#years i guess even since i never really allow myself to fully grieve because i hate how it feels

[dingusships]

(very) long vent post, heavy discussion of animal death, death in general, grief //

so i haven't talked about it bc i haven't been active on tumblr much & i dont feel comfortable posting it anywhere else so i'll give a short rundown. my dog, lucy, turns 15 on the 25th - that's obviously a very long time and i'm so grateful to have had her this long. a few months ago she started having issues with coughing, and was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.

we've been giving her meds to keep it managed but we've had to steadily increase it after 2 or 3 scares. 2 nights ago, she started having problems again, and it was so worrying that my parents used the after-hours emergency call in meetup at her vet at 1 in the morning. she spent all the next day there getting stabilized, and she spent last night there as well so they could monitor her after they stabilized her. we visited her yesterday during the day and she was in good spirits luckily but you can tell she's tired overall.

she's home now, feeling better, but the vet explained and showed how far along her condition has progressed. He said she's stable now but if/when this happens again, we'll be doing her a favor by having her put to sleep at that point. He's given her a bunch more meds to make her comfortable while we spend time with her for however long that may be.

so that's the rundown.

I'm absolutely gutted and devastated, and I don't know how to handle it or cope or make it easier to face. I'm scared, I'm scared of her suffering, and this is utterly pathetic and cowardly to admit but I'm scared of being near her. It's like if I face her the situation will be all the more raw and real. I want to spend every second with her, I need to and want to so bad but it's like at the same time I'm trying to distance myself from the reality of the situation and keep from hurting worse. I'm the one primarily doing her meds, feeding her, taking her out to use the bathroom, making sure she's comfortable etc so it's not like I'm *actually* giving into those fears. I'd like to think she notices I'm doing good for her esp since classes aren't keeping me busy anymore and I have time to now.

Seeing her condition degrade is horrible and weighing on me, it's so heartbreaking and scary to see her try to be her old self but not have the energy to. I'm constantly terrified of something sudden happening that causes her pain and distress. That we'll have waited too long to give her a humane ending and we couldn't have gotten to the vet in time.

Logically I know that whenever the time comes and we take her in, she won't be suffering at all anymore. The worst will be over and there won't be any more dread and agony of knowing what's to come. But despite knowing those objective facts, and being told + telling yourself that to try to comfort yourself, it just... you can't logic your way out of the emotions that come from losing someone you love, animal or human. It's tearing me apart to see her suffer and it's tearing me apart to know she'll be gone.

I'm scared of the possibility that the last view I have of her is her in the vet's office whenever the time comes. I know people always say to go in and stay in-person when you have to do this, even if you know it crushes you, but I really don't think I'm strong enough to handle it.

I couldn't do it with my cat, but I did give my parents a shirt of mine to take in for him to smell. That helped a lot in giving me peace. The part of me trying to protect myself is saying to do that again with my dog. The other part of me that puts her first knows that I owe it to her to be in there when it happens after 15 years together. But I just don't know if I could handle witnessing her pass away. I know it would be very traumatic for me

It's the same thing when it comes to people's funerals I've gone to. I look like a tool when I do this but I cannot bring myself to partake in the viewing. I want my last memory of whoever it was to be as how I knew them alive. Even for, well especially for my grandparents when theirs happened. When I think about people I've lost, even if we didn't have a super close relationship I want the last time I remember their faces to be when they were alive and doing whatever it is they normally do. Not what they look like lifeless. I just know that would be so traumatic for me and I'd never be able to get the image out of my head. If they're alive in my memories then it's...easier to cope. Like they never really "died"... but just...left

I say "cope" but i don't know if trying my hardest to forcing down every negative feeling that acknowledges the reality of the situation, and end up also trying to distance myself from any prior positive memories in (feeble) attempts to not feel any sense of loss whatsoever is necessarily "coping".

[bbangsoonie]

11:11

member: changmin (q) genre: angst word count: 6,802 synopsis: when changmin finds himself trapped in the past, repeating the day of your death, he’s convinced that he’s been given a chance to save you. warning(s): death

Changmin woke up with a dreading feeling. He hadn’t set an alarm despite it being a weekday. He was hoping to sleep through the day and wake up the next morning. Unfortunately for him, the sleeping pills he took the night before only allowed him rest until noon.

He checked his phone, staring at the date. A year had officially passed by since that fateful day. Groaning, he threw his phone back onto his bed. He stayed under the blanket for a while, not wanting to get up. However, the sunlight shining through his window refused to let him go back to sleep.

Declaring defeat, he sat up and scowled at the sun. It was annoyingly bright today. The weather had no regard for his mood and was unusually warm for a winter day. It pissed him off.

He heard his phone vibrate and chose to ignore what he guessed was Chanhee’s daily check in. Still not fully awake, Changmin walked towards his fridge to grab a cold water bottle. After gulping half of it down, he let out a sigh.

His brain was still at war with himself. Half of it felt obligated to visit you and half of it wanted to drown his feelings in alcohol. He stood there, zoning out, contemplating his options.

Eventually, his guilt triumphed and he found himself throwing on whatever clean clothes he could find. He trudged out of his apartment and down the stairs. On his way to the main road to find a taxi, he passed by a flower shop. The same sense of obligation from earlier made him backtrack and step inside.

It had been over a year since he last visited the place. It felt strange to be back. The emotions he came here with were entirely different from the emotions he had back then.

He asked the worker for a small bouquet of daisies and muttered a word of thanks after receiving his change. After flagging down a taxi, he braced himself for the long ride.

The car escaped from the noisy city and headed towards a more remote area. He almost laughed, remembering how often you would mention that you wanted to be buried in nature and not locked up in a jar behind glass. He used to always chide you for thinking of and planning for your death but in the end, you had been the insightful one. He never thought he’d be traveling to your grave—at least not while he was still in his twenties.

When he finally arrived, his feet rooted itself and he couldn’t bear to walk further. He hadn’t been here since your burial a year ago. A wave of embarrassment suddenly hit him. He truly was an asshole to you until the end. He couldn’t even make things up to you even after your passing.

He hadn’t made any efforts to visit you but it was painfully obvious to those around him that he was still grieving. He blamed himself for letting you die. That burden prevented him from continuing to live life without you. His friends watched as he willingly ruined his own life. He gave up dance and even came to resent music. He spent the past year surviving and not living; he filled his time with part time jobs that would earn him the money he needed for rent and food.

In Changmin’s mind, he didn’t deserve to be happy when your life was cut short. He wished so badly that he could trade places with you.

With another sigh, he made his way towards your grave. He could tell your family stopped by earlier that morning. Someone had left a big bouquet of pink flowers for you. Beside it was a photo of you smiling, oblivious to the tragedy that would occur just a few months after it was taken.

He forced a smile, recalling how you used to complain about how everyone would bring you pink flowers instead of daisies for every occasion. Daisies were your favorite flower and Changmin was the only one who ever remembered.

He placed his own bouquet down and sat next to it. Holding up your photo, he spoke to it as if you would reply.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it, Y/n?” he attempted to say in a cheery voice. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I… I was afraid. Seeing you like this really makes reality hit as if waking up in an empty bed isn’t a strong enough reminder.”

He set the picture down and turned around to face your headstone. Hesitantly, he wiped at a spot and fell into silence. 

“Everyone tells me that the accident wasn’t my fault. I don’t believe it but even if it was true, I still hate myself for letting you leave when the last words I said to you weren’t that I love you. Not only did you die a painful death, but you died with the hurt I inflicted on your heart,” his voice cracked as he choked back tears.

Flashbacks of that day flooded his memory. He winced, finally confronting what he couldn’t for a year.

Changmin had left the dance studio angry. Angry at himself. Angry at his inability to perfect the choreography. Unlucky timing had you outside waiting for him to finish. He had planned on blowing off some steam by meeting Sunwoo for drinks but was stopped by you. You had noticed how upset he was and wanted to cheer him up but was brushed off.

Changmin knew he was snappy when he was pissed and didn’t want you to be on the receiving end. He wanted to spare you from walking on eggshells around him and knew that Sunwoo would quietly let him rant without getting hurt by his actions or words. Instead of clarifying, however, he let you misunderstand and walked away.

You watched him leave, staring at his back. The past month with him had been rocky. You knew he was stressed from preparing for the upcoming competition but you still missed the bubbly Changmin. Nowadays, he was more sensitive and on edge than happy and affectionate.

You had bought matching couple rings in hopes of brightening up his mood. They were simple rings made of silver and meant for the pinky finger. It was to symbolize your promises to each other—to always love and appreciate each other. Yours was already on your pinky but his was left in the box you were hiding in your pocket. You sighed and figured that you’d get the chance to give it to him later.

Except that chance never came. Changmin only came across that ring later when he found it on his table back at his place.

“You know, I left you knowing you probably thought I was irritated with you too. It was because I assumed I’d get to clear that up later. Like always. But later never came,” he fidgeted with the ring that now never left his own pinky.

What a cruel way to teach him a lesson.

“I guess at one point, I started taking you for granted. Taking our time together for granted. Who would've known that death would literally do us part before we even made our vows?” he chuckled at the irony. “I never told you but I intended on proposing to you as soon as we graduated. I got ahead of myself and was planning things way in advance. Would you believe me if I said I already decided where to go for our honeymoon?”

He could almost hear you laugh. If you were next to him, you’d lean on his shoulder as you doubled over in laughter. You had loved and teased him for his sweet side.

“That’s how sure I was that we’d get forever together. You spent the rest of your life with me but now I have the rest of my life ahead of me without you. A little unfair, don’t you think?”

Changmin had so many regrets. He wanted nothing but to go back in time and re-do things. After bottling everything inside him for a full year, everything was spilling out now that he was there with you.

You and Changmin hadn’t moved in together but you often slept over. That day, you waited until night for him to come home. He never did.

Sunwoo had called you from the restaurant they were at, asking you to come pick Changmin up. He wasn’t completely wasted but he was definitely too drunk to go home by himself. Sunwoo apologized, saying he couldn’t take him home because he had a prior arrangement to attend.

So you ended up sitting across from your boyfriend, waiting for him to sober up a little more before leaving the restaurant. This was not how you thought you would spend your anniversary with him. When he stormed off from the dance studio after spending the whole day there, you had already presumed he forgot what day it was for you two. You tried to be understanding, knowing that he felt extreme pressure about the competition.

You didn’t expect any gifts but you had hoped that you would at least have dinner together. But now that was also out of the window. You suppressed your annoyance and reminded yourself of how happy Changmin was when he was dancing. You wanted to be supportive of him.

“Why did you come here?” Changmin asked. Something about his tone irked you.

“What?” you frowned.

“I’m a fully grown man who can find his way back home fine,” his words dug a knife into your heart. You wondered if he forgot that you were the reason why he made it home safe and sound after drinking.

“You should be thankful that I always take care of your drunk ass,” you huffed. “You know, you can’t just count on me to do all these things for you. I do it because I want to but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be appreciated.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he sighed.

You hated that look on his face. He had that look often nowadays. That tired look that screamed that he was too tired to even argue with you. It scared you. Even arguing took interest that he didn’t seem to give you these days. You would rather fight with him than live in such silence.

So you did. You exploded at him.

“No, Changmin, I don’t know. I never know what you’re thinking anymore. You don’t tell me anything and just assume that I can read your mind. And it feels like I’m expected to play the role of your girlfriend when you don’t even act like my boyfriend. You need to take a step back and realize how grateful we should be towards each other.”

After your outburst, you waited for his response. You waited for him to either yell back or apologize. Anything to show that he still cared. Instead, he said something that made you wish that he just didn’t say anything at all.

“Why are you being like this today?”

You felt the knife dig deeper into your heart and his words stunned you into silence.

“You’ve changed,” you whispered.

And with that, you got up and left. Realizing he screwed up, Changmin ran out to chase you. It had gotten late and dark while he was inside and the sky was now pouring buckets. Without an umbrella, you were getting hit by the rain that hid the tears wetting your cheeks. When he finally caught up to you, he grabbed onto your wrist and spun you around to face him.

“You asked why I’m being like this? Today? Well, news flash, Changmin. Today’s our third year anniversary but I guess I’m the only one who cared to remember,” you cried.

His heart shattered at the sight of your face. He never meant to upset you. And he certainly didn’t mean to forget your anniversary. It had slipped his mind while he was focused on practicing. All that seemed futile when he saw the pain on your face.

You didn’t give him a chance to reply and shook his grip off of you. Wanting to avoid him, you ran to cross the street before the light turned red. At that moment, however, a car failed to break in time and the rain caused the driver to lose control.

Changmin’s eyes widened as he watched the vehicle crash into you. The noise was terrifying but seeing your body fly in the air and fall to the ground was even more horrifying. His legs moved before his brain processed the scene he just witnessed. He ran to your side and tried to shake you awake. His hand trembled when he saw that it was bloodied by the wound on your head.

The driver came out of the car, feeling both disbelief and guilt about what just happened. Changmin screamed at him to call the ambulance before returning his attention back to you. He begged you to stay alive but you took your last breath that night at 11:11.

After Changmin came back to Seoul, Chanhee caught him outside of his apartment and dragged him to dinner. He knew that his friend would be mourning all day and not remember to eat. So they went to a nearby restaurant and he practically had to shove the soup into his mouth.

By the time Changmin arrived home, it was late. He washed up and plopped onto his bed, wishing the day would hurry up and come to an end. Staring at the ceiling, he waited for sleep to take him out of his misery for a while. Eventually, his fatigue took over and he fell asleep the second the clock turned to 11:11.

When he awoke, he didn’t feel as groggy as he normally did. He felt strangely well rested. Wondering how long he had slept for, he checked his phone for the time. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he saw the date. It was yesterday’s date but with the previous year. He figured it was a cruel glitch on the device’s part and threw it back down.

He got up to get ready for his shift and fumbled around to look for the sneakers he just recently purchased. No matter how hard he looked, it was nowhere to be found. He found it odd but settled for an old pair of sneakers he hadn’t worn in a while.

After he put them on, he turned the doorknob to leave. He swung the door open and was shocked at the sight in front of him. You were standing there, holding a bag of groceries. Just like you did a year ago.

“Uh Changmin?” you stared at him, waiting for him to move so you could walk in.

Changmin was speechless. His brain felt like it stopped functioning; he didn’t know how to react to the familiar scene in front of him.

“Is this a dream?” he asked out loud.

His heart was racing. You hadn’t shown up in his dreams in so long. Now that you appeared to him, there were so many things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t mean to hurt you. That he was sorry. But in that moment, all he could manage to do was pull you in for a hug.

“Is something wrong, baby?” you asked.

“Everything. N-nothing,” he stuttered.

Was he supposed to talk to you about everything that happened? Was he supposed to just enjoy reliving this day? He couldn’t decide.

You chuckled at the peculiarity of your boyfriend, finding him endearing. You motioned for him to move over and let you in, which he complied while still in a daze. You placed the groceries on the table and began to put away what needed to be refrigerated.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk for your boyfriend.

He slowly took the drink you handed him and nodded. He then shook his head, not wanting to repeat his mistakes.

“Today’s our anniversary. We should do something special,” he suggested.

You lit up, excited to go on a date with him. You were glad you chose to dress up today.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked.

“Hmm how about that art gallery you’ve been wanting to go to?” he smiled at your happy expression. “I haven’t had lunch yet so we can eat some pasta before we go.”

So you two headed out to your favorite Italian restaurant and he ordered a bunch of dishes. You had protested, insisting that you wouldn’t be able to finish but he insisted that he wanted to spoil you that day.

He felt like he was on cloud nine as he watched you enjoy your meal. He missed this. He missed seeing you wiggle in your seat because of how good the food was. He missed cutting your steak for you because you were clumsy with knives. He hoped the dream wouldn’t end any time soon.

Noticing that he wasn’t eating much, you picked up a slice of pizza and held it in front of his mouth. His cheeks filled up after he took a bite and you laughed at how cute he looked. Your laughter prompted him to laugh as well, showing off his dimples that you loved.

You left the restaurant stuffed and was ready to fall into a food coma. Yet you couldn’t refuse when Changmin bought you your favorite ice cream. You strongly believed that people had a second stomach for dessert. You walked with the ice cream in one hand and with Changmin’s hand in the other. You stuck closer to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. He turned to look at you and didn’t want to ever look away.

After spending a couple of hours at the art gallery, you found an arcade and tugged him inside. You bet on dinner over three rounds of a vintage game, which you won. You cheered when your victory flashed across the screen, making him chuckle. To be honest, he let you win by pretending to slip up at the end but seeing your joy was worth it.

To Changmin’s discomfort, you chose the samgyupsal place that you two had fought at. Of course, you didn’t know that and just wanted to spend the night eating meat and drinking beer. Although hesitant, he agreed to your menu selection.

Changmin was indescribably elated to be able to sit and chat with you for hours. He didn’t even notice the rainstorm that began once again outside. He was too busy listening to you talk about one of your assignments for a random elective class you took but ended up liking. You rambled on about how your professor was extremely kind and lenient with grading.

By the end of the night, you two left the restaurant and he grew anxious, anticipating the end of the dream. You took notice of his sudden change in demeanor and questioned him about it. Before you could hear an answer, however, your hat was snatched and taken away by the wind. Not wanting it to get wet and dirty, you chased after it.

It all happened so fast. Again. Just as you were about to catch the hat, it blew further away, causing you to step out into the road. And again, there was nothing Changmin could do about the car that crashed into you.

This time, Changmin woke up with the feeling of falling from a tall height. The sensation startled him awake and he jumped up gasping. He scanned his surroundings, unsure of what he just experienced.

“A blissful dream turned into yet another nightmare,” he groaned.

He paused, reaching out for his phone to check the date. Both his jaw and phone dropped at the repeated date.

“No way,” he muttered. He shook his head, refusing to believe what was happening. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

He racked his brain for any plausible explanations. Surely this was another dream. A dream within a dream. Or maybe he’d finally lost it and was hallucinating everything. Believing in the latter, he made up his mind to finally go to the therapist Chanhee had been bugging him to go to. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes to head out. He paused when his hand grabbed the door.

“Surely it won’t happen again… right?” he wondered out loud.

To his surprise, you were there again on the other side of the door when he opened it. Trying to figure out what was going on, he slammed the door shut and froze. Outside, you blinked at the door in your face. Puzzled at your boyfriend’s behavior, you knocked.

Inside, Changmin flinched at the sudden noise. He was bewildered and beyond confused. This had to be a joke. Or a dream. Or a hallucination. How could you be real? There was no way you were actually back.

Or maybe, it was his chance to set things right. Maybe, if he did everything right, he could prevent your death. The idea sounded ingenious and insane to him. Taking a leap of faith, he flung the door back open and gazed at you. Still skeptical, he extended his hand out to hold yours. It felt warm, unlike the last time he held it in the rain. He wanted to cry in both shock and joy. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and took the groceries from you.

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked, following him inside.

“I’m okay as long as you’re with me,” he said in a shaky voice.

You chuckled as you began to organize the groceries just like you did the day before.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk.

Changmin stared at the milk you offered again. So many thoughts ran through his head as he tried to understand the situation. He determined that this was a blessing. He was given an opportunity to go back in time and change things. To save you.

“Let’s go watch a movie today,” he said.

He thought out and planned the rest of the day. He would sneak out in the middle of the movie to go buy a present for you. Using the excuse of an upset stomach, he went and bought a necklace he had been eyeing for months. It was quite expensive so he had saved up little by little and now he could finally afford to give it to you.

With the corner of his eye, he saw a couple looking at the ring section together. As if caught in a trance, he found himself walking towards the engagement rings. He gaped at the endless options of diamonds that sparkled as bright as your eyes. He bit his lip, contemplating if he should buy a ring as well. He initially wanted to wait until you both graduated but graduation never came for you. It was one of the biggest regrets of his life.

So he carefully took a look at the rows of rings until he saw one that immediately felt like it was meant for you. He quickly asked the worker to help him with his purchase and ran back into the theater to finish the rest of the movie with you.

You didn’t suspect a thing until he took the necklace out after lunch and put it on for you. You beamed at the surprise gift, eager to show him yours. Shyly, you retrieved the couple ring from your purse.

“It’s a promise ring meant for your pinky,” you explained as you slid it onto his finger. “A promise to always love and appreciate each other.”

He smiled at how proud you looked.

“See?” you showed him the ring on your own pinky.

“I love it,” he held his hand next to yours, admiring the view. “But uh I actually have a ring for you as well.”

With his heart pounding, he pulled out the square box and stood up. He took a deep breath before getting down on one knee, making you gasp. You felt tears brimming your eyes as he opened the box to reveal the diamond ring.

Watching proposal videos had always made you cringe. You didn’t get why people would cry. But in that moment, it all made sense when you found yourself unable to verbally reply. As a college student, you never expected him to propose. Sure, you had thought of marrying him but that seemed like such a faraway idea. You knew Changmin would always be in your future and didn’t see yourself marrying anyone else but him. So you managed to nod before he placed the ring on your finger.

“I know the timing may seem premature but with you, I want to have the courage to do what my heart desires. I want to see you walk down the aisle towards me. I want to show the world that I’m yours. I want to spend our honeymoon at Bora Bora and have two kids together. I want to raise a dog with you, just like you always dreamed of. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he confessed.

After hearing his words, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. He embraced you in his arms and you buried your face into his chest as you sniffled. Resting his chin on your head, he wished time would stop. All he wanted was to stay in this moment forever.

By the time night approached again, he made sure to keep you away from the street and from any vehicles. You wondered why he was being so overprotective and clinging onto you. He didn’t offer an explanation and just gave you a nervous smile.

Looking at his watch, he let out a deep breath when he saw that it was almost 11 PM. His leg shook anxiously as he held your hand tighter. You had insisted on enjoying the sounds of the city in the rain so you two were sitting at a random bus stop.

All of a sudden, the cry of a child was heard. You turned around to see a little girl who seemed to be lost. You stood up to go help but Changmin sat you back down.

“You stay here. I’ll go,” he said, feeling uneasy.

While he brought the little girl to the bus stop to avoid the rain, a young boy caught your attention. He was playing with a ball and you wanted to warn him to be careful. Before you could open your mouth, however, he dropped the ball and ran into the street to get it back. You panicked, seeing a motorcycle speeding towards the kid.

You ran out to pull the child back but was hit instead. Changmin’s heart dropped at the sound of the collision. When he turned back to find you, you were laying on the wet ground with blood pooling around you. Seeing you die for the third time wasn’t any less traumatic. In fact, it broke him even more. He hated himself for letting it happen again.

“Y/n, please please wake up,” he begged as he held your face in his hands. “You can’t leave me. Not again. I promised myself that I would change your fate. Y/n, please!”

Every time Changmin woke up, that day repeated itself. And each time, he would try to keep you alive. But no matter how hard he tried, that cursed time of 11:11 always ended his brief time with you with the same outcome.

When he kept you inside, you fell down the stairs. When he tried to make you sleep by tucking you in early, you never woke up. Thinking it was Seoul that was the problem, he even took you down to Busan. Paranoid, he even spent the whole day and night with you at his place. But every time the clock hit 11:11, the inevitable would occur and he would wake up to repeat it once again.

The seventh time he awoke to the same day, he screamed in frustration.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” he yelled out.

He cried into his sleeves, wondering if this was his punishment for being unable to save you. While he wallowed in grief, he heard you knock on his door. He wiped away his tears and got up to greet you. Oblivious to his mood, you walked in and opened the refrigerator like you did the previous times.

“Are you going to the studio to practice today as well?” you asked, opening a small carton of milk.

“Let’s just stay in today. I’ll cook you something,” he bitterly smiled when he saw that the engagement ring was no longer on your finger.

He rummaged through his kitchen, looking for ingredients. You sat down next to the counter and watched as he made you kimchi fried rice. You enjoyed watching him cook. He didn’t do it often because he wasn’t very confident about his skills but you loved the gesture. You thought it was cute when he had that concentrated look he usually saved for dancing.

After lunch, you spent the next few hours watching movies. You had eventually noticed how sad he was. You looked over at your boyfriend who seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. Mustering up some bravery, you proposed watching a horror movie. You knew it was his favorite genre but didn’t watch scary movies with him often because you got scared easily. Slightly surprised by your suggestion, he agreed and let you choose one of the recommended movies on Netflix.

At every jump scare, you snuggled closer to him. Throughout the whole film, you clung onto his arm and he comforted you by stroking your head. Treasuring the time he got to spend with you, he allowed himself to feel at ease for a bit.

For dinner, you convinced him to go out to eat. On the way back, he lured you into a gift shop, kicking himself for not preparing a present ahead of time. While you were busy looking at the dolls, he managed to pick out a bracelet and slid it into his pocket after secretly paying for it. He knew it would be gone when the day reset and dreaded having to see your listless body again later.

When you two returned back to his place, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He wanted to savor every second he was able to spend with you. Noticing his gaze, you stared at him back, bringing a smile to his face. You poked his dimple, laughing at his expression.

“So I got you a little something. I hope you didn’t think that I forgot our anniversary,” he said as he put it on your wrist.

Smiling, you took out the gift you had prepared.

“It’s a promise ring meant for your pinky,” you said as you slid the ring onto his finger. “A promise to always love and appreciate each other.”

“See?” you revealed the ring on your own finger.

After hearing those words for the nth time, he finally broke down. He began to bawl, catching you off guard. For a few minutes, he wept as you tried to soothe him.

“Okay, spill. What’s been bothering you all day, Changmin?” you demanded.

He sighed, knowing what he was about to say was insane. He didn’t want to scare you but it all came out as word vomit.

“I’ve been reliving this day multiple times. I know it sounds crazy—it is crazy—but I was sent back in time. It’s actually supposed to be a year from now, a day after today. But instead, I’m stuck in this endless loop trying to save you. You died, Y/n. You died a year ago and you keep dying again and again! I thought I was given this opportunity because of all the regrets I had. The day you died, I was a complete jerk and you got into an accident after we argued. I blamed and resented myself. I had so many “what if’s” and “if only’s” that it tormented me,” he paused to catch his breath.

“I thought I had to repeat this day until I successfully prevented your death but nothing’s working. I can’t change things!” he cried. “I’ve tried over and over and over again. I’ve tried keeping you away from the street, taking you out of the city, and even locking us up in this damn apartment and nothing’s working! Every time 11:11 comes around, the same conclusion happens.”

You sat in silence, unsure of how to process all the information he just threw at you. He was way too emotional for this to be a joke and too upset for it to be unreal. But at the same time, you wanted it to be fake. You didn’t want to believe it. You were still so young. You had hopes and dreams you had yet to achieve. You wanted to crumble but you couldn’t bear to do so after seeing how heartbroken Changmin was. After thinking for some time, you finally spoke up.

“Maybe you were given a chance not to save me but to let me go,” you said quietly. ”You said you regretted the day I died. Maybe this is your chance to get closure. Send me off in peace. Find peace yourself.”

“No. No way. I’m not letting you leave me again. Not after all I’ve been through,” he said, desperately hugging you. “I finally get to hold you in my arms again. It’s okay if I have to relive this day forever. As long as I can see you, I’m okay with that.”

“Changmin...” your heart broke at the sight of his crestfallen face.

You let him keep his tight hold on you. He was so afraid you’d disappear again that he refused to let you or himself fall asleep. You looked at the clock and saw that the time was approaching.

“Baby, you know you can’t. I’m not coming back to life. I can’t. That’s not how the world works. We were blessed to have the chance to say our final goodbyes. Not everyone gets that. We’re lucky. We get to remind each other of how much we love each other and I get to tell you that I want you to be happy even if I’m not by your side. I’ll still be with you. In your heart. As long as you keep me there,” you pulled away to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to be miserable without me. I want you to live your life to the fullest. Let me live vicariously through you.”

“But I have so many things I want to do with you. So many things I never got to say to you,” he stammered.

“Nobody gets to fulfill all their desires,” you smiled sadly. “Just know that I know how you feel. I know that you love me. I know that you want to grow old together. I know that you want to see mini me and mini you. I do too. I’m so sorry I won't be able to do that with you.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks. Admitting it out loud made it feel real.

“You have no idea how badly I want to walk down that aisle with you. I want to live happily ever after while bickering with you. I want to see you dance and I want to succeed in my own career. I hardly lived over two decades but you made me so happy for most of it. I’m glad I got to love you. It’s a shame I won’t get to get my degree after studying so hard but there are bigger regrets. Like wishing I had spent more time with you. Wishing we took more trips together.”

Changmin looked at you with a pained expression. He wished that he had taken more pictures with you. That he had gone on more dates with you. That he made you laugh more.

“I guess we were given this opportunity in exchange for all of that. At least now I’ll get to leave knowing that I’m loved and that you know I love you. Our last day wasn’t spent arguing but hugging,” you pointed out.

The two of you lain wordlessly on his bed. The only sound was the clock on his wall ticking.

“Can you tell my family that I love them? And my friends too. I wish I could say goodbye to everyone but that would be greedy of me,” you said wistfully.

At his silence, you turned to look at him. When you saw the guilt on face, you sat up and beckoned for him to do the same. You glanced at the clock, taking note of the time.

“Ji Changmin, I love you. Thank you for making me the happiest girl in the world,” you smiled with tears in your eyes. “While we make promises with this ring, can you also promise me another thing?”

You waited for him to nod before continuing.

“Promise me that you won’t blame yourself for anything and that you’ll move on. I want you to have all the extra happiness I’ll miss out on. I’ll be expecting you to lead a fruitful life for my sake too,” you held out your pinky, waiting for him to wrap his around yours.

“It’s okay if I start to fade out of your memory over the years,” you added. “I’ll understand when my face starts to become fuzzy to you. I’ll even understand when you get married and have kids. I’ll be your kids’ godmother and look out for them. I can’t wait to see little baby Ji’s.”

“But I don’t want that if it’s not with you…” he whispered.

“Don’t be silly. You’re still young and have the rest of your life ahead of you. I’ll be mad if I’m the one that’s holding you back. Now, hurry up and promise me. My arm’s hurting,” you shook your pinky at him, urging him to lock fingers together.

It tore him apart but he shakily held out his hand to make his promise. More tears escaped his eyes each time he blinked.

11:05.

Changmin held your tear-stained cheeks in his hands, staring into your eyes. You hated the sad look in his own eyes but knew yours was the same. He hated the ominous feeling that predicted that this would be his last time in the loop. Now that he came to terms with the fixed ending, he would be freed from his desperate desire for a different outcome.

“Thank you, Y/n, for teaching me what love is. From when I first met you up until now, there hasn’t been a single moment that I didn’t cherish. I love you. I love you so so much. I spent the past year unable to forget you and I never will. I’m going to believe that you’ll be watching over me and I’m going to make you proud. I’m going to experience both my and your share of happiness. So don’t worry about me. I won’t be able to follow you soon but I’ll join you up there one day. Please wait for me.”

“I may be your first love but I certainly don’t hope I’ll be your last. Instead, I hope that I’ll be your endless love,” you hummed, feeling drowsy.

“Of course,” he affirmed. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, Changmin.”

Changmin awoke feeling oddly comforted. The sun was shining through the window again and his apartment didn’t feel as empty for some reason. He eyed his phone and hesitantly picked it up. He was filled with mixed emotions when he saw that the year was finally set back to the present.

Out of habit from the past week, his eyes lingered on the door. You weren’t going to come knocking again but you also weren’t going to die again. You were finally sent off in peace.

His phone vibrated, notifying him of Chanhee’s daily text message. Chanhee was a persistent one as well.

Changmin decided to reply and asked him to grab breakfast together, which earned him an immediate “yes”. He told his friend to invite Sunwoo as well and got up to get ready for an outing for the first time in a long time. This was his first step in the healing process.

a/n: tbh i kinda cried writing this. i hope you cried too hehe also idk if you noticed but the line “endless love” is actually from the boyz’s “priority”. i really like that phrase and it’s been stuck in my head ever since the song came out

[yiannalianos]

ALL IN: “You will get there. But for now, you are here (and here is wonderful)”.

I usually write in my journal every morning, but today I decided to just make a blog post about how I’m feeling. I’m okay... actually, I think I’m good today. I just read another chapter of “No Period, Now What?” and it helped confirm that I’m doing the right thing. I mean, I know I am but sometimes it’s nice to hear the success stories of other women who have gone through the same thing I’m currently going through. I guess today, I’m grieving my old body. The super lean, veiny, muscular body that everyone is do used to. The body that I am used too. For so long my entire identity was wrapped up in this physique. My entire life depended on how lean I was or how I would exercise to achieve that look. As much as this All In journey has been for me to regain my cycle, there is SO much more coming out of it. The self-realizations I’ve had over the last 2 weeks have been intense. The amount of stress and anxiety I would have regarding food, what people thought of me, maintaining that image, and when I’d get in my workout was quite honestly debilitating. Why couldn’t I just have been NORMAL? What’s crazy to me is that now, food gives me NO stress or anxiety. I can go to a friends house for dinner and have her choose what to eat (see below for the delicious meal we made last night), I can allow my boyfriend to choose what to have for dinner, I can say yes to icecream dates, I can eat the SECOND I start to feel a hunger ping, I can order the full fat latte from Starbucks, and I can eat an entire avocado in one day. As much as this process has been difficult, there have been so many blessings that have come from it. I’m so happy I started this process NOW because I can’t imagine still having a disordered relationship with food and exercise when I become a mom. If I did, I would pass those behaviors along to my children and I REFUSE to let them go through what I’ve gone through. It’s crazy because this “healthy eating” dieting, and restricting food groups has become so NORMAL to people now a days... and 8/10 the converastions I have with people revolve around body, weight, or food. I’ve FINALLY taken off my diet culture goggles after 8 years of being a slave to it. One thing I’ve noticed since removing those lenses is how DEEP people are into diet culture. It’s tough because there are many people around me that are STILL focused on their appearance, body, etc... as much as I love those people, in order to fully heal and set boundaries for myself, I have to distance myself and although it may sound selfish, it’s actually self CARE. 

Honestly this process makes me ME so excited. Getting my period is something I can look forward too. OMG the day that it comes, I told my bf that we’re literally having a PP-PARTY. He’s on board- of course. He’s been the most supportive person throughout this entire thing, encouraging me to eat everything, asking me how I feel, telling me I’m beautiful... I mean, what’s a better test than seeing how your boyfriend responds to PURPOSEFUL weight gain??? He keeps reminding me that this is temporary and although 6 months seems like a really long time, in a year from now I’ll be able to FULLY live my life. Workout again, eat in a more moderate way (and never restrict, so treats will definitely still be apart of my everyday life), feel confident as hell in my abilities as a woman and in my body, and the list goes on. The mental STRENGTH it takes for someone like me to go through this process is unheard of. Some days I can’t even believe I’m doing it. But honestly, today... I am SO fucking proud of myself. I have come so far in 1 year it’s almost mind blowing. My mom told me how much she likes being around me now, because I’m funny, full of life, and H A P P Y. What else would my mom want? She doesn’t CARE if her daughter has a six pack, she cares about cooking dinner with her daughter, getting icecream together, sharing laughs, and spending time RELAXING together. And for my dad? Well, dads are dads... but he’s been just as supportive. I’m lucky to have my favoruite people in my corner. 

Today is Saturday so my plan is to finish my coffee (currently sippin, don’t worry I ate before), do a 25-40 minute meditation/restorative yoga flow, shower, curl my hair and make myself FEEL GOOD, and then sit by the pool all day. Luckily I get to see my man tonight and I can’t wait. Life is just so much better when all I have to worry about it relaxing, resting, and nourishing my body. I love this little break... but trust me I can’t WAIT to start training again. One day at a time. 

Talk soon,

Yianna xxxo

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 10: Endings

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings:  Drake x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

Mention of child death, mention of depression, grieving

N*FW content!

A/N:  There will be a small epilogue next week, but this is the official ENDING.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you so much to all the people that read it, shared it and commented it. Every single like, reblog or comment gave me life! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@mskaneko​ Thank you for all your amazing insights when you read and your incredibly inspiring edits and mood boards. You’re one of a kind!

@pedudley​ Thank you for pre-reading every chapter and being such a great, supportive friend. Your feedback meant a lot/

@burnsoslow​ The MVP of this whole thing!!  I was so stuck before your brilliant book idea!! Thank you for that and for the hours and hours (and hours) of editing!! Without you I would’ve never been able to write this fic. You’re an amazing friend and human being. THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP.

I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH ❤️

To catch up: Masterlist

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry. The edit at the end of this fic belongs to the talented @mskaneko​

Word count: 7 697 (!!!)

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton

Tagging: @ao719​  @yukinagato2012​ @texaskitten30​ @kingliam2019​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @bebepac​ @nomadics-stuff​ @cordonianroyalty​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @bascmve01​ @gibbles82​ @mom2000aggie​ @gardeningourmet​

Perma: @burnsoslow​ @mskaneko​ @mskaneko​ @pedudley​ @pug-bitch​ @ac27dj​ @twinkle-320​ @kimmiedoo5​  @marshmallowsandfire​  @loveellamae​ @debramcg1106​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​  @ravenpuff02​ @princessleac1​ @ritachacha​ @drake-colt-lover-99​

Liam woke up feeling restless. He rolled over in bed, trying to get a few minutes of sleep, but guessed it would be useless. Before taking a long hot shower, Liam called the kitchens so they’d bring him a large jug of strong coffee with his breakfast - he would need it to get through the day. Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on the balcony of his room at Valtoria, sipping his second cup of coffee of the morning and thinking about his fiancée. More than the conversation he had had with Alexis two days prior, it was the one he and his brother had shared the previous afternoon that he was obsessing over.

Since he had met her, he had been head over heels for Alexis. However, even if his love for her was undeniable, the real question was if they were right for each other. Reluctantly, Liam had to admit that he barely recognized himself in the jealous, controlling, manipulative man he had become. And as tempted as he was to blame Drake and his return for the demise of their relationship, deep down, he knew something else was profoundly wrong with them.

Leo was right: He didn’t trust Alexis. Liam wanted to, desperately, but he just couldn’t. The memory of the day he had found her almost dead on her bed still haunted him. Liam had never really gotten over it.

Alexis entered their room and saw Liam sitting with his paper and sipping coffee, lost in his thoughts. Earlier that morning, when she had left Drake’s cabin, she had done so convinced that the only right decision was to marry Liam. However, standing there and watching him, her own words resonated in her head. Liam deserved better. And he did; he deserved better than a life with a woman that would never be able to fully love him. Neither of them would ever be happy if they went ahead with their wedding.

Alexis was scared -- terrified -- of loving Drake again, of facing her grief, but hiding behind Liam couldn’t wouldn’t, be the solution anymore.

“Hi, Li,” she said, sitting on the chair next to him.

“Love.” Liam saw her sad expression and instinctively knew what she was about to tell him.

Alexis hugged herself and took a sharp breath, trying to gather some courage. Her eyes watered as she tried to get the words out. “I’m sorry, Liam.”

Liam’s hand gripped his cup of coffee. “You’re calling off the engagement.”

“I … I wasn’t planning to do it,” she sobbed. “But the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m not good for you, Liam.”

Despite his best efforts, a cold rage overpowered him. “Do not pretend that this has nothing to do with Drake, Alexis.”

“I’m not going to lie. Drake showing up again accelerated things. But our problems have nothing to do with him. Our marriage wouldn’t have lasted. We were asking too much from each other. I would never be happy being a duchess, and I know how badly you want to be a father, Liam. It was selfish of me to ask such a huge sacrifice of you.”

“I don’t care, Alexis. I would do anything for you,” Liam implored. “I know we have problems, but I’m sure that if we work together, we would be able to find a solution.”

She shook her head. “Are you happy with me, Li?”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I love you very deeply, Alexis.”

“That’s not what I asked. You’re constantly worried about me. You don’t trust me. And we never share our problems because we don’t want to burden each other. We never talk about Tom.” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Liam’s eyes widened. “Did you just say his name?”

She nodded.

“One day with him, and you’re already saying Tom’s name again.” His glossy eyes looked at her. “It’s always been him,” he muttered. “All this time, you didn’t stop loving Drake, did you?” he asked her.

“Liam … please don’t go there,” she begged, more tears running down her face.

“Did you ever even love me?” His voice betrayed the cool façade he was trying to maintain. Incapable of staying put, he stood up in front of the balcony’s railing.

Alexis cut the distance between them and hugged him as tightly as she could. After a moment, she took his head between her hands. “I love you, Liam. And not only because you saved my life, but because you’re an amazing, loving, generous man; because of all the moments we shared together. You gave me a reason to wake up in the mornings. Thanks to you, I was able to smile, to live again. I’ll never forget that.”

“Right ... you’ve always loved me, but you never fell in love with me,” Liam replied bitterly.

At that moment, watching Liam breaking in front of her, Alexis hated herself. “I tried Li. And it has nothing to do with you; I just never really got over … everything.”

Liam wiped a tear from her face. Too heartbroken to talk, he simply took her in his arms and kissed her head.

Alexis took off the engagement ring and placed it in his palm. “I never deserved this. And maybe you don’t believe me right now, but I know you’ll meet someone who will.”

Every word she pronounced felt like he was being stabbed. Liam turned his gaze towards the gardens. “Please leave, Alexis. There is no point in prolonging this anymore.”

Alexis squeezed his hand and left him there. As she walked away, a strong feeling of contrition flitted through her body in response to the tightness in her chest. However, despite her guilt over hurting a good man, Alexis knew she had made the right decision.

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Drake put his syringe and gloves in his bag, patted Thunder on his rump, and left the horse’s stall, rubbing his neck tiredly. After a long day doing the weekly check-ups on the horses of one of his biggest clients, he was shattered. However, working to exhaustion hadn’t worked as well as he had hoped; Alexis and her goddamn stubbornness hadn’t left his mind for a second.

When he finally got home, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Alexis sitting on the steps of his porch, waiting for him.

“Hi, Drake.”

His heart raced as it did every time he saw her. “Hi, Lexie.”

“Can we talk?” she asked, and he detected a slight edge in her voice.

“Of course, Lexie. Let’s go inside.”

Alexis shook her head no. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d preferred if we take a walk.”

“Why?” Drake questioned, puzzled.

Because if I enter the house, I won’t be able to leave it again.  “It’s better,” she stated simply.

“Okay.” Drake shoved his hands in his pockets. If she didn’t want to come into the house, that meant she was divorcing him and choosing Liam. He felt the pain of losing her all over again threaten his heart.

Drake and Alexis walked a while next to each other without a word. Inadvertently, they took the path to the lake where they used to fish and have picnics with Tom. Drake glanced over her; the look in her eyes was not sad as he had expected but determined. She was wearing the fierce expression that meant she had made a decision.

They sat in the old wooden pier next to each other. “What do you want to talk about, Lexie?”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “I broke up with Liam.”

His eyes immediately darted to her left hand. Relieved to see that the ring was gone, Drake exhaled a lightened breath. “Lexie.” He was impatient to kiss her, to feel her again, but something about her demeanor stopped him. An awful thought snaked into his mind. “Do you want to sign the divorce papers anyway?”

Alexis placed her small hands on his large ones. “No. It’s the last thing I want.” She smiled at him.

Drake cupped her face, allowing his thumb to draw soft circles around her lips. “I don’t get it. Why are you so sad?”

“I need to ask you for something.” Drake nodded, still tenderly rubbing her face. “I’m sure that I don’t want a divorce. But I’m not ready to move back here yet.” She took a sharp breath. “I never really grieved Tom, you know? I mean, I did all the four first stages. I was furious at first and then hurt and broken at that clinic. But after my depression, I regressed. I realize now that I’ve been in denial for the past three years.”

Drake wiped her tears again and pulled her close to him.

“My therapist didn’t want me to leave the clinic. She said I wasn’t ready, but I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore, so she didn’t have any other choice but to sign my release. I need to do that now. Finish my therapy, be alone, and I’m sure you’re going to roll your eyes at this,” she joked, “but I need time to find myself. I don’t know who I am anymore, Drake. I don’t do any of the things I used to enjoy. And I feel this guilt that I can’t seem to shake. I feel guilty for the pain that I just caused Liam, but I especially feel guilty about us. About all the things I told you that day.”

“Lexie, please. You have to let that go. You weren’t yourself back then -- neither of us was,” Drake said tenderly.

“I still need to forgive myself.” She squeezed his hands. “Please don’t give up on me, Drake. I just need some time. A few months, maybe,” she pleaded with tears in her eyes.  

It hurt like hell, but he understood. Drake took her face between his hands. “Listen to me, baby, because this is very important. I love you. No matter what. No matter what I’ve done or you’ve done. No matter what will happen. I will always love you.” He interrupted himself to give her a soft kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “If I have to wait for you for the rest of my life, I will. I lost you once, but I swear I will never lose you again. Never.” She smiled through her tears. “This is what I wanted. That you chose whatever was best for you. And I think this is it. I’ll be here at the end, loving you. Okay?”

“Thank you, Drake.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he crashed his mouth with hers in a searing, hungry kiss. After a breathless moment, he forced himself to stop. It was clear that Alexis wasn’t ready for anything else. They shared a few more moments together, then Drake walked her back to her car.

She opened the door but stood next to it, torn between her longing to stay and her need to leave.

“I know you need to go through this alone, but promise me that if it’s too much, you’ll call me, Lexie. Day or night.” Drake said as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I promise.” Alexis kissed him again, trying to memorize how much she enjoyed his lips on hers, the way he had to kiss her with all his body. Drake held her as close as he could; if he had his way, he would never let her go.

But Alexis was too confused, too rattled by everything that had happened. She needed to claim her independence and regain control of her life before coming back to him. Watching her leave broke his heart, but he knew that she was worth the waiting.

With tears in her eyes, she got in her car and drove away, hoping that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

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The first month was arduous. Coming back to therapy and having to deal with Tom’s death proved to be as challenging as Alexis had thought, but she persisted, determined to get better. She and Drake respected their arrangement and didn’t see each other, but whenever a session became too strenuous, or she was at risk of getting depressed, she called him, and they talked for hours over the phone. Drake told her about his experiences in prison and his life in Spain, and she finally spoke about the long months she had been committed to the clinic and her suicide attempt. Each phone call left them hopeful and terribly nostalgic, but Drake never pressured her.

After two months of intense therapy, Dr. Salas, her psychologist, encouraged her to do something for herself. Alexis immediately knew what she needed. For the next four months, she rented a cottage in Portavira and moved next to the beach. It was a small cottage, but it had a porch where she could sit, watch the ocean, and write every day. During that time, Alexis cried a lot, but she also began to take long walks along the beach, hike and swim in the ocean; the calm of the secluded beach and the soothing sound of the waves had a curative power on her. Alexis missed Drake desperately, more and more with every passing day, but she knew that she needed to finish what she had started before coming back to him.

The first days in Portavira, Alexis only managed to write a few lines, but soon an idea began to form in her mind. At first, she refused it; nothing would be more painful than writing that, but Dr. Salas had suggested that it could be cathartic to explore her grief through her words. One afternoon where Alexis was feeling unusually relaxed, she sat in front of her computer with a cold glass of Chardonnay and started typing. She cried her eyes out with every word, but in the end, she felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. For the first time since her little boy had died, Alexis accepted that while the pain in her chest would never really disappear, she might be able to be happy again.  

The next morning, she called Charlie, her old boss, and sent her the manuscript.

Drake was quickly regaining his excellent reputation among the owners of Cordonian stables and racetracks. Thoughts about Lexie consumed him day and night, so he spent those six months working like crazy. In his spare time, he read, fished, or rode his horse, but he felt restless all the time. One night after talking to her, an idea crept into his mind. He already knew the perfect place, so he made an offer, and when he got it, he devoted all his free time to making it perfect.

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Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly; he had been up working for almost 20 hours straight, trying to figure out a way to bring new investors to Valtoria. He, Hana, and his team had developed a health plan that aimed to offer affordable healthcare to all the duchy’s citizens, but he needed private investors and the help of the Crown to be able to fund it.

At almost 10:00 p.m., Liam leaned against his chair. Hana dropped her pen on the desk and raked her hair with her hands. They both yawned at the same time, which made them chuckle.

“We’re too tired, Hana,” Liam said as he stood up to get a drink from the cart in his office. “Something to drink?”

“Gin, please,” Hana answered, grinning.

Liam couldn’t help but admire how pretty his assistant was. Hana was a special woman; she was smart and kind, and she cared about Valtoria almost as much as he did. He always had fun in her company.

Alexis had left him six months ago. The first two months had been hell; after being in love with her for so long, Liam had had trouble adjusting to the idea that she would never be with him. However, after some time, he realized that Alexis had made the right decision. They weren’t happy together; she had never stopped loving Drake, and he was in love with a woman who no longer existed. Besides, Liam had to admit that he felt lighter and freer without the burden of his constant concern for her. His love for Alexis wasn’t healthy or romantic; it was toxic and harmful for both of them.

Liam handed Hana her gin, smiling at her. “What would you think if I called that place where we had dinner with the French ambassador the other night? We can ask for a couple of Black Truffle Croque Monsieur and some eclairs au chocolat?” he asked playfully, his stomach groaning at the thought.

Hana’s face lit up. “That would be perfect, Liam.”

“You call the restaurant, Hana. I will go look for a bottle of Beaujolais from the cellar.” Liam left his office, grinning. He didn’t know why, but the prospect of spending an intimate moment with Hana made him happier than he had been in a long time.

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Alexis swam for almost an hour. The cold, tranquil ocean was the only place where she could calm her nerves that morning. After four months on the beach, she was going back to Cordonia that same afternoon, hopefully to stay. Charlie had arranged a public reading in a small bookstore in Cordonia to launch her book, and Alexis had invited Drake - the real reason behind her nervousness that morning. A smile formed on her lips from just the thought of him. When she had called him to invite him to the reading, she hadn’t dared to tell him that she was ready, that she couldn’t wait another minute to be with him. Mostly because she didn’t want to do it over the phone.

But also because a part of her was still scared. There was no doubt in her heart; she loved Drake more than anything. But what if they were able to be happy again and another tragedy struck them? If she had to go through the pain of losing him again, Alexis knew without the shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to recover.

In addition to all of that, there was something she needed to tell him, and Alexis wasn’t sure how Drake was going to react. She stepped out of the ocean and dried herself. When she got to the house, Alexis went to her closet, thinking about what she was going to wear. Butterflies flapped in her stomach, knowing that she was dressing for him, that if everything went well, she would be in his arms that same night — the feeling of being 19 years old all over again washed over her. After a short shower, she applied light makeup and blow-dried her hair. Before leaving the house, she looked at herself in the mirror. It didn’t matter how scared she was; fear had dominated her life for almost five years. It wouldn’t control another minute of it.

Drake turned on the engine of his jeep, his heart racing thinking about her. He had no idea what her book was about, but Alexis had talked about it with that cute voice she had when she was really thrilled about something. Drake could almost see her face if he closed her eyes: her wide, gorgeous smile and a pink blush covering her cheeks with excitement. During their conversation, she hadn’t said anything about their marriage, but Drake knew she wouldn’t have invited him if she wasn’t ready to be with him again. At least he really hoped so. Before going to the library, he made a quick stop. His project was on the right track. He prepared the last surprise for her and then left for the reading.  

The children’s bookstore that Charlie had picked was perfect. Small and cozy, it had a lounge with two large sofas and colorful cushions. Posters of Tom Sawyer’s books and figurines of the Harry Potter and Narnia universes decorated the walls. The owner had moved an antique armchair to the middle of the room, so the kids and their parents would be surrounding Alexis in a half-circle as she told her story. She was greeting the families that her agent had invited when she heard a familiar voice calling her.

“Blossom!” Maxwell ran to hug her. “I missed you so much; I have a million things to tell you!”

She hugged her best friend back. “Hi, Max! I missed you too. How’s the married life?”

“Perfection. Rashad is the best husband in the world. A total control freak, but I knew that already.”

Alexis laughed. “Anyone seems like a control freak compared to you.”

“I guess that’s true.” Max beamed, looking at her. She was wearing a beige mid-length dress with an oversized camel blazer and nude high heels. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Her friend gave her a knowing smile. “Drake is going to drop dead when he sees you.”

She gave her friend an anxious smile. “He isn’t here yet.”

“He’ll be here soon, Lexie. Don’t worry,” Maxwell said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Darling, everything looks fabulous.” Olivia kissed both her cheeks. “I’m so proud of you,” she said earnestly.

“Come on, Liv. Don’t make me think you’ve gone soft,” Alexis teased.

“I mean it, Alexis.”

“I know you do,” she replied, squeezing her best friend’s hands. “Thank you.”

Charlie interrupted them. “Please take your seats. You need to start, Alexis.”

Alexis sat in the armchair; she glanced at the door one more time, and there he was, looking shamelessly handsome in a white shirt and jeans. Drake winked at her as he sat on one of the sofas next to her. His boyish grin had the power of rendering her speechless. She swallowed her nervousness and opened the book. Drake noticed that it was signed by Alexis Walker, and his smile got wider.

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Tom who lived in a small red cabin in the middle of the woods. Every night before bed, his mom and dad sang him lullabies and told him stories of faraway lands, brave princes, and courageous queens. His best friends were Buttons, a little grey rabbit that followed Tom everywhere he went, and Maxie, an enthusiastic fire truck with a loud voice that only Tom could hear. Tom wanted to travel very far; thus, his dream had always been to conquer the faraway lands his parents described to him every night. One sunny April morning, Tom put his wooden sword and blue cape in his backpack and left, followed by Buttons and Maxie, to live the adventures he had dreamed of.”

Alexis looked up and saw Drake staring at her with glossy eyes. He gave her a soft nod, so she turned her eyes back to the book and kept on reading. Perhaps to avoid thinking about his lost son, Drake’s attention focused on her. He looked at her, enraptured. Alexis’ bright brown eyes were almost shining; her silvery voice had the entire room captivated with her story. The inner light he had always loved in her was back, as bright as before. In only a few months, she had managed to regain control of her life and make her dream come true. Every time he thought that he couldn’t possibly admire or love her more, she surprised him again. He was utterly, hopelessly, crazily in love with her.

“… Tom, Maxie, and Buttons had lived an incredible adventure. Tom missed his mom and dad deeply, but he knew that they were waiting for him in their little red cabin in the middle of the woods and that he’d soon come home.”

Alexis closed the book with watering eyes. “Thank you for coming. This book means a great deal to me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be happy to answer questions if you have any.”

One woman holding a little girl in her lap raised her hand and asked the question Drake was dreading. “Is Tom’s character based on someone real?”

Charlie had warned Alexis that she needed to be prepared to answer that. She gripped the book and took a deep breath. “Yes, on my son.” After drinking a gulp of water to control herself, she added, “He’s no longer with us.”

Drake smiled at her sadly but reassuringly when the audience went silent for a few seconds.

Maxwell quickly raised his hand. “Um … I just wanted to know if you’re preparing a sequel.”

Alexis gave him a grateful look. “Not at the moment, maybe later. Thank you for your question, sir.”

A little girl in pigtails asked her a question about Buttons, and a blond boy questioned her about Maxie the fire truck.

After she was done answering and signing copies of the book, she went to meet with Drake, Max, and Olivia.

“I loved it, Blossom! I have to say that Maxie the fire truck is the best character. He seems to be the smartest, funniest, cutest one of them all. Certainly much more than the evil Queen Nevrakis,” Maxwell beamed as Olivia shook her head, for once, more amused than annoyed.

A sudden silence made Olivia realise that Drake and Alexis were looking at each other longingly. She cleared her throat. “I have a date with Jin tonight, so we better get going, Max.”

Maxwell beamed as he hugged both of them. It was unquestionable for anyone who knew them that Drake and Alexis belonged with each other, and nothing could make Max happier than to see them together again. “I’m so happy for you guys! See you soon!”

They both chuckled; Drake brushed Alexis’ hand with his, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Did you like it?” Alexis asked Drake timidly.

“It was wonderful. The way you described him was simply perfect.” Drake threw her a small smile. “It was our Tom. I admire you so much, Lexie. Thank you for this; I needed it too.” They locked eyes with each other, both their hearts racing.

“I’m ready, Drake,” Alexis blurted out and immediately felt the blush in her cheeks, her heart beating furiously in her chest.  

“Are you sure you’re ready to come with me?” he asked her with his deep voice, an intense longing in his eyes.

“As long as you still want me to,” Alexis gave him a coquettish smile.

He tightened his grip on her hand. “Always, Lexie.” The loving look she gave him back was enough to drive him wild. Drake looked around him; they were in a children’s bookstore surrounded by kids and Alexis’ old boss. Probably not the best place to kiss her as he was dying to.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered sheepishly.

Alexis arched her brows. “Really? What is it?” she asked excitedly.

Drake smirked. “A surprise has to be unexpected. As a writer, aren’t you supposed to know definitions of words and shit?”

“Smartass,” she laughed. “I just need to say good-bye to Charlie really quick, and we can go.”

When they got into the car, Drake leaned to her seat and cupped her beautiful face. She let out a soft gasp when he kissed both her cheeks, the corners of her lips, her nose. “I’m going to spend the rest of the night, of my life, kissing every part of you, baby,” he growled in her ear.

If Alexis waited another minute, she would’ve imploded right there, so she crashed her lips on his, making him groan with want. Drake pressed her body against the seat, but an annoying thought made him stop. “Our first time after all this time will not be in the passenger seat of my jeep, Lexie.”

Alexis bit her bottom lip. “Let’s go,” she urged him.

After a short drive, Drake pulled over on the side of the highway. He grabbed a silk tie from the back seat. “I need to cover your eyes.”

“It’s dark, and we’re in the middle of the woods, Walker. Are you trying to kidnap me?” she asked with a flirty tone.

A smug grin spread on his lips. “Actually, that is exactly what I’m going to do. Turn around.” Gently, he placed the tie around her head and tied a knot. “No peeking, Lex,” he said, kissing her head.

She shook her head, now too excited to speak.

After a few minutes, they arrived, and Drake helped Alexis to get out of the car. The feeling of walking in an unknown place with her eyes covered could’ve made someone nervous, but there was no one Alexis trusted more in the world than Drake; he would rather die than let something happen to her. They walked a few inches with him firmly holding her. When they stopped, he pulled her back against his chest, circling her waist with his arm. He leaned to speak in her ear. “Six months ago, in one of our phone calls, you told me how difficult it’d be for you to live in the cabin again. That you would love to start our lives somewhere else.”

Alexis nodded.

“That day, I recalled how much you loved that abandoned house next to the lake. It was small and run down, but you fell completely in love with it. Remember?”

“I do,” she said with a lump in her throat.

They were taking a stroll next to the lake when Alexis saw it. The house was almost in ruins, but according to her, it had significant potential. As it was clearly uninhabited and there was a window open on the ground floor, she climbed through it; Drake followed her, chuckling, with Tom in his arms. Once inside, he had to admit that the house did show promise. They would have to spend a lot of weekends renovating it, but he loved manual work and was sure Alexis would make it as cozy and comfortable as she had made his father’s cabin. Back in their own place, they daydreamed about buying the house and renovating it. She drew a small sketch of what she pictured: a huge kitchen where they could both cook together, a swing for Tom to play, a porch to watch the sunset, and a main room with a skylight where they could see the stars every night. It would take some time and a lot of effort, but they thought the house was worth it. When Drake was about to make an offer to the real estate agency, tragedy overcame them, and they forgot all about it.

Drake uncovered her eyes, and she gasped. They were standing in front of the house, but it had changed. Drake had spent the last five months working on it every minute of his spare time. The old washed-out exterior was now a beautiful wooden façade with a large, wide-pillared porch in the front.

He held her tightly. “Now this is the exterior. There’s still a lot of renovation work to do inside. You’ll see.”

Alexis had happy tears in her eyes. “I … I can’t believe you did this, Drake. It’s gorgeous.” She turned around, and he cupped her face and gave her an intense, searing kiss.

“Come on, I want to show you the rest,” he said when they finally parted, breathless. Drake grabbed her hand, and they laced their fingers together.

They stepped into the house, and even if Drake was right and the first floor still needed a lot of work, Alexis wandered around happily with her heart full. “I love the kitchen! We can have a large counter here,” she said, pointing to one side of the room. “What would you think about a thick wood table?”

Alexis’ face reflected so much excitement and enthusiasm that Drake couldn’t help but grin at it. His gaze followed her as she pranced all over the house with a thousand ideas of how to renovate every corner of it.

“So I gather you like it?” he asked, arching an amused eyebrow.

“Like it? I love it, Drake! It’s perfect. I’d like to move here as soon as possible!”

Drake couldn’t help but smile tenderly at her. “Are you sure? We can stay in the cabin for a few more months while we do the renovation work here.”

“If the water is running, I’d prefer to stay here,” she answered with an earnest smile. “This is us, Drake. Ours. A new life together. I’m not running from our past, and I never want to forget Tom,” she said, brushing a small tear with her hand. “I just want to start over in a place where we can create new memories.”

“If that’s really what you think, there’s a room that’s already finished.” He threw her a quizzical smile. “Do you remember the drawing you did of how we pictured our house?”

Alexis let out a spontaneous laugh that made Drake's heart leap. “I would barely call the doodles I made drawings, but I remember the moment, yes.”

“Well, I hope I did the doodles justice.” Drake held his breath as he opened the door.

Alexis gasped; he had remembered everything she had dreamed of. A soft, fluffy carpet. A big bed full of cushions, a fireplace warming the room, and the skylight over the bed. The moon and stars lit up the whole room through it.

Mesmerized, she took off the blazer she was wearing, and Drake’s eyes widened. The beige dress she had underneath was tight and hugged every single curve of her body. Suddenly, Drake was very aware of the taunting way she moved; she turned her back on him to look at the fireplace, and his eyes went straight to her bare upper back and the delicate line of her neck. Blushing, he moved to readjust himself. Her thrilled voice pulled him out of his thoughts.  

“I love it, Drake. Every single part of it! The skylight is exactly how I’d imagined it!” He took off his own jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “What?” she asked, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she realized he was looking intently at her.

“Are you wearing that for me?” Drake’s low baritone and sexy smile made her blush crimson red.

“Maybe,” she answered with the most innocent look in her eyes but a sultry voice.

Drake cut the distance between them; even with her sexy nude heels, he towered over her. “Don’t give me that innocent look, baby,” he growled. “Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Alexis leaned towards him, her hands playing with his collar. “See, Drake, that’s the thing. I don’t want you to control yourself.”

He swept her off her feet. She looped his neck in a burst of roaring laughter. “I want you so fucking much, Lexie,” he told her as he gently dropped her on the bed. Their bed. He hovered over her, holding his weight up with his right arm.

She hid her nose on his neck, inhaling the intoxicating sandalwood. “Me too, Drake.”

“You deserve the world,” Drake said, staring at her almost black eyes looking at him adoringly. He wanted nothing more than to make this night last as long as he possibly could. “It’s been four years that I’ve been thinking about this moment,” he said, gently kissing her cheek. “Four years that I’ve dreamed of making you mine again.” He growled at her ear as he nipped it. “And now, I finally have you here --” He softly bit her neck. “-- all for myself.” He kissed her collarbone as he slowly unzipped her dress. “This damn dress is making me wild, Lexie.”

As he rubbed his thumb on her lips and cheeks, Alexis’ heart beat so fast, she was sure he could hear it. Finally, he kissed her, and time stopped. His lips felt so soft on hers, his tongue so passionate when it slowly entered her mouth, intertwining with hers. His strong hand cupped her head as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly the need became urgent, and he moved to her neck, possessed by the need to claim her. Drake softly sank his teeth in her, making an exhilarated moan escape from her throat.

Slowly, he pulled the dress’ front zipper down, peppering sultry kisses on every inch of skin he discovered, until only her lacy underwear was left. He pulled her to him and kissed her senseless as he unclasped her bra. Her beautiful breasts appeared, her buds erect, ready for him to kiss them. Drake softly flicked his thumbs over them. Then his tongue tasted them, taking pleasure in the sight of Alexis arching her back for him. He took a deep breath until all he could smell was her cherry fragrance. With a cocky smile, he pulled down her last piece of underwear, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Lexie,” he groaned as his eyes wandered over her body lit up by the moonlight, and his calloused hands moved down her body, rubbing her face, her breasts, her hips, a trail of excited goosebumps appearing everywhere he touched. “And you are all mine.”

Alexis gave him a flirty smile. “I want to see you too, Drake.” She softly pushed him up until they were both on their knees.

The sight of her naked, kneeling in front of him and undressing him with nervous fingers, desperate to kiss him, to touch him too, almost killed him. She undid his jeans and let her hand wander around his cock. He drank in the sight of her, enjoying her soft, small hand around him for a moment. Her soft, skilled strokes on his impossible hard length felt incredible, but after all the months, the years they had spent apart, he wasn’t going to last long if she continued. “I won’t be able to resist much longer, baby.” He grabbed her wrist. “And there are a lot, a lot of things, I want to do to you first. Lay down,” he growled, standing up to toss off the rest of his clothes.

Alexis felt like she was on fire, ready to explode. Drake’s lips kissing her legs, her knees, and her inner thighs only made the fire wilder. She gripped the sheets when she felt his hot mouth on her, kissing the soft skin around her clit.  

“It drives me insane how wet you already are for me, Lex,” he said, parting her lips with his tongue and softly entering her, inebriating himself with her taste.

“Drake, god! Drake,” she chanted again and again as his expert tongue and fingers explored her, thrust inside of her. Feeling the heat build more and more, she tugged his hair, making him smile against her warm skin. Finally, she reached a point of no return and screamed his name again.

Drake smirked. “Fuck, I’ve missed that, baby.”

Still panting, she managed to answer in a soft voice. “Me too, Drake.” Drake caught her lips in a slow, tender kiss as she came down from her high.

“Come here,” he whispered, scooping her and sitting her in his lap. Alexis straddled him, enveloping his torso with her legs. Cradling her with his arms, Drake’s desperate lips ravaged her neck, alternating soft kisses with small bites. Her back arched, giving him full access to her breasts that he cupped, his thumbs slowly circling her hard nipples again. Alexis rolled her hips against him.

Drake chuckled against her neck. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lexie?”

“I need you now, Drake,” she moaned. His cock was already throbbing, but he felt like he was going to burst at her words

“Whatever you want, Alexis.” He positioned himself with the tip of his dick, teasing the little nub of her center. “Look at me, baby. I want to see your pretty eyes as I enter you.”

She locked her burning eyes with him, and he grabbed her hips, confidently guiding her body to enter her folds slowly, giving her time to adjust to him.

The world, the moon, and the stars, everything around them faded. Each set of eyes only saw each other, reflecting the passion, the excitement, the deep love they felt.

“I love you, Lexie,” Drake whispered as he slowly moved inside of her, adoring her smell, the way she moved, how she moaned his name.

“I love you too, Drake,” Alexis whispered back, reveling in the sensation of him filling her completely. Of her heart racing with every delicious thrust. Of his strong arms holding her tightly, safely. Of his hands caressing her back. “I feel you everywhere, Drake, god.”

They rocked their hips at the same pace, increasing speed as their movements became more passionate, more desperate. He ground into her powerfully, feeling her walls tighten around him. The sensation was unbelievable, an exceptional connection that neither of them could ever experience with anyone else. “Come with me, baby,” he whispered as his hand reached her center, allowing his thumb to rub the little nub in it, making her lose her mind. Alexis couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, let alone talk, as the most intense wave of pleasure of her life came cresting over her. A powerful “Drake!” escaped her lips as she climaxed.

His name on her swollen lips and the way she was still vibrating against him pushed him over the edge.

“Mine, Lexie, mine,” he growled, marking her neck as he filled her in complete ecstasy.

He pulled her into his chest, both of them silently enjoying their descent from heaven.

He held her tightly, kissing the top of her head as he lazily rubbed her back, incapable to stop touching her.

“A penny for your thoughts, Lexie.”

She looked at him through her eyelashes, smiling.

“I was just thinking about how absolutely perfect this was.” She stroked his chiseled abs with her hand.

He smirked. “You’re perfect, baby. A fucking work of art.”

Alexis smiled against his chest, a pleasant feeling of utter happiness settling in her chest.

Part of the night was spent with tender whispers, passionate touches, and shared laughs. The rest, they spent rediscovering every nook and hidden corner of each other’s bodies as if they were trying to recoup the last five years in a few hours. Finally, the morning lights caught them sleeping tangled in each other’s bodies. Drake opened his eyes first, smiling as he hadn’t done in five years.

“Good morning, baby,” he whispered in her ear, waking her up.

“Nuh, uh, too early.” She hid her head under the pillow.

“You have to see this, Lexie. Wake up,” he said softly, kissing her bare back.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you are at motivating a girl.”

Drake chuckled. “Come here.”

Wrapped in the sheets with Drake hugging her tightly from behind, Lexie sat on the porch in front of the lake, and she understood why he had woken her up. In front of her eyes, a sumptuous spectacle of pink, ochre and golden sun rays extended over the glowing lake. It was the most stunning sunrise she had ever seen.

“There’s something I need to tell you that might change your mind about us,” Alexis warned him cautiously. She bit her lips, feeling remorseful. She should have discussed it the day before, but selfishly, she had wanted to enjoy the night with Drake.

He almost laughed at the idea. “Nothing would change my mind, Lexie. Test me.”

She took a deep breath and let the sentence out as fast as she could. “I don’t know if I ever want any more children, but I don’t think so.” She carefully gauged his reaction as she asked. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered sincerely. “I didn’t for a long time; I was adamant. ” He looked tenderly at her. “Now, I’m not so sure, but I do know that the idea scares the shit out of me.”

Alexis let out a relieved breath. “Me too.”

“I’ll tell you this. We’ll revisit the idea in a few years, but we won’t do it unless we’re both sure. Deal?”

“And what if I don’t change my mind, and you do?” she asked worriedly.

“Then we won’t, Lexie. All I want out of life I have right here,” he said, holding her even tighter. “Nine years ago, in my vows, I told you that I loved the fire in your eyes and how much you love life. I told you that I would always take care of that gorgeous inner light of yours. But I didn’t do a great job.” Alexis was about to protest, but Drake put his thumb on her lips, smiling. "I promise that I’ll devote the rest of my life to making you happy. I’m so proud of you, of everything you are, Lexie. I love you more than I did back then, much more.” He opened his palm, where he had their wedding rings in his hand. “I always knew that one day we would be wearing these again, Mrs. Walker.”

Alexis beamed. “I love you, too. You have no idea how much. For years, I felt lifeless, and now just looking at you, my heart hammers, Drake. You take away the emptiness, the sadness. You make me so incredibly happy.”

A bittersweet tear escaped from her eyes when she extended her hand and watched, immensely moved, how Drake slid her wedding band and engagement ring on her finger. Then she put his on.

Relieved, she turned her head up and caught his lips in a delicious, deep kiss.

Drake noticed a small, tiny tear. “What’s up, Lexie?”

“I was really convinced that I could never feel this extremely elated again, and now that I do, I also feel …” She stopped in her tracks.

“Guilty. You feel guilty for feeling happy.”

She nodded slowly.

“Me too.” Drake rubbed her cheek with his hand. “I think we have to learn to live with that, baby. Tom will always be here. He’ll always hurt.”

Alexis snuggled against him as Drake drew her into his arms. A loving smile spread on her lips; no matter how difficult or painful their grief would be in the future, they would be facing it togther.

The End.

[kassies-take]

It’s A Luthor’s Life

Summary: Lex Luthor knows everything. Everything besides what is in Lena Luthor’s penthouse.

A/n: I should really get to the requests before I start something new... Too late, I have to right it down before I forget it.

Warning: Isolation, Assurance

Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 2270

After the whole Crisis thing, Lena Luthor hasn’t gotten a break. She went from powerful CEO of L-Corp to second in command to her deranged brother of LuthorCorp. She went from ‘oh I wouldn’t know I never stood behind a man’ to standing behind the worst man possible. She has lost everything she has built towards a good name for the Luthors, ever since the New World kickstarted. It doesn’t help that her own office is invaded and even her lab infested with her brother’s personal belongings and tech. Who the hell does Lex Luthor think he is? 

There is at least still one place the former CEO could go to for sanctuary. Her own penthouse. Her home, which is actually ironic due to the fact that after she ran from letting her mother drown she hasn’t stopped running since. She had tried to make it work in Metropolis, in National City yet that all came back to bite her in the ass. 

The penthouse that was once empty, dull, and colorless. A place she was rarely in before, is now the place she wants to be in the most. Granted it was still empty, dull and colorless but it was at least free from the hands of the cold and dangerous would outside. She made sure it stayed that way. 

Right now the safest place for Lena was in her penthouse. At the moment she was using that to her advantage, she did not want to be found. She was taking a well deserved bath with scented candles and aged wine. The fluttering lights, the warm bath and the beautiful wine was doing wonders on her mind. She could feel the weight on her shoulders disappear, that was until a deafening crash erupted in the silence of her own penthouse. 

The brunette immediately dried herself off, wrapped herself tightly with a long white robe and put on some underwear. She did not need anyone to see her naked glory right now.  

Every scenario the Luthor ran in her mind, did not prepare her to find a young adult. Not to mention a young adult, battered, bruised and bleeding from the obvious glass beneath them. How the “child” managed to get through the window wouldn’t have surprised her if she lived on the first floor, but she was living on the goddamn twenty-third floor. 

The “odd” Luthor immediately looked to the sky as if expecting some alien creature to attack, or even kill, the groaning figure in front of her. Fifteen seconds, thirty, a minute goes by before the woman closes the broken window with a force shield. 

Only then did the lively and noisy city below become muted, but the huffs and puffs amplified from the damaged stranger. 

“No one can know I am here,” the stranger coughed out.

“You need a doctor.”

“I do n-” she was interrupted.

“You are bleeding out on my floor.”

“I’ve been through worse. Luthor assassinations and kidnaps from Cadmus.”

“Who are you?” ‘

“(Y/n) Luthor. CEO of L-Corp and probably paralyzed now.” 

That was all the older, got. Another Earth or possibly another odd one out. That was impossible, even if this dying stranger was the product of another Lionel affair there was no L-Corp. The business woman’s thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a light blue glow in a bottle like cylinder. 

Curious a Luthor will ever be, she took it from the unconscious person in front of her. Her curiosity would’ve been better if she did not press the button on the bottom or the top whichever it was. Lena screamed at the expansion of the clear glass. The curiosity did not kill the cat yet, the Luthor’s eyes shined at the hologram controls of what now seemed to be a healing chamber. 

A small glance was given to the other supposed Luthor, and she was compelled to help. She first deactivated the healing chamber and opened her closet door. Like her office, she had a safe room in her home and activated the chamber in a lead-lined room. She placed the (h/c) haired in the chamber. As it sealed shut the same hologram appeared with settings, though the technology seemed to complete the setting on it’s own. 

The tank slowly filled with a light blue liquid, a breathing apparatus placed on their nose and mouth When the tank was completely full, a holographic gauge appeared on the glass. The level of healing measured, and by the looks of it, it seemed as if they would be in the chamber for a while as different machines were being indicated to be needed for a faster recovery. But because the technology was not existent at the moment the recovery would take longer than it usually would but a lot faster than in medical innovations set in this time. 

Lena had been checking on the mysterious stranger daily for six weeks. There was some familiarity to you. Someone she couldn’t bare to face at the moment.

What she didn’t know was that that familiarity was the truth.

In 2043, a year before the heroic sacrifice you had convinced Stephanie Olsen-Danvers to use an image inducer to change spots with her. Lena didn’t allow you to be a field agent but that’s all you wanted to be with your two older brothers, Liam and Lucas, (twins) flying around. Your powers had not yet manifested and you wanted to see if they would activate during the field, Stephanie was better at all the businesswoman stuff anyways. You got your wish, but the cost was Stephanie’s life, an assassination attempt was successful. You watched as your brothers and your parents grieved, and so long you were wearing the image inducer, Stephanie would still be wearing your face. You stayed with Dansen that night, they were sad they lost their favorite niece and they knew “you” would’ve been worse because you and Stephanie were close. There was family therapy before the funeral with Kara, Lena, Liam, Lucas, Alex, Kelly and “Stephanie”. You bursted into tears the moment the session started and refused to accept comfort. You reached up to deactivate the image inducer while mumbling the word sorry repetitively.  

Gasps and sighs of relief mixed in the room. 

“I’m so sorry, I co-convinced her to sw-switch places with m-me. I wanted a b-break from L-Corp and she h-helped me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” 

Dansen were both furious. Alex more than Kelly. Kelly knew you didn’t know, she knows you would take it all back if you could, and that Stephanie would have felt the same guilt if you had truly died and she couldn’t have made the choice to save you. Alex argued with Kara, Lena and Kelly any chance she got, she refused to even speak to you unless they were on missions.Your brothers were torn, they were relieved you were alive but devastated Steph was gone. 

Then the inevitable happened. While Superfriends went ballistic on each other another attack was made. A threat far worse than murder but genocide. A massive nuclear bomb was set to blow all of National City and neighboring counties. Alex, Brainy, J’onn and Nia set to the MedBay, Kara and Lucas under sun lamps due to Kryptonite radiation and Liam left to tell everyone of the tragic news. Liam had gotten everyone to safety when the aftershock shook, Kryptonian DNA had mutated, during this generation of Supers to absorb explosions. You and Liam were supposed to absorb it together after Kara and Lucas were infected by a Kryptonite gas in another room. But you took the blow yourself. 

In the last seconds you remembered Sara’s time portal watch and used it to diffuse the bomb. Most of the explosion happened in the upper atmosphere of a different time while small chain reaction bombs reached National City. You were supposed to die, and yet here you were in your mother’s old penthouse. 

Your healing was nearly complete when Lena moved to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Kara landed right outside.

“Let me guess you’re here once again to tell me not to forgive you. Or maybe that I shouldn’t work with my brother?” She had to keep up her act, it was hard but she had to.

“Not this time. I realized I made a mistake in hiding my identity from you for so long but the past is the past, and I can’t change it. Forgive me or not that’s your choice. Just like it’s your choice to work with Lex. I’m done blaming myself for your bad decisions.” The last line hit Lena like a bus.

“Then why are you here?” Lena asked emotionless.

“To tell you that from now on, you’re accountable for your own actions. If you decide to forgive me, I will be there for you. But if you continue to work with Lex... If you go through with whatever it is the two of you are planning, I will do everything in my power to stop you... just like I would any other villain.” Lena didn’t want to be the villain, she was never the villain but this is the only way.

Lena left the tea untouched and marched towards her closet. The healing liquid fully drained as your eyes shot open. You pressed on the glass to open it as Lena stood watching.

“What she is not telling you is that she saw possible outcomes in which she told you she was supergirl earlier than Lex.” You began to change settings on the chamber.

“How do you know?”

“You can say that where I’m from, we’re close. But every situation in which she tells you there was always a worse outcome. So when would it have been a good time for her to tell you?” You turned to face Lena once you clasped the chamber into pocket size.

“Before Reign became all World Killer like.”

“Ehh....” you sighed before walking towards Lena’s kitchen.

“It was the right time in our friendship for her to have told me.” She followed after.

“You end up defeating Reign without Kryptonite, but it costed your life and Kara was not willing to live a life without you.”

“Well then maybe right from the start.”

You froze and looked up from the teapot.

“What, we would be able to have worked together. A super and a Luthor. We would be unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable until you get kidnapped, and Kara reveals her identity to the world to save you. But that information would be used to target all of your friends and they will all end up dead.”

“She wouldn’t reveal her identity for me.”

“You underestimate how much you actually mean to her. And before you say you’d be better off without Kara in your life, you are so wrong. Kara, time and time again, despite keeping a big secret from you has always been your number one supporter. The sole reason you haven’t turned evil was due to the fact that Kara Danvers always had your back.”

“How can you possibly know that! You don’t know that I’ve been betrayed by everyone in my life, by the ones I love the most!”

“Well it certainly won’t be betrayal if it’s by an enemy.”

Lena glared at the true statement.

“I let her in! While she was shutting me out!” Lena’s eyes began to tear.

“There are even certain things you have to keep to yourself. But you can’t do it alone. Humans, Kryptonians even Martians, we all need someone there with us, otherwise we will be nothing. Luthors especially.”

“You’re. You’re my daughter aren’t you.” The older walked towards you.

Your eyes watered behind the red and Lena cupped your face. “I know what it’s like to lose everyone. I know what it’s like to buy into my demons. But if it’s anything you taught me, is that you can still be who you are despite what everyone thinks.”

“So I can’t tell you what to do, I mean that would just mess with the timeline.” You and Lena chuckled. “But just know that everything will be okay for you. Obviously I was born.” You flipped your hair before you sniffed again.

“Why do I get a sense that it won’t be okay for you.”

“Because I killed my own cousin, I was selfish and I convinced her to be me. Luthors just can’t seem to get a break.”

“I agree with you on that. But you are my little secret so maybe you can help me with this Lex situation.”

“Huh,” you smiled.

“What?”

“My mom always told me that she didn’t stop Lex on her own. I always thought it was with Supergirl.” 

“The past and the future can be surprising.” Lena smiled. “What was your name again?”

“Uh for the sake of the timeline, you can call me Miss Luthor. I hope you also know that that means I won’t tell you anything about the future.” 

“Well Miss Luthor, I hope you know that you did not do a good job of hiding who you are.” Lena smiled at the House of El logo on your shoulder. “ A Luthor’s life is always going to have trouble, unless you have the House of El with you.”

“It’s a Luthor’s life. Well our part of the Luthors.”

“So I marry Kara? Do you have any siblings? Does Lex get what he deserves?”

“I said I can’t reveal anything more about the future.”

“How could you not want to ask questions? I am a Luthor afterall.” 

[forhisglry]

Sorrow and joy

Life is a messy mixture of beauty and pain, and I know it’s not unique to my circumstances. We all will experience times of grief through different seasons and in different ways. Here’s a bit of what’s gone on in my own head as I have grieved my mum.

A few weeks ago marked 6 months since Jesus took mumma home to be with him. And today, the 14th of December, is her birthday. I still miss her so deeply, and I guess the ache will be there for a long time to come. She was an incredible woman, full of dignity, strength, gentleness and grace while also being pretty matter of fact and down to earth. Not perfect by any means, but a pretty darn fantastic lady. When I think of her, I see her dancing in the wind, her wild hair free, barefoot and laughing lightly, or poking out her tongue. I learnt so much from her and feel like I can keep learning much more. 

Grief. It’s a bizarre process to watch happen within yourself. In some ways, it’s exactly like those grief cycles you learn about, but mostly it’s nothing like it, being a great deal more messy, and a very personal and unique experience. I look at my family, and each of us process it so differently. Some people need space, some need to talk it through, some need people around them.

I’ve learnt that grief is not something that western culture typically does very well. We feel awkward with it, and often try and ignore, brush it away or move on from it quickly. But I’ve learnt that’s it’s a vital experience to actively journey and allow yourself to sit with, whatever that looks like for you. It helps you to develop good emotional healthy habits by recognising how you feel in a moment, stopping and giving yourself time to process it. It enables you to move forward and not bottle it up. Grief is teaching me to not be defined by my feelings, but to see them, allow them, process them and let them go. Writing is my outlet, so I began writing letters to mum (thanks to the idea of a friend) every time I want to talk to her, and it has certainly helped my to process what I’m feeling. I love learning some of the ways varied cultures experience grief so differently. It’s quite a humbling experience to watch a Yolngu funeral out here in Arnhemland. The ceremony, song, dance. Listening to the women wailing gives me chills, the way their grief is expressed so tangibly; the way everyone knows their place, the outward expression of sorrow, the way the young ones learn from the elders. 

Grief. It’s ugly and messy. It’s beautiful. The anger, the pain, sorrow, guilt, the sobbing, the memories, the laughter, the hope. I’ve tried to be intentionally conscious of actively walking through the process of grief, and to give myself the space to embrace all of it, rather than pushing it down. Some days it can be crippling and leave you with an aching sadness. Sometimes it hits you unexpectedly like a wave of sorrow. And then some days are easier and you can pick yourself up and cope and find joy, and live your normal day to day life, and get out and enjoy beautiful things and be light and happy. Firsts are hard- first holiday, first birthday since she’s gone. I fully know that some days you don’t want to feel the pain anymore. But there are also days you don’t ever want to lose that feeling because somehow it makes mum feel close again. Sometimes I feel like I’m going well, but not every day. And that’s ok. I’m learning to be gracious with myself when I need to and give myself permission to grieve, but also permission to laugh. It’s a season, and a normal life process. I don’t think you ever really stop missing them, but you learn how to live with it.

I’ve learnt that in a culture that feels awkward with grief, I actually love it when people bring it up and ask about it. I love getting to talk about my mum. She was an amazing woman. I love it when people tell a story of something daggy mum did years before. It can be painful, but I love remembering. Grief can feel isolating, but it can also bring connection. I’ve come to realise, even more, how incredible my blanket of support is around me, and how necessary they are: family and friends (surrogate family), like a shield of love when I need it. Ready to make me food, cry and pray with me or make me laugh at the drop of a hat. I know many people don’t have that, and I’m beyond grateful for my tribe wherever I may be. 

And I’m learning a lot about God too.

If there’s one thing I can attest to in this hard season, it’s the unchanging nature of God, his promise to always be with us, his kindness and compassion and care. I’ve seen that in the details amidst the sorrow, in the hands of his people. Little details that came into place that none of us had particular control over at the time, but reminded me that God is deeply involved. I’ve learnt anew that he is a kind God. 

I know all too well how hard it can be sometimes to reconcile the grief and pain we experience with the goodness of God. I know that sometimes all you want to do is be angry at God and tell him it’s not fair. But even through my lack of understanding, all I can see is his love and compassion. I can see a God who knew deep sorrow, pain and separation, and chose that for the sake of love. I see a God who’s plan of love stems far beyond my short life and beyond my human understanding. 

I’ve been reflecting on the name of God. Yahweh. He is who he is/ He will be who he will be. Who he has always been, is who he will always be. He does not change his nature. He IS always loving, always just, always gracious. In the same passage that Yahweh tells Moses his name, he also says ‘I will be with you.’ He will always be with us. And I know that his presence is always with me.

That Yahweh is great, I haven’t a doubt. But that he is also deeply personal, I know within my being. 

Maybe I’ll never know why it was that God called mum home when he did. But I know that he knows the reality of human pain and loss and grieves alongside us in our pain. He deeply cares about us. 

I’m so thankful for the HOPE I have in my God, Yahweh. It certainly has been grounding, and enables me to have peace and joy despite my circumstances. Not that I always feel like that, but there is this underlying sense that there is a future and a hope beyond this life, enabling a deep joy to pervade my sorrow, when I allow myself to take hold of it. As Paul said in 2 Corinthians (6:10) ‘Being full of sorrow and yet rejoicing.’

It’s been an interesting experience to say the least, and I know the journey will continue. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my amazing mum. 

I hope that I can become more understanding, kind, gentle and patient for it and dance wildly more often with my arms and hair free as my mumma would.

[raywritesthings]

Bird in a Storm 14/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Athena, Moira Queen, Thea Queen, Frank Chen Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Her first foray on the bike was going pretty well, in her personal opinion. It wasn’t like she had never ridden one, of course. Under her dad’s supervision, she’d been on the back of one of the police-issue motorcycles a few times and even shown the different controls. Ollie had always liked his bikes as well, and Laurel had refused to act the nervous girlfriend about it; part of why he and Tommy had always liked hanging around her had been her relative willingness to go along with their various misadventures to a point. She’d stopped short of anything that would have seen her in front of a judge.

Though if Oliver or Tommy could see her now, risking arrest night after night… she didn’t know how they could all be in the same city and yet feel further apart than ever most days. Even if a lot of that was her own fault.

She knew John Diggle was right. Oliver was likely to find out the truth of what she was up to these days, if only by running into her out on the streets some night. Wouldn’t it be better for the truth to just come from her?

But there was every chance it wouldn’t be better, that Oliver would react badly either way. He still blamed himself for all the crazy turns her life had taken this year. Laurel wasn’t sure if she could make him understand that this wasn’t the rock bottom of some downward spiral. If anything, this was a newfound sense of purpose and, strangely, of inner peace after being frozen in place for the last five years.

Did she have regrets? Of course. She wished she’d never agreed to date Tommy and broken his heart; she wished her job and the jobs of countless others actually paid a decent wage; she wished with all her heart that Sara could’ve been the girl in the Rockets cap her mother had been so desperate to find. But losing nearly everything had forced her to look at things from another point of view. 

No longer was she the charitable helper from on high, enlightened and sympathetic to the plight of others when no one else would listen. She could see for herself that there had been and always would be those in the Glades helping each other. Laurel had made more friends in the months since moving to her new home than she had had in her life, and friends who wouldn’t just disappear on her the way so many of her and Oliver’s high society acquaintances had after the Gambit sank. And her understanding of justice and how it was enacted out in the real world had shifted radically as she had lost the blinders of her father’s old strictures and learned for herself what truly needed doing. She wouldn’t trade any of that for her old life.

Maybe, in a way, Oliver would understand. After all, he was the man he was today in part because of the misfortunes he had learned to fight and live through. She didn’t think he would go back, either.

Her wandering thoughts were cut off by her phone, which she could feel buzzing in her pocket. Laurel pulled off the road into an alley before stopping the bike and getting it out. “Hello?”

“Laurel, listen, it’s me,” John Diggle said. She tensed, wondering if he was about to let her know he had told Oliver about her. “I’m hoping you can stop by the base tonight.”

“How come?”

“We got word about Walter, and it’s… not good. Oliver’s not doing well. I’d stay with him, but Felicity’s taking it hard, too. She needs someone. And I think — no, I know he probably needs you.”

Laurel’s eyes had closed at hearing Walter’s name and she swallowed once before nodding. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Bad news about Walter. She could only assume someone had found the body. What a horrible thing to happen to a good man. What must Oliver’s family be going through? Apparently they weren’t grieving together, if Oliver had chosen to retreat to his base.

Laurel stopped by her home to drop off her wig and mask, then drove out to the Verdant. John’s car was still parked out back, so he must have decided to wait for her to arrive before leaving for Felicity’s. She remembered the blonde woman a little, though she didn’t know what she had to do with Walter exactly. Anyone would be taking the news of an innocent man’s death badly, though.

Laurel came in through the back entrance and immediately took notice of the fact that most of the lights were off. She spotted John in a chair, talking in low tones to Oliver, who was sitting on the ground with the wall at his back.

They both looked up at her approach, and Laurel slowed to a stop. But John stood and nodded to her in thanks before walking out the way she had come. Oliver’s gaze lowered back to his hands, and they were left in silence.

Laurel forewent the chair and settled cross-legged on the ground, her knee bumping Oliver’s thigh. “I’m so sorry, Ollie.”

“I don’t know what I expected. I guess, because of the lack of ransom note, I thought he might be being held for some other reason. That we could find him in time. But it didn’t matter what we did. He was dead before I left the hospital last December.”

She couldn’t exactly hug him from this position, so Laurel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him to rest his head against her own shoulder. That he went with little fuss or fight wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“How’s Thea taking it?”

“Not well. I left her with- with Raisa.” His shoulders, if anything hunched tighter together. “They both knew Walter better than I had the chance to. I can’t really relate to what she’s going through.”

“Of course you can,” Laurel told him gently. “You lost your own father.”

“And I wasn’t able to save him any better than I was able to save Walter for Thea. Or for mom.” His throat bobbed, and his voice came out strained. “She’s shut herself back up in her room again. I don’t know how we’ll get her out.”

“You will. Your mother loves you and Thea, but she just needs time. And this wasn’t your fault. You said it yourself, you were in the hospital when he was taken.”

“If I had beaten the Dark Archer—”

“Then you still wouldn’t have been at Queen Consolidated to stop Walter’s kidnapping. How could you have known to be there? Like you said, these people who took him left no sort of warning or indication that this was happening or why.”

He sighed through his nose. “There’s a lot happening that I still don’t know why.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she insisted. “You’ve already done so much since coming home. You can do this, too.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his head to look her in the eye at last. “You always believe in me no matter how badly it hurts you. I can’t help thinking you’d be better off if you never found out who I was, or if I’d kept my distance as the Hood. But maybe you’d have just ended up helping out the Woman instead.”

Laurel stiffened, her arm drawing back. “The Woman?”

“Yeah, that’s… well that’s what some of them are calling her. From everything that’s said, she’s more the hero that you hoped I’d be.”

Laurel’s heart sank. That wasn’t what she’d intended at all by going out. She’d been inspired by him and wanted to further what he had been doing on a smaller scale, not cause him to doubt himself.

“Ollie...”

“Hm?” His head tilted, curious as she struggled with how to say what she needed to. Yet as she struggled, a light seemed to spark in his eyes as his mouth fell open into a silent oh.

Laurel cringed. “That obvious?”

“Not as much as it should have been.” He hung his head, slowly shaking it side to side. “What have I done?”

Laurel frowned, shifting onto her knees so she could face him fully. “This isn’t something you did. Yes, you inspired me, but this was a choice I made. And it’s one I stand by.”

“If I hadn’t gotten you into trouble at work—”

“How many times am I going to have to remind you of all the good you’ve done and just how heavily it outweighs the bad? I’m not even talking about the city here. I’m talking about me.”

He looked up at her, and Laurel decided in that moment that they’d better stand. She needed to pull him out of this hole, and physically doing so was just about as good a place to start as any. So she took hold of his hands and tugged him up onto his feet with her.

“Without you, I would never have won the Hunt case once it got put in front of Judge Grell. I wouldn’t have won the Sommers case, either, because I’d probably be dead. Assuming I even managed to survive that, I would have let Peter Declan die like everyone else without you pointing it out to me. Yes, I was a lawyer, Ollie, and a good one. But I was passive. I was passive in every aspect of my life, too afraid to live because I didn’t want to get hurt. I’d found my comfort zone, and I was stuck in it.

“You changed that, the way you always do,” she continued, allowing herself to smile a little. “And it turned out that losing everything was the best thing to happen to me. I was too naive to see just how badly the system was functioning until I was living it for myself. Now that I know better, I can be more proactive, both in protecting the people of this city and myself. I know exactly what I’m willing to tolerate from people and the level of respect I deserve.” She thought of her mother and the lie she had kept all those years and never truly apologized for. Hard to imagine that she could find it easier to forgive the man who had betrayed her trust rather than her own flesh and blood, but Oliver had never once taken her forgiveness for granted the way her mother had seemed to be doing when she had arrived. He had worked for it, earned it.

But how he responded to her choice to take to the streets was going to be the true test going forward of whether she really did have his respect. She took a breath and said, “I can understand if you’re upset I didn’t tell you, but I needed to do this for me. To prove to myself I still had something to give to our city. So what are you thinking now?”

Oliver shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly still taking in a lot of what she had just heaped on him. At the very least, she had probably provided a distraction from his grief if she hadn’t alleviated it. But she knew firsthand it wasn’t so simple a thing as telling it to go away. “I don’t know. I can’t be happy about this, Laurel. Not because you’ve done something wrong, but because of the way this city forces good, honest people like you and your father to go outside the system in order to actually make a difference. Anywhere else, CNRI could’ve operated independently from the interests of wealthy backers, and they never would’ve forced someone as talented as you out the door. They have no idea what they gave up.”

He paced away a moment, then came back. “I’m also terrified. I know just how dangerous it is out there, and I never wanted you to be in that kind of danger, let alone put yourself there. Is this what you’ve been going out there in?” He took hold of the two sides of her jacket which she’d unzipped upon reaching the base. At her nod, he frowned. “It’s not enough. You could take some real damage, get shot.”

“I have been,” she told him and shrugged. “Mostly a graze, but I handled it.”

He stared at her in shock, seemingly at a loss for words.

Laurel sighed and placed her hands over his. “Look, I knew this was going to be hard for you. That’s why I didn’t want to burden you with it. We haven’t run into each other out in the field so far, so you don’t have to think much about it if you don’t want.”

“It’s not that simple,” he argued. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about what could happen.”

“You can’t ask me to stop.” Laurel pried his fingers off her jacket and stepped back, only for him to follow and cup her face.

“I know. I know that, Laurel. If this year’s shown me anything, it’s that you’ll do things your way no matter what. You’re just like me that way.” His thumbs stroked her cheekbones as his eyes searched hers, and she tried not to shiver. “If the choice is between doing this with or without me, which would you choose?”

“What?”

He seemed at least a little amused by her shock, judging by the soft smile on his face as he said, “I’d rather you be at my side than out on your own. That’s what I’m thinking now.”

Laurel swallowed, her eyes stinging a little. Not in her wildest dreams had she expected Oliver to make that kind of offer, not at first anyway. He really had changed. She gripped his forearms. “There’s things I’m focused on that you’re not, and I can’t say I’d be much help against someone like that Dark Archer.”

“That’s okay. We can figure out what works.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice barely audible.

Oliver licked his lips, and, close as they were, she couldn’t help staring. “I need you, Laurel.”

“I know.” The truth was, she needed him, too. Tommy had seen it all those months ago, back when she had been unwilling to admit it. But she knew in her bones they were ready now, in a way they’d never been before.

He leaned down, one hand moving around to cup the back of her head, fingers playing with the shorter strands. Her own hands slid up his arms to his chest, his shoulders, his neck as their lips met. This wasn’t the rushed, blindly passionate kiss they had shared in his bedroom all those months ago. Laurel felt grounded in who she was and where and when and who she was with, and she was glad. She had missed him so, so much.

They broke apart, and Oliver brought his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes closed. She stroked the back of his neck and held him, her eyes darting around the base. Everything was so cold and sterile; had he really been planning to spend the whole night here?

“Why don’t you come home with me?”

His eyes opened, though he stayed silent.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. We can talk, or we don’t have to, but I want to be there for you.” She would make sure he returned to his family at some point, but she’d learned the hard way to read his physical tells of when he wasn’t ready to do something and wouldn’t say it out loud. She would give him the night before gently reminding him how much his sister and mother needed him, too.

Laurel led him by the hand out of the base, though Oliver stopped short at the sight of her bike. “You drove here on this?”

“Yeah. It’s sturdy,” she added when he continued to stare dubiously at it.

“Maybe for one. Come on, we’re taking mine.”

“I think you just want to drive,” Laurel replied with crossed arms as they headed further across the lot.

“You can drive — once I get you a new bike.”

She was having trouble keeping herself from smiling, glad that he already seemed to be feeling at least a little better. “I like my bike. Roy and I worked hard on it.”

“Roy?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the only one you inspired.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, though all he did was swing a leg over the bike and wait for her to get on. She wrapped her arms securely around him, and with one last soft look back at her, he started the engine and headed off for her place.

---

Oliver didn’t actually go to sleep. He rested with his eyes closed, even retreated into his own mind for a while, but he was afraid to truly lose consciousness. Because it might mean that when he woke up, he would realize all this was a dream.

He didn’t know how he could be experiencing a kind of dream with everything else going on — Walter’s loss was waiting somewhere in the recesses of his mind for the chance to drag him down into guilt and grief again at any moment. Yet the Laurel in his head had often come to him in his darkest moments on the island to help him see a way through. That the real one was here now to do so herself was a greater comfort than she probably knew.

Laurel had dozed for a while, but mostly she’d stayed awake, quietly running a hand up and down his back while his head rested against her breast. They were entwined practically head to toe to fit on her incredibly small mattress, and Oliver’s feet were still hanging the slightest bit over, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. In truth, parts of his body were very happy with the situation.

The part of him that wanted to remain in this bed with Laurel forever, whatever they got up to in it, was eventually superseded by the realization that he had not eaten since before his confrontation with Dominic Alonzo. A loud growl from his stomach pretty effectively cut through the quiet intimacy of their embrace, and Laurel lifted her head the same time that he did.

“I probably have something in my cabinets. I’ll give you a minute to get settled.” Her pointed glance down had him ducking his head slightly, though she swiftly leaned in to kiss him on the cheek in a sign she clearly didn’t mind.

Oliver ran through some of the meditation techniques he had been trained in before feeling sufficiently calm and in control, then stopped in the bathroom to wash his face. There was a potted plant of some kind that sat there, its green leaves long and healthy. He padded out to the kitchen in his bare feet to find Laurel at the stove with a skillet and eggs. This warranted some monitoring.

To his surprise, however, there were no major accidents as she fried two eggs for them each. He found a couple plates in her cabinet and got them each some water as well, and they took seats at the counter beside each other.

“So, this Roy. You wouldn’t be talking about Roy Harper, would you?”

“I would. Jealous?” She asked in mock seriousness.

“Considering he’s supposed to be dating my sister, I hope not.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know they’d gotten together. That’s interesting.”

Interesting was a perfectly neutral word and probably one he would use if Thea ever asked his opinion on her relationship.

“How much does he know?”

“He knows about me. Helped me home the other night when I was shot.”

Well, the younger man was rising in his estimation, at least.

“He wants to know about you,” Laurel continued after taking another forkful of egg. “I told him I’d see what you thought.”

He frowned in thought. What did he think? Roy Harper was an oddball, in that he had been on the right track to becoming a career criminal before suddenly changing his ways. He couldn’t say if it was down to Thea’s influence, his saving the kid’s life or these encounters with Laurel he was only just learning about. Maybe it was a combination. That being said, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to trust Roy with his identity just yet. He was still something of a loose cannon, even if he had turned over a new leaf.

“I’ll give it some thought. Maybe once I’ve figured out what the Undertaking really is.”

“The Undertaking?”

He froze and then shook his head. “I guess I always meant to tell you. The night I went to see my mother as the Hood, it was because Digg had overheard her meeting with some man about something they called the Undertaking. It has something to do with the list my father gave me and something to do with the underground subway tunnels in the Glades, but beyond that I don’t know a thing.”

Laurel frowned. “Did Walter? Maybe that’s why…”

He nodded. “Felicity told me he got a copy of the list from my mother and was looking into it before his- his death.” It was hard to put it so finally. “But he didn’t have any better ideas about what it was than we do, or if he did then he was never able to share them.”

Laurel placed her hand over his resting on the counter. Oliver turned his palm over so that he could lace their fingers together.

“If it’s something worth killing for, it can’t be good.”

“Yep.”

They didn’t have much longer to talk about it since his phone started buzzing. Oliver glanced at the caller ID, seeing his sister’s name, before answering. “Hello?”

“Ollie, where are you?”

He winced. He hadn’t actually wanted Thea to worry about him. “At a friend’s. I’m okay, Speedy, I promise.”

“Then you haven’t seen the news,” she told him.

Oliver felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. “Why, what’s happened?”

“They’re saying Mr. Merlyn passed away in the hospital sometime last night. Complications with his recovery.”

“Oh.” It was wholly inadequate, and yet, Oliver could only feel numb. He had just started processing Walter’s death. To know that another man who had been in his life since childhood — and truly more so, having been his father’s best friend — was simply gone, like that, was simply bizarre. He had known Mr. Merlyn’s chances of recovery were slim and felt incredible guilt over having been unable to convince Tommy of the blood transfusion, yet for it to have taken such a turn for the worse so quickly, it felt like pulling the rug out from under him. He hadn’t even had the chance to visit the man in his hospital room yet.

Though thinking of his old friend, Oliver asked, “Have you heard from Tommy?”

“No. I was kind of hoping you had.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “I haven’t. Listen, I’ll- I’ll be home soon. I’ll leave right now. Just stay with mom. Has she heard yet?”

“I don’t think so. She’s still in her room,” Thea told him.

“Then wait for me, and we’ll tell her together.” He couldn’t imagine how hard this would be for his mother, losing her husband and her old friend in essentially the same night. They would be lucky if she left the house by fall. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

He hung up, meeting Laurel’s concerned eyes. “What’s wrong with Tommy?”

“Nothing exactly. Just… Mr. Merlyn passed last night, according to the news.”

Laurel brought her other hand up to her mouth, and the one holding his clutched at his fingers tightly. “Oh, Tommy.”

“Yeah. I need to check on my mother, and then I’ll see about tracking him down.” Guilt churned anew in his stomach as he thought of the way he and his friend’s last conversation — or perhaps argument — had ended. And he worried what Tommy might think if he knew where and who Oliver was with right now. In the next moment, he dismissed that thought. Laurel was important to him, and Tommy knew that. He had been willing to set aside his own disappointment to be happy for his friends when they had tried to make a relationship work. As his friend, wouldn’t Tommy be willing to make the same choice?

He stood up and leaned in for one last kiss Laurel readily gave him. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. If there’s word on the arrangements…”

“Of course.”

He made the drive back to Queen Manor to find Thea sitting on the steps up to the bedrooms. “Were you out all night?”

“Kind of. Come on.” He helped her up, and together they headed to their mother’s bedroom door. He knocked lightly. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” Her voice sounded remarkably steady. 

Oliver exchanged a look with Thea before asking, “Can we come in?”

“Of course.”

He opened the door and entered, Thea trailing him.

Their mother was sitting up in bed, a robe pulled on over her pajamas. A photo album sat in her lap, one that, Oliver realized with an uncomfortable lurch, must have been produced for her and Walter’s wedding. She was stopped on a photo of the two of them, her one hand lovingly stroking the side of the page.

“I always hated this picture. I thought I looked bug-eyed,” she confessed, her tone more wistful than it was sorrowful. “But he always took a wonderful photo.”

“Mom, there’s been some, uh, some news,” Thea spoke up timidly.

She looked up, expectant, but Thea turned to him.

“Mr. Merlyn passed away last night in the hospital.”

He watched her eyes widen and mouth drop, heard the sympathy in her voice as she said, “Oh no, I was hoping for Tommy’s sake he would pull through. Malcolm was such a strong man.”

“Yeah, they think it was complications from the coma or something,” Thea muttered. “I wish I’d apologized to him for what I said at the party.”

Their mother opened her arms, and Thea sat on the side of the mattress and accepted her hug. “I don’t think he held it against you at all, dear. You were going through a hard time. Something this family isn’t strangers to, I’m afraid.” She smoothed Thea’s hair back and looked up. “I’ll make sure flowers are sent to Tommy’s home right away. Have you spoken to him yet?”

“No,” said Oliver, a little stiffly. Something felt off.

“Well, I’d reach out as soon as possible, Oliver. He’s going to need your support.” She shut the album and laid it on Walter’s side of the bed with care. “I’ll dress and start seeing to those arrangements.”

Thea stood and backed up towards him, and when their mother got up as well she reached out and cupped both their cheeks. “Thank you for checking on me and letting me know. It would have been dreadful to read it in the paper.”

“Sure, mom,” Thea said.

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed uneasily. He followed Thea out of the room and shut the door, pausing there in the hall.

Thea let out a breath in relief. “Well, nothing like keeping up appearances to get her moving again.”

“I guess,” Oliver replied, but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. He hated thinking it, but his mother had been almost too put-together given what Thea had told him of her handling of his and his father’s reported deaths and what he’d seen when Walter was first declared missing. And while she had displayed the typical signs of shock at the news about Mr. Merlyn, it just hadn’t felt like his mother. Where was the denial, the insistence that someone at Channel 52 had gotten it wrong?

But what did it mean? It could just be that she had made her peace with both Walter’s disappearance and Malcolm’s health already.

There was nothing he could do about the misgivings he held right now, and truthfully he was avoiding reaching out to Tommy. Oliver got out his phone and dialed, frowning when it went straight to voicemail. He tried again and sent a text for good measure.

Where would Tommy be right now? The hospital? He didn’t want to intrude there if he was. Beyond that, Oliver wasn’t totally sure where Tommy had been living ever since he had walked out of Laurel’s apartment.

He looked up the number to call to try and reach Tommy at Merlyn Global. A secretary answered, of course.

“Hi, this is Oliver Queen. I was hoping to get in touch with your boss. I just heard the news about his father.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Queen, but Mr. Merlyn is taking a leave of absence at this time and will not be taking any calls. I can have the details of the upcoming memorial service sent to you if you would like to pay your respects at that time.”

“I would, thank you.”

He took lunch with his mother and Thea, even more troubled than before. His mother was up and about while Tommy had shut off all forms of contact. What was going on?

Diggle had made it in by the time lunch was over, and Oliver led him into a side room to talk. “You’ve seen the news?”

“Yeah. I was expecting it to be pretty quiet around here.”

“So was I.”

John raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t here when it hit?”

“Later. Look, the main thing is, I can’t get a hold of Tommy. He’s been… off lately, but I don’t want to leave him alone in this. Would Felicity be up for pinging his phone?”

His friend shook his head. “She’s zonked out on Nyquil after crying her way through the night. I doubt she’s even heard about Merlyn.”

He let out a breath. “Then I guess we wait.”

It was two days of feeling like something was not quite right with the world. Between Mr. Merlyn’s sudden passing, Tommy’s silence and his mother’s strange calm, Oliver wasn’t sure what was truly causing his senses to be on high alert.

Only Laurel could get him to calm both nights when she joined him and Digg down in the base. Without Felicity there to chatter like she had been the last couple nights they had been following the lead on Walter, her company was welcome to them both, and Oliver felt some of the tension in him ease as they ran practice spars against each other. Laurel was fairly solid on the fighting forms she had chosen to learn while Oliver had bits and pieces from a variety of teachers, and it made them an odd yet oddly suited match as they tested each other’s limits. She took quickly to learning from both him and Diggle; it was the studious nature in her that drove her to discover and master anything about a subject she took interest in.

“The memorial is going to be at the Merlyn home,” Oliver told her the second night as they danced around each other on the mats. “They’re burying him next to his wife.” 

Laurel froze, only for a moment, but it was enough for him to get behind her and pin her arms to her sides.

She kicked out, forcing him to jump back, and then she had spun to face him again. “Do you think… I still haven’t spoken to him since it all fell apart.”

“What other time is there going to be?” Oliver pointed out. “I know things didn’t end well, and I didn’t help that by driving a wedge between you two as the Hood. But Tommy is going to need us. I hope he is, anyway.”

His mother and Thea reacted only with mild surprise when Laurel arrived at the manor the next morning dressed all in black to make the drive over to the Merlyns’ with them. She had brought a basket of roses with her in a deep red color, more like crimson.

“They mean grief and sorrow. Pam and I put them together,” Laurel told him.

After being dropped off by their driver, their procession of four walked across the lawn to where chairs had been set out. Already the crowd was filling in, and Oliver found them a row near the front with enough open seats.

Before she could enter the row with them, his mother was approached by Frank Chen, another old friend to the family. The two were speaking softly enough that Oliver couldn’t make out what was being said, but something again felt odd. He just couldn’t place it.

Up ahead, he spotted the back of Tommy’s head where he sat in the front row. His only companion looked to be a woman with long, dark hair, though Oliver could not distinguish any of her features from behind. He didn’t think he knew her, and he wondered how Tommy did, his mind briefly recalling what his friend had said about the girls at Oliver’s funeral being like fish in a barrel. He immediately dismissed the thought; Tommy would never use his own father’s funeral for a score. He felt he knew his friend that well at least.

Eventually his mother took her place beside Thea, and Chen found his own seat further back. The funeral conductor moved to the front and center of the gathering.

“We are here to remember and to commemorate the life of one of Starling City’s most dedicated humanitarians. A beloved husband, father and friend to many. There were few who were as passionate about the future of our home and our people as Malcolm Merlyn.”

The conductor championed Mr. Merlyn’s story; a young businessman who had come to Starling City because he saw the potential to prosper, and prosper he had. How he had met Rebecca Merlyn through his friends, Oliver’s parents, and how special their love had been. Merlyn Global, Tommy’s birth, Rebecca’s loss, the ways he had continued to give back in memory of her.

“It was another senseless act of violence that robbed the world of Malcolm Merlyn. But I am told that he died as he lived, protecting another. His son, Thomas Merlyn. Thomas asked not to speak today, but he wished it to be known that he intends to carry on his father’s legacy in all ways.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother shift, her throat tightening. Her eyes stayed fixed forward. Laurel sent him a questioning glance, but Oliver gave the smallest shake of his head. Here wasn’t the place to get into his mother’s strange behavior.

The ceremony closed, and one by one, everyone came up to the front to pay their respects. Oliver tried to think of the last words he exchanged with Mr. Merlyn; he truthfully hadn’t seen much of him since his return home. He had called out to him to keep moving that night of the attack, and his father’s old friend had nodded in understanding. If only it had been the right call to make.

“I got in an argument with him,” Laurel said quietly, as if sensing his thoughts. “I went to dinner with him and Tommy, and we had a disagreement about his treatment of him.”

“Well, from what I know, Tommy and his father became pretty close by the end,” Oliver mused. “So maybe your argument helped more than you thought.”

Most of the guests were making their way to the house where tables with refreshment had been set up. Tommy, however, remained standing on the patio, nodding in acknowledgement or murmuring a quiet thanks to those mourners who addressed their condolences to him. As Oliver and Laurel approached, his eyes seemed to fix on them. Oliver wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on his friend’s face; it seemed like one of loathing.

Laurel took the lead in coming up to Tommy, hesitating for one moment before wrapping him into a hug. Tommy remained stiff and did not even attempt to return it. Oliver was more concerned with the woman who had sat next to Tommy at the service watching them from several feet back. Her gaze was cool and calculating, and the noticeable scar on her face had him wondering just who she was.

“Tommy, I’m so sorry,” Laurel said as she stepped back. “I know things between us — they didn’t end well, but I’m here for you. We both are,” she added, looking back at Oliver.

Oliver’s own words of comfort died on his lips when Tommy’s mouth twisted into something like a sneer. “A united front, just like the old days. I can see that’s not the only thing you coordinated. So how long after the breakup did that take?”

Oliver looked down. “What’s happened between Laurel and I is recent. It’s also not what today is about. You’ve lost your only family, and as your friends, we just want to support you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t really believe you, considering one more dead billionaire should just be another feather in your cap,” Tommy said. “Or hood, I guess.”

Oliver felt his heart stop for a single moment, and beside him, Laurel’s mouth dropped open. But he knew he had to try and deflect this — nothing about Tommy’s behavior right now said that confirming his suspicions was a good idea. If anything, Oliver’s own worst imaginings of his friend’s reaction were playing out in front of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try. I still have keys to the club. I’ve seen your little base of operations, Oliver.”

He had no idea what to say. That Tommy was essentially accusing him, and in front of a witness, what did that mean exactly? Was he planning to expose him?

“Oh, don’t mind Athena,” Tommy said, having followed his line of sight. “She’s my new partner. What I know, she knows.”

“You told her before even talking to Oliver?” Laurel didn’t bother to hide the outrage Oliver was beginning to feel beneath the shock and the panic.

“She’s been truthful with me unlike my supposed best friends,” Tommy shot back. “Were you ever planning to tell me, or were you waiting until my father was dead so I couldn’t warn him?”

“Tommy, your father was the humanitarian of the year,” Oliver reminded him. “He was never in any danger from the Hood.” It was the four of them only on the patio, yet he didn’t feel comfortable naming himself as the vigilante all the same.

Tommy eyed him, just the slightest bit of surprise on his face. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

But his friend shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If you weren’t the one behind this, I’ll find out who was. Someone hired the Triad.”

That brought Oliver up short. In the aftermath of the attack, he had never really thought to pursue that angle. Why had Mr. Merlyn been targeted? Who had wanted him dead in the first place? Who stood to gain?

“We can help you with that,” Laurel offered, looking back at him once to check that she wasn’t stepping over a line. He quickly nodded. “Oliver has contacts, resources.”

“Thanks, but I have my own now.”

“Tommy,” Oliver began, but stopped. He hated having to ask this. It scared him to ask. “What are you going to do about…”

“About what I know? Nothing. I like being alive,” Tommy said coldly.

Oliver drew back a step. He had never wanted this, one of his loved ones to look at him with utter loathing and revulsion. Even if it was what he deserved.

“You could have just asked him not to come if that’s how you feel,” Laurel said, and he noted dimly that her hands were clenched into fists. She was ready to fight.

“It’s how I would have expected you to feel, given everything you used to believe in,” Tommy told her. “But he was always the exception, wasn’t he?”

“As it is, I believe you both should go,” the mysterious Athena said, walking up to Tommy’s side. Her voice was accented, but he couldn’t place the origin. “Thomas has guests and other matters to attend to.”

“That’s just fine.” Laurel turned and seized Oliver’s hand, marching him down the walk towards the front gates. She was seething, and Oliver didn’t know if her plan was to walk all the way back to his family’s home or to the Glades themselves.

“Let me call Digg,” he said, horrified to discover his voice sounded choked. Oliver blinked, and moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes. He had known and feared since the night he had failed to save Malcolm what Tommy’s reaction might be. The reality was worse than anything he could prepare for.

Laurel waited for him to place the call, then stepped into his space and pulled him into a hug after he had put his phone away. He folded around her, needing this comfort more than ever. How could his oldest friend have changed so much? Or had Oliver simply been the one to change, and it was too much for Tommy to handle?

“We need to know more about this Athena,” he decided after an unknowable time. Wherever she had come from and why, she was exerting a powerful influence on Tommy that worried him. He had to know what her aim was, if only for his peace of mind regarding his friend.

---

He had thought he would feel some sense of satisfaction or vindication. He didn’t.

Instead, Tommy had more questions than answers once again, a feeling he hated. If Oliver truly hadn’t known his father’s identity, then who had the Triad been working for that night? Who were they still working for?

Athena was convinced his father’s death was no accident or the result of a complication. “The waters I gave you are infallible. They heal, they do not cause further harm. Someone else must have acted to ensure your father’s demise.”

One of the people his father recruited. Probably they were inside the manor right now, playing the part of a mourner. It made his blood boil.

He retreated to his father’s office with Athena. It was high time to go through the files on what his father had called the Undertaking in full. It had waited too long already. Had he known the person behind the attack at the award ceremony would strike again, he wouldn’t have put it off. He could have saved his father. But he had always been a disappointment, hadn’t he?

I won’t fail you now, dad, Tommy thought to himself.

What truly interested him in the files was a folder his father had labeled Insurance. There he found documents detailing the crimes of each member of Starling City’s high society Tommy had always thought of as his father’s inner circle. Carl Ballard’s record of tax evasion; a voice recording of Robert Queen, confessing to involuntary manslaughter; and most importantly of all, Frank Chen’s connections to and dealings with the Triad.

“Shall I apprehend Mr. Chen?” Athena asked.

“Wait until everyone has gone home. I don’t want people thinking his disappearance is connected to my father.” Not yet, anyway. He wanted the facts before he did anything that might affect his father’s reputation, not when it was all he had left.

“Then I will go and prepare a site for the interrogation. I will inform you of the details.”

Tommy nodded, then wandered back down the hall towards the main room where the low murmur of voices waited. An interrogation. Since when had this become his life?

He supposed it had always been this way. Ever since he was eight years old, at least, and his mother had been ripped away from them. He had been shielded from the majority of the violence that surrounded them ever since, but it had never meant it wasn’t present. He just hadn’t been paying attention. He would have to work hard at catching up.

“Tommy, there you are,” said a familiar voice, and he found himself being hugged again, this time by Thea Queen. Sweet Thea, so innocent to everything happening around her the way he had once been. He pitied her and envied her in turn. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Thea. It’s not my first time losing a parent.”

“Yeah,” she agreed glumly. “Me neither. We, uh, just got the news the other night that Walter… he wasn’t taken. He’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because it was the thing to say. He supposed he felt badly for her. Walter Steele had been more her father than Oliver’s, at any rate. But she still had her mother and brother, assuming the latter didn’t get himself killed out there on his ridiculous crusade.

“If you ever need to come over and like be around people, you know you can do that, right? You’re like family.”

“That’s kind of you, Thea. But I’ll be fine.” He left the young woman behind, his eyes scanning the room. It appeared Chen had already left. A guilty conscience? He’d know soon enough.

Athena called him late in the afternoon and relayed the address she had brought Chen to. When Tommy walked into the empty building — one of Hunt’s abandoned projects since his company had pretty much dissolved with his death — Athena was waiting with Chen bound to a chair, a black sack over his head. He nodded to her, and she ripped it off.

As Chen shook himself and blinked in the sudden light, Tommy slowly stepped forward. He wanted the man to see him now, to know what this was truly about.

Chen’s questioning gaze left Athena, and his eyes widened as he took Tommy in. “Tommy? What is this?”

“I think you know exactly what this is, Frank. The humanitarian award ceremony. Why did you hire the Triad to attack my father at it?”

Chen’s face had gone slack with despair as each word was spoken. “I didn’t.”

“You’re lying.” It was as if people thought he was born yesterday. Well, Tommy Merlyn had woken to the ways of the world now, and he wasn’t going to be made the fool ever again.

“I didn’t hire them! I only—”

“Only what?”

“Please, Tommy. You are not your father,” Chen begged. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing anything,” Tommy promised. “Athena’s going to take care of that for me.”

A vicious grin rose on her lips as she withdrew a dagger from her belt. Athena held it up to the light, studying Tommy for a few moments before turning sharply on her toes to cut Chen across the cheek. The man cried out, and Tommy swallowed while shoving his hands into his pockets not to show them trembling. Chen would do better to talk; Tommy didn’t want to watch him be tortured, but he needed the information he had more.

“What was your role in the attack!”

“I only… I gave her the right number to call.”

“Her?” There were two women in this Tempest, as the group had apparently called itself. Councilwoman Pollard and Mrs. Queen.

Chen’s eyes were on the ground. “Moira. It was Moira’s idea.”

He froze. “Mrs. Queen?”

“Yes. After the Hood’s attack on her, she decided things were getting too dangerous. She wanted out, and she was convinced that Malcolm… that your father’s death was the only way to achieve that.”

Tommy stood there, unable to say another word. Mrs. Queen had done this? The woman had been something of a mother to him since he had lost his own, as much as he had allowed her to be.

“She chose the location and the time for the assassination. When it did not work as intended, she told me that would be the end of it. That we would wait and see.”

“And did she?” He couldn’t stop his voice from shaking, but Tommy didn’t mind that so much. It was in anger, not fear, and he thought Chen could sense that. “Wait?”

“I do not know. I tried to ask her today at the memorial, but she would tell me nothing. If she acted, something must have changed. I can’t think what that would be, other than her husband.”

“Walter?” What did Walter have to do with any of this?

Chen looked up, his brow furrowed. “Yes. Malcolm was holding him. You- you do know what he was doing, what he was planning? You can’t agree with it, Tommy. Please.” Chen leaned forward a little, only to shrink back when Athena moved the knife under his neck. “You must see it is madness.”

His father had been holding Walter hostage. Thea had said they had received the news that Walter had died. But how could that be if his father hadn’t even been conscious?

He needed to know what had happened to Walter Steele. Tommy turned to Athena. “Keep him here.” Then he marched back out to his car.

He went to the penthouse office rather than the house for expediency's sake. Tommy knew it was only down to how organized his father had kept things that he was able to find what he was looking for. A live feed to a dark room containing one living occupant: Walter Steele.

He was alive. Which meant his father had died for nothing at all.

Tommy was speeding back down the streets to get back back to the abandoned building, his mind so caught up in his anger and grief that he did not notice at first that the siren going off behind him was for him. With an irritated snarl, he pulled over and smacked his hand on the steering wheel as he waited for the officer to take his good, sweet time.

“Sir, are you aware you were going fifteen over the speed limit tonight?”

“Are you aware that I don’t actually give a shit?” He glared up at the man who gulped upon seeing his face. “Are you really going to give a man a ticket the night he had to lay his father to rest, Officer Brock?”

“No, Mr. Merlyn. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure you were driving safe.”

He smirked. “Thanks.” Tommy waited just long enough for the officer to step back before peeling away from the curb.

His fists were clenched tight enough he could feel his nails digging into the skin by the time he returned to find Athena standing guard over Chen while sharpening her knife. He slammed the side of his fist against the wall. “Walter Steele is still alive! So why did she do it?”

“I- I don’t know. I would tell you if I did.” The blood from his cut had dried on his cheek, a couple droplets staining the white collar of his shirt.

“If this man is useless to us, I can dispose of him and acquire the woman,” Athena offered, and Chen shuddered.

“No,” Tommy said. “Not yet. Mrs. Queen — Moira,” he corrected himself. She no longer deserved the respect. “Is a special case. We’ll need to be careful.”

The moment she was taken, Oliver would act. Oliver made this whole thing far more complicated than it needed to be, and the fact that his mother’s entire assassination plan had been precipitated by Oliver’s attack on her was all the more infuriating. If not for Oliver, his father would be alive!

There could be no physical harm brought against Moira Queen unless her son wasn’t an issue. And Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted to test Athena against Oliver. She claimed to be an elite fighter and had displayed a number of skills casually enough that he believed her, but the Hood had fought off impossible odds time and again this year. He had survived Tommy’s father, even. Striking out against Oliver would attract Laurel’s ire in turn as well, and while she was nowhere near the threat that Oliver presented, Tommy knew if it came to it, he could not harm her. Not physically.

But Moira was guilty. In her case, he might not have found himself so squeamish as to his father and Athena’s old ways. It just meant he would have to get creative, was all. One way or another, Moira Queen would receive retribution. This boiling rage inside of him would never cease unless she did.

“She just wanted the Undertaking to end,” Chen begged. His voice sounded a little hoarse. It had probably been hours since he had water. “The threats against our families—”

“If you wanted the Undertaking to be over, you would have turned my father over to the authorities. But you didn’t want your precious lives to be ruined by your own part in his plan,” Tommy told him coldly. “That’s what we’re all about in the elite high society circles, aren’t we? Appearances. Don’t try to pretend you cared what was going to happen to the Glades.”

“But you care. You’re not- you’re young, Tommy. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re an innocent in all this. You don’t have to continue what Malcolm started.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Athena looked at him sharply, but Tommy ignored her for the moment. She would see what he meant. An idea was slowly starting to form in his mind, something that might take care of his revenge on Moira and the matter of those earthquake devices sitting at Unidac Industries…

“Because you’re right. I’m not like my father.” Tommy paced away from Chen as he spoke. “My father cared about the Glades. Whatever you think of his methods, he wanted them to improve. You could even say he and the Hood were alike in that way.”

When he turned around to look, Chen was staring at him open-mouthed, stuck as if unsure whether to keep up his pathetic pleading. Athena was watching him, and he could not decide if she was doing so cautiously or curiously.

“I’m not,” Tommy announced plainly. “I have no grand plans or compassion for the Glades or its people. I’ve known since I was eight years old they can’t be saved. So I’m not going to.”

“Thomas.” Athena jerked her head towards the hallway. Tommy scowled, but followed her out. “You said you would uphold your father’s legacy.”

“And I will. But dad… nothing in his plans accounts for people who may work in, but not live in the Glades. Glades Memorial hospital is still open. The beat cops that patrol at night. It’s too imprecise, and I’m not comfortable with it. Should you really be?”

Athena blinked at him, the closest to surprised he had ever seen her.

“You told me you were going against what the people who taught you and my father stood for. We don’t have to do that. We can do things their way, seek their help.”

She frowned. “The League itself is weak. The Demon Head grows old, and has failed to secure a worthy line of succession. But I can teach you their ways and principles on my own.”

“Alright.” He didn’t mind the idea of training, in all honesty. Once he had gotten his revenge on Moira, he would be making an enemy of Oliver. Knowing how to defend himself was crucial.

“What of your father’s killer?”

“I have a plan for her.” The beginnings of one, at the least. He would need to perfect the details before he moved forward with it, but once he did, he wondered if his father might have been proud in some small measure. “We don’t need Chen any more.”

“I will need to silence him,” Athena said, in a tone that allowed no argument. “He is duplicitous and knows you will be moving against Moira Queen. He cannot warn her in advance, or you will lose her.”

She was right. And who was to say if Moira learned what he knew that Tommy wouldn’t find himself with a poisoned bullet in his chest next? Chen had Triad ties. That made him just as dirty as any of the people Oliver had killed this year. Probably more so. Why should he mourn a man who was party to his own father’s murder?

He drew in a breath through his nose and nodded. “Do it.”

Athena nodded back and slipped back into the room. Tommy turned and walked away down the hall, hearing the muffled thump of a body hit the floor. He knew what that sound was ever since he’d watched his own father fall.

It wasn’t retribution, not just yet. But it was close. And it wouldn’t be much longer now.

[atrophiedcompassion]

having watched TROS for the second (and final) time in the cinema, here’s my full spoiler abundant review, also with comments on the nonalogy as a whole.

the movie works a lot better aka is more enjoyable the second time. we know what’s happening and i could relax and enjoy even the dumb moments and allow myself to feel, to be washed into the music and just feel my good feelings towards the finale.

the plot is still dumb as rocks, with the new old villain, resurrected. who not only is back but is giving our heroes a chance to find him before all shit breaks loose. why is the emperor so fucking arrogant?? why did TROS/JJ keep arguably the worst plot from TLL namely the race against a certain but exact time to do something to save the day?

the rey as palpatine still makes no sense. why did the jedi (in particular obi wan) call to her when she has the first force vision back on takodana if rey’s a palp?? JJ truly pisses on his very own movie isn’t he? and the emperor himself, he wants rey dead, twice he tells this verbatim to KR and then comments the rey killing plot was foiled to commander pryde...but then he actually welcomes her with open arms? or did he foresee his new death by rey should she reach exogol still alive? why should this death stick? ugghghgh.

the movie moves at record pace, no time to grieve, no time to catch your breath. the falcon/poe does impossible feats. the trio is united only to trail rey, finn in particular acting like a puppy. the only scene with finn that had any weight and developed his character was the scene with jannah when they’re fixing the falcon. BUT even then...i thought it was fine for the Force to guide finn out of his servitude. but maybe let the other former stormtroopers have some fuxking free will. not the force guiding them. there were so many moments when finn could’ve inspired former fellow stormtroopers to put down their weapons, but no. the spy could’ve been a stormtrooper, not the ridiculous hux doing things out of spite...

the worst scene in the movie? rey going on a fucking stroll on pasaana to meet kylo ren’s ship...and before that, the knights of ren literally posturing on a rock. i laughed out loud in the cinema it was so utterly ridiculous.

it’s all fucking plains, the fucking audience could see rey advancing through ochi’s ship screens. but somehow chewbacca gets captured and there’s a second transporter. the whole scene plays just so we can set up rey’s sith lightning abilities..?? fucking hell.

c3po’s sacrifice works for me. it’s the first moment of the rewatch where i got truly emotional and shed actual tears. and it’s not really cheapened by his memory being restored, since Finn actually mentions r2 might have a backup which 3po dismisses in his usual fashion. so 3po actually believed he was going to be fully erased. and that’s what matters. i found the 3po humour almost on par with the OT, although sometimes poe’s wayyy too aggressive with him. (i mean, poe loves droids, or at least his droid bb8, but is awfully dismissive of both 3po and D-O, just to fill in the han role i guess? it’s overdone)

the fight on the destroyer/kimiji is ok, again rey with the aggressive stance and the reveal is....nothing. rey has NO fucking reaction. she like scrunches her nose a little. she was just told the JJ equivalent to luke finding out vader’s his dad and rey’s just like. oh okay. bummer.

she should’ve fucking jumped like luke did. and maybe be retrieved on the falcon somehow. she should’ve expressed some pain. but no. rey’s just as calm as before. maybe even calmer, now that she knows the whole truth.

the death star sequence. dumb as hell to imagine the dagger has coordinates to the fucking wreckage of DS2??!??! who made it and when??!?!??! but let’s not overthink this. you get force powered rey making the ride with the skimmer and finding herself attacked by dark!rey..and then kylo come by and apparently knows this? because he tells her that now she’s tainted and can’t go back to leia either??!

WHAT THE FUCKKKK does JJ not know how the fucking force works??? i mean was it a fucking inside joke when han says that’s not how the force works in TFA??? uughghghgh. i know TROS is trying its best to almost completely retcon TLJ, but the way the Force was described there, like a balance, decay from where new life spawns, THAT WAS A GOOD THING FFS!!!!

no, JJ thinks that jedi are all pure beings and sith are dark brooding monsters and if a jedi or equivalent has even the faintest connection to the dark side, they’re fucking done!!!!!! (when the FUCKING OT SAYS THE FUCKING OPPOSITE, even a shred of goodness can help you get back to the light)

and if that was SUPPOSED to be KR’s way of getting rey to join him on his fieldtrip to exogol...my god he’s fucking dumb as hell. rey’s resisted his offer every fucking time (altho during the force call on pasaana he tells her he will turn her and she says we’ll see. she didn’t say no lmao), why would she fucking say yeah sure now? just because she had a fucking vision of dark herself??!?!?

still, dark!rey is fucking hot and i will probably cosplay her sometimes soon.

then comes the kylo - rey fight on the death star wreckage, where she attacks him, she’s aggressive, and is bested. and he’s about to kill her (even though he told her he has other plans, LOL) and then leia calls. or her call to her son finally reaches him (no more voicemail) and he falters, drops the saber and is impaled by rey.......who also senses leia’s passing.

and we have ben again and the scene with han solo plays and it’s pretty fucking emotional. but i wish he had said father and not dad. dad feels unearned. father would’ve worked best, especially for such a serious, stoic char like ben, dad is far too playful. i would’ve wanted a moment more of ben mourning his mother too, but the movie’s gotta be done in 30 mins so we have no time for allowing emotional moments to sink in. note: finn & poe are in such a rush to get to leia they don’t even have time to wait a sec to be told properly that she’s fucking dead. fuck you movie.

the scenes with luke are good. of course, luke backtracks all of his development in TLJ (because fuck you that’s why) and apparently everyone knew she was a palpatine but they still trained her because fuck logic? this is just like the PT where they end up training anakin because they made a promise to a dead guy. lmao. and how convenient is that there’s another lightsaber, otherwise how would rey make an x at the end to (presumably) end palpatine?? hmmm. i said the jedi leia scene/flashback worked for me the first time i saw it, but in hindsight, the scene and motivation really takes a steaming dump on leia’s character, a mother afraid of her son and unwilling to help him. fuck you JJ. we never needed leia wielding a lightsaber. we only wanted leia using the force in some way that felt organic to her character. (sidestep: up until attack of the clones? when yoda first uses a lightsaber, i assumed he was enlightened and didn’t need actual weapons to wield the force. well, i hoped leia could be like that enlightened master yoda. but like all bad things in the SW universe, she ended up being as awful as puppet yoda with a toothpick lightsaber, cause how would we know she’s a jedi otherwise????)

so. because she refused kylo, and ended up alone on exogol and with the resistance trapped there, she’s actually considering palpatine’s offer??! and realises she has maybe another option when she senses ben’s there too??! then why the fuck didn’t they go together??!?! oh wait. i forgot she wanted to exile herself on ach-to LMAO.

and still. the whole palpatine plot train-wreck could’ve still worked had they actually used the pretty cool concept of Force Dyad for something good. i mean, KR tells this to rey on the destroyer. but apparently palp can’t do the math and is surprised when he takes a sip of their life essences??! like what the actual fuck, why isn’t palpatine aware of this?? if he (+plagueis) made vader and then he conceived his son. and then vader had leia and leia had ben and palp’s son had rey........why is KR able to put this together and not the FREAKING MASTER PUPPETEER of the whole fucking galaxy??!?!

anyway. back to the force dyad. we have awsome ben solo and rey reunited. ready to fight palps. but no. he freezes them and sucks the life force out of them. maybe the power of the force dyad of light users could be harmful to a sith?!??! maybe the power of a force dyad would help ben & rey resist palp?! maybe the power of a force dyad could be used to defeat palp?

but no. we get ben solo thrown into a pit so that palp and rey could reenact whitney houston’s hit

or, even worse, the year’s most anticipated battle of one liners: endgame. yeah, it was cool to hear all the jedi clamouring for rey, but this could’ve still worked as the jedi finally supporting ben skywalker organa solo for fucking once in the guy’s lifetime.

but no. JJ said fuck ben solo. he’s only good to give the life back to rey, then he can fuck off. i am not a reylo and i am not too bothered by ben’s death, as much as i am by his misuse. i mean, in such movies, we never really have to deal with reformed bad guys making amends. vader died, and so in a way, ben dying too and not having to be courtmartialled is actually convenient.

i have read some analysis where ben & rey being happy together is the undoing of anakin’s sad demise and brings peace to the skywalker line rather than pain and despair and that’s a valid premise, but realistically, ben’s death makes sense. they’d never be happy together in a hut somewhere, because ben still has to pay for a lot of damage. BUT his death is nothing but the crippling of the skywalker line, after a palp had defeated the palps. his death has little meaning in the story. them being a force dyad has little meaning, apart from powering palps back to his rots appearance. lmao

and finally, the death of ben is never mourned, never acknowledged. no-one is even told on screen about his return to the light (maybe maz felt it, when leia’s body vanished...) and his deeds. that kinda sucks. because luke took a moment to have a ceremony for vader, the force ghosts came through. here...we get nothing.

and then rey buries the anakin saber and leia’s saber on tatooine in sand no less (we need a sketch of anakin loudly complaining to rey about this)... and instead of finally accepting herself as being sufficient, she tacks on the legacy name. well done JJ.

(that was me when the credits rolled).

now, i love the OT more than life itself and the films give us meta to fill libraries. they are not perfect movies, but they are good, they tell a wonderful story with amazing characters and i will never stop loving them.

then the PT is made of really bad movies that now, in the light of TROS, surprisingly still come together as a trilogy far better than the ST lmao.

i still believe that the PT undermines and ruins Vader’s redemption in ROTS, because now you know exactly what he did (reminder: killed 30 children) and it’s hard to swallow. in the end, he dies to save his son and takes down the big bad so we can accept that he gains redemption in luke’s eyes alone and not necessarily in the audience’s. but ben solo didn’t even get that. he got thrown into a pit and crawled out only to give rey life lol.

anyway, TFA was okay at first, but i always had a huge gripe, aka the misuse of Leia and the complete silence on her being a Force user. like don’t even need ligthsaber fights from her, just gimme something explicit of her using the Force. she could’ve at the very fucking least sensed KR when he swoops in and abducts Rey on Takodana. but no. JJ fridged Leia from the get go, because he had no clue what to do with her. and then he fucked her character completely with what he believed was the flashback the fans wanted....UFHGHGHGH

JJ also and truly fridged Luke, because he had no idea what to do with Luke and the whole Force legacy either. he wanted to write a fun Han Solo adventure and by gods he did.

so, Luke. the guy vanishes the opening crawl tells us. he wasn’t abducted, so he must’ve exiled himself. people hating TLJ’s so called character assassination when it comes to Luke should point fingers at the real culprit, JJ. how could Luke do such a thing and run away (like JJ wrote him do) if he hadn’t done something significantly wrong?? it had to be FUCKING HORRIBLE. and so it is. because what Luke did was horrible and it set up for the fall to the dark side of poor, conflicted, manipulated and unloved Ben Solo. but had it not been THIS awful, then Luke’s self imposed exile, shame and guilt wouldn’t have made any fucking sense. so, TLJ haters, think again WHO was the person who wrote Luke running away for 10 years and allowing all that shit to happen?? it wasn’t Rian Johnson, that’s for sure. he merely justified the absence in a way that made sense plot-wise and actually character-wise too.

on repeated viewing, TFA isn’t that good, it’s a rehash of ANH and the stakes are never as good as the original movies. we all kinda know the heroes will save the day

TLJ, i liked, but the canto bight plot really falls flat. this is where RJ did some char assassinations: Poe. Poe is the cocky pilot who singlehandedly destroys the Resistance’s arsenal LMAO. and next scene he turns into sexist macho asshole trope itself, with his immediate and unfounded disdain of Holdo and her plans to keep our heroes safe. so he concocts a harebrained plan that doesn’t work. maybe it was intended as a refreshing look over this trope of barely a plan of the heroes always coming to fruition at the very last second, but the way it’s presented, it somehow really undermines all the characters involved, including newcomer Rose. at the start a breath of fresh air in the age of mindless heroics, the voice of reason,  soon enough she too is pulled apart and becomes a sudden love interest...?? she is then reduced to a side’s side char in TROS, but she has space buns, so that’s cool right? that’s what SW is all about, women in space buns. fuck!

and yet, TLJ handled Luke, Leia, KR and Rey wonderfully and laid down some great ideas, Rey having no lineage, the Force Bond between her and KR, the catalyst for KR’s fall to the dark side, the little good in him, as sensed by both Leia and Rey...and set up a finale where, i believed and hoped, KR would be the main villain.

with the trailer spelling the probable return of palpatine, i kinda lost faith in TROS before it even hit the theaters. in fact, my faith in the movie was shot the moment JJ was brought on board.

we had a new villain, another race against time to save the day, and our heroes tell us again and again that it’s fine to share the burden, that they are not alone, that there are more good guys than bad - and when the ARMY OF PEOPLE came to exogol, it’s a wonderful scene. it works for me and it did both times. i know it’s awful that no-one came to leia’s call on crait, but here lando picks up (when lando says hello there, it’s not only panties that drop) half the galaxy, but somehow it still made me well up.

but, despite this very explicit message, our heroine fights alone. she faces palps alone and almost makes a bad decision, is alone in her final battle, is alone at the end. how truly horrible. instead of having ben and rey defeat palps together, rey has to do it alone, out of faux-feminism. it’s sickening. it’s stupid. and that’s not star wars and the star wars message. luke was not alone at the end, he was with friends, with family.

but she’s from a bad bloodline and she should die childless. ughhh. totally not hopeful, totally not satisfying message to have for the finale of the skywalker saga.

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 21: insomnia

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark Category: Gen Rating: T Warnings: pre-established minor character death  Words: 1.9k

read on ao3

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He's not surprised when he finds Peter sitting on the roof of Stark Tower at 2:42 AM.

Maybe he should be. It's not exactly normal to find your adopted kid on top of a 100-story building in the middle of the night, but Peter's never really been one for normal. It's been a while since he's done anything this odd, though - the first few weeks were full of strange occurrences, all varying degrees of disturbing, but things have leveled out since.

Tonight, apparently, they're backsliding.

Granted, this is not even close to the weirdest thing Peter's done since moving to the tower, nor the most concerning. It only takes a glance for Tony to know that Peter's not up here to do anything dangerous. Just, it seems, to stargaze.

Tony hopes this one doesn't end in a fight. There's been a lot of yelling lately, and he'd really like to get through a conversation without Peter getting upset with him. He knows it's the grief talking, but it still hurts.

Pulling the sleeves of his MIT sweatshirt over his hands, Tony walks across the roof, sits down next to Peter. The kid's not wearing a jacket, clad in Star Wars pajama pants and an old t-shirt that Tony's fairly sure is his own. Or maybe it's Rhodey's - their wardrobe's have gotten a little mixed up over the years and after constant reminders that the whole what's mine is yours bit applies here, the kid started wearing whatever was lying around with absolutely no regard for who owned it. Peter still doesn't quite get that no one will bite his hand off if he gets seconds at a meal or grabs a midnight snack, but at least it's something.

Peter doesn't look over. Doesn't acknowledge Tony's presence save for a minuscule shift in his posture.

"What are you doing up so late?" Tony asks, almost in a whisper. Anything louder might shatter the serenity. He wonders, vaguely, if Peter's still angry with him about their latest fight. Tony doesn't even remember what it was about.

But no, Peter never holds a grudge over their arguments. They never talk about them, after, because Peter never brings them up, just goes back to acting like everything's fine between them after he cools down, and Tony's too much of a coward to say anything.

True to form, Peter shrugs noncommittally and says, "Can't sleep. Kept...thinking."

Tony's learned enough since taking Peter in to know that asking him what he was thinking about flat-out will only cause Peter to clam up and shut down. Instead, he rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand and says in the gentlest tone he can muster, "You can tell me about it if you want. Or we can just sit. S'up to you, buddy."

Peter's mouth presses into a thin line and his hands fidget in his lap. He contemplates, eyes fixed on the night sky for a long moment, before ducking his head and letting his bangs hang in front of his face. His hair is just long enough for Peter to hide behind it, since every time Tony suggests a haircut he's met with a shake of the head and a change of the subject.

"I can't stop thinking about - about what Aunt May said to me before..." Peter stops, takes a breath. Tony prays to a god he doesn't believe in that this is not another with great power comes great responsibility situation. "She told me...a few hours before it happened, she told me she'd always be there for me. I was sad about something, I don't remember what, and she - she said she'd be here for me no matter what and then she -"

For a second, Tony almost thinks he's going to say it. It's been eight weeks and Peter still hasn't said the word died.

He doesn't. He cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence, like he always does, like he did even when he gave his speech at May's funeral. Tony has yet to determine if this is a thing he should be concerned about, but figures there are bigger issues here anyway.

Tony opens his mouth, but before he can actually speak, Peter looks up at him and says, "What were your parents like?"

It takes a minute for Tony to even be sure he heard the question right. Peter's never asked about his parents, and Tony's never said much of anything about them, both of them knowing how touchy of a subject it is.

He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what Peter is looking for him to say.

His instinct is to brush it off, because talking about his parents at almost 3 in the morning is not exactly what Tony signed up for when he got out of bed.

But Peter's staring at him with those big doe eyes, and maybe opening up to the kid is how he'll get the kid to open up to him.

"My mom was wonderful," Tony starts, the piercing feeling in his chest already surfacing. He cards his fingers through his hair, the sleeve of his sweatshirt sliding down his arm. "She was kind and soft and - and bright. She used to sing, all around the house, when my father wasn't home, and she always told me that I...that I was her favorite person. The best thing that ever happened to her, she said."

A hand slips into his when he pauses. He shoots Peter a grateful smile before continuing. "My dad, on the other hand, was...he was a dick. Full-stop. He was cold and emotionless and I always wondered how my mother could've ended up with someone that terrible. My father - he treated me like I was his invention. Not his son, not the child he was supposed to care for. Just something he created for his own personal gain."

He wants to leave it at that, but there's something he needs Peter to know. "My father is everything I never wanted to be. I - I've spent my whole life trying to be a better man than him. I'm trying, now, to be a better parent that he was."

It's a testament to how much he'd do for this kid that he even says this much. There's more to say, more to unpack, but that's Tony's problem, not Peter's.

Peter's quiet for a moment. Processing. Tony watches the emotions play out on his face, but doesn't really bother trying to keep up with them.

"You are," Peter says softly. He's looking at Tony's shoulder. "You're a great - parent. I know I haven't...I know I've been difficult and mean and ungrateful and -"

"Wait, wait, stop." Tony shifts so he can fully face Peter, who looks at him with way too much confusion in his eyes. "You're not difficult, Pete. Or mean or ungrateful or anything else you were gonna say. You're grieving. You're allowed to grieve. You're going through basically the worst thing you could possibly go through and you're allowed to be angry about it."

Peter looks unconvinced - God, it's like pulling teeth with this kid - but he doesn't push the issue. His fingers tighten around Tony's, and it's only then that Tony registers how cold Peter is.

"Jesus Christ, kid, you're freezing." Tony's pulled off his sweatshirt before Peter can even reply, handing it over to Peter. The wind bites at his bare arms as soon as he does, but Peter's the one who can't thermoregulate. "Don't argue, just put it on."

Peter sticks out his tongue at him, but pulls the sweatshirt over his head. He's still an inch of two shorter than Tony, so it's a bit baggy on him. Peter does the same thing Tony had, letting the sleeves dangle past his hands, and says, "Thanks."

"'Course."

They sit in silence, Peter leaning into Tony's side to replace the handholding. Tony knows Peter has something else to say, but he also knows that Peter needs to say it on his own time. So he sits and he waits.

Eventually, muffled in Tony's shirt, Peter says, "I can't sleep. Like, not just tonight. I've barely slept in the past...week or so, I guess."

Tony wraps an arm around Peter's back, rests his cheek on the top of his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted to handle it myself." Peter's voice hitches. "Because I wanted to prove to - to myself or to you or to the universe, that there was something I could do by myself. That I'm not just this weak little kid who can't take care of himself."

And Tony gets that.

He hates that Peter thinks he has to do this, any of this, alone, but he gets it.

Peter keeps talking. "But I just - every time I try to go to sleep, I end up thinking about her and about how my life is gonna be without her. About the fact that she won't - she won't be there when I graduate. Or when I find out what colleges I got into. Or when I get my degree, or when I get married, or when I have kids.

"She always told me she was going to be the best grand-aunt. She never said grandmother - I think she thought she'd be disrespecting my mom, her sister, even though I don't think she would've - but she always loved the idea of meeting my kids one day, and now she - she can't -"

Peter doesn't break down, as much as Tony expects him to. Which is...progress, he thinks.

Instead, he just lets out a shaky exhale that Tony feels on his neck and murmurs, "I miss her."

The past eight weeks have been a constant reminder that Peter is just a kid. But in this moment, Peter seems smaller than he ever has before.

He doesn't know what to say.

The truth is, it'll never stop hurting. At least, it hasn't for Tony. Peter will never stop missing his aunt, just as Tony has never stopped missing his mother, and that pain will always be there. It will lessen, but it will remain.

Tony doesn't think Peter needs to hear that right now.

So he says, "Come on, Underoos," and takes hold of Peter's sleeve. Stands, waits for Peter to do the same, then leads the kid down into the Tower.

He takes him to his room and tucks him into bed. Kisses Peter's forehead like his mother used to do for him and then climbs wordlessly onto the other side of the bed. Peter doesn't say anything either, just curls into Tony's side and closes his eyes.

It's a solid forty-five minutes before Peter's breathing evens out. Tony lies awake for another twenty minutes after that, to be sure, and then falls asleep with his arms wrapped around his kid and sleeps better than he has in months.

[purplesurveys]

529

Trigger warning for the entire survey lols

hows your life at the moment? Tough. Not great. My friend passed away. I see him in everything; every song is about him; all my thoughts are him. There isn’t a day I haven’t cried since finding out. I miss him, and nothing can heal this grief for the meantime. what are you doing? This, remembering Nacho, staying up, on the phone with my girlfriend. who was the last person to call you? Gabie is on the line with me at the moment. is there anyone that you love and hate? No. do watch funny tvshows like family guy and south park? South Park was never funny to me, but there are references in Family Guy that have made me crack up in the past. It’s very select, though. The two aren’t really my type of comedy.

what color are your toenails at the moment? I never paint my toenails. < have you ever had a close friend move away? Yeah, Aubrey suddenly moved to the US in senior year of high school. We had gotten really close when we were juniors so it was a real sucky shock when she dropped the news to me and told me she only had a few weeks left in the PH before leaving forever. what was the last thing you said aloud? I was telling Gab how unfortunate it is that I always seem to be wearing more shabby outfits whenever I see our mutual friend who dresses very well. I saw her at Starbucks today and lo and behold I had a lazy outfit on HAHAHAHA. Oh well. how many friends do you trust fully? I trust all of them. It’s when they abuse it that I can easily cut off that trust. who was the last person to hug you? Jo. I was surprised she reached in for a hug this morning considering SHE HATES THEM. But then again Nacho passed, and everyone’s been giving everybody hugs lately in the college. have you let someone down recently? I feel like I let Nacho down. I hope I didn’t, but that’s between me and me now. I just wish I did something more. has someone let you down recently? Me lmao are you upset about anything at all? If the overarching theme of this survey isn’t clear enough yet - YES!!! what are you looking forward to? El Camino on Netflix, bitch. That’s the only good thing I have going for me. Oh and finishing part uno of my thesis.  quick lyrics from the last song you heard.. I forget what the last song I listened to was at the moment. have you ever had a friend choose their bf over you? Yes, but I don’t mind. I would typically do the same, unless said friend is in an emergency situation or genuinely needs me. when was the last time you took a shower? This morning before heading to class. who is your favorite female celebrity? Kristen Stewaaaaaart. were you nervous on your first day of highschool? I think I was, but I’ve mostly forgotten freshman year. three words to describe your bestfriend: Gab is intelligent, insightful, and ambitious. Angela is approachable, generous, and hilarious. what is your latest reason to be mad? Our President (yes, Duterte) attended Nacho’s wake and halted the entire wake for an hour just because of his appearance. It became all about him and no one was allowed to either go in or out of the room for that period of time - not even Nacho’s friends who came to see him and say goodbye. There was a huge barrage of police all over the damn place and it pissed everybody beyond belief - even Nacho’s fucking mom was barred from seeing her son and she was forced to be at the back of the room along with everyone else just because of this dipshit President who felt the need to have an entire security team with him to go to the wake of someone who completely fucking despised his guts when he was still alive. who have you talked to on the phone today? Just my girlfriend. what color shirt do you have on? Navy green. are you literally afraid of anyone? Rapists, I guess. where are all of your friends right now? I’m sure they’re all at home/dorms. Either that or studying in a coffee shop. what is today? Wednesday. who was the last person to tell you a secret? Kate. make a wish. right now. anything. I want Nacho back. do you know who harriett tubman was and what she did? Yes. what kind of mascara do you use? I dunno. It’s been a while. do you own a pea coat? I don’t need any in this climate. which team are you going for in the super bowl? Nope. if you had to live at one of your bestfriend’s houses, where would u live? Angela’s. Her family treats me like family already, anyway. how are you on this fine day? Day 4 of grieving. It’s not getting any better, especially when everyone else is just as sad. The week kind of came through by giving me all the deadline extensions I mentally asked for, so am thankful to my profs for that haha. Still shitty nonetheless. My girlfriend’s great-grandmother passed away too. 2019 is out to give everybody a harder time before ending, I guess. who did you last take a picture with? Kate. who was the last person to comfort you? Jo. who was the last person to unsurprisingly disappoint you? My mom, lmaoooooo. who was the last person to get on your nerves? Filipino drivers. who was the last person you saw? Chesca. sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare? Hehehehehe I appreciate the Beyoncé reference, thanks. are there any stressful situations in your life? Right now? Stressful is a bit of an understatement. what are your plans for tomorrow? Do thesis, do other homework, study for next week’s exams. are you missing anyone at the moment? Way too much. if you answer a question wrong in class, does it embarrass you? Yes, it’s why I don’t recite - so I don’t have to be wrong lol. can you love and hate someone? It’s possible, but I myself am incapable of doing that. It’s one or the other, for me. I can love someone and be disappointed in them, but never love and hate at the same time. what was the last movie you watched fully? Hello, Love, Goodbye. are you currently hung up on anyone? Nope. single ladies or constant relationship people? ??? how many missed calls do you have on your cell phone? Within the past week, two. do your parents annoy you? My mom does. what color looks best on you? Black, navy green, maroon. are you jealous of anyone? More envious than jealous. what’s your favorite Lady Gaga song? SPEECHLESS Favorite Lady Gaga lyrics? Anything from Speechless. Seriously. Way underrated. where was the last place you went? Starbucks, to study for a few hours. what was the last thing to make you laugh? We were sharing stupid stories about Nacho yesterday to lighten up the mood, like how he was dressed up head to toe in Uniqlo in his casket HAHAHA. We’ve also come to develop our own conspiracy theory for laughs that Nacho actually just moved to Germany so he can finally achieve his dream of becoming fluent in German and that the person we saw in the coffin wasn’t him, and that he’s not actually gone. I found comfort in that and it’s helped me cope with the loss, and I’m sure it’s helped others too. He would’ve found the jokes funny, anyway. is letting go hard for you? Yes. any last words? I’m exhausted. I miss you, Nach.

[archmage--khadgar]

Hia! I always feel happy when I see one of your posts pop up on here c: why do you like Khadgar?

*Stares into space* OH GOD THIS IS gonna probably be a long post. HERE WE GO.So uh. I always really like Karazhan and the lore around it, hardcore fell in love with Medivh and pretty much ANYTHING in game that was connected I ate it up. I got the urn, the keys, all the rings, all the rep, you name it. I tried SO HARD to get Atiesh from the old Naxx but that didn’t happen. (I AM STILL SAD ABOUT THAT.) So that was -kind of- the start. In order for the next part to make sense, need to sidestep and backtrack a wee bit for context.Not to be all sob story, but I gotta be honest, I spent most of my childhood alone (either outside or in my room), reading, playing out epic stories with my toys, exploring the outdoors, and most of my social interactions with people I was either being bullied by kids at school or my mother. And y’know, despite all the stories I read or watched on t.v it was a loooong while before there were characters that made me go….”Holy SHIT I know what that’s like!?” Like there was a difference, to me, between characters like Michelangelo and Beetlejuice that I REALLY WANTED to hang out with, and then a character that made me go….”I know exactly how that character feels. What happened to them, happened to me.”Digimon was the show that broke that mold for me when not only were there two characters who had DIVORCED PARENTS!??? Like me, there was a girl who had a REALLY BAD and unhealthy relationship with her mother. (But she was still powered by love, which was awesome.)This kinda started getting me into other stuff because the more characters I found that I could relate to, the easier it was to explain how I felt to strangers and it made friend finding a little bit easier. FAST FORWARDING A LITTLE BIT.

So I certainly have a character -type- that I relate to the most. And it’s chaotic bookwork with anxiety. Fun fact: I am always dubbed “the twilight sparkle” of friend groups IRL because I was always, ALWAYS the one who was solving friendship problems and I did that looong before the show. OOPH. THE BIG PROBLEM. Was that it was getting to the point where all the chaotic bookworms were either: Evil, female (and I love gals, but that’s not my gender identity ORZ), or like. largely hated by the fandom and were always mocked.Or some combination.SO LIKE. Hey, I get introduced to Medivh and his TOWER OF BOOKS and all that shit and it’s like “Fuck yeah sign me up bro, living alone? Shitty mom? I feel you.” But then, y’know. He was a wee bit possessed and not. Exactly the good guy SO THERE WAS THAT.And then. There was Khadgar.I hadn’t been able to find the last guardian book yet, though I had read about the lore highlights online so I was familiar and stuff.And then WoD came out. And Khadgar! Was doing stuff! Which got me excited because it was more of the Lore that I really liked, and during MoP, I was hardcore going…”THE LEGION IS COMING BAAAACK. I JUST KNOW IT. CAUSE WE DIDN’T KILL KJ. SKREE.” I got called crazy and stupid a few times BUT HEY. Jokes on you fuckers I was *right*.Anyways!That first quest chain into Tannan rolls in. And it’s just. Khadgar. Being Khadgar. “Well, then I guess we owe you one.” scene hit every…“Oh fucking god bless Khadgar for the sarcastic sass”Because I really enjoy sarcasm and it’s more obvious in voice chat or in-person but my sass rhythm and tone, especially if I’m ranting is veeery similar to Khadgar’s sass.And then the PUNS. Listen. *Listen*. I hear an opportunity for a pun and I have to take it. I have to. If I try to hold it in my face starts smiling like the Cheshire cat and I sometimes let out a high pitched “eeeeeee” until given permission. After that quest chain, I quickly noticed that no one had rolled a Khadgar blog. No one! And well, I was all about having a blog where I could be free to make jokes all the time. IIRC, my first post was…”The party has arrived~!” Or something like that. I honestly didn’t expect much to happen cause I didn’t have any friends or anything like that and all the wow blogs all pretty much had their followings already and I was uh…a WEE BIT ALONE. But I was like “well even if this blog doesn’t go off I’ll at least have an outlet where I can just be me where no one will harass me.”Cause gotta be honest, I’ve never been well-liked. There was never a place for bookworms who liked puns and had anxiety in the world I lived in. If I acted like myself I was hated, and in order to fit in, I had to be someone else, which was a ditzy stupid, lazy girl. I wasn’t allowed to be trans, (still not back in Maine), or smart, and….yeah.  But hey! On tumblr, I can RP a male character that had my same sense of humor and sass and BE MYSELF and NOT BE A GIRL and all my IRL haters wouldn’t be able to stop me.And then uh, A THING HAPPENED. I no longer have the original blog because of reasons I’ll mention later, so I CAN’T REMEMBER who first started sending me asks but I know @kiyastrasza was one of them (she passed away suddenly a few months ago and I miss her SO MUCH.) But then like, I DON’T KNOW. I know I got a few initial asks because “fuck yeah finally a khadgar blog”  and honestly, I thought my blog was rubbish because it was 80% me just being my sassy nerd self and 20% studying his word usage for more serious things and getting my hands on every scrap of Khadgar related lore.”So I fully expected to get called out on being canon divergent or a shitty Khadgar or SOMETHING. Or have people ONCE AGAIN be like….”This character archetype is annoying and stupid and we all fucking hate him and hate you for rping him.”But that didn’t happen. In fact the EXACT OPPOSITE HAPPENED.My ask box kept getting filled with puns to be approved, rhyming his name with stuff became a thing and now even BLIZZ says “Dadgar” like jfc what even.And then like. I don’t even know, a lot of it is a blur because it all happened so fast but the BIGGEST THING.Was that for the first time ever, being myself wasn’t met with bullying and hate and people telling me to shut up and go away or anything like that.People -loved- Khadgar in-game. And people -loved- finding a Khadgar blog that “when I read their posts I can hear Khadgar’s voice”.  And better yet? KHADGAR WASN’T A VILLAIN! (Don’t get me wrong, I loooove AU’s but imagine being a kid and you can only ever connect to villains and then people hate you anyways IT DOESN’T FEEL TOO GREAT).And uh. Yeah. I don’t really know where to go with this. But yeah! It was the first time where I felt like nothing was wrong with who I was. That there was nothing wrong with being book smart and having a sense of humor and looking death in the face and just eye-rolling and going “Well aiight.”I mean hell yeah there’s been an epic shit ton of drama with people being jealous and making shit up and who the hell even knows what any of that was about anymore, and there’s still plenty of bullshit in my life keeping me otherwise miserable and I’m getting really frustrated that every goal I try to accomplish gets utterly destroyed in some way and I’m currently an emotional husk and I 100% HAVE NOT been myself lately as I’m a mix of grieving and severely hurt and physically ill and I’ve been broken pretty damn hard and when I pull myself back together it’s probably going to be like. 11th Doctor just turning into cranky 12 and not being pleasant BUT. The muse is still strong, the muse is honestly probably the strongest thing about me. Not because I think that I’m actually, really Khadgar and that’s ME you’re talking to in game and Azeroth is real, etc, etc. But it’s strong because that type of muse was already something that was effortless for me and part of my personality foundation. And before the blog it was withering away and crumbling and I had no self-love to keep it going anymore and then the blog happened, and even though I still have 0 self-love, I genuinely hate myself, the love from others healed it, and my love for the character, I think, is my subconscious finding a weird loophole to get around the self-hate because I CAN’T HATE KHADGAR, and fucking hell whenever I make a pun irl and someone is a shithead about it or calls me annoying over voice chat, my brain is like. “Yeah, but if Khadgar were real. He’d laugh.” And eventually, it’s like….”OKAY FINE. IT WAS FUNNY. THAT PERSON IS JUST A SHITHEAD.” I can’t remember where I was going with that. Uhhhhhh……SOMETHING SOMETHING.I absolutely hate myself and feel as if I’m undeserving of love because I’m a horrible, broken person that makes stupid mistakes and is only good for hurting others and being a bitchB U TI hate myself a little bit less when I RP a character, like Khadgar, that lines up with one of my personality foundations, and the general response to it is people loving it and telling them I make them happy.  I’ve still had more hate directed at me in the past (and sadly the present) than I have love. But uh. It doesn’t take much love to get me all sappy and crying and happy.  (Hate is a tossup, a lot of hate I can take but certain, specific things will strike me hard and fast).SO LIKE. Uh. I know the majority of my foundation at the moment is either destroyed or heavily damaged, cause I’ve also been heckin angry a lot lately and I don’t know how to deal with that at all since it’s something new so a lot of my foundation wasn’t protected against that, and I’ve certainly died emotionally a few times more this year than my normal rate of it taking a couple years or more to emotionally die and regenerate. BUT THE PART that’s still holding fast and bouncing off all the negative self-destructive shit is because of Khadgar, and all 1,297 of you (give or take) that’ve either stuck with this blog since the beginning and through a blog deletion and change or have come recently. That send in everything from ARCANE MEAT to puns, to AU ideas to random nice things SO UH. This is turning into an awkward unexpected thank you, to all of you. dashjkIt’s more than likely that I will live the rest of my life absolutely hating myself, and it’s possible that the rest of my foundations may never heal or be repaired. Even though I can easily attach some of them to characters like Khadgar for the most part, I just….eh. I dunno. No outlet and it’s not prompted ever and…it hurts still cause they’re broken. Which, eh, whatever, healing can’t be forced or half-assed, cause you can’t expect a broken leg to heal as fast as a papercut, all you can do is wait and let things heal or you’ll make it worse, but then obviously you can’t heal EVERYTHING otherwise no one would ever be disabled, but REGARDLESS.I may always hate myself. But I’ll always love Khadgar. And YOU guys love Khadgar. And you enjoy me rping Khadgar. So then I guess MAAAAYBE.It helps. With making it worth. Sticking around for a little bit longer.  :T

[searchingwardrobes]

Of Earth and Sea: 8/9

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Also check out the additional art that @cocohook38 made for this chapter here. I flailed like crazy when I saw it the first time! Our Captain Swan family dressed in elvish clothing is brought perfectly to life in her drawing.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rated T

Also on Ao3

Tagging:(let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list) @welllpthisishappening @kday426 @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @snowbellewells @profdanglaisstuff @wellhellotragic @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @lovepurplepumpkins

Chapter Seven:

“Lend dreams nin mel

  Glenn-nai i even lands

  Lend songs bo i thul

  Im tur-feel ha in i nen,

  Im tur-feel in i coe,

  Im tur-smel ha in i gwilith”

Tauriel ran her hands soothingly through her little boy’s dark brown hair as he drifted off to sleep in her lap. Every year his hair got a shade darker. When he became a man he would mostly likely have black hair like his father’s. His eyes were already that stunning shade of blue. He still had Tauriel’s freckles, but those seemed to fade as the years went by. She sighed as she watched the eight year old��s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. Oh, how she hoped her son would choose a different path than that of his father!

It worried her that he had fallen asleep like this. He was so thin and hungry. Life as a slave boy on that ship was much too cruel. A tear slipped down her cheek as she stroked her precious boy’s face. This wasn’t the life she wanted for him. Her heart broke at how she couldn’t even care for her own child. She couldn’t even pass any of her elven strength on to him, since she wasn’t fully alive. She found berries in the forest for him to eat, but what he really needed was lambas bread. Hopefully he would dream deeply enough tonight to find himself in the elven lands, and her people could give him better nourishment. She waved her hand over him and muttered in elvish.

“I polod im-gar, im on-na cin.”

Tauriel let out a relieved breath when some color came back into her son’s cheeks. Using magic in her condition was always a guessing game. One thing was for sure; it wasn’t enough to change her son’s circumstances.

Tauriel heard course words and laughter coming from the clearing on the other side of the trees. She eased Killian gently and swiftly from her lap and into a pile of soft moss. She waved her hand over the child once again.

“Taur, coe; beri-hi hen. Lore, nin red, lore tovon a lor.”

The moss and earth obeyed her command, wrapping Killian like a blanket. The roots of the tree nearby rose up and arched over him. No passerby would guess that a child slept there. Tauriel turned and moved on her soft and soundless feet towards the voices. She almost gasped at what she saw through the cover of leaves.

A man, of dark hair and strong, slender build, had a petite, buxom maiden against a large tree. She was laughing merrily, her head tipped back as the man trailed passionate kisses along her neck. His hand cupped her bosom.

The man was Brennan Jones.

Memories assaulted Tauriel of that painful day when she had found him with another woman. His hands caressing another in the same way he had caressed Tauriel just the day before. His lips drinking in the taste of someone else. It was a jarring image that no one should have to endure. The woman Brennan was with now wasn’t the same one she had caught him with that fateful day. Seemed he was faithful to no one.

Brennan moved to loosen the woman’s laces as she buried her fingers in his hair. He began gasping out, “Loreena! Oh, Loreena!”

Tauriel rolled her eyes as she turned to slip back to get Killian. The last thing the boy needed was to see the wretched man again. Not after the year of misery the poor child had endured. All because Brennan Jones knew nothing of faithfulness and commitment. But before she could take even a step, Brennan’s female companion corrected him.

“My name is not Loreena.”

The coldness of the woman’s voice gave Tauriel pause.

“Sure it is,” Brennan chuckled, flashing the woman that charming smile of his. Only someone who knew him well, like Tauriel, would be able to see the slight nervousness in his eyes. Tauriel bit her lip to keep from chuckling. The man had known so many women, he was bound to have difficulty keeping them all straight.

“No. It is not.” Then the woman transformed right before his eyes. Gone was the head of light brown curls, gone were the petite curves, gone was the upturned, freckled nose. Instead stood a woman of regal bearing, tall, with long, straight raven tresses and milky white skin. Tauriel clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from gasping.

“Carabosse!” Brennan cried. It was the mistress he had taken when wed to Tauriel!

“Yes, it’s me,” the woman replied coldly. “I’m surprised you remembered my name. What was it . . . Margeurite? The blonde you left me for? And you were married to the redheaded elf when you took me as a lover.” She chuckled wryly. “You like a sampling, don’t you?”

Brennan sauntered close to the woman, reaching out to stroke her shiny ebony hair. “Yet none were as exotic as you, Carabosse.”

“Your flattery will get you nowhere, Brennan Jones,” the woman told him, taking a step back. “You should know better than to become entangled with a witch. Especially if you do not plan on being faithful. What is that expression? Ah yes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

Brennan’s eyes widened and he went suddenly pale. “Come now, Carabosse, surely we can – “ His words were cut off suddenly as he clutched his throat and gasped for breath. He lifted a trembling hand towards the witch for a moment, but then collapsed to the ground.

Carabosse knelt beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “Sleep well, my former lover. Sleep long and fitfully. For I do not think there are any upon this earth who feel any kind of love, much less true love for a despicable man like you.”

She leaned forward and brushed her blood red lips across Brennan’s forehead, then stood. Still looking at the still form at her feet, she called out, “I know you are there, elf.”

Tauriel startled, and quickly began to head back to where Killian lay.

“Show yourself,” Carabosse called after her. As if Tauriel had any intention of doing her bidding. Until the witch added, “I know your son is with you.”

Tauriel froze in her tracks. She shut her eyes tight and pressed her lips together. She couldn’t risk the witch hurting Killian, so she squared her shoulders and stepped out from the copse of trees. Carabosse smiled serenely at her.

“You can thank me,” she told Tauriel, gesturing at the man sprawled upon the forest floor.

“You knew I was here the whole time.”

Carabosse shrugged. “I could have put him down in the room at the tavern. But I sensed your magic in the woods, and I thought to myself, now that would be awfully poetic.”

“So you’re just going to leave him here.”

Carabosse’s eyes widened in surprise. “You worry for his well -being? After the pain he put you through?” The witch gestured at Tauriel’s body, which had begun to fade slightly. “This whole wasting away thing you elves do. Surely you hate him.”

Tauriel looked down at Brennan’s handsome face. He had a way of charming a woman, of making her believe she was the only one so beautiful, so desirable. Looking back, Tauriel realized his praise was always for her beauty: her hair, her eyes, her figure. He never really knew her heart, her soul, or her mind.

“I gave myself to one who was not deserving. I should have opened my eyes before it was too late. And now I pay the price.”

Carabosse spoke with surprising tenderness. “A grieving heart can make desperate decisions.”

Tauriel’s gaze snapped up to the woman’s face, so cold, so seemingly indifferent. Yet there was a tiny bit of softness in her eyes. “H-how did you know?”

Carabosse shrugged. “Word gets around. Especially when it’s an elf and a dwarf. Two races who are supposed to hate each other. Besides,” she inclined her head towards the trees, “you named your son after him.”

This wasn’t a topic Tauriel wished to discuss with a stranger, so she lowered her gaze back to Brennan. “We can’t just leave him here. Between the wild life and the elements, he’ll be killed.”

“You elves,” Carabosse scoffed as she turned to go, “always helping. Always caring too much.”

“It is against our nature to turn our backs on the weak and suffering.”

“You can’t undo my magic.”

Tauriel tilted her head, “I can change it.”

Carabosse rolled her eyes, “Fine, suit yourself. As long as he spends many long years in that red, burning room of torture, it will be enough for me.” And with that, the witch disappeared in a cloud of blood red smoke.

Tauriel worked quickly once the witch had disappeared. Killian’s presence helped her stay corporeal for much longer than normal, but her time, even with her son, was coming to a close. She didn’t have much time left, and she still wanted to see her child back to his ship. So she first erected a protective coffin of sorts from roots and moss. Then she put a protection spell around it, so at least Brennan wouldn’t be eaten by wolves or freeze to death. Then she spoke a spell over him.

“Lore tenna sanda mel hir cin, lore mal an i lumenns-o tindu, lore.”

Essentially, the spell allowed Brennan to awaken during the brief time between twilight and midnight. Most likely, he would only be partially awake, for Carabosse’s magic was powerful. To most, he would appear like a bedridden, sick man, but at least he would be freed from the torture of that horrible red burning room. Tauriel’s counter-spell also allowed the sleeping curse to be broken if Brennan could find a true love. Tauriel rested her hand upon the twisted branches of the make-shift coffin.

“May you find a woman with a heart so pure that she can make yours finally faithful.”

Then she turned to walk back to their son.

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

The journey from the land of the woodland elves to Rivendell was normally one of many long weeks, so Emma was thankful for the pouch of beans that Anton had given them. She was ready to go immediately, but Killian insisted they stay the night so she could rest.

“Killian, I can’t possibly sleep with Elien still so far away,” she argued.

Killian reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, his expression a mixture of tenderness and concern. “You died earlier, love.”

Emma chuckled wryly as she grasped his hand and kissed his palm. “Only with us is that a normal occurrence.”

“And you will sleep, I can promise you that,” Galadriel told her, “many have come here to be refreshed on their journeys. You will feed on lambas bread and drink of sweet, refreshing springs of water. And by the time you have finished, we will have a bower ready for you.”

Emma pressed her lips together. She had to admit, she was starving and her legs felt like rubber. “Okay,” she finally relented, “but we leave first thing in the morning.”

“With you, that may mean eleven o’clock,” Killian quipped.

Emma smacked him, “So wake me up, sailor!”

He laughed lightly as he pulled her close. “I won’t let you sleep the day away, Swan, I promise. But I will make sure you rest.”

The elven meal they were brought didn’t seem like much: two squares of lambas bread, a wedge of cheese, and a small bowl of wild berries. Yet it satisfied Emma’s hunger completely, and every bite of the lambas bread sent a pleasant warmth all through her. Then she and Killian were escorted up the winding staircase of one of the enormous trees. One of Galadriel’s maidservants opened a door made of birch branches and thick opaque glass. It lead into a room that reminded Emma of both a giant bird’s nest and a domed hut. The bed was sunken into the bowl shaped floor, padded with the softest moss Emma had ever felt and piled high with blankets of soft deer skin. There were also piles of down stuffed pillows woven of silk. Killian told her the elves harvested the silk from the husks of the cocoons that hung in the trees.

Even though they had complete privacy inside their woven bower, the songs of the elves still filtered through.

“Lend dreams nin mel

  Glenn-nai i even lands

  Lend songs bo i thul

  Im tur-feel ha in i nen,

  Im tur-feel in i coe,

  Im tur-smel ha in i gwilith”

“It’s the same song you sing to Elien,” Emma said with a yawn as she curled up beneath the blankets.

“Aye, love,” Killian replied as he lay down behind her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close until she was tucked under his chin, “elvish lullabies. It’s why we know you will sleep long and deep.”

“You said we,” Emma said drowsily, her words beginning to slur, “I thought you didn’t like being called an elf.”

“Sometimes I don’t mind,” he answered, his own voice fading into sleep.

Emma turned in his arms to rest her cheek against his chest. Between his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest, and the song of the elves, fighting the pull of sleep was impossible. I feel almost like the bower is rocking gently, was her last thought before she drifted off, like sleeping on the Jolly Roger . . .

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

Elien Jones sat at the edge of the pool of water, gathering sticks and smooth, colorful pebbles. The mist from the waterfall that spilled into the pool dampened her strawberry blonde hair, curling the wisps that framed her face. She gnawed on her lower lip in concentration the way her mother often did.

“Is that a fairy house you’re building?” Elrond asked her kindly.

“No,” Elien answered simply, shaking her head. She picked up a waxy leaf and carefully stuck the largest stick through its center. Then she flipped over the sticks she had woven together and pushed the tall stick with the leaf through the center. “It’s a pirate ship,” she explained.

Tauriel pressed her fingers to her lips to suppress a smile as Elrond frowned. She schooled her features then turned to the eldest council member imploringly. “I beg of you to reconsider this plan. Elien is a special little girl. She doesn’t belong here.”

“Of course she’s special!” Elrond exclaimed. “The daughter of the savior, a product of true love, and a Dunedin? She is the perfect match for my grandson in every way. And one day, they will rule our people. United and strong once again.”

Tauriel shook her head wearily. “That’s not what I meant. Her magic is bigger than the elves, bigger even than her mother’s destiny. I have seen it. To keep her here would be like . . . trapping a majestic Eagle in a cage.”

Elrond gazed at her with furrowed brow, “They would rule more than just the elves then, a united kingdom of men and elves. A mighty force for good, for peace.”

Tauriel scowled openly. “Her destiny is more than preserving bloodlines. More than who she will wed.”

Tauriel turned away from the elf to go to her granddaughter. She watched as Elien pushed the little boat gently into the water. It promptly sank. She tilted her golden head for a moment, then lifted both hands towards the water. Her magic pulsed forth, the water bubbled, and the little boat popped back up on the surface. A shimmer swirled around it, and then it bobbed merrily along until it disappeared in the mist at the base of the waterfall.

“What a lovely ship,” Tauriel told the girl as she knelt next to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulder.

Elien smiled as she gazed into the mist, dimples appearing in both cheeks. Tauriel brushed the child’s hair back from her face, her heart aching at how much the child looked like Killian at times. He argued that she looked like her and Emma. But Tauriel often felt she was looking far into the past as she gazed into the little girl’s face.

“Effie,” Elien said, turning to her grandmother with a furrowed brow and a serious expression, “I knew you would come.”

Tauriel smiled as she cupped the child’s face in her hands. “Of course I did. And your mama and papa are coming too. We came to save you.”

Elien’s gaze drifted to the ground, the long lashes she had inherited from Killian brushing the tops of her cheeks. “No. You didn’t. I’m the one who will save you.”

Tauriel’s eyes widened in confusion. “Why do you say that, child?”

Elien’s mossy green eyes looked full of wisdom beyond her years as she held her grandmother’s gaze. “I have seen it in my dreams.”

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

Killian’s suggestive grin as he helped Emma up after they crashed through the portal was more irritating than attractive. Since she was more focused on dusting herself off and picking leaves out of her hair.

“What?” she snapped, then immediately sighed as she rubbed at a bruise on her elbow, “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just on edge and, you know, slightly battered.”

Killian’s gaze softened as he rubbed her arms gently. “I know, my love, no offense taken. I was merely admiring this look on you.” He then pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek.

Emma smiled and blushed even as she shrugged. “Guess I’d make a good elf, huh?”

Killian’s eyes took in the dress of rich burgundy velvet with gold trim. Emma’s fair skin was milky white in contrast, and the gold brought out the honey-colored hues in her hair. Lambas bread always made skin and hair brighter, but Emma’s seemed to positively radiate light. Her hair was held back from her face in the traditional elven way, braided in loose knots. Emma lifted her hand to pat the braids gingerly.

“These aren’t literally knots are they?” she asked hesitantly, “Cause that would be a pain in the ass to comb out.”

Killian blinked, not really sure what she was saying, more distracted at the shape of her arms as the wide sleeves of the dress slipped down to her elbow. The movement also gave him a peek of her cleavage against the scooped neckline. Emma just laughed and shook her head.

“You can take this dress off me later, pirate, let’s go get our little girl.”

The portal had deposited them only a half hour’s walk away from the borders of Rivendell, so they didn’t have far to go. Killian’s elven senses directed them, and they walked in silence for a few moments. Emma glanced his way, admiring the soft leather breeches he wore beneath the green tunic cinched at his waist. Over that he wore a cloak of lighter brown, edged in bright green thread. He had grumbled when the elves brought the garments to him, but in the end he had to admit that his jeans and leather jacket were not only worse for wear after the run in with the spiders, but weren’t warm enough for the woods they would be traveling through. Emma liked him in the outfit; she swore it made those ears she loved so much seem more pointed, made the flecks of green in his eyes more pronounced. Of course, she honestly liked him in just about anything. Captain Hook, “Prince Charles,” Killian Jones of Storybrooke, or Killian the Dunedin, he was all of those things to her. And she loved every part of him. He glanced her way and arched a brow.

“Admiring something, love?” he teased.

“Always,” she told him, grasping his hook in her hand. She didn’t let go as they made their way along, and finally worked up the courage to ask him something she had been wondering for quite some time. “Killian? Why did your mother stay away so long?”

He stopped abruptly. “What do you mean?”

Emma wet her lips nervously. “When she showed up right before our wedding, you said you hadn’t seen her since right before the curse was cast. That was a long time, and I thought she was cursed to wander after the one she loves most. So . . . “

Killian clenched his jaw, his eyes darting, landing anywhere but on Emma’s face. “I’m sure she was around, but . . . “ he finally met Emma’s eyes, releasing a long breath, “I told her I never wanted to see her again.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “But why? What did she do?”

Killian lowered his head as shame washed over his face. “She did nothing. It’s what I did. The last time I saw her . . . it was also . . . the last time I saw my father.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she put it all together. “Oh.”

Killian ran his hand wearily over his face. “I was leaving that hut, leaving my father there cold on the ground, and there she was. She looked so . . . distraught. She begged me not to leave my little brother alone. Said she knew it would haunt me.”

Emma stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands. “Hey. Look at me. I’ve heard this story, remember? It didn’t change how I felt about you then, and it still doesn’t now.”

Killian nodded, blinking away shameful tears, and turned his face to kiss her palm. Then he grasped one of her hands with his and laced their fingers together. “I responded to my mother in the only way I could at the time – with anger and rage. I already was ashamed of what I had done, but I wasn’t about to let her know that. So I told her I had finally done what she never had courage to – I made our father pay for all of his crimes. I never saw my mother weep like that. How could I ever look her in the eye again? After what I had done? After I had become so dark?”

“And that’s why you told her you never wanted to see her again.”

Killian nodded. “And she honored my request. But I’ve always wondered. If it was because she – stopped loving me. That I had become such a villain that even she couldn’t love me.”

Emma shook her head as she drew closer. “I have heard your mother talk about you enough to know that could never happen.”

“My father’s love had its limits. Why not hers?”

Emma kissed him softly, first on the lips then on his nose, then each cheek. She then wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his collar bone. “Because she’s your mother,” Emma whispered against his skin, “nothing could ever make me stop loving Henry or Elien.” She pulled back to look into his eyes again. “And she’s so much like you. You could never stop loving any of us either. It just isn’t in your nature; and it isn’t in hers.”

Killian stroked her cheek, a peace settling over his features. “In my heart, I know you’re right. That’s why I just can’t believe that she would take the Arkenstone.”

Emma took a step back, tugging lightly on his hook. “When have we ever let fate determine our future? This family fights for each other, sees the best in each other. I really don’t give a shit what you’re grandmother’s pool says.”

Killian chuckled as he walked alongside his wife. “That’s the Emma I love.”

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

Emma had to admit that the towering waterfalls of Rivendell were a sight to behold. And she understood now what Killian meant about the air here. It strengthened her as she breathed it in, and the light seemed . . . not brighter, but more rich, making every color more vibrant.

Yet she cared little about her surroundings once a familiar voice cut through the air. “Mama! Papa!”

She and Killian’s elven escorts, though armed, were no match for their determination to go to their daughter. They both shoved the guards aside heedlessly as they dashed through the doorway into Elrond’s throne room. They then fell to their knees as they gathered Elien into their arms, peppering her with kisses. Killian had been right; the elves had taken good care of their little girl. She was well fed, and even seemed happy. And Emma had to admit she looked adorable in her tiny elven dress of lavender and silver.

“Can we go home?” Elien asked with a frown as she pulled away.

“Of course we can, cygnet,” Killian told her as he scooped her up.

“This should be her home,” Elrond spoke up, “with her people.”

Emma marched right up to the elf and without hesitation punched him in the jaw. “That’s for kidnapping my child. And for the record, her people are in Storybrooke.”

“But elven blood runs through her veins.”

“Well, so does human blood,” Emma snapped back.

“The fate of her people hang in the balance!” Elrond shouted. “We’re talking about the greater good!”

“And I’m talking about what’s best for Elien!” Emma was in the elf’s face now. “I know what it’s like to sacrifice having a family for the greater good. My daughter won’t suffer the same thing.”

“Then you and your husband can stay here,” Elrond argued, more calmly now.

“I don’t think your listening,” Emma seethed, “we’re taking her back to Storybrooke where she has grandparents and an uncle and godparents and friends.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t your decision.”

“Says who? I’m her mother.”

“Enough!” Tauriel shouted. It was the loudest Emma had ever heard her speak. “Elien is my granddaughter, not a pawn.”

“Besides,” Killian interjected, “it isn’t the elven way to keep a child against her will.”

Elrond’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed before he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. His royal guard rushed into the room on their silent elven feet, their arrows making a soft, yet eerie swishing sound as they pulled them from their quivers in perfect synchronization and notched them to their bows.

“I stand corrected,” Killian muttered. He set Elien down gently. “Get behind me, little love.”

Emma inched her way over and she and Killian kept their daughter safely sandwiched between them.

“I don’t want to threaten you,” Elrond said.

“Could have fooled me,” Emma replied sarcastically.

“Elrond, you can’t seriously be considering forcibly removing a child from her parents,” Tauriel argued, “this isn’t the elven way!”

“Not the elven way?” Elrond snapped. “Soon the ways of our people will die out. More and more of our youth are leaving these lands, intermarrying with the race of men. Our magic is weakening, our lands dying.”

Tauriel laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Then perhaps it’s time we joined the race of men instead of keeping ourselves apart.”

Elrond’s face contorted with grief and sadness. “You sound like my daughter. My precious Arwen who will suffer your fate when her true love dies.”

“That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?” Tauriel asked gently. “Giving her a bloodline that will help her hold on as I have done.”

Killian exchanged a look with Emma, and then he stepped forward slowly, pulling the Arkenstone from the satchel at his hip. “If I may, my Lord, offer an alternative?”

“The Arkenstone!” Elrond breathed, reaching for it with a trembling hand.

Killian pulled it back against his chest. “Aye. The stone that will take away your daughter’s immortality. In exchange for my little girl, of course.”

Elrond’s eyes flashed. “Or my army takes it by force.”

“Or I take it!”

Every eye in the room turned in shock at the sound of the small voice. Elien Jones stood in the middle of the throne room, her green eyes flashing fire, magic tingling between her fingertips. She raised her hand towards her father, and the Arkenstone flew into her hand.

“What are you doing!” Elrond screamed, racing forward. Elien flung her hand, and Elrond was frozen in place.

Emma and Killian shouted their daughter’s name, but they found they were frozen in place as well. The stone pulsed an even brighter red in the little girl’s hand. Emma lifted frantic eyes to her husband, but he looked just as frightened as she did.

“Elien, honey,” Tauriel said gently, easing down on her knees in front of her granddaughter, “you need to put the stone down.”

“No, Effie,” Elien said in her little girl voice, “it’s meant for you.”

Elien placed the stone into Tauriel’s palm, then she placed her tiny hands over her grandmother’s. Magic sparked, and snaking red lines poured forth from the stone, enveloping Tauriel. When it cleared, she collapsed to the ground, and the stone rolled across the floor. It was no longer red, but a dull glassy color. Elien released her hold on the others, and Killian and Emma raced to Tauriel’s side.

“Mother,” Killian said gently, helping her up to a seated position.

She moaned and held her head, and Killian grasped her arms, half laughing in disbelief as he squeezed her shoulders, then her hands between his. She hadn’t felt so solid since he was a tiny lad.

“You’re . . . you’re . . . “

Tauriel put her chest to her heart. “I’m mortal.” She reached up and cupped Killian’s face in her hands, marveling at the stubble beneath her palms. Her little boy, all grown up, and she could finally really, truly feel him. “Oh my precious, precious boy.”

Killian embraced his mother then, holding her tightly as he hadn’t been able to in so many long centuries. Tears filled Emma’s eyes as she watched them. Elien flung her arms around both her papa and her Effie. Tauriel turned to her granddaughter and peppered her face with kisses. Then they yanked Emma in for a group hug.

“The stone chose you.”

The Jones family looked up to see Elrond standing over them. Emma smiled at Killian.

“Galadriel didn’t see your mother taking the stone, she saw Elien giving it to her.”

Tauriel shook her head. “But why? Why me?”

Elrond reached out and took Tauriel’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Because of the many long years of sacrifice for your son. You have earned your rest, Tauriel of the Woodland Elves.”

She turned to her son, her daughter-in-law, and her granddaughter. “And I know just where I’ll spend my final years.”

[workingwomanwrites]

5 Things I Learned from my Dad’s Death

I had a few ideas about what my first blog post would be. I never thought it would be this, but none of the other ideas matter to me anymore. I have these drafts written for first posts; one about my divorce last year, about religion and faith, controversial posts about politics and female empowerment. None of those matter to me right now. I don’t know if they ever will again. I can’t promise you that in this essay I’ll make you laugh or that I'll even be relatively clever, but I’ll be real. I pulled myself together enough to put these words onto virtual paper for not only you all, but for me as well. Writing has been the only way that I have ever been able to work through things in my life, which coincidentally, I got from my dad. I hope that this essay is a way to work through his death as well. Here are the 5 things I have learned from my dad’s passing this week. *Disclaimer* I curse. 

1. “No person is the sum of their last days; they are the sum of their life lived.” -David Maltsberger

I didn’t reach out to Dr. Maltsberger after he sent me this message this week, but it hit home for my family and I. My mom and I cried deeply when we read that comment together. The story of how my dad died is one of unexpected despair and trauma. I hope that when I go, I go peacefully without a crowd. My dad did not. This will be hard to share, but I hope that selfishly, it lifts some of the grief and trauma that I bring into every day that I’ve lived since. I can’t stop seeing how it happened: I received a phone call from my mom, barely able to breathe she screamed, “Your dad’s heart stopped, they’re trying to bring him back, Victoria I don’t know”, and the line was disconnected. I ran out of the house, calling each of my sisters on the way to the hospital, sobbing on the way there because something didn’t feel right. I believe inside, I knew that was “the” phone call. I ran up to the hospital doors and didn’t go up right away. I was scared to go alone. None of my sisters were answering anymore, they were in their own panic on the way to the hospital. I called my friend Joe before heading up to the elevator. I told him I didn’t want to go, and I cried. He genuinely seemed to feel my pain and encouraged me to go be with my family. I rode the elevator up to the 2nd floor. When the doors opened, a family of random visitors looked at me with sorrow. They must have known, now that I think about it. I wondered, “Why are they looking at me like that?”. When I turned the corner, I realized why. My dad’s room had 6 or 7 staff outside of it, covering their mouths in horror. That’s when I heard my mom yelling my dad’s name over and over. I began to run to my dad’s room, and heard my sister Andrea yelling at my dad to wake up. When I entered the room, the shock fell over me. The crying was instantaneous. My dad had 20 to 30 doctors and nurses surrounding him, most of them in a panic, attempting to resuscitate. My mom and sister stood above him, begging for him to come back. I frantically pushed through the crowd and saw my dad, or I don’t know if it was him. It didn’t look like him. They pounded on his chest. There was no more life in his eyes. I don’t fully know what I said or did after that. I panicked and yelled and begged my dad to come back too, but he wouldn’t. I eventually slid down the wall, sat on the hospital floor, and cried and begged to God. I said to God, “not my dad, please don’t take my dad”, over and over until I couldn’t hear or say anything else. I ran through everything in my head- how could this happen? He was good, I just saw him today, how? Why? Every day since, I wake up crying because I see him like that; on the hospital bed, lifeless, getting his chest pounded, with so many strangers in the room, some of them laughing among themselves. It is an actual living nightmare. He never wanted to go like that. I keep thinking I’ll wake up at some point. When I read what Dr. Maltsberger wrote me about my dad’s life not being summed up by those last moments, for the first time since my dad’s death, I felt relief. I needed to be reminded of that. I need to remember that he was the dad who cooked for us, who joked with us, who loved us. He built this whole life in the 49 years before his last day. I can not base my memories of him on the last day. It just isn’t logical (but honestly, grief isn’t logical), and it isn’t healthy. I’ll drive myself crazy if I think about that last day forever. I pray and hope that when I die, I go peacefully.

2. Treat everyone kindly, because you never know what they’re going through or what they will go through.

What most people don’t know is that earlier in the day, I was at the hospital visiting my dad. I stayed for several hours and the nurses assigned to him were treating he and my mom horribly. My dad couldn’t hear, so when the nurse would come in she would roll her eyes and annoyingly raise her voice at him every time she had to repeat an instruction. At one point she asked my dad to lift his arm and he didn’t. She yelled, “You can’t pick up your arm or what?”. Y’all, I went in. I said, “First of all, my dad just had open heart surgery. Second of all, he can’t hear, and you know that. Third of all, you have an awful attitude and you need to treat my dad right or find someone who will”. My mom stayed silent. The nurse rolled her eyes and walked out. After a few more unfriendly run ins with her, she called security on me and had me escorted out of the hospital. She told the security guard that I was raising my voice at her. They actually wanted the whole family escorted out, at which point I DID raise my voice and said, “Absolutely not! I’ll leave, but I don’t trust you. Someone needs to be with him because I don’t know what you’re going to do to him!”. They allowed my mom and youngest sister Julia to stay after that, but I had to go. I can promise that I had not raised my voice at her until that point, despite her awful attitude. What it was is that this woman has a god-complex and is used to being able to treat patients however she feels like, without any repercussions. What she didn’t realize, is that her god-complex took my last hours with my dad away from me. Maybe I’m blinded by grief, but even if I try to look at the situation objectively, I can’t wrap my head around it. If she was having a bad day, she can’t let that affect her treatment of patients. It’s her job. I would never treat my clients that way, even now that my dad has died this week, I couldn’t bring myself to treat another human that way, much less one that just had surgery and is under your care. The way I see it, I had two choices: 1. Let her treat my dad like shit during what none of us knew was going to be the last day of his life, or 2. speak up, defend my parents, and hope that she stopped. I chose the latter and now, sitting here, I would still choose the latter. Let me be clear. I will always defend my family or friends when I feel like they are being treated poorly. It is something that possibly this baby is giving me; I’m opening up to this protective, nurturing side of me that I never knew I had, to be frank. I am grateful for it though. Now, every time I think about that last day, I think about how much rage I have towards that nurse. Monica. She was horrible and I just hope one day she is put in her place. I wish I could be the “bigger person” and give up the grudge, but I haven’t. I guess it is all part of the grief process, but who knows.

3. Unfortunately, finances are still everything.

This is a tough one, but it is reality. My sisters and I have had to truly pull together these past couple of days and make a miracle happen, and we still aren’t positive that it’s going to happen. It is expensive to die y’all. Before I walked into the funeral home on Monday, I vomited on a tree outside in Boerne, Texas. I was nauseous the whole morning because not only were we going to the funeral home to choose caskets, flowers, and services for my dead father, but because I knew it was going to cost way too much for us to be able to afford. My dad didn’t care much for finances. He didn’t focus on material needs or the importance of them and to a certain degree, I admire him for that. However, because he didn’t have an income or life insurance policy, not only have we had to deal with the emotional cost of his death but also the monetary cost, and it costs a lot. All together it is about $9,000, give or take. Given, this is if we don’t have food or any refreshments for anyone after the burial service, which we don’t plan to because of the money. So far we have reached about $5,000 in covering costs, but still have several thousand dollars in funeral costs to cover. It is just the way the world works I guess, capitalism and all that. I know one thing for damn sure: I won’t go another month without a life insurance policy. In the case that I might pass, I need my babies and my boyfriend and my family to be covered. It is hard enough grieving over someone, to add financial stress to that makes all this that much more unbearable. In addition, I will contribute to any fundraiser, GoFundMe, anything that I come across from here on out. Before my dad’s death, I remember feeling reservation about it. I actually thought, “Since I don’t know them that well, or at all, they’ll think I’m weird if I give money”. Victoria, really? We don’t care. All we care about is being able to pay for a proper burial for my dad. The other option is simply just not having one. That isn’t much of an option, is it? I vow to give freely from here on out. I will say that one of the most moving things is seeing the amount of people who have contributed. My mom, my sisters, and I cry a lot these days, but sometimes they are tears of relief from one more person giving monetary support. It makes all the emotional difference in the world to see that we’re that much closer to reaching our goal. Payment plans are not an option in the funeral business, at least that is what we’re told, and none of us have credit good enough to pull out a loan, otherwise we wouldn’t bother our friends and family with contributing. Here’s my take on it: no one owes our family anything, but when someone gives, it means everything.

4. Family is the most important thing. I don’t care what society tells us.

Here is an unpopular one. There is this meme going around social media right now that says something along the lines of, “No, you don’t have to try to be close to your family if they don’t try to be close to you”. I call bullshit. I can’t believe I am saying it too, because I have always advocated for “you choose your family”, etc. etc. The reason being that I was taught this by the church at a young age. I remember crying out loud and uncontrollably the night I got “saved” at church camp, and I told my youth pastor, “I don’t want my parents to go to hell”. I was assured that although this might be the truth, it’s okay because I was a part of God’s family now. When I struggled with my family relationships later in life, my pastor at the time told me that I was now “one with my husband”. He was my family now. If I offend anyone then I apologize, but this way of thinking is toxic. Now that my dad has died, the ONLY people I want to see or be around are my mom and my sisters. No amount of preaching or politics or friendships will ever cause a divide between my family and I again. Blood IS thicker than water. Sorry not sorry. I have mentioned before that my dad and I had a complicated relationship, this was in part because we both always thought we were right. In confidence, I can now say that I was wrong. I wish I wouldn’t have been so stubborn so that I could have enjoyed more time with my wonderful dad. Nothing will ever be more important to me than my family, because in the end, that truly is all we have. A couple of months ago, my dad and I reached a place of peace and happiness. I told him and my mom that I finally began to understand after my divorce last year, why they did everything they did. I was able to enjoy the last year of my dad’s life with him even more so than before, and make good, solemn memories together. I imagine though, that had I just let family be family, I would have had even more happy memories.

5. Everyone grieves differently.

Finally, the grief. The thing that makes your whole world stop and makes you feel like you’re watching your life as a movie, rather than actually taking part in it. My family and I have experienced some similarities, but none of it is pretty. None of it is Hollywood. None of it is good. It is all sadness felt deeply by each of us, filling the hole in our hearts where my dad used to be when he was alive. We hear his laugh in our heads, my sisters and I hear him call each of us by the nicknames he had for us, we see him smile and say something sarcastic, all of it to never actually be seen again. We fall to the floor in pain. We scream and cry. We lay in bed for hours. We clean for hours. We yell at people. I’m guilty of this mostly. I have grief rage. Moments after they stopped resuscitating, one nurse starting saying that my dad, “should’ve gotten the catheter like I told him too”. I looked up and thought I might actually go to prison for murder. A doctor looked at him sharply and said, “That is not the reason he died. He just had 5 stints put in his heart and he went into cardiac arrest”. The nurse looked down in embarrassment, but it wasn’t enough. I got up and looked him straight in the face. I yelled, “you need to leave now”. He replied, “I’m going”. I yelled even louder, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY DAD’S ROOM BEFORE YOU BLAME MORE FAMILY MEMBERS FOR HIS DEATH AND TRY BEING A HUMAN BEING”. The room got silent and the nurse left. I didn’t know how else to grieve at the time. It’s why I still think about the nurse Monica who was mean to my dad and took my last hours with him away. It’s why my mom called the hospital two days later screaming at the top of her lungs for answers. It’s just grief. Our human brains can’t fully process the loss of someone so important to our lives. We return to our child-like selves for comfort; crying, screaming, even hitting (not actual people, usually walls or steering wheels, although I wouldn’t put it past a person to hit a few people if they are grieving after feeling what I’ve felt over the past few days). It has been different for all of us. Sometimes we need to be away, in our own homes, focusing on our kids. Sometimes we need to be close to my parent’s home, crying and going over pictures and memories with each other. Sometimes we need to be in public, trying to hold it together around people who have no idea what is going on. We need to express our anger and our sadness and our despair. We just need to feel the grief.

The thing is, my dad didn’t want to die. I have heard older people and even younger people say they aren’t scared to die. This is something that has plagued me for as long as I can remember. I particularly struggled with this when I began college. I would think all day and night until I made myself sick, “Why are all of these people okay to die?”. My sisters and I weren’t raised that way. I don’t 100% know why, but my dad, my mom, my sisters and I have always been openly afraid to die. I believe that it stems from a very pure joy that we get from being together, alive. We have felt true happiness. We are and have always been okay with the simplicity of life. We could have nothing but a pot of beans and tortillas and we would join each other around the table, and laugh and joke and love each other over that meal, and it would be the best day of our lives. I wish I was kidding. We are very simple people. It’s possible that because we have felt pure joy when alive, we have all been afraid to death of death. Because my dad always hated the idea of death, the only thing right now that gives any of us any peace is thinking that he is still here. I imagine Dad’s spirit roaming around the house, his slippers sliding against the floor as he heads to the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge. He’ll shuffle back to the couch in time to watch the western movie he got into a few minutes back. He’s telling my mom that he’s okay and everything’s fine. He’s smiling and hugging our kids as they jump on the couch to be with him. It’s beautiful and it’s all I have left.

[bumpingbees]

You Have My Heart

Levi

The wind is chilly. Even though I'm bundled up in better clothes than I've ever worn before, I'm freezing. It's late autumn... Almost half a year since I lost them.

I discovered months ago that I can't grieve both of them on the same day. If I do, I'll stay here until the sun goes down. So, I take it in weeks. One week I go to Farlan's grave. The next, I go to Isabel's. Then the cycle repeats. Every Thursday, I'm here, staring at a stone.

I owe them this much after I failed them. I shouldn't have gone off on my own. I should have stayed with them. They're both dead... And it's my fault.

I sit down in front of Isabel's grave. The ground is frozen. I draw my cloak tighter around me, staring at the stone. Isabel Magnolia.

"I don't have flowers today. I probably won't be able to bring any until spring." I rest my chin on my hand.

It used to be hard to talk, but now I'm used to it.

"I know you don't care about things like that. You probably would have rolled your eyes right now if you were here."

The cold seems to settle over me, concentrating on my back and shoulders. This always happens. Even in the middle of summer, it's cold here. It almost feels like ice is embracing me. I let it. Its comforting in its own way.

"They want me to lead my own squad now. At least, Erwin does. Shadis isn't too kean on it. Neither am I. I already failed you and Farlan... I don't want to be responsible for more lives."

The cold seems to tighten around me.

"At least I don't have to worry about it until Shadis steps down. Erwin is next in line to become commander... So I'll deal with that then."

I can almost feel Isabel. That's how strong my memory of her is. I can feel her irritation at me for blaming myself for her death.

"I wish you were here, Isabel. I need you here. Everything is shitty without you and Farlan here... I miss Farlan of course... But you grounded me, Issy."

I've been skirting this conversation for years. I could never bring myself to say it to her when she was alive... Even now, it's hard to say it aloud. I never even wanted to acknowledge it..

Hange had figured it out through a series of observations. They had suggested I tell Isabel's grave, even if she couldn't hear me anymore. They think admitting it will help me move on. I don't think anything will help me move on.

"Issy... Hange thinks you want me to move on. To heal or some bullshit. I don't think that's possible." I sigh, my head falling forward. "How could I?"

This is the only place I ever allow myself to show my feelings now. I don't let other people close anymore, so I don't feel comfortable around them. Hange and Erwin don't leave me alone... So, I guess they're closer to me than anyone else... But no one will ever be like Isabel and Farlan. They were my family.

"Isabel... Hange insisted I talk to you about this. I don't really want to. It doesn't do anyone any good... But it's not like you can hear me anymore. It's not like it will disgust your corpse."

Head. All that was left was her head. I feel sick at the thought.

"You're not here to be disgusted at me for being in love with you."

Isabel

I hug Levi tighter, my heart breaking. I do want him to move on. I want him to be happy in a way he had never truly been before.

That's probably too much to ask. Life has never been kind to him. It has never been kind to any of us.

"I love you too," I choke out, my shoulders shaking.

Being loved by Levi... I had known he loved me. I had never thought he needed me or was in love with me. I wish I had confessed to him while I was alive, but that's irony.

We both had thought the other would find it weird or gross if we loved them.

"Isabel."

I turn my head to see Farlan. He looks sad as he walks over to Levi and me.

"Farlan..." I turn my face into his shoulder as he hugs me. "It's not fair."

"It's not," he agrees, patting my head. "We won't be separated from him forever though. We'll see him again. We'll watch over him until then."

Levi

I stare down at my body, thoroughly disgusted. Consumption killed me. Of all the things that could have done me in, it was that. I shake my head. It's hard to grasp that my life is over. There's nothing left for me to fight.

"Levi!"

I turn around when I hear my name. I see a flash of red hair and then someone is in my arms. It takes me a moment to comprehend that Isabel is wrapped around me. I haven't seen her in so long... I slowly wrap my arms around her.

She feels solid.

"Issy?"

She pulls back and she looks at me with wide green eyes. I've missed those eyes. Throughout my life, I had never forgotten how vivid her hues were.

"I've always been here, Levi. I always tried to keep you safe. Farlan too. But we couldn't keep you safe from sickness." She laughs and rubs her head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm so happy you're dead. I've missed you so much."

She's smiling so brightly. Her arms are around my shoulders. "What are you two? Stalkers?" I tease her, looking around for Farlan.

"Farlan is on the other side. He has a powerful spirit. He can walk between the Summerland and here." Isabel wrinkles her nose. "I can't. The Summerland is too tempting to resist when I'm there. So, I've taken to haunting you."

I blink slowly, trying to keep up with everything she's saying. "Issy..."

"Oh, I nearly forgot. I don't know if your feelings have changed or not, but I'm sick of waiting for you to hear me." Isabel's expression is suddenly determined.

She presses closer to me. Before I can fully process it, Isabel's lips are on mine, warm and solid. She's kissing me like she's afraid I'll push her off of me... But after decades living without her, I couldn't imagine pushing her away.

I pull her closer to me, kissing her with years of pent up emotions. All of the loss, anger, grief, regret, love, joy... All of it come out of me in that one kiss. I bury my fingers into her long red hair.

Someone clears their throat. I crack an eye open, looking at the person who interrupted us. Farlan's sky blue hues meet mine. He's the only person I wouldn't have killed. Can you kill a ghost?

Isabel reluctantly pulls away from me, looking annoyed. "Farlan, I've waited decades to return Levi's confession. You couldn't have waited two more minutes?"

"Return my confession?" I frown, tugging the redhead back into my arms.

"Don't tell me you forgot sitting at Issy's grave and telling her you love her." Farlan arches his brow. "Where's my hug?"

"You heard that?" I ignore Farlan.

"We were always there when you spoke to us." Isabel shrugs. "I love you too."

I stare down into forest green eyes, tempted to start kissing her again.

"We should get going to the Summerland. So many people are waiting for you, Levi. Your mother is there. She sent me. She also said something about not making her a grandma before she's seen you as a man. Which I don't understand because we're spirits. We can't have babies." Farlan shook his head.

Isabel laughs and presses her lips to mine again before dragging me over to Farlan.

"Hold on tight to me. It's a little hard to get there first without knowing the way." Isabel and Farlan grab my hands.

I'm never letting them go again. I need them both.

[hopeishappinessff]

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 31

Destani

Wrapping my arms tighter around myself, I snuggled against the cool glass window and balled my fists into the oversized sleeves of my sweater. My body was drained and more than anything I was ready to get to my mama’s house and pass the hell out. Throughout the entire journey home, back to Virginia… I couldn’t bring myself anywhere close to sleep. Even after a long night up with Taylor before arriving at the airport for a seven a.m. flight, sleep still never found me on that flight. The only thing I could focus on was the girl I’d considered a sister since I was nine years old. She sat in the row across from me and though I tried not to stare, I couldn’t stop myself from carefully watching her tired and glossy eyes and her almost permanently reddened nose. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in days and like she’d burst into tears at the drop of a dime. The color had been flushed almost completely from her face and there were dark circles beneath her eyes and my heart ached for her. I knew she was grieving over what’d gone down with Chris and though I didn’t know the full details of what exactly happened from the time she went to confront him about everything I’d spilled to her to now, I knew something major had to have happened and it was physically showing all over her face and demeanor.

We took the trip home together with Mama J and Tawny, and I noticed that throughout most of the journey to and through the airport, Mama made sure to stay near Sy and there were often times that she looked as though she would simply fall apart, but Mama was always there to hold her up and quickly whisper words of encouragement to her. My own eyes would tear up every time I looked at her because this wasn’t the Sy’Diyah I knew… this was nowhere near the shy, but vibrant lil yellow girl I grew up with and claimed to the world was my blood sister.

I wasn’t fully in the loop on what’d happened with Chris either. All I really knew was that some shit popped off between them and now… it was just Mama J, Sy, Tawny, and myself on the way to our neighborhood. I didn’t even bother with my nosy ritual to find out what happened because this one was involving two of my best friends and I wanted to respect them both enough to not just dive right in their business.

Sy’Diyah sat in the middle seat between Tawny and I in the car with Tootie, who’d driven her boyfriend’s truck to pick us up, and Mama J at her side in the passenger seat. As I sat there, consumed with all thoughts of my best friend and all the stress in her life that I knew she didn’t need, I couldn’t help but briefly shut my eyes and smirk softly at the feeling of her snuggling against my back with her head resting against my shoulder. She was tired, I was sure of that, and if I had to remain in this position for hours on end just so she could get some rest I would do just that. Unfortunately there was no way she could snuggle up and sleep for long though… we were already rounding the corner to our street.

“Babe,” I whispered, frowning at the thought of having to disturb her from any sort of peace she’d found, “I’m sorry love, but we’re home.”

Slowly pushing herself up from me, she sat up sluggishly in her seat and kept her weary gaze straight. I cautiously watched her for a moment and frowned at the realization of just how exhausted she looked.

“Come on girls, lets head over and see Maddie.” Mama J said in a voice that sounded just as tired as Sy looked. There were a few times throughout our trip home where I could tell that she too looked as though she wanted to burst into some serious tears, but she always managed to maintain her composure, just so she could be strong for Sy.

Following her lead, we each climbed dreadfully out of the car and faced the bone chilling weather head on. We were smack dab in the middle of winter in Virginia and it was only a matter of time before the streets resembled a winter wonderland. A smile of relief washed over my face though, even as the icy wind whipped against my skin… we were finally home. Though I’d only just seen my mama a month ago, I guess I hadn’t realized just how home sick I was until I stood there breathing in the familiar Virginia air.

Mama J led the way through the grass and up the driveway to Auntie’s door and she barely had time to press her finger against the doorbell before the door went swinging open. Aunt Maddie stood there with her hands clasped together against her chest for a minute and I prayed she would snap out of her trance a little quicker… I didn’t have on nearly enough layers to keep standing in this damn cold!

“Oh my babies, I missed you!” She squealed, finally pushing the screen door open to allow us access. The moment we each crossed the threshold into the house, she swept Mama J into a hug and they whispered to each other for just a minute before she moved onto Tawny and myself. Saving her distraught niece for last, I stood off in the den and watched as she gripped onto her shoulders and stared through the most sympathetic eyes at her. Sy attempted to give her a half whit smile, but the smile never made it to her eyes… that were already filling with tears. It killed me to see this girl this way because in all my years of knowing her, I’d never witnessed her so out of character. I wasn’t used to not seeing her with a constant smile on her face. Wasn’t used to her endless waterworks… and I certainly wasn’t used to seeing her without her other half somewhere close by.

With a hard sniffle, I blinked rapidly in an effort to keep my own tears at bay and swiftly turned to find a seat in the den. As sad as I wanted to feel for the situation at hand and as much as I wanted to cry with each look I took into Sy’s heartbreaking stare, I knew I had to keep myself together for the sake of her. I knew we all needed to be as strong as we could… for her and Mama J.

--

We shared greetings and hugged and talked for a while in the den, but Auntie eventually loaded Sy up and led her upstairs to lie down. It wasn’t hard to tell that she desperately needed rest and because no one was quite sure how she’d react to being left alone, Aunt Maddie stayed with her until she drifted off to sleep then she slowly and quietly made her way back down to the den with us.

“Oh Tootie, thank you so much for getting them all home from the airport. I wanted to be there to see them off the plane, but I wanted to make sure everything here was set up just perfect for my baby girl.” Aunt Maddie said as she plopped back on the short sofa beside Mama J.

“Auntie you know it was no problem at all. I wasn’t gone leave them stranded up there… for too long.” Tootie laughed which, for once, gave us all something to laugh about.

“Well how are you ladies doing? How were finals?” Aunt Maddie asked, looking from me to Tawny.

“First of all, I think I can speak for both of us when I say I’m so glad finals are over!” I exclaimed, gaining a giggle from Tawny who’d been exceptionally quiet since we left Atlanta, “And I’m just really glad to be back home.”

“And I’m glad to have my babies back home.” We were left with a thick layer of silence then and I couldn’t help but glance quickly at Mama J. Though I knew Auntie’s statement meant absolutely no harm, there was still an underlying sting in what she’d said that I’m sure touched her directly. Sure we were all home, Tawny included, but… there was one missing.

“Well, um… the girls know you all are in town. They should be here any…” As if on cue, Aunt Maddie’s sentence was abruptly cut short by the sound of the doorbell ringing obnoxiously. I’d almost completely forgotten that we were indeed back in Richmond and my heart raced with excitement at the thought of who was just on the other side of the door. A bitch barely had time to turn to face the door as Aunt Maddie opened it, before a furry blur flew my way and sent me nearly toppling off the edge of the couch.

“Ahhhhhhh, my biiiiiiiiiiiiitch!” Tameka shrieked as she catapulted her body on top of me, completely disregarding the fact that she was still on the back side of the couch. She ran so fast and jumped at me so hard, she literally ended up flying over the back of the couch and landing in my lap where she sat halfway while she embraced me in a tight bear hug.

“Ms. Tameka honey, you better watch that language.” Auntie giggled as she shut and locked the door behind… Dontay! My vision was still blurred with Tameka hogging the space in my lap, but there was no way I could ignore the presence of Dontay and Nalay both edging forward into the den with the broadest smiles.

“Meka get your ghetto self up so we can see her too, with your dramatic behind.” Nalay laughed as she crossed over in front of us and waited for an eye rolling Tameka to climb off me.

“Whatever Nay, don’t be a hater all yo life.” With a pronounced smack of her lips, she reluctantly scooted into the empty space between Tawny and I.

“Hey Nay, I missed ya’ll!” I hadn’t had such a big smile on my face until now and after greeting both her and Dontay, it seemed almost permanent. I stood jammed between the two of them now with one arm wrapped snuggly around each of theirs, and Dontay of course towering over me on one side, and finally turned my attention back to the couch. The sight of Tawny sitting there wedged as far into the corner as she could get, with flushed cheeks and apprehension masking her face, left me smirking and shaking my head… I swear the girl was more shy than her sister when I met her ass a decade ago.

“Dontay, Nalay, Tameka…” Aunt Maddie started as she stood off to the side of us grinning like a proud mother, “I would like you all to meet Tawny, Sy’Diyah’s baby sister.”

Shocked was an understatement for each of their reactions and of course before anyone could gather their composure, Meka’s ratchet ass just had to be the first to speak up.

“Baby sister… like by blood? What the fu…”

Shooting a warning glare in her direction, Auntie quickly cleared her throat and shot a reassuring smile in Tawny’s direction “The girls were introduced over the Thanksgiving holiday and we now have the pleasure of having Ms. Tawny join us for Christmas. She was very excited to come up and spend time with all of the people who mean the most to her sister, so… in good Virginia fashion, let’s make her feel right at home.”

“Hi Tawny, I’m Nalay… it’s very nice to meet you.” Nay spoke up with the brightest grin plastered on her face. If no one else in this room was gonna make this girl feel at home with us, it would surely be Nay’s motherly ass.

“And I’m Dontay, but you can call me Don, or Tay… or baby… or baby daddy, if you wa…” Instinctively I nudged an elbow into Dontay’s side and cut my eyes at him. Knowing just how bad Tawny’s nerves were, I didn’t want the boy to freak her the hell out and have her running off back to Georgia before Christmas day! Much to my surprise, Tawny’s cheeks simply blushed… but she failed the hide the grin behind her right hand and I couldn’t help but laugh when she dropped her head and giggled. Maybe Dontay’s dried up game would finally pay off with Tawny.

“Well where Sy and Chris at? I mean I know they prolly tired after the flight, but Auntie I know you ain’t let them just stay upstairs sleep while we down here!” Tameka exclaimed.

Naturally, I tensed up at the mention of Sy’Diyah… and Chris. I could feel Aunt Maddie and Tawny both looking back and forth between each other and myself before Auntie finally cleared her throat and gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Well… Sy wasn’t feeling well when they landed, so she’s upstairs resting.”

“What about Chris? I was looking forward to seeing him and whooping up on him in some 2k for a couple hours.” Dontay asked with humor in his tone.

“He had a couple things to wrap up with finals and his coach before he could leave.” I blurted, sensing Auntie’s reluctance to speak up.  

“Ahh man, Imma have to hit him up later then. I swear I miss my dawg Breezy… no homo though.” Dontay chuckled. By the looks of it, it seemed as though they’d fallen for what I’d said and for that I was thankful. I didn’t know when or if there would ever be a right time to explain to them all what’d transpired in Georgia only days before we came home. All I knew was now wasn’t the time or place to share that with them.

Like the old days, everyone quickly came out of a few layers of clothing and made themselves right at home and by the constant smile on Auntie’s face, I knew she was perfectly content. There was something to her eyes though… something that she couldn’t quite mask because it was something that I felt as well. I knew she was carrying the weight of her niece’s troubles right on her shoulders, just as I felt like I was carrying the weight of my two best friends on mine. I was happy to be home and thrilled to be surrounded by my childhood friends, but there was an unmistakable void there and I couldn’t help but wonder just how long it would take to fill it…

  Hope

I could hear the commotion downstairs. The voices of several of my childhood friends couldn’t be ignored, especially as I lie there wide awake. I wasn’t tired, as my aunt had assumed… well, my body was, but there was no way I could get my mind to slow down enough to even consider shutting my eyes. My heart raced with anticipation, for what I wasn’t sure. I felt nauseas and even beneath the thick sweater and fluffy socks that should have had me sweating like a pig… I trembled with anxiety. Though I was in no mood to socialize with anyone, I figured perhaps it would help me temporarily get out of my funk if I at least got out of this room. Being alone and stuck in silence for too long hadn’t been ideal for me for a while now, so with a low sigh I pushed myself into an upright position and cringed at the sensation of my hair matted against the side of my face. I didn’t feel up to taming it or even putting it into a bun, so I swiftly swept a hand through it to at least gather it on one side of my head then stood up and sluggishly made my way to the door.

By the time I made it almost halfway down the stairs, I could hear the talking and laughing and jovial commotion growing louder and I shut my eyes briefly to imagine myself that happy again. The slightest smile graced my face as my mind instantly rushed to my one source of happiness and the thought of his perfectly freckled golden face had me gripping the railing of the stairs a little too tight.

“Oh man, Sy… is that you!” I barely had time to get my eyes open before a tall, burly figure rushed forward up the last couple of steps and tugged me into an airtight bear hug. My heart nearly exploded with excitement and I found myself throwing my arms around this aromatic frame and squeezing like my life depended on it. It was him… I just knew it was him! I nearly shed tears from the thought of having him in my arms again and I felt my lips stretching into a smile so wide, I was sure my mouth would simply tear at the corners.

“It’s so good to see you girl. Damn, we missed you around here.” That voice… it snapped me out of my major moment of bliss and I snatched my eyes open and refrained from frowning deeply, because… that voice wasn’t his. Pulling back just slightly, I peered up to see just who I’d latched onto like a lost puppy and I realized then that it was Dontay that I was hugging… not my Charlie.

“Hi Don, how are you?” I giggled, because I was still genuinely happy to see him.

“I’m good… real good, now. Like I swear I can’t explain how much we missed ya’ll ‘round here. Life just ain’t been the same without my kinfolk down here so I finally feel complete!” He exclaimed happily.

“Really bro… you just gone stand over here and hog her like that?” With a playful roll of his eyes, Dontay moved to one side with one arm still comfortably tossed over the back of my shoulders and neither of us had much time to prepare for Tameka and Nalay both rushing up the stairs toward me. Of course Tameka flew past Nalay and embraced me well before she had a chance to and after finally hugging both girls, it seemed all thoughts of my troubles were tucked away… if for only a moment. The three of them led me carefully down the remaining steps as if I was a fragile porcelain doll and I locked eyes with Destani briefly as we rounded the corner into the den. She gazed at me like a proud mother with a tiny smirk on her face and I found myself, genuinely, smiling right back. There was no reason for me to lock myself away in the depressing confines of my room for the duration of this break while I had loved ones I hadn’t seen in months ready and willing to cheer me up. Besides, being surrounded by everyone would only aide me in saving my tears and actually looking forward to Christmas.

“I swear I don’t know if I just haven’t seen you in forever or what, but bih you are glowing… I swear you are.” Tameka said once we all filled up the den and claimed a seat. In that instant I could feel piercing stares coming from exactly where both Tawny and Destani sat, but I’d learned to maintain my composure at this point and I simply smiled and swept a hand through my wild tresses.

“I’m not sure what glow you see over here with my lack of makeup and sleep, but… thanks Meka.” The room burst into jovial laughter and my eyes danced over the span of the room, pausing for only a second on my aunt whose stare had awkwardly landed on my stomach. Unconsciously I tossed an arm up into my lap, wrapping it around my midsection, and continued laughing along with the group, because it felt good to laugh and not think about the issues at hand… for once.

“Where Mama J go?” Destani didn’t miss a beat and jumped right into a new topic, leaving me to breathe a hushed sigh of relief.

“I think she said she was going with Tootie to pick up Desean from his dad’s. That girl has been off and on with his father for I don’t know how long now. But today… I think they’re off, so Joyce has to be a mediator.”

We laughed at her revelation and I sat back and enjoyed my moment of bliss, even if it was only temporary.

--

I found it hilarious how determined and serious Dontay seemed about attempting to talk to Tawny. Much to my surprise, he managed to get her to open up to him and my heart fluttered for her each time I heard her cackle at one of his corny jokes. Nalay seemed to warm up to her almost instantly, simply because it was in her nature to be friendly to even strangers, but Tameka was a completely different story. She seemed less than enthused to have anything to do with Tawny and she barely even acknowledged that the girl was in the house. Whether because Tawny seemed to have Dontay wrapped around her finger without even trying, or because she was just unnaturally territorial, I wasn’t sure… whatever the reason, Tameka made it clear that her distaste for her was very real.

The four of us managed to weasel out of the den, leaving Dontay alone with his efforts to swoon Tawny and my aunt to take a private phone call she refused to have in our presence. I led the group on into the kitchen and hopped onto a barstool as they each parted ways to find their own snacks as they’d always done since we were kids.

“It don’t even be nobody in this house and your aunt stay stocked up like she feeding a damn tribe!” Destani exclaimed from the overly packed pantry.

“Girl that’s why I been fuckin with Auntie since day one… she know how to take care of the poor!”

We shared a laugh at Tameka’s comical, yet solemn, comment as she maneuvered her way around making a sandwich as if she were in her very own kitchen.

“So what is new ladies? Where has our communication been for the past six months? I feel like I haven’t seen ya’ll in years!” Destani said as she claimed a seat across from me with a bag of puffy Cheetos in tow.

“Not a damn thing for my ass! Ya’ll know with my broke ass mama, I had to take what I could get so I’m holding it down right here in VA at Reynolds!” Tameka said.

“Hey, that school ain’t half bad though. My dad got his associates there and I’ve always thought it was decent” Nalay chimed in, popping skittles individually into her mouth.

“Tuh, bitch please… you at the University with a scholarship. Of course a bitch ass community college would be decent to you.” We laughed as Nalay shook her head and smiled with a roll of her eyes.

“Whatever Meka, If I wouldn’t have gotten that scholarship I would have happily been right there at Reynolds with you.”

After graduation, Tameka and Nalay had both decided to stay back in Virginia for school… Nalay, because of her academic scholarship at the University of Virginia and Tameka, because she wanted to be closer to her mom to help her out at home.

“Well how’s mama doing Meeks?” Destani asked.

“Girl she aiight. Her and her bad ass Rugrats continue to live on my nerves. I’m still helping her around the house, but a bitch had to step out and get her own place ‘cause I could and would not survive in that hell house another day”

“What! You got your own place? When nigga… see this lack of communication we been on is childish!” Destani said.

With the most ratchet giggle, Tameka popped a few chips in her mouth and twirled around to the fridge to grab a bottle of water “It ain’t nothing fancy bitch, but you know… it’s a lil som’n. My new bae got me a lil hosting job at the clubs he be promoting or whatever, so I’m just doing what I do right now.”

“You have a new boyfriend?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling then, all dreamy like as if the thought of this guy alone brought her the most romantic feelings “Honey, yes! I met his ass on campus and he… is… fine! Like for real ya’ll, I don’t think I’ve felt a nigga like how I’m feeling this nigga in like… ever!”

I stared at her and smiled broadly. It felt amazing for me to witness my friends this way… happy and dare I say… in love.

“And what about you Dez? Found anybody to tame your wild ass in Georgia?” Nalay asked with a giggle.

With a roll of her eyes, Destani scoffed and flipped her curly tresses to one side of her head dramatically “Yes the hell I have, actually. And baby boy knows exactly how to tame this wild ass too.”

I rolled my eyes almost as hard as her and shook my head as the girls ogled over the man who was finally able to tame the beast. She even went as far as whipping out her phone and pulling up Taylor’s Facebook page to show him off to the girls, who of course ooh’d and aww’d and blew her head up even bigger than it already was over him.

“What about you Nay? Boo thang yet or is your head so far in the books you can’t see past the ink to find a nigga?” Destani snickered, leaning to the side to high five Tameka.

“Um, for your information Ms. Nosy… I am dating someone.” She said with a sly smirk.

“Where you meet him at?” Tameka asked.

“Here in Richmond…” Her sly smirk grew a bit and she raised a brow to match her mischievous expression.

“In Richmond… hol’ up, we know him?”

She nodded slowly and cast her gaze down onto the granite countertop “BJ…”

A layer of silence washed over the room for a split second before both Tameka and Destani burst into a screaming fit of excitement. I giggled at their antics and watched as Nalay slapped her hands up over her reddened face with embarrassment.

“Awww, don’t be embarrassed girl! You got you a good ole country Richmond nigga, ain’t nothing wrong with that… that’s what Sy did and her and Breezy are doing just fine.” Tameka laughed. The girls continued to laugh, but my laughter died down almost instantly as I absorbed her comment.

Before I could think to stop myself, I cleared my throat and crossed my arms over my midsection “Chris and I… we um… we actually broke up.”

Within seconds the entire kitchen was so silent, I had to look around to ensure I wasn’t the only one still sitting there. Nalay and Tameka both stared at me like two deer caught in headlights and Destani softly cleared her throat and dropped her head. For a moment I was overwhelmed by the silence and the sudden layer of awkwardness that seemed to sweep over the room and after a while I started to feel microscopic under the hard stare of the two girls.

“Aw Sy… I’m so sorry.” Nalay finally spoke up, in the softest and most sympathetic tone. Of course with her sitting closest to me, she reached over and pulled me into a side hug that should have had me crying, but after all the tears I’d been shedding lately I was thankful that I was finally learning to get a grip on my emotions.

“Well damn, if ya’ll ain’t make it… it ain’t no hope for the rest of us,” Tameka said with an expression of defeat on her face, prompting Destani to nudge her roughly in the side, “Shit bitch, ow! I’m just saying… I think we all had high ass hopes for Sy and Chris. I mean, no bullshit… they a match made in heaven.”

“That is true. Ya’ll were always the perfect couple… even before you became a couple.” Nalay said, leaving us all laughing awkwardly and sadly.

“But I mean, I thought it would be the end of humanity before ya’ll separated. What happened babe?” Tameka asked. The dreaded question… what happened. The question I’d hoped I could somehow avoid for the duration of this visit, had just come to light and it left my stomach churning. I couldn’t bring myself to reveal the dirty details of the demise of our relationship, so with a deep sigh through my nose I slowly shook my head and nibbled nervously into the inside of my lip.

“We just um… we decided to take a break for a while.” I mumbled. It wasn’t necessarily a lie that I’d told. It just wasn’t the cold and bitter truth that I myself could barely handle. I hadn’t even shared the complete truth with Destani because I simply couldn’t fathom the thought of anyone else harboring that truth.

[oldsouldreamer85]

So, for those of you following and/or paying attention to this little blog I truly do appreciate it. I do. 😊 That being said I’m feeling the need and desire to be selfish here and go into my past a bit more. Continue in my ‘letting go’ process. And coming here, doing it this way, with you all who have chosen to follow me for whatever reason, is I feel, a big step forward for me.

When I first came here to create my little blog I was terrified that by doing so, joining the fandom side of things, that 9-1-1 would inevitably become what a former, long-running show had become for me when I’d been a part of its fandom. That I’d ruin it for myself somehow by being too invested or obsessed.

This other show I’ve learned, after putting a few years of distance between myself and my former experience with it, was like a long-term relationship. And when I decided to stop watching it (on my own terms, mind you) I realize now that I wasn’t handling it in the healthiest of ways. And by that, I mean how I was (or wasn’t rather) dealing with my letting go process. Looking back on it now for quite a bit there I was just handling it how I’d previously handled other things in my past. By burying everything I possibly could about it and pretending it’d never happened.

Yow. Like I said. Not very healthy. But this last year (these past few months especially) I’ve really allowed myself the chance to grieve in a way I hadn’t before because I’d still been so scared of making the same mistakes over again with 9-1-1 like I had with this other show.

However, with this blog I’ve not only realized more fully (prior to stepping into the fandom of 9-1-1) what I want from my fandom experience, but I’ve also come into my own even more in terms of what I truly want to focus on. What makes me happy as a fan. A fan of this show and anything else really.

Case in point, two lovely examples that come to mind: Andrew Garfield and Sophia Bush. 🥰💜🥰💜

I’ve loved Andrew’s acting since I first saw him in theatres in 2010 in The Social Network. Ever since then I’ve been a fan of his work (we’ll be here all night if I start getting into Spider-Man or tick, tick...Boom! So, shh!). But the more and more I’m able to glean what he’s willing to share publicly? Damn. I just, I love him as a fellow human being, you know? From this fan’s perspective he just seems like a genuinely kind-hearted, compassionate soul. And we need more people like him in the world.

Now Sophia. This woman has owned my heart since 2007 when I first started watching One Tree Hill in syndication on the soap network (damn. those were the days. joining Livejournal, reading/writing fanfic, cutting a few of my college classes every so often and watching OTH 😂). Getting to not only see her as the title character, Sam Griffith, in her new show Good Sam every week, but also listen to her podcast Drama Queens she does with her fellow OTH castmates Bethany Joy Lenz and Hilarie Burton Morgan has just rekindled my love for her tenfold in recent months. But much like Andrew my love for Sophia goes a bit deeper. Not only is she fierce and loyal where her friends are concerned but she’s also an activist for several different causes, including women’s rights (meaning: ALL WOMEN). So yes, in my opinion, we need more people like Sophia in the world too. Her and Andrew both. Ugh. My heart. 😭💕 

I guess this is my long-winded way of saying that even if I’d initially started this blog because of Buck and Eddie/9-1-1 I’m very happy to have discovered that it’s become a bit more than I expected in regard to what I want to focus on. And that it’s giving me the opportunity to gush about other loves I have in my life where once upon a time with a different show (the one I referred to earlier) I didn’t practice that particular brand of kindness on myself as much as I do now. If any of you read this in its entirety, thank you. I love you and I appreciate each one of you. 💜💕