fun. Emma had almost forgotten there was life outside of mundane hell of Iowa and the busy bustle of New York. She used to do this all the time, she remembered. The galas, the nightclubs, the PR sessions parties until the wee hours of the morning, it was familiar and proper and the life she had chosen after leaving Winston. Since she’d been in Iowa, that was a different question. Perhaps her first year or so she’d continued with the actions but now?

As they emerged into the thumping scene of the loud base, laughter and the dull roar of talking, Emma snagged a few shots placed in test tubes. It was quaint and yet she loved it. “Thank you for convincing me to come with you.” She shouted dangling the neon orange liquid before the other. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She winked and downed her similarly blue one.

49.  Greedy

It was a valuable lesson, she was sure. ‘How not to let greed consume you.’ or rather ‘how to be greedy, and power hungry with tact’ was the best crash course a Frost could offer. As Emma stacked the play money into a pile, she smiled to the girl. “Do you see where you went wrong?” She asked, icy eyes scanning the board before her, littered with hotels and houses all own by Emma. Greed was just a word to people like her.

50.  Grieving [ owie  x.x sorry ]

The scream ripped past her lips and for a second Emma felt her knees begin to buckle before she locked them in place. Tears burned her eyes as she stood there, arms wrapping around her. Frist her Hellions…and then Genosha…now, this? The world had stopped spinning, as the bodies were carried out. Ollie laid there, besides the others amongst the rubble of the wing. It was as if she’d been shot, she felt it now as they laid the last body down. That utter hollowness that seemed to vacuum everything in its reach. Avoid even her diamond skin couldn’t compete with. A wound that bleeds metaphorically and couldn’t be seen.  Hands wrapped around her forearms, a comfort that didn’t quite matter as she shook them off.  She couldn’t look back at the source either. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling, not that it mattered, she suspected she was crying freely now. How could we let his happen? She didn’t care who saw or what they said at the scene she was making. It wasn’t her baby there. It couldn’t be her Megan lying beside the others. That was just wrong. She was still in there trapped by rubble and debris or what have you. This, this was the first stage of grief.  

51.  Guilty

She chewed her lip as she looked down through the window at Megan, running about the school grounds with the others. Carefree. Emma was envious as anyone who was older and wiser is of the young. She was leaving, some mission somewhere far off and exotic. That should have been enough to make it worth it but it wasn’t going to be a quick pop in save the world fly home for dinner. She’d yet to tell Scott as well. He’d understand. It was their job of course. But Megan? Megan was barely at schooling age. The precious years of youth and innocence. The guilt of one day having to shatter that illusion haunts her just like the death of her students, like Christian, or her mother. It’s all there resting on her shoulders much like informing her six-year-old that mummy has to leave for a few months does.

52.  Heartbroken

She knows what today is. She can’t forget it. It was the first in many more to come over the years that Emma felt something besides guilt. She keeps things of theirs, all of them her students present and past, in a safe, not even Scott knows about. She opens it once a year. And only once.

The heavy door is open and she’s sitting on the floor below it. Trinkets and mementos scattered around her, laying in her lap, still inside. She doesn’t hear the soft knock on her door. Nor does she honestly care who sees here. The others have gone on missions or are in the classroom. She should be alone but she’s not. It’s a heartbreaking scene, she knows. Her in diamond form, cradling the things of the dead. Her gaze lifts and she sees Megan, there perplexed as ever. She’s late, she realizes for her class. Even in the deadened state, her heart bleeds, it hurts and there’s nothing she can do about it. She pats the empty space on the carpet, “We’ll go back in a few.” She’s not ready to face the world out there yet.

53.  Hopeful

She smiles as the little girl presses her hand into the slight mound of her stomach. It was a weird time, she suspected. A moment when Megan was just starting to realize her role in the family. She supposed she was anxious about this part. Until now it hadn’t been a problem she knew she was going to be a big sister, but it wasn’t real. She hadn’t been showing. Now though? She expected like most children, Megan, wouldn’t want to leave the limelight of being the ‘one and only’ and would be upset. The little blonde in front of her wasn’t. She smiled and moved her tiny hand over the mound. Her mouth moved a mile a minute as she told Emma just what she was going to do with her new baby sister or brother. On and on. It was heartwarming and hopeful to see her taking it so well.

54. Horrified

Her face screwed up and she cringed visibly. “No.” It was just no. Who on earth had allowed this child to dress herself? Her crystal-like gaze landed upon the tall body in the doorway amused smirk pulling his lips up, ruby glasses hiding the eyes behind them. It was horrific. “Why do you hate me?” She moaned before scooping up the dirtied matching onesies and tossing them into the hamper. She shook her head. Megan, a bouncing ball of energy twirled in her pink tutu, long polka dotted (lime green and yellow on white) socks, rainbow striped sweater, a red towel tied around her neck like a cap and blonde hair in uneven pigtails. “We are never letting Daddy dress you, clearly he likes to see mummy work harder.” She smiled pressing her nose to the girls as she hoisted her up in her arms. She said it with laughter but she was more than serious. With a smirk and a slightly amused twinkle in her eyes, she gently elbowed the culprit in question as she passed.

56.  Hostile

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to go easy on you?” Emma asked rhetorically as she fired yet another mental bolt toward the girl. “If I trained you, you should be better than this.” Again, and again, “Protect yourself, Megan. Stop me.” It was a taunt, mocking her. Perhaps it was a bit antagonistic of her to train the girl like this but she could do better. Be better. Emma was sure of it, she was her daughter after all and that was no reason to go lightly.

57.  Humiliated [ ow fucking hell…my heart. NO ONE BUT MEGAN WILL EVER SEE THIS ]

Her head held high, shoulder back Emma looked across at Megan who was attempting to pick her black box.  She sighed. “I’ll show you something, I’m sure your mother shared with you before.” She wasn’t sure of course, it was something Emma wasn’t going to show anyone.

Around her, the room changed, shifted had shimmering into Snow Valley Prep’s gymnastic. “It’s the first time I ever experienced humiliation but not the last. I learned a valuable lesson about what kind of person I was that night.” She narrated as the smaller brunette girl in the white dress walked into the room. From where they stood, ghosts to all around them, they were in perfect view of the event. The younger, mousier Emma stood by the punch talking to a boy—Josh? That was it. Josh, the boy of everyone’s affection—innocently enough.

“Anyone ever tell you your hair smells like Jasmine mixed with honeysuckle, Emma?” She murmured to her, hand filtering through her strands. A meek “N-No” escaped her. “Well, I just did. I like it.” That boyish charm had once made her heart flutter, “Wanna dance?” She accepted and they moved toward the dancefloor. Watching it now, Emma couldn’t help the eye roll. It was like looking at two very different people. Taking barely two steps, Emma watched as Matilda—terrible, naive, poor, bane of Emma’s existence at fourteen Matilda—latched onto her dress. The auditable rip made her wince now. She didn’t care for price tags in her youth but even she knew that Gaultier was expensive. “At last it’s not borrowed like yours.” Her mousy nature had gone—replaced with an attitude that was much more familiar to everyone around her—“Maybe You should spend a little less time worrying about me, Matilda—and a little more time figuring out what you’re going to do once your family declares bankruptcy next month.” The slur of bitch was loud as was the howl of Matilda as she prompted to pin the younger Emma to the ground. The shock of the information has shocked Emma as much as it had Matilda.

Again, the sound of fabric ripping echoed around them. The torn fabric hung in Matilda’s hand as she loomed over the other Emma’s body, bra exposed dress in shambles. The laughter echoed around her. The concerned words of Ian calling after made her stomach churn. Then snap, her heel and broken and she’d fallen. Emma looked at Megan for a second the back to her younger self. Nose bleeding, as laughter ran around her. She shuffled from the room, tears in her eyes, barely keeping the ruined dress up

“It was in that moment I realized I would never, ever, let someone make me the butt of their joke. So, I shape the way people perceive me for a reason. I am their greatest desire, their greatest confidant, and I never, for a reason let people get to me. You need to learn that what they say about me, how they say it doesn’t matter. Just as Matilda didn’t matter then and hardly matters now” They were in her office again, before the memory could finish, it disappeared like a bad roll of film. “These things are negligible to the larger picture. I appreciate the protectiveness but it’s better to put that somewhere else, alright?”

58.  Hurt

Typical teenaged angst she supposed. Or so she tried to convince herself that was what it was and Megan hadn’t meant the words as she stormed off. But she did. Emma was a telepath for god sake, she knew it better than anyone. Emma spared a look to Scott before rising from the chair. “Well, now I just feel like my father.” She muttered, a hand brushing the blonde back and behind her ear. They weren’t being strict to be spiteful. Lord know neither she nor Scott had had the best parental figures but that didn’t help the hurt that swam through her. They were just trying to protect her. To spare her the agony of what both of them endured.

59.  Hysterical

She glared at the four across from her. You would have thought that being–she paused mentally counting the months—six months to term Emma would have been given a bit more leeway for her emotional outburst. “I am not being hysterical,” She muttered, arms crossing over her chest, like a child, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The comment was directed to Megan who had said something or other about her being unreasonable. The collective sigh of emotions: frustration, exasperation whatever they wanted to call it was unappreciated.  She remained silent as they took turns explaining that her outburst during the literature class was…much more than just passion for the spoken word, or her watery gaze as they sat down to watch some movie with a dog. She was not being hysterical, she wanted to scream but refrained.

60.  Infatuated

61.  Insane

“You’re not going insane,” Emma assured as the blonde rushed into her room. Away from Xavier’s, for the past however long, years but not long enough to forget. Emma had pleaded to taking a sabbatical in order to raise Megan outside of the life and death that loomed over Xavier’s. Scott taught via conference calls and still went on missions—a condition she hadn’t argued with—when he could. Ever the leader. They had always planned to return as soon as Megan’s mutation developed. She had no doubt it would. Though perhaps not this soon. Emma welcomed the girl and set a cup of tea down in front of her.

“Believe me, darling, you are from insane.” Emma squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “Your telepathy is developing and I know—believe me I know it’s scary at first. It’s weird and you feel like your head might just explode.” She leaned against her desk, bending at the waist to meet the girl’s eyes, a finger wiping the tears away. Her eyes glowed faintly as she barricaded the girl’s mind. Gentle walls to muffle the onslaught until they had more time. “Would I lie to you?” She asked to the protest. A sigh left her lips as she tucked the flaxen hair of the girl behind her ear. “When you get older…I’ll tell you exactly why I’m not.”

                                                                 ************

“I was hoping you’d forget that.” She murmured setting her grading pen down. Outside the hall, Xavier’s bustled with the release of class for the day. Megan sat across from her and Emma smiled. “I wasn’t like you when I grew up.” She offered gently, taking a sip from her cup of coffee, “Mutants were still a foreign concept. They were known, sure, but it wasn’t until I was in college that they were a problem.” Her hand waved dismissively. “When my telepathy first developed. I didn’t quite understand what happened. Or was happening. The headache’s themselves were horrendous. I fainted once in school, my nose bleeds several times. It was a scary transition from human into a mutant.” She met her daughter’s gaze. “Your grandfather and I had a spat over something trivial I’m sure. It was right after Xavier came knocking on my door. Daddy dearest wasn’t the most supportive and I was young and scared. I didn’t want to be different. Declining the invitation to come here, he instead stuck me in ‘The Clinic’ A mental institution for the rich and famous. I thought I was crazy, straight jacket and all. The Clinic only solidified it until I broke out.” She dropped her gaze, organizing her desk as she talks. “That’s how I knew you weren’t mad as a hatter. And how I know I’m not…well, not any more than the next telepath who’s been through the things I have.”

62.  Insecure

Head gently pressed against the pillow, Emma felt tears in her eyes. Her brow was sticky with sweat, hair plastered to it as a hand moved to brush it away. Not because she was sad or upset or in pain. Sure, she was sure that was about as painful as being ripped apart had been but worth it. And just as quickly the bliss had come the fear and insecurities followed. She could hear the sound of the wailing infant feet away from her. That tightness in her chest appeared. One that mimicked the panic that happened as she sat in the examination room, waiting. What if she was just like everything everyone had thought? Worse yet what if she turned into her mother or father? Twisting and warping this child’s life like they had done hers. While she loved kids, always had and enjoyed teaching them immensely, but this was different. This was a whole new ball game.

She could feel the thoughts of everyone else pounding into her head. Against her walls. Looming there like a fist waiting to barrel through the barricades.  Her heart beat picked up and her breathing picked up. My god what if she dropped the baby?! What if she was a terrible mother? What is didn’t like being a mother?  The built upon one another slowly. Snowballing as the wailing continued to pierce the room. Her breathing picked up rapidly and she exhaled slowly through her nose. The insecurities bounce between her and her mind. What. Was. She. Doing. Her face tilted up to Scott. Eyes scanning his face for something. He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking away, toward the source of the crying. There would be no reassurance from him—his own doubts and worries loud enough she didn’t bother. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. She chewed her lip.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked gently, the wrapped little thing snug in a pink fleece blanket. She wanted to say no. She wanted to shake her head. She couldn’t taint the girl just by touching her.

“Yes.” Her mouth moved before she could stop it. Carefully placed in her arm, Emma cradled the fragile bundle in her arms. Tears trickling down from the corner of her eyes. “She’s perfect.” She smiled—while inside she felt unsure and scared. This was a lot different than facing life or death, super villains and prejudice.

63.  Inspired

It was a nice reminder. One Emma needed frequently it seemed. All the things that were at risk if she slipped. If she crossed the grey line again.  She watched, eyes taking in the similarities between her and Scott. Or even herself as they moved through the simulation. It was an inspiration. Maybe she wasn’t Emma’s really, but she was in the sense and that was enough to keep her from drifting.

64.  Intimidated65.  Jealous66.  Joyful [ this list need to check itself man ]

Summer. It wasn’t too hot yet, not too unbearable but warm enough most classes were taking Emma looked over the vast grounds of Xavier’s from the patio sitting beside Ororo and Rogue. None of them speaking as they surveyed the others. Giggles and laughter pierce the silent hush the grounds had fallen into. The sound of water sprinklers went off causing a cacophony of shouts and yells of the younger children. Remy, Logan, and Scott scooped them up spinning them around chasing them here and there. Emma looked to the others who had joined them at the table.

“This makes it worth it, no?” She asked. It was these joyful moments when laughter out did the screams of terror. Moments that made them seem human if not normal.

67.  Lonely

Moments like this, Emma hated the most. She watched over the sleeping girl from the threshold of her room door. Arms wrapping around herself, she stared at the blonde hair as she curled up. Well into her tween years, Megan knew how to do more than others her age. A sigh left her mouth. Times like these she almost wished they had a normal school. A life outside of the X-Men and whatever else plagued their lives. Moments when she wasn’t alone in a room because Scott was off on a mission. The looming threat that the life they’d all build so carefully would come crumbling down. She tried to push those feelings away as she gently closed the door to Megan’s room. The emptiness seemed to seep in. She didn’t mind the feeling, she’d been alone most of her life, it wasn’t anything new. But now after having found a family here, it seemed to be worse. More noticeable when half the halls were emptied out with students gone or teachers on missions. 

She ran a hand through her hair, chopped to her shoulders, trying to shake the feeling that grappled at her. She knew Megan would wake up and ask and that was a conversation for years down the road.

68.  Lovesick

69.  Loyal

She stuck her hand out toward the girl as the simulation rained down around them. A nod was all she gave, encouraging the girl to grab it. Once their fingers were firmly locked, Emma pulled her up to her side. “You don’t ever need to worry about where our—my—loyalty lies. In this universe or the next.” She commented. Emma would do whatever she need to protect the girl even if it meant sacrificing herself. That kind of loyalty was a difficult pill for Emma to swallow but came so naturally.

[pinkandpurplecups]

Pink and Purple Cups

10 months - Laying on dad's piano. Music in our ears and smiles on our faces. Although i don’t remember physically, the pictures make me warm.

18 months -  Looking out the window waiting for dad to come home from work. I was always so anxious for him to get home. Dads smiling in a suit, he was so good at his job.

2-7 - I remember mexico, disneyland, and phoenix. I remember dad bouncing me in his lap, building us a play structure in the backyard, and teaching me to ride a bike. He really liked long baths.

7 - I come home for lunch from school and dad makes me lunch. We eat, play video games, and smile some more. Why isn't mom home for lunch too? Why don’t I wait for dad at the window anymore?

7.5 - Dad doesn’t make me lunch anymore - I bring a packed lunch to school; he isnt home for supper either. Why are we going to the big building with doctors? Why is dad in a gown?

8 - Yelling upstairs. I should be sleeping but instead I hold my ear to the bottom of the bedroom door. I don’t understand the conversation but something seems wrong, my heart feels heavy. Steph and Danna tell me to go to bed, I shouldn’t be up.

9 - Mom takes us to show homes. It’s just us girls. Mom says we should name each show home to make the search more fun. I liked sam the best, although I didn’t understand why dad didn’t get to pick a favorite.

10 - I go to a different school now. Mom, Danna, Stephanie and I live in a condo (we didn’t pick sam). I don’t know much. I don’t remember much. I just know dad wasn’t there. Mom says things will be okay.

11 - Dad picks me up every so often, and I pack a sleepover bag. This is the new normal. Mom and dad don't live together anymore, and one home has now become two. I like this house too, though. Me and dad get to do special things just us. We like to rent movies and have snacks.

15 - Dad and I go on road trips for volleyball. He teaches me to drive. We have holidays, and the odd weekends together. I don’t always like to have friends over at dad's house though - it smells like smoke in here.

16 - I can drive myself to dads now. I have my licence, which means I don’t always have sleepovers at dads anymore. I’m a busy teenager afterall. Dad likes to make me supper sometimes, and I like to eat his cooking too! What I don't like, is the pink and purple cups that are always on the counter next to an empty shot glass. They make dad act funny. I hate the colours pink and purple because of these. The second I see them, they are usually wisped away without a word.

18 - Dad tells me details from the divorse. I’m an adult now. After I hear the words depression and suicide, my head goes foggy. My dad? I’m confused, is this why he wore the gown? I feel sadness for the years I was too young to know, but I feel happy because he is better now. Right?

20 - Dad and I still hang out. The pink and purple cups don’t get wisped away anymore. I’m legal to drink now, and sometimes I have a beer at dads, but dad never wants one with me. Why does he have beer in the fridge if he doesn't drink it? Why is the shot glass still out but I never see him holding his cup?

21 - Grammie passes away on a calm february day. We are all with her, and she was ready to go. Dad seems different, but comforts me nonetheless. Her funeral comes and dad hugs me while I cry. At least we are in this together.

22 - It’s my birthday. Dad is 30 minutes late for supper. He eats a couple bites; maybe he didn’t like what he ordered. He doesn’t say much. I ask to come over after and am excited to show him my new car, but he doesn’t reciprocate. I leave feeling confused.

Christmas - I can’t wait for christmas roast! It’s tradition, minus Grammie this year. Dad likely made Brayden rice krispie squares, they’re his favorite. We brought our new kitten with us to show dad. Excited to share holiday company, I open the door to find a quiet house. No supper. Dad says he must have just closed his eyes for just a second, but the bottles under the coffee table and mess says otherwise. My heart feels heavy, but my head feels red. How could he forget christmas dinner? How could he embarrass me in front of Brayden like this? For the first time in my life, my eyes saw the alcoholic that’s been disguising itself as my dad for so many years. I pull it together and make us omelettes for supper. Nothing is the same after tonight.

January - I can’t decide whether to be angry or sad. Dad can’t get up off the couch, and calls me constantly. Auntie says dad should be in the hospital. Dad tells me everything is okay. He is seeing a doctor for heart problems and while he cant get off the couch, he says it’s a matter of getting a procedure that’s already booked; aka there’s nothing he can do now but wait. I feel more anxious than ever with each day that passes. I visit dad frequently, but I can't stand that everytime I go, there’s one more 26 under the table. Does he really think I don't notice? My brain can’t tell the difference between the dad I thought I knew and the dad that’s right in front of me. Is this what denial is?

Dad is in the hospital now. Apparently he called EMS himself. What happened at home that he had to call an ambulance? Why didn’t he call me? I arrive at pasqua hospital to visit, but I don't think he even knows im there. He must be tired.

Dad is in ICU now. He is hooked up to a ventilator and all extremities are restrained. I thought the ICU was reserved for major traumas, but apparently this is what withdrawal looks like. I visit dad everyday, but it feels like im visiting a stranger. The nurses tell us we need to bring in a bottle of alcohol to give to dad because there are no medications that will help what he is going through besides that. I feel like I could pass out. When dad is finally off the ventilator, I ask him what happened. I asked him why he did this to himself, and he replies, “why does anyone do anything?”. Suddenly, all those questions I had from my childhood make sense.

January 18th 5:13 am. My phone reads caller ID: 766-2252. 766 means its the hospital calling. My heart sinks as I answer. I don’t get told much other than I need to come to the hospital right away. No one gets these calls unless its bad. The road is blurry as my eyes fill with tears. My heart says “maybe they just need consent for a procedure” but my head says it’s much more than that. I arrive and the doctor sits me down. I see in his eyes what he’s about to say before he says it. “We did everything we could”. I hear the words, but I can't respond over the lump in my chest. I have never felt so completely incomplete.

It has been months, but I still don’t feel clear. I don’t know what to say when they ask “what happened?” because honestly I don't know either. I think I've asked God a million times “why?”. Things went from 0 to 100 faster than I could comprehend, let alone help. The only thing that’s clear is that I grew up with a high functioning, closet alcoholic - until he wasn’t. I knew he drank, but seeing a credit card statement that shows daily bottle sales was devastating. I try to convince myself that maybe it’s better this way? That would be the easiest I suppose but I feel like im constantly fighting a battle with myself. You could have done more - no, you SHOULD have done more. Was I in denial all this time or was he? Were we both? My dad never showed his struggles. Deep down I feel like I always knew, but he did everything to protect me from that side of him. Was that a blessing or a curse? Sometimes I wish that I had to deal with the negatives of an open alcoholic because then maybe he’d still be here. Maybe it would have been easier to open up the conversation and to have gotten him help sooner.

Or

Maybe

We

Dont

Know

What I DO know, is that to have 22 years of good memories from a father is more than some get at all. Mental illness and addiction are such strong things, and unfortunately stronger than my dad. I can’t even begin to comprehend how hard my dad fought for so many years.

I can only hope the confusion becomes more clear as the years go by. But for now I’m doing everything to make my dad proud. I am learning to forgive him rather than to resent him. I am attending festivals that he would have loved to see knowing he’s right there dancing with me, I blast music in my car like we used to, and I'm just taking life one day at a time. Oh, and by the way, I love the colours pink and purple now...

[ahmedgoderich76-blog]

Looking For Student Accommodation Here S Your Guide

Hiring location medical travel agency # is key, and for that you have to do a through check to the company. The Internet is the right place observe what individuals are saying within particular vendor. Read reviews, if possible email folks who suffer from hired them earlier and request their suggestions. Understand what you should be looking out for and study on experience.

In Warsaw, though, I stayed with an exquisite hotel. The hotels are comparatively cheap here, the particular nice ones, so I treated myself a tiny bit. The room was gorgeous, staff incredibly helpful, although the Internet was a bit pricy, which was an issue for me. But I would highly recommend the place -- the hotel Rialto.

In most scenarios, mum and dad will be your own personal couriers, however annoying all of them that can be. If for whatever reason you can't enlist aid from the parents to transfer to your possessions, then it will be necessary to work with a man and van remover.

Make an inventory of all of the possessions will need insure. Probably have you should have your laptop insured against theft as the most frequently stolen possession from student residence. University are sometimes partnered having a insurance company who provide bespoke student insurance that covers the educational year.

Also, a person can find a very good accommodation in the neighborhood offers all the facilities and gives a a feeling of security and comfort . A particular research can be produced to provide a neighborhood where he/she can get good bargains on clothes, hair dressing, and other such routine requirement businesses. Also, the location is likely to be selected if is actually not near together with a local market or a positive grocery store, a nice pub or good gym and in a similar fashion.

Let's having the bed, as anyone provide essentially the most comfort. Don't skimp on sheets - go for that 400-thread count or even higher. Over sleeping comfort is integral. Not simply you possess a sounder night's sleep, but you'll drift off to sleep more swiftly.

Mirrors obtainable various dimensions and shapes. While choosing one for one's bathroom, it is usually important comprehend the size of both the room as well as the mirror. Even the shape of your mirror changes the associated with the shower room. You can opt for vintage style or very trendy cuts to match with the other bathroom typical accessories.

You are essentially on an island with just a few other people who will speak your language. If you aren't careful, you should get voted off island. Especially don't aboard the bad side of anyone that can speak Japanese. They speak the language of upper management an individual also do far from being.

Do be the cause of where you want to live inside of. What kind of the property is perfectly best with you, a non-public house, also known as a rented room or apartment in big building or even complex. Every type of your home has its very positive and negative items. If you have taken all the pros and cons each kind of property towards your account, this will be simple for for you to make an alternative which the best befitting your needs and personality.

Solution: Do a list of points. Prioritize events, games, meetings, activities and function. Many times the college or university will offer jobs to students with flexible hours and period for devote your studies. Ensuring you are prioritizing your schedule assist you to get perform done and get time take pleasure in activities.

Keep as your intended purpose the contract is legally binding. Be sure the length belonging to the tenancy and also the type (individual or joint) suits families. Visit our student residence website to read a student tenant guide written for young students.

Contact a tourism health care business. Even small cities have tourism centers with a staff that speaks some English. Ask them about events taking place around the city, or have them send reading material to any hotel bathroom. Here is more information in regards to best accommodation look at our web site. Tourism centers will have lots of information explaining customs and detailing cultural events, exhibitions and celebrations.

There are millionaires and billionaires may fund you might. There are teachers and mentors who will coach you in the spiritual path to the point that choice killing babies is what God requires. And there are a dozen messages within your email inbox every day, explaining in great detail who exactly God wants you to murder and also the many afterlife blow tasks are waiting as reward.

Mission to your web site over towards Mission neighborhood, which is widely considered the historical heart of San Fran. Here's you will the Mission Dolores Church, which is known to be the cities oldest remaining structure.

Unless you are wanting to spend a period of time at a friend's house or maybe your old folks' place, you will have lodging expenses: Hotel, a mountain cabin, hostel, a seaside condo, in any case. This will be your largest expense, naturally depending on how long you are staying, nevertheless it's normally the key sum.

[lovezealousstudentcloud-blog]

The Future From Headline IX.

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