#yes I did this speech as sarcastically and emotionally as possible

[the-moth-from-elsewhere]

hey y’all I heard it was the ides of march

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest–

For Brutus is an honourable man;

So are they all, all honourable men–

Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:

But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

You all did see that on the Lupercal

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without cause:

What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,

And I must pause till it come back to me.

[high-functioning-lokipath]

SH - Sherlock x Depressed!Reader - With a Little Help from My Friends - Words: 2,793

IMPORTANT A/N - PLEASE READ: As stated in the title, this story contains discussions of depression. There is mention of suicidal thought and self-harm. I personally don't think it's too intense in it's descriptions HOWEVER!!! If this will trigger you, for your own health and safety please do not read. My messages are always open if you'd like to talk. I wrote this partially based on my own feelings so I can understand to at least a degree. You're amazing and I love you all. As far as this story goes, just remember: it has a happy, very fluffy ending but it doesn't start that way. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment!

Brief Backstory: Reader is friends with John and Sherlock. She is a nurse who works with John. The three met shortly after Sherlock came back. Sherlock and Reader have crushes on each other but won't admit to it. I think the story explains everything else.

"Y/N, I'm going to be honest," John said, putting his hand on your shoulder comfortingly. "I may have PTSD but I cannot fully put myself in your shoes. My depression is different than yours." You had called your best friend, John Watson, in a mild panic. You had been feeling depressed for some time, as he knew, but that day had been especially bad. There was no particular reason but your depression had gotten so intense that you knew you needed help to get past this particular wave. John invited you over to 221B, assuring you that his flatmate would be out for the next couple of hours. "As a doctor, I am going to prescribe you some medication. Lowest dose possible and only because I want to help you get some immediate relief but I know you do not want them to become permanent. Let's work on finding another solution for you, ok?"

"I don't know, John," you replied. You'd asked John to be your Doctor since you didn't go to one regularly and he didn't mind your irregular checkups. "I've tried just about everything. The only outlet that seems to help is writing and even then," you trailed off, trying not to cry again. "This feeling just won't go away and I don't even know why it's there in the first place. I just want it to stop."

"I think you should talk to Sherlock."

"What?" You squeaked. "Why in the world would I talk to Sherlock?"

"I can't tell you why, Y/N. As both your Doctor and Sherlock's, I have to respect certain amounts of patient confidentiality. However, as your friend, I think you should talk to him."

"I don't know."

"Trust me," He replied. Smirking slightly, he added, "Doctor's orders."

"Ok, John," you chuckled. He smiled and hugged you. "Thanks."

"Now how about we go and fill this prescription and then maybe get some ice cream?"

"Well, honestly," you sighed. "The ice cream sounds great but I didn't sleep well last night. I was actually wondering if I could just take a nap here for a bit. I sleep better here sometimes." You blushed but John nodded understandingly.

"Of course," He replied. "I'll run down to the drugstore and fill this for you. Meanwhile you get some rest. I'll let Sherlock know you're here just in case he ends up getting back before I do. Will you be ok by yourself?"

"Yeah," You smiled. "This is a safe space for me. I'll go grab a blanket. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Just remember, talk to him."

"I'll try."

About 15 minutes later, Sherlock arrived back at the flat. He'd gotten John's texts.

John: If you get home in the next 45 minutes, be quiet. Y/N is over and she's taking a nap. I have to run out for something.

Sherlock: Is everything ok? - SH

John: She said she had a bad night.

Sherlock: She must have had a reason to come over in the first place though. - SH

John: She's going to need to tell you that herself. Don't ask. Do you understand me? Let her tell you. Be nice, ok?

Sherlock: When am I not nice to Y/N? - SH

John: Ok, that is true. You like her too much to be rude to her. If you could just hold back your deductions for one second I will say this: you two have more in common than you think.

He hurried home, not to wake you up of course, but because he wanted to see you. If there was something seriously wrong, he wanted to try and brace himself for it first. He couldn't help the smile playing at the corner of his lips when he thought of you. You two were good friends, that much was obvious to everyone. But Sherlock could see the potential for something more. He liked you a lot. You were just as smart, sassy, and sarcastic as he was. But you also could be extremely kind and caring to others and especially to him. He still didn't quite understand why you cared for him so but he was grateful. Before he could dwell on that too much longer, he arrived at 221B.

He quietly slipped inside and smiled at what he saw. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping like a baby. Apparently, though, you'd kicked off the blanket you had grabbed. Instead of picking up the blanket, he decided to take off his long coat and carefully lay that over you. You quickly cuddled into the warm fabric, unconsciously taking a deep breath, inhaling his unique signature left behind on the coat. Satisfied with what he'd done, he took off his suit jacket and went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for when you woke up. He knew you had a favorite tea and, unless John moved it or drank it all, there still would be some in the cupboard.

You woke to the smell of your favorite tea and a hushed exclamation from the kitchen. Opening your eyes slowly you saw Sherlock in at the counter trying to set up a tray with the teapot and cups. Recognizing your surroundings a bit more, you realized what was on top of you. Sherlock was just about to bring out the tray but you decided to pretend you were still asleep. The chances of fooling the Detective were low, but you wanted to try.

"There," He whispered to himself, setting the tray on the coffee table. You could hear him settling down on his chair, likely getting into his 'palace pose' as you called it. For a moment you were happy. You had actually gotten some quality sleep, you were currently cuddled up in Sherlock's famous coat and Sherlock had even made you tea. But that feeling quickly faded. Tears threatened to spill out of your still closed eyes as self-deprecating thoughts filled your mind.

'John probably told him to make me tea. He probably covered me with his coat so I wasn't as much of a distraction. He doesn't want me here. He never does. Why does he even tolerate my presence? He probably wishes we'd never met,' You thought. Your mind was going a million miles an hour and gaining. Without your notice, the tears began rolling down your cheeks and quiet sobs escaped your lips.

"Y/N?" Sherlock whispered. You're eyes shot open. You hadn't heard him get up. Now he was kneeling right next to you, one hand hovering over your arm. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, Sherlock!" You cried. "I-I wish I knew."

"C'mere," he said, motioning for you to sit up. Once you did so, he pulled you into a tight hug.

"What's this for?"

"You always give me and John a hug when you see us. You haven't done so for the past 5 days. I-" he paused briefly before lowering his voice and continuing. "I missed it."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure how to reply to that. You leaned into his embrace, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

"Y/N? Is there something I can do to help?"

"How much did John tell you?" You asked. You wouldn't have been mad exactly if John had told Sherlock to talk to you, but you wanted to think Sherlock was reaching out on his own.

"He told me you had a bad night."

"That's all?" You asked, surprised. You pulled away slightly and stared into his eyes. Sherlock nodded, frowning slightly as he tried to deduce you.

"Why are you afraid to talk to me?" You turned away, embarrassed and unsure what to say. "Be honest."

"I don't want you to make fun of me. I have-" You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves and preparing to just jump right in. "I have been extremely depressed lately and I didn't want to hear another speech about how all I need to do is exercise and eat right and stop thinking about sad things. Well you know what? I can't stop it! I can't help it if I feel like a useless pile of trash that should be thrown in the bin and burned." By the time you finished your little tirade, you'd gotten up and started pacing the floor. Then you turned and faced Sherlock. His expression was neutral but there was an obvious sadness in his eyes, one you didn't expect to see. It wasn't of pity. If you had seen that you also would have given up on the conversation. No, it was almost an understanding, an empathy. His eyes were actually glistening with tears.

"Have you ever felt like," he paused, voice unsteady. "Like giving up?" He whispered, unable to hold eye contact. You nodded silently. He got up slowly and walked towards you. At first, you thought he would hug you again but then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Uh, Sherlock?"

"Just wait a moment. I want to show you something." He carefully shrugged off the purple shirt that you, admittedly, loved so much and tossed it on the chair. "Only one person knows about this. You will be the second. You remember I told you about Moriarty's network?"

"Yes, the day we met. I asked you about your work, a simple question. And I got an answer that lasted 3 hours." Sherlock chuckled dryly.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh, no. Please don't apologise. I-" You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "I tend to make jokes when I'm nervous."

"I know." He smiled at you with, yet again, a completely unreadable expression. "You remember though." You nodded, opting to stay silent as he explained. "Well, those 2 years dismantling his network weren't easy. Not physically and certainly not emotionally. As a result of the different missions, I received many wounds on my body in various locations. I was," He paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "I was depressed, guilt-stricken and suicidal. I figured I had hurt my friends enough. If they thought I was dead maybe I should just go on with it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't want to do it on a mission. I wanted to see home again one more time. So to temporarily relieve the pain I," He sighed. Well, I wouldn't let my wounds heal. I'd pick at them. Mycroft finally convinced me to come back officially because he needed my help. I never told him about this. I think he knows but we don't discuss it." He looked down, obviously embarrassed and feeling more emotionally naked than physically. "You can look," he said. It was as if he'd read your mind. You were trying to be respectful and not stare but you realized that's what he wanted to show you. You had, on occasion, seen him shirtless before but you had never realized how bad some of the scars were.

"Sherlock, I-I don't know what to say. I-" You were completely shocked. Not offended. But actually comforted that he understood you. "Thank you," You finally said.

"Actually I wanted to thank you. I didn't just show you this to prove that I understand your feelings." You looked at him confused. "The day we met. You were leaving work, correct?" You nodded.

"It had been my first day there. John had been happy with my work and requested that I stay assigned to his office permanently. John had already finished up and headed home but there was some paperwork I had to finish so I was leaving about an hour late. Come to think of it, John said he had plans with you that evening. Why were you there?"

"That's what I wanted to tell you. I met you less than a month after I came back. I had still been quite depressed so I was still picking at my injuries. That day had been a bad day for me. So I cancelled my plans with John and I decided to go back to where I started this whole mess and finish it."

"Wait, are you telling me that-"

"You saved my life." Sherlock took one of your hands in his own and held it tightly. "I had memorized the work schedules of most everyone there and knew how to slip in unnoticed."

"But you didn't factor in me."

"Correct. When I ran into you, quite literally in fact, as I was entering the building, I was surprised. Not just by your presence but by what I deduced about you. You intrigued me. I had to find out more about you so I invited you to have a cup of coffee with me."

"Which turned into dinner." Sherlock nodded. "And since you were so intrigued by me, you forgot all about that."

"In a manner of speaking. You weren't a cure-all, mind you. You helped, though, by giving me a new mystery to investigate: you. That night, when I got home, I told John everything. He helped me too and when I mentioned you he couldn't stop singing your praises. He is very proud of you and your work you know."

"Yeah, I guess so," You replied, a little embarrassed. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm sorry that you went through all that, but, I'm glad I have someone who understands. And I'm glad you're here to help me."

"Me too, Y/N. Me too," He replied.

"Can I, um, can I have another hug?" You asked, blushing and smiling. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"If you must," He sighed, holding his arms out. Any other day, you would have thought he genuinely didn't want personal contact. But today you realized he was simply teasing. You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his chest. You felt him relax as he leaned forward a little to cocoon you in his arms. "I care about you, Y/N. I don't care about many people but you mean so much to me. I-" You looked up at him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

"You don't have to say it, Sherlock. I know." He smiled and looked somewhat relieved. You knew he wasn't good with feelings and that was fine with you. "I love you too."

"I wanted to be the first one to say that," He pouted. You chuckled softly and booped his nose.

"You already have." He smiled and kissed your forehead lightly.

"I know this won't fix everything right away. I know you'll still have bad days. But I wanted you to know you could come to me too."

"I know. Thank you again, Sherlock." At that moment, John walked in with a bag from the store.

"Oh, hello!" He chirped, happy to see you hadn't gotten into a yelling match. Then he noticed Sherlock's shirt, or rather, lack thereof. "So, uh," He stuttered, unsure of what to say. "What should I do with this?"

"First of all, thank you, John, for giving me the guts to talk to him about this. And second, I think I'll give it a try. You know, to try and prevent a really bad day when you guys aren't available or if talking still isn't enough. But for today I think I'll be alright," You said, turning to John with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad. So did you just talk about that or did he finally tell you that he's had the biggest schoolboy crush on you from the moment he met you?"

"John!" Sherlock yelled. You laughed loudly.

"Not in those words exactly, John," You replied. "Don't worry," You added, turning to Sherlock and ruffling his curls. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Good. Now if you don't mind, I need your input on this case."

"Me?" You asked, quite surprised.

"Yes," He said as if it was obvious. "You're a woman after all!"

"And that is important because?"

"The killer was a woman obviously but I can't understand why she would do it!" The two of you went off into your own little world, completely ignoring John as he cooked dinner.

John: Ok, mates, get your tuxs out. Won't be long now.

Greg: He finally proposed? 😀

John: Not yet, give it a week.

Mycroft: John, you forget I monitor his spending habits.

John: And?

Mycroft: He's had a ring purchased for some time now.

Greg: 3 days tops.💍

Mycroft: I would estimate about 3 days as well, Detective Inspector.

Greg: We're in a Group Text. Talking about our friend like a bunch of teenage girls at a slumber party. I think you can call me Greg.

Mycroft: If I must.

John: So, girls, will you help me make the plans?

Mycroft: Of course. He is blood after all.

Greg: Count me in! Wouldn't miss it! 🕵️👰

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

@gaitwae

@for-hearthand-home

[the-volume-is-astronomical]

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

The Tower

A/N: mi gente im just trying something out and seeing if people like it :] ive had this done for like months and months on end and i finally decided to share it so em enjoy 

First | Previous| Next

words: 2380

summary: Roman’s stomach is making it very clear that this talk wasn’t going to end well... as long as he doesn’t end up in that tower.

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit 

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, disappearance mention, flashback, crying

(let me know if theres any other)

Roman felt himself waking up, maybe because of the stupidly bright sun hitting his eyes, he didn’t know how that was possible since he remembered closing the red velvet curtains shut tight, so he didn't have this exact issue. So, when he heard some ruffling and things being moved around he wasn’t all that surprised. 

¨Rise and shine, you little brat¨ Ruth said in a very tired but demanding voice. 

¨Oh dear nurse, allow me five more minutes¨ Roman whined putting a pillow over his eyes so he could block out the rude sun.

¨Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, mister.¨ Roman could hear Ruth moving around the room, preparing breakfast no doubt. Roman took the pillow off his face and sat up, hair a wreck, and his eyes squinting because of the light coming from the window.

¨And he finally rises,¨ Ruth said sarcastically.

¨Yeah, yeah, the dashing prince has awoken.¨ Roman said half asleep. Ruth helped him sit down so he didn’t trip over anything and started serving him breakfast, she wasn’t going to wait for him to finish eating as she was already heading for the big oak doors. 

¨Wait!¨ Roman sobered up, Ruth flinched a little at the shout but turned around anyway ¨Can I do anything for you?¨ She asked.

¨ Come eat with me, you for sure haven’t eaten anything today.¨ Ruth went to argue but closed her mouth when she noticed she, in fact, had not eaten.

 She sat down in the chair in front of the royal, Roman made a few hand gestures as if to show she was open to take anything, she knew the monarch wouldn’t eat until she had settled for something so, she took a piece of bread and started eating, as did he.

After a few moments of silent eating Ruth spoke up ¨I still don't understand, after all these years you haven’t become a spoiled brat that doesn't care for his servant¨ Roman didn't even look up at her he just said ¨I guess you raised me well.¨ Ruth almost choked on her bread and looked at Roman as if he had gone insane. “Oh come on don't be so humble Ruthie!¨

She still looked at him confused and a little annoyed at the nickname but mostly surprised he would say anything of the sort, ¨Ruth, you are my nurse. You have been with me my entire life, You fed me when I was a baby for god sake! I consider you a mother, even if I have another mother in the throne room right now,” Roman shivered at the thought of having to talk to his parents after the events of the past week but continued anyway “and I sure as hell think of you as the person who raised me.¨ 

Once he had finished he immediately put a mouth full of food and kept eating as if hadn’t given that speech. Ruth still looked shocked but cleared her throat ¨Well, then I made you a sap!¨ Roman started laughing ¨How will your future spouse ever forgive me?¨ Roman burst out laughing and Ruth gave a small chuckle. 

Ruth stood up and went to Roman's closet to gather his outfit for the day, while he finished breakfast. She threw the clothes at him “Hey!¨ Roman made his trademark over dramatic gasp. She sighed “I unfortunately also gave you my dramatics…”

 “And I don’t resent you for that!” Roman screamed back with a big smile on his face. 

Ruth looked like she had something on her mind. Roman didn’t have to wait much before she said what that was, he never did. ¨Would that make you and my Remy brothers?¨ she said, actively ignoring the prince’s comments. Roman stood up going towards his shoji screen to change behind. ¨Ha! We already consider each other brothers so it wouldn’t be much of a change.¨ Ruth started making his bed “Well this is new information to me.¨ Roman giggled a bit 

¨Remy´s supposed to be back by noon, he passed a lot of territories to deliver this message so I sure hope he’s alright¨ Roman has always thought she was a worried mother even to him when he went on long trips.

Roman stepped out from behind the screen and reassured her ¨ He’s fine! He may act reckless but he's very calculating… but expect him a few hours later than what the estimated time of return” Roman slipped away looking for his shoes. ¨Oh and why is that?¨ she asked, hands on her hips, Roman gave a nervous chuckle. 

Shouldn't have let that slip.

“Roman…” Ruth said in a warning tone. Remy was going to kill him but he didn’t want to die at his nurse’s hands “Remy’s been... seeing... this person a-and when his message trip aligns with where they live… he spends some time with the person so…” Ruth looked at him as if deciding something, “As Remy’s mother, I thank you for telling me the truth..” Roman was relieved “But, as your mother, I have to say…YOU SNITCH! Snitches get stitches for a reason!” Roman laughed genuinely and Ruth joined.

After their giggle fit, they heard someone knock on the door. Ruth went to answer the door, it was a guard “His and her highness request the prince’s presence,” Ruth thanked the guard and turned around and Roman looked mortified, “Roman, you have to talk to them.” Roman had never heard Ruth speak that soft. Roman only felt dread “Ruth I don't want to go” He was genuinely petrified.

“I understand, but they are very understanding and I believe they wouldn't punish you for simply trusting the wrong person” Roman shook his head “ They’re already so protective. They always had me under knight or guard surveillance but now they might do something so I won’t be able to sneak by” Roman was panicking and Ruth noticed, she walked up to him. And took his hand “Roman they just want the best for you…” Roman took his hand away from her own “No! They are just afraid they aren’t going to have an heir after one of them ran away.” Roman's hands were in his hair and his eyes started to glaze over.

Roman was very much not over his brother's apparent “disappearance”

“I understand Remus vanishing has affected your parents over protectiveness, BUT they have always aimed to protect you but after what happened...can you really blame them for it?” Roman sighed, Ruth forced his hands out of his hair, he took a shaky breath to calm down “No, but getting hurt is part of life! So what if I trusted the wrong person? Everyone does!” He gestured to the sky as if it was the only person listening, he felt so defeated. 

“Well I can't change anything so, you should tell your parents that!” She didn’t know what to say to make things better. “I’ll try, let’s just hope they at least try to listen” he left it there and headed out of his bedroom’s oak doors, he never liked disagreeing with Ruth. 

 Roman walked down the long hallway towards the throne room but, of course, he wasn’t alone because that would be too much to ask apparently. Instead he was being escorted to see his parents by the guard that had informed him his parents required him. He already knew what they were going to talk to him about and he was dreading it.

Why did he have to make such a mistake?

Did the universe want him to not trust anyone after what happened?! If it would make the sinking feeling in his stomach leave then he would happily oblige.

The guard stopped at the throne rooms doors and Roman took a deep breath as the guard gave him side eye glance and opened the doors, “You required my presence?” Roman spoke trying to keep his voice steady and his head high, “Yes, Roman, we would actually like to talk to you about last week's event…?” He phrased it as a question a little too late. Roman’s father, King Leonardo, wasn’t an emotionally driven person and never was truly soft with anything he said, but he cared. The way he was soft spoken with Roman was just having the opposite effect that his father wanted.

Roman’s mother, Queen Victoria, was very comforting and always tried to shield her children from harm's way, but coming from a family of royals, she didn't have an example to follow but she wanted to be there for her child. “Roman, my little lion heart, I need you to keep in mind this is for your safety...ok?”  Following everything by the book, always looking and being her best, so she would be a good example even if she wasn't nurturing, all she wished was for Roman to know she loved him and Remus with her whole being, Roman just gave her a tense nod as a response. 

Roman’s Father spoke up, “Roman, you're going to be under knight supervision at all times,” That wasn't as bad as Roman expected, he basically already was! Anything but to be stuck in that damn tower “...And you have to stay in the south tower-” ...He should have knocked on wood. 

“Father, I did nothing wrong! I shouldn't be punished for this-” Romans mother spoke up, she knew both her son and husband could be hot headed. She wanted to stop anything before it got the chance to begin “Roman this isn't to punish you! We want to protect you-” The Queen sounded like she was pleading with her son.

Roman did not hear her plea or just ignored it “...For how long do I have to stay there?” Roman’s mother spoke up, “Don't worry, you'll be there maximum 2-” 

“Indefinitely.” 

The King spoke in a cold unforgiving tone, Roman knew he had messed up big time. Victoria turned to her husband “Leo, we agreed he wouldn't be there for more than 2 fortnights, we agreed on that.” The Queen seemed upset but was obviously attempting not to show such emotion. 

“Those were the rules we agreed to when he was a child and he would grant being punished” Both of Roman’s parents were staring at each other, showing they weren't going to back down.

Roman spoke, “Understood.” His voice was mostly monotone but tight, Victoria turned to him with an apologetic gaze. Roman shook his head. It was his own fault, his mother shouldn't blame herself for his actions. 

“I'll tell Ruth, so we can pack.” Roman turned to leave but his father had more to say. “Before you go, Hugo won't be your assigned knight. One of the new recruits is climbing in status and popularity very quickly and he agreed to-” “babysit” Roman cut in. “-protect you. As long as I recommended him to Queen Marie for her armada” 

As if things couldn't get any better, he had to meet this new recruit, he hoped they would at least get along. Roman just nodded and opened the door to leave. At that moment, Roman’s father called the guard that had escorted Roman to get the new recruit as soon as possible, he just left as quickly as he could. 

His parents knew that not being around people and not being able to talk were some of the worse things that could happen to him. They decided it was going to be the way to punish him. Though, he never stayed for more than a month, now he understood why. 

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As Roman- basically power walked- back to his room, his brain tortured him with memories of his 7 year old self being forced onto the tower for the first time.

No! Please it was an accident-!

I won't do it again!

I won't- Please! 

That was all he said as his father signaled the guards to take him, his mother not being able to look, turned her head away, trying to ignore every motherly instinct in her body to stand up and comfort her child. 

The guards dragged him out of the castle- the only home he knew- and shoved him in a carriage, where Ruth was waiting for him. Ruth had always been happy around him but her expression was unreadable -looking back she seemed angry, he just hadn't seen her that way before- but, Roman didn't care. He threw himself onto Ruth and sobbed his tiny heart out, Ruth trying her best to calm him down, he eventually fell asleep. Three hours later, he was woken up by Ruth.

“Were here, principito”

Roman was scared. Ruth saw it in his eyes. 

“Come on! You offend me, you really think I would let them take you to a scary place?” 

The little royal could only muster a small “no”. Ruth took his hand and walked with him toward a tower. Roman thought it was beautiful, that's the day he figured beautiful things can hurt you. 

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Roman never got used to it. He always dreaded the ride there, all the build up to the feeling of nothingness. When he looked up at the tower, he got the same feeling that he did when he was 7, Roman learned to not look up. He’d always prefer being in the tower when he was a kid because, back then they allowed Ruth to stay behind with him. Now she would only go in the carriage with him and leave.

After they stopped allowing Ruth to stay with him, at least he had Hugo to bother, by asking him for stories of his adventures. He didn't have that anymore.

The only adventure story he had now was a vibrant red book, in the book shelf of the tower, the only fictional book in his whole collection. He will admit, it was a very smart move on his parent’s part. They always monitored what he read, filled his whole book shelf in the tower with Philosophy, Math, and Royalty etiquette. When he begged for weeks on end for an adventure book they granted him one but, they made sure it was the only book that was fictional. They wouldn't give him an adventure book based on real events, No! That would be giving Roman too much hope. 

Good move.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Um hello! I've been wondering if there is signs of autism you could share please. I keep seeing things I do that is connected to autism and I want to understand it better. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Of course! I know it can be difficult to self diagnose, especially with the sometimes limiting resources that are available.

Here is a list of yes or no questions that can help you decide if you’d like to self-diagnose with autism. Remember, this is not a complete list, nor is it a professional one, but if you find yourself answering “yes” to a lot of questions, I would suggest either doing your own research or, if you can, talking to a school counselor (or a professional counselor, if you have access to one).

I’ve tried to make these as detailed and simple as possible. I tend to get overwhelmed on personality tests because I overthink my answers, so I’ve tried to make these extremely straight forward.

Ready? Okay:

When you were a kid, did you repeat a lot of things your favorite TV show characters said? Did you use their quotes for almost every occasion, even if it didn’t make sense? Were you constantly told to “use your own words?”

Did you attend speech therapy, or were recommended to go by teachers or daycare workers?

Are you made fun of for ordering the same thing every time you go to a restaurant?

Are certain sounds grating or even painful for you, like people eating, rubbing of cardboard, foam, or paper, or scraping of silverware?

Do you get overwhelmed in crowds, especially with people you don’t know?

Do you get “spacey” or emotionally upset when you have been in a constant state of socializing for a long period of time?

Do you listen to the same song or watch the same video over and over and over again?

Do you flap your hands, hug yourself tightly, stand on your tiptoes, grind your teeth, spin around, or any other repetitive activity when you feel a really strong emotion?

Do you have trouble telling people what’s making you upset or overwhelmed, to the point where you may ignore them completely?

Do you have trouble regulating your voice, with it either being too loud or too quiet?

Do you find it difficult to put yourself in someone else’s shoes? Similarly, are you so empathetic that you get upset over what most would shrug off?

When you get overwhelmed, do you “shut down?”

Is there a certain texture on food or clothes that makes it so you can’t eat or wear it?

Do you have interests that seem to take over your whole life while you’re doing them, and you can’t stop talking or thinking about it?

Do you have periods where you feel fine, and then one thing happens, and every emotion you hadn’t expressed up to that point comes pouring out?

Do you wear pretty much the same thing all the time, or have a rotation of a few outfits despite having more clothes in your closet?

Do you sometimes feel like a complete other species, like an alien or a mythical creature, or that you have some rare power or disease?

Do you walk on your tiptoes?

Do you feel guilty about small, white lies, or were known as the “honest child” or the “tattle-tale?” Do you feel the need to always tell the painfully complete truth?

Do you like curling up in small, warm spaces, like under a blanket or pillow?

Did it take you longer to learn how to speak?

Do you have trouble reading facial and social cues, like when someone is disinterested or in a hurry? Have you been blindsided by someone being angry at a behavior you didn’t know was wrong?

Have you been described as “mature for your age?”

Do you have trouble “getting” jokes?

Have people asked you to “stop being so literal” or to “take a joke?”

Do you follow instruction to a T?

Is it difficult for you to distinguish between someone being sarcastic or being genuine?

There’s a lot more, but I think that covers all the general bases. If you answered a lot or even a few of these questions with “yes,” or you aren’t sure what to do, feel free to DM me! My inbox and messages are always open. I’ll probably add onto this list later.

[hueswrites]

hq kinktober [day1] tendou

main hq kinktober list

hq kinktober [day1] tendou satori/cosplay

includes: a bit of story, some angsty broody stuff on reader's part, cosplay (obviously), fingering and female receiving oral sex

wordcount: 4,827

ok this turned out to be more fluff and actual sort of plot than smut. i just started writing at 12:30am and kept going until 6 in the morning. this is the result. if you were looking forward to straight up smut on this first prompt, i'm sorry but THIS IS NOT IT LMAO.

i absolutely adore tendou and the perspective i gave him on life in this. stay quirky, my friends. (as kenma would say... stay interesting, shouyo)

Being Satori was hard. It was unfortunate, exhausting, and just plain miserable - that's what his junior high school classmates wanted him to believe, at least.

In his early years of school, Satori Tendou was teased for his awkward, gangly appearance and unusual mannerisms. His attempts to interact with his peers were often shunned due to the offbeat semblance he exuded, which left most of the other kids feeling unsettled.

His mother, equally peculiar in her own way, urged Satori to make the most of his eccentricities. "Think about the characters you like from the manga you read. Would you want to keep reading the story if all the characters were the same?"

Satori shook his head, already concluding the point his mother was trying to make. "I get what you're saying, Mom," he grinned from ear to ear, a smile the width of his perfectly straight cherry red bangs, and pushed himself away from the kitchen table. He plopped down onto the wooden floorboard with exuberance. "Life is boring when everyone's the same. Who wants to live a boring life?" He padded over to his room and jumped onto his bed, going back to the first page of this week's issue of Jump. The warm, tingly feeling of adventure took over as he reread the newest chapters of his favorite series for the thirteenth time that week.

A decade later, Satori found himself living in France, where he stood out more than ever before. Not only did he need to learn how to adapt to the country's unfamiliar customs, he also had to learn how to speak its language: the language of love. He found his self-appointed tutor in the bookstore he frequented once he felt comfortable navigating the streets of Paris, which happened to be the same bookstore you browsed when you had a little bit of money to spend.

There you stood alongside him in the graphic novel section, your form hidden under an oversized hoodie, brows scrunched together in what appeared to be deep concentration. You were extremely aware of his presence looming over you, and it created a feeling of unease that sunk into your bones. You braved a glance up at his face, and he quickly turned his head back to stare at the row of the slice-of-life series that lined the very top shelf before him.

Tall, you thought to yourself. That's a very tall man.

You shuffled away from him just a bit, browsing the very bare section of "how-to-draw manga" guides that you knew were second rate to how real manga artists crafted their work.

Moments later, a silvery voice spilled into your consciousness and caught your attention. "Hmm, if only Matsuo-chan realized Hibari's feelings for her in the very beginning..." You can't help but look back up at the lanky man next to you, listening as he changed his speech from French to Japanese. "Then perhaps sweet misery would've never crushed their poor, little hearts." He turned his head to look down at you, heavy lids lowered over brilliantly crimson irises. A cheeky upward curve lifted his thinly shaped lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

Your mind went blank, rendering you speechless.

"I saw the Todai button on your bag," he said, voice now light and cheerful.

You blinked once, twice, then looked down at your messenger bag decorated with various pins from the clubs you took part of in college back in your home country of Japan. Your body relaxed, and a breathy laugh escaped your lips. "Yeah, Tokyo University. Are you from Japan?"

"Yes! Came here from Sendai. How's my French?" He beamed a child-like smile.

You produced your most sarcastic chuckle, turning to lean a shoulder onto the bookshelf so you could face him. "It's kind of terrible."

He mocked a look of despair and dropped his head in feigned embarrassment. You noticed how the pale skin of his cheeks turned a faint shade of red, and you wondered how someone could go from intimidating to adorable in a matter of seconds. Then his eyes snapped back to you, and a toothy grin spread across his face. "Wanna be my tutor?"

Your cheeks flushed pink, and your breath came to a halt again.

"I'm not sure I'm qualified to do something like that," you said, pushing yourself away from the shelf to stand square.

He hummed and straightened his posture, shifting his eyes away from yours, down to your shoes, then back up to your face. "Why not?" The look on his face expressed genuine curiosity.

You decided to pretend you didn't notice his blatant evaluation of your physical form just now.

"I've only been here for a year. I can speak enough French to get by, but I'm not sure I can teach someone else how to speak it."

"So little faith in yourself, little miss."

You furrow your brows at the nickname.

He whipped out a volume of a manga you recently started reading and held it up to you. "You have a pin of this on your bag, too," he said with a wiggle of his sparse eyebrows. "How about you try and get me to start reading this subpar manga by making me read it out loud in French?"

You gave him a look of piqued interest. The possibility of roping someone into reading your favorite series was tempting.

Then he continued, "And we can get yakitori and beer while you teach me?"

The hue of red on your face extends to your forehead.

"You've got pins of beer and yakitori on your bag, too."

A few weeks later, you and Satori were on your sixth date seated across from each other at a cat café in downtown Paris. It took the first three dates (he'd somehow coerced you into) for you to realize that the strange man was just that - strange, but harmless. The one friend you'd managed to make in your year in France introduced you to some very attractive and very gregarious men that you just couldn't see yourself with. Your friend's idea of fun was clubbing and bar hopping through the streets of Paris, and that was unsurprisingly the same kind of fun those men preferred as well.

To you, fun was something much more personal and intimate. Your past experience with relationships lead you to believe that you are meant to be on your own - that there is nobody in this world that will appreciate your oddities and make you as happy as you can make yourself.

Your interests lied in worlds of fiction and fantasy - games, books, movies, and manga, which you learned Satori was just as passionate about as you. Not surprising. He seemed to fit the socially awkward, emotionally inept stereotype you knew most men fit into that also liked anime. He asked too many questions, didn't understand when his questions push personal boundaries, and just wouldn't. Shut. Up.  

He did smell nice. You gave him that.

"So little turtle-in-her-shell, do you ever go to conventions?"

You paused your chewing of the last bit of coffee cake you ordered. "Turtle in her shell?"

That carmine, wide eyed gaze of his remained fixed on your face. "You wear that big hoodie all the time like a turtle in a shell."

"It's comfortable," you state. “And yes, I go to conventions.”

Nearly a minute of silence passed between the two of you, and if it weren't for the chatter of others seated around you and the clinking of cups and plates, you'd have really retracted into your "shell" of a sweater.

So you changed the subject, deciding to ask a question that stepped a hair outside of your comfort zone to a man you weren't quite sure about yet.

"Were you just trying to get my attention with that whole "be my tutor" spiel?" You asked following a sip of your iced cappuccino. A little calico feline had chosen you as its scratching post, kneading its nails into the fabric of your jeans. You ignored the little stings of pain for the sake of the cat's enjoyment.

Satori multitasked between feeding himself scoops of his chocolate parfait and playing with the lashing paws of the black cat that sat on the table between you. "Hey now," he said, lightly squeezing the cat's tail before quickly retreating his hand away to avoid the tiny beast's teeth. "I wouldn't know all the different ways to say "I need to take a dump" in French if it weren't for your tutoring thus far, little miss.”

"That's a weird nickname you have for me." The cat on your lap suddenly hopped to the ground, skirting across the ground to the human it suddenly deemed more worthy of its attention than you. You frowned, the action wounding your cold, bitter heart.

"You wouldn't remember me if I called you by just your name, would you?" He used a straw to slurp up the remaining concoction of sugar at the bottom of his cup.

"Do you even remember my real name, Satori?"

He pushed the now empty cup aside and ruffled the black cat's ears with his fingers. It hissed and gave a quick swat of its paw to his hands, then jumped off the table and scurried away.

"I never forget the names of all the cute girls I get to add to my harem," he said with a smirk, his cheeks rising to meet the crinkled corners of his eyes.

You gave him a lopsided glare. "You're kidding, right?"

Satori laughed - a lilted giggle that sent a shiver straight down to your gut, and then his expression darkened and his eyes captured yours in a binding stare. "Would you like to come over and see for yourself?" The way his voice rumbled an octave lower than you've ever heard had you squeezing your hands into nervous balls of tension above your knees.

You frowned. You genuinely couldn't tell if he was being serious. If you hadn't known how much wit and jest the man exuded in nearly every one of his actions, you wouldn't put it past him to be a basement dwelling, serial stalking NEET that kidnapped girls and made them dress up to suit his twisted fantasies. The thought had you questioning every single thing he's said to you so far. He had your number, he knew where you liked to eat, where you liked to drink, and he even knew where you worked. Was this guy like the others?

Suddenly his laughter burst through the air, the sound so boisterous it made you flinch.

"You look so petrified! Are you that gullible to believe everything I say?"

You grit your teeth and grabbed the paper wrapper from his straw to chuck it at his face. "That was so not cool!" You huffed, getting your wallet out to leave a tip on the table.

His laughter continued to tumble through the café, disrupting conversations from nearby customers only for them to direct their attention towards you. You rose to your feet and hurried towards the exit. You absolutely hate being the center of attention!

Satori followed you and matched your stride easily, one of his steps covering three of yours. He stood unbearably close, and if he didn't smell as sweet as the parfait he just ate, you would've shoved him away,

"___-chan," he sang, and you realized it was the first time he said your name. You allowed yourself to relax just a little and slowed your steps. A brief moment of silence settled between the two of you, and he used that moment to gauge your current state of emotional wellbeing.

"___-chan," he said again, this time demanding your attention.

You remained silent. Satori had picked up on so many of your habits in the past few weeks of talking to you and observing your actions that he understood your silence as your cue for, "Go on, I'm listening."

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," he said, bending at his waist so he could meet your line of sight, continuing to stroll alongside you. He must've noticed the creases under your eyes disappear as your tension eased away because that smug little smirk returned to his face. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, turning your head to look at him just slightly. A shade of pink colored your cheeks when you met his gaze - his wide, inquisitive eyes studying you with childlike innocence.

You looked forward.

He chuckled and stood up straight, sliding his hands into his jean pockets. "Adorable," he said aloud, further deepening your blush.

You steeled yourself and regained your composure. "Which way do we go?"

Satori hummed. "What do you mean?" he said, bending down again to look at your face. Why must he always have to stare like that when he speaks?

"Aren't we going to your place?"

He grinned. "Really?"

You threw a glare his way. "I'll change my mind if we don't start heading there right now."

Satori grimaced. "___-chan does not cool down so easily after bursting into flames," he mumbled, and you ignored the comment. He sighed. "This way, little miss," he took your hand and pulled you along, bounding across the street as the pedestrian crosswalk countdown hit zero. Your hand wrapped around his, holding on tight to keep up.

You couldn't help but laugh at the stupid sound effects he made as he continued to leap from the street onto the sidewalk, giving you no choice but to run and jump over the curb with him.

Your self-conceived belief that you are all you'll ever have and all you'll ever need to be happy now faced a challenger. This strange person - this bizarre character - punched a hole through the wall you've put so much effort to build on your own.

Satori's twenty-seventh birthday came just after your one year anniversary of the strange... relationship... you managed to maintain despite your ongoing struggle against the warped, pessimistic reality you believed about relationships through years of self-doubt. Slowly but steadily the glass case you built around yourself chipped away due to Satori's freakish ability to see beyond your façade and understand your feelings.

You learned about the bullying he faced in his childhood, and how his mother and high school volleyball team helped him accept the fact that life will always have real jerks with nothing nice to say to test your tenacity. He created a routine of reminding you that you can choose whether or not you let those nasty words bring you down or give you motivation to build your self worth.

Life is more fun when things are a little out of the ordinary. Who wants to be the same as everyone else? These are words you considered when you felt down.

For Satori's birthday, you wanted to do something different, something unique that he would remember about you if you ever went your separate ways.

Since the beginning, you noticed Satori had a thing for cute girls in cosplay. When you told him about your own cosplay projects and showed him pictures, his whole demeanor changed. He became shy - something hardly anyone had ever seen in his usually indiscreet personality.

One thing that helped you feel a little more confident in yourself and your relationship was your experience in physical intimacy. From what you gathered in the little bit of discussion you've had with Satori on the topic, he seemed to have far less experience than you. It was cute how his face went bright red when you managed to pry the details of his past encounters out from the tiny little box of insecurities he still held within. Perhaps it was your turn to bring something out of the wicked Guess Monster (you thought it was a cheesy name but he really took pride in the title whenever he reminisced on his youth at Shiratorizawa Academy) that he kept so carefully hidden away.

"Why are you so shy about this?" You asked the first time you had sex.

Suddenly, the creepy, unwavering eye contact he managed to hold with anyone he came face to face with vanished from the list of unsettling and seemingly unashamed habits and mannerisms that made Satori Tendou so uniquely... Satori.

"The one thing I still have trouble with is..." he looked down at where your naked bodies connected on the plush mattress he swore really was worth the $2,000 he spent. (I don't mean to diss your profession, but do you really make enough money as a chocolatier to afford a bed that expensive?) you asked, immediately regretting having asked the question when a gloomy grey cloud appeared over his head).

"Fucking?" You said, giving him a cocky little smirk.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck with a groan.

"I know you get turned on by cute cosplays of your favorite anime girls."

"...and cute actresses," he muttered, now stuffing his face between your breasts.

That's when you decided to shake things up.

Satori's weekends were usually occupied by work at the sweets factory. He was in the process of getting promoted to a position that freed up his weekends, but it wasn't happening anytime soon.

It was just your luck that his birthday fell on a Saturday this year, your only day off on the weekends. You left your cosplays and wigs back in Japan, boxed up in the bedroom you grew up in. While Satori was slaving away at work, you went shopping. You managed to find a decent sewing machine and plenty of fabric at a (pricey) thrift store on the other side of town. The wigs you looked at were ridiculously expensive - definitely for the high end fashion scene of Paris, not for nerdy cosplayers.

Once you returned to his apartment, you spread all of your findings across his bed and bedroom floor.

A maid's skirt that you will definitely chop up to be anything but modest.

A coreset you honestly weren't sure would fit your little love handles and tummy that lost its tone after all the dessert dates Satori insisted were good for "self care."

Cute devil horns with a pointed tail to match.

Knee high stockings and garters he mentioned as being one of the sexiest things a woman could wear.

And a simple leather collar to put around your neck... with the option to hook a leash.

You looked at the spread before you and wondered how such a quiet, reserved person such as yourself could be so... kinky.

You checked the time on your phone. You had three hours to put something together.

9:43pm Satori:

i'm leaving! boss said he'd let me leave 27 minutes early to celebrate the 27 years of my blessed existence on this planet

@( o･ꎴ･)@

9:44pm

that's all he did for your birthday? and wtf is that emoji

9:44pm Satori:

it's supposed to be a monkey but now that i look it really doesn't look like one. be home soooooon!! ＼(^o^)／ he gave me a $1000 bonus too #stacked

9:45pm

omg you are so lame! come straight to your room for your present :)

9:45pm Satori: (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖) ohooOoOOo??

9:46pm stop sending faces and just get your skinny butt over here

9:46pm Satori:

┏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)┛┏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)┛┏( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)┛

You heard the front door open, followed by the thump of Satori's shoes hitting the wall. The sound of the lock sliding into place once he closed the door sent a little shiver up your spine.

You sat on his bed, back against the headboard, legs crossed in front of you. You fixed your little devil horns, made sure the tail was pulled out from underneath your butt, and pushed the coreset up to give your cleavage a boost.

Inhale. Exhale.

You'd never dressed up for something like this before, and you had no idea how Satori would react. You imagined he would immediately pass out with a nosebleed.

His footsteps neared his room, and you heard him in his chipper, sing-song voice. "What is my little ___-chan up to, hmm?"  

Once he reached the doorway, his eyes landed on you, and his entire body froze. His jaw went slack, looking like a fool with his mouth wide open in dumbstruck awe at the sight before him.

You gave him your most innocent smile, spreading your legs open just a hair. "Come eat up your dessert, Satori~" you said with a tone so sultry it turned his bones into mush.

Satori's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his matted hair in exasperation. His rusty red locks had grown longer than when you first met him - curling behind his ears and covering his forehead. "Baby..." he said, walking into the room, towards the bed. "Baby, baby, baby," he repeated in English, his favorite language to express excitement. He crawled onto the bed, stopping just before you to sit and cross his legs while he looked you over.

Your skirt was cut so short he could almost see the sweet spot between your legs. The garter straps hugged the meat of your thighs and hooked onto the thigh high stockings that fit the muscle of your calves.

Those pointy little horns sat just a little bit lopsided on your head. That slim, pointed tail traced back to your rear, and the collar around that gorgeous neck of yours drew his eyes down to your barely contained cleavage.

"Baby," he said again, almost a whisper. He leaned forward onto his knees to hover over your body and cradled your face between his hands. Hungry crimson eyes gazed right through you, a shade darker than you've ever seen before. "I'm the luckiest man in the world," he said, then pressed the softest, most gentle kiss to your lips.

Your heart fluttered, hands coming up to thread your fingers into his hair. "Happy birthday," you murmured, bringing him back down for another kiss.

The kiss quickly went from gentle to fervent, his hands slipping up your calves over the stockings, over the garters and up to your thighs, rounding out over your ass. He gave your fleshy cheeks a squeeze and broke the kiss, going straight to your neck, kissing every bit of your exposed skin.

You spread your legs more, asking him to come closer, and he did. Your hands slipped underneath his shirt, lifting it above his ribcage, up to his shoulders. He barely moved back to remove the shirt completely before pressing his lips back to the skin over your collarbones, giving you gentle nips with his teeth.

This was the Satori you wanted in bed.

He sighed into your chest, going down to kiss the swell of your breasts. "My little devil," he said, sucking on the skin right above the coreset. "You're so sexy," he bit down a little bit harder, eliciting a hiss through your teeth. "So beautiful," a kiss over the bite, moving to your other breast. "So irresistible," both of his hands came up underneath your ass to lift you up off of the bed and into his lap. You yelped, forgetting his lithe frame could muster so much strength. He placed you in his lap, leaning forward to run his tongue across your lips and into your mouth once you opened up for him.

"Take your pants off," you mumbled, pulling at the waistband.

"I don't wanna stop kissing you," he whined, hands running up along your waist and over your back to press you up against his chest. At that moment you wished you could feel the warmth of his skin, if it weren't for the coreset.

"How are you gonna fuck me if you don't take them off?"

"Mmmfgh," he groaned, a funny sound that only Satori could make without killing the mood.

He pulled away, then quickly leaned forward to steal another kiss, and pulled away again. You crawled off his lap and sat back, watching him rise to his knees to shimmy pants down his hips. He sat back on his butt and kicked them off then crawled back to you, caging you between his arms and legs.

You pushed him away and gave him a devious smirk. "If I knew dressing up like this would flip your switch, I would've done it a long time ago."

He returned your grin with a wicked gleam of his own, eyelids drooping down to look at you with his most perverted leer. "Achievement unlocked?"

You slapped your hand over his face, pushing him away with a laugh. Spreading your legs again, you drew his attention down to your skirt and flipped it up over your stomach to show him your bare cunt.

He groaned, a mix of a whine and a curse, before diving down to attach his mouth straight to your dampened folds. He licked and sucked, pressing the flat of his tongue against your clit before sucking on the little bud, repeating the motion over and over until you started to writhe.

"I-" you began, letting out a huff of a breath, "would tell you to slow down," your hand flew up to grip onto his hair tightly once he pushed a finger inside you. "But it's your night," you huffed again, a strangled moan leaving your throat. "Go wild, Satori."

He removed his mouth and went straight from one finger to three, rubbing the pads of his fingers up against the walls of your core stretching you out and looking up at you with glossy, hazy eyes. "Best dessert I've ever had," he groaned, watching you tilt your head back, chest heaving as your body started to tremble. He went back down to lap at your folds, replacing his fingers with the muscle of his tongue, pushing it deep into your little hole.

"Fuck, Satori, I'm already close," you sighed, rocking your hips up against his mouth. He pulled away again. "I want you for breakfast," he pushed his fingers back inside your cunt, now sloppy with the slick of his saliva and your arousal. He gave a bruising kiss to the inside of your thigh, "And I want you for lunch," a kiss to your other thigh, "And dinner," he groaned, feeling you clench around his digits, pumping harder, faster - long, nimble fingers reaching the very depth of your core.

Those little horns started to slide off your head as you tossed your head forward and back, watching him work between your legs and thrashing back against the headboard whenever he hit your sweet spot.

You lifted your hips off the bed, urging your body to the peak of pleasure. Your voice kept going, encouraging him to go faster, harder, sighing, panting, moaning.

And just like that, every muscle in your body tightened, and a gush of liquid splashed out over his fingers and onto his tongue, his nose, and his chin. Your moans turned into brief, choked sobs as your orgasm rocked your body. You gripped your fist into his hair, so tight you ended up bringing his body forward.

"God," you groaned out load, dropping yourself back down to the bed, your body now spent. He kissed the spot under your navel, over your belly button, back up to your chest, your neck, and your chin. You felt the tips of his fingers slip underneath one of the stockings and pull up and away, letting it snap back down against your skin. You giggled, bringing him up for a slick, sloppy kiss.

You both remained as you were, his forehead now resting against yours, eyes closed, soft pants easing back to controlled breaths. Your left arm slung over the back of his neck, and your right remained tangled into his messy locks, the pads of your fingers giving a gentle massage to his scalp.

"How do you feel?" you asked, too tired to open your eyes.

"Hmmm," he hummed, not quite coherent enough to give a substantial response.

Suddenly, both of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he flipped himself over so that you were on top, straddling his waist. His back rested flat against the bed, that mischievous look once again casting a wicked shadow over his face. He glanced over to where the little devil horns fell onto the bed and placed them back where they belong atop your head.

"I feel like I'm just a peasant, sentenced to be one of hell's slaves for all eternity."

You grin, catching onto his narrative. "Such an unfortunate fate. You were once a hero, but were corrupted by the temptation of  lust."

Satori grinned, a toothy, mischievous grin, and his eyes narrowed maliciously. "Now I'm cursed with the inability to ever be satisfied..." He breathed a laugh. "We're so fucking weird," he murmured, "Sounding like Team Rocket..."

You leaned down to give him a kiss. "Weird, normal. Whatever. As long as we're having fun, right?"

[petersasteria]

You Again?! - H.O. // SPECIAL

Pairing: Haz x Reader

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

Series Masterlist

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This will take place on chapter 22: Dream. It starts when they meet for the "first time".

Please read until the end for a message.

* * * *

Tom opens the door in surprise, "I told you to text me when your classes are done. I was supposed to pick you up." He steps aside and lets Y/N in. He closes the door and smiles, "I'm so glad you went straight here! I have someone here for you! It's Harri-"

"Harrison." Y/N gasps at the man in the living room. Harrison turns around and his eyes widen, "Y-Y/N."

"Hold up- you already know each other?! How and when?!" Tom's jaw drops. Y/N and Harrison look at each other and at Tom.

"I dreamed about him."

"She was in my dream!"

"What?" Tom asks, clearly confused. "You guys dreamed of each other? How is that even possible?"

"Well, I don't know, but it happened." Harrison shrugs.

"I'll, uh, leave you guys to it, then." Tom excuses himself and leaves.

Y/N walks closer to Harrison and sits next to him, "I'm Y/N."

"Harrison."

"That was some weird dream, huh?" Y/N chuckles. Harrison nods, "Yeah, it was so real. I thought I would wake up next to you or something."

"I mean... we could always make that dream a reality... if you want?" Y/N asks. "I'm- I'm willing to try if you're willing."

"That'd be cool, actually." Harrison smiles. "Oh and for the record, I wouldn't treat you bad like in that dream. Even I thought it was fucked up."

"It was so fucked up." Y/N laughs.

Later that night, they went on a date. It was going well, but something just felt off. It was neither Harrison nor Y/N's fault. It just wasn't working. They strangely got along platonically, but romantically like what they expected and like what Tom expected.

"It's not working, is it?" Harrison says after taking a sip of his champagne. Y/N just stares at him and he chuckles, "Just tell the truth. I won't get mad, I swear."

"It's not working." Y/N says softly. "I don't know why it isn't working. We're supposed to work out!" she whines before taking a bite of her food. "Why isn't it working??"

"Maybe our dreams were from the alternate universe or something." Harrison says. Y/N looks at him weirdly.

"Okay. Hear me out." Harrison starts, "Maybe our dreams were showing us what it'd be like if we get together. I feel like we already have someone for us, but we just didn't notice them. Maybe that's why we're not feeling anything romantic towards each other, because we already have that someone. Am I even making sense? I'm not sure anymore."

"That makes perfect sense." Y/N nods along. "I'm not even being sarcastic. But who are we supposedly romantically involved with?"

Harrison shrugs, "I don't know mine, but I know yours."

Y/N looks at him with hope and excitement in her eyes. Harrison laughs at her and shakes his head, "You don't know who it is?!"

Y/N just shakes her head.

"It's Tom, you idiot." Harrison teasingly smiles.

"Harrison, we're just best friends!" Y/N tells him, but Harrison disagrees.

"I really feel like he's the one for you. I'm a hundred percent sure that he's the one for you. I'm also a hundred percent sure that he feels something for you, but he's just forcing you to date me, because he thinks you don't feel the same way. I'm a hundred percent sure that you feel the same way, but you just don't know it." Harrison says with a proud smirk on his handsome face.

"You seem a hundred percent sure with everything, huh?" Y/N playfully rolls her eyes.

Both of them continue eating in comfortable silence. Y/N uses this time to think about what Harrison said just then. Does she like Tom? Does Tom really like her like Harrison claimed he's a hundred percent sure of? She wasn't sure, but she did ask Tom about his feelings in her dream.

"Harrison." Y/N says.

"What?"

"I just remembered something from my dream."

"Spill it."

"In my dream, Tom and I got drunk and I asked him if he ever had any feelings for me. He said that he did have a huge crush on me that lasted for years and that was the reason why he was so protective over me when guys would throw themselves at me. Then I asked him why he didn't pursue a relationship with me." she trails off.

"What did he say?" Harrison asks.

"He said he didn't want to risk the connection that we have. He said that if he lost it, he wouldn't know how to handle it." Y/N says.

"He said he moved on, though." she adds.

Harrison snickers, "In your dream, he did. But I assure you he hasn't moved on in real life. Some dreams don't come true and we're proof of that."

"...Are you a hundred percent sure?" Y/N teases.

"You're never going to let that go, huh?"

Y/N shakes her head, "Nope."

"For fuck's sake." Harrison chuckles. "But yes, I'm a hundred percent sure."

"Do you feel the same for Tom?" Harrison asks in all seriousness.

"I'm not really sure. This is all so sudden and I don't want to say yes for the sake of saying it. Maybe I should give myself some time to really think about it." Y/N answers.

"That's a wise decision, Y/N. I hope you figure it out soon. Tom's a div, but he's great." Harrison says.

"Trust me, I know." Y/N laughs.

"In my dream he said that I was your perfect match, because I'm the type that won't give up so fast. I think he failed to see that he was your perfect match all along." Harrison smiles.

The next few days were spent studying for finals and preparing for graduation. Y/N grew closer to Harrison and they eventually became best friends. They didn't tell Tom about what they discussed that night on their date. They just told him that they realized that they were better off as friends.

Y/N has been figuring out her feelings for Tom and her realization came after her graduation celebration. She's sleeping over at Tom's place and she notices that Tom's gaze would linger and he would do anything to make her comfortable.

'Maybe Harrison's right.' she thinks.

"So tell me what really happened." Tom says and hands her a glass of wine as he sits next to her on the couch.

She takes a sip of her wine and sighs, "You really want to know?"

"Positive." Tom nods.

'Here goes nothing.' she thinks.

"We didn't work out... romantically. We just saw each other as friends that night." Y/N says truthfully.

"Oh." Tom says. He didn't know if he should feel happy or sad. "But what about the dreams?"

"Harrison said that maybe our dreams were showing us the alternate universe; y'know like, 'what if we ended up together?' kind of thing. He also said that we might already have someone in our lives that we have romantic connections with and he said he was sure I had one." Y/N explains.

"So, is Haz a conspiracy theorist now?" Tom jokes, but he couldn't shake the thought of Y/N having romantic connections with someone who wasn't him.

Y/N laughs, "Maybe, but he was right."

"Oh?" Tom says with his eyebrows raised. Y/N nods, "Yeah. I do have romantic connections with someone. It just took me a while to see or notice it."

"Who?" Tom asks, emotionally preparing for heartbreak.

"You."

"What?" Tom looks at her in shock.

"Harrison said that he was a hundred percent sure you had feelings for me. He also said that he was a hundred percent sure that I felt the same way, but I didn't know it. Tom, he's right. He was absolutely right, because I realized that I do feel the same way." she confesses.

Tom just looks at her. He's still in shock.

"In my dream, I asked you if you ever had feelings for me. You said yes. Then I asked you why you didn't pursue a relationship with me and you said we had a bond something so beyond that you couldn't describe it. You said you didn't want to break that bond, so you moved on." Y/N rambles and scoots closer to Tom to cup his face in her hands.

"Tom, what if our bond becomes stronger, because you and I just naturally work together? You know me better than I know myself and when I needed you most, I didn't have to tell you, because you already knew. You took care of me when my parents basically disowned me and I will forever be grateful for that." Y/N says.

"Likewise, I do the same for you. I have this gut feeling whenever you aren't feeling okay and I let you cry when you're with me, because I know you can't let it out with other people. I know all of your usual orders at every single restaurant or coffee shop that we've been to together. I know them by heart, because I know that you want to binge eat your usual orders when you want to have a cheat day. I also know that you hate the day after cheat day, because you regret eating a lot then you'll eat a piece of celery to start the day despite not liking the taste of it."

"I also began to notice the way you look at me and Tom, no one's ever looked at me like that before. You look at me as if I was the one who put the stars in the sky, but you don't realize that the sparkle in my eyes only happen whenever I see you. Tom, you're the most important person in my life and it would make me really happy to start a relationship with you." Y/N finishes her little speech and at this point, both of them were crying.

"Please say something, Tom." she pleads.

"Y/N, all I have for you are four words." Tom says as he takes both of Y/N's hands in his.

"Let's hear it." she smiles.

"It was always you." Tom grins.

Y/N chuckles and says, "You have no idea how happy I am."

"Same here." Tom smiles. "I, uh, shit. Y/N, I-"

"You what?"

"I-I lo-love you." Tom stutters and curses under his breath. "I wanted to say 'I love you' for the first time without stuttering, but I failed."

"It was perfect nonetheless. It makes it real." she sighs happily. "I love you too."

They smile at each other and Y/N leans in to give Tom a light peck on the lips. Tom's jaw drops and Y/N moves back to her original place on the couch.

"You kissed me." Tom says.

"Yeah, so?"

"YOU KISSED ME." Tom repeats and looks at Y/N with a stupid grin on his face. "You've never kissed anyone before and I know that because if you would've told me. I'm your first kiss!"

She ignores him and pulls out her phone, "You probably had better kisses."

"Our kiss was the best, though." Tom states. She looks at him in confusion, "How come?"

"Because it's my kiss with my future wife." Tom says with no hesitation.

They made it official that night. They even called Harrison who was on vacation with his family. Harrison was delighted for his best friends and he told Y/N that he told her so. Y/N moved in with Tom after a week of dating and it was the best decision she ever made.

Dates were consisted of studying for the board exam which she passed in. Tom was really proud of her. "When I get in trouble, I'm counting on you, okay?" Tom joked when they got the results. Y/N lightly smacked his arm for that.

After two years of dating, Tom proposes to her in the comfort of their shared home. It was just the two of them and they were cuddling on their bed when Tom did it.

"Y/N, will you marry me?" Tom asks. Y/N immediately sits up and looks at him, "What?"

Tom sits up and clears his throat, "Okay, hear me out. We've known each other for so long and to be honest, even before we started dating, we could already pass as a couple. Then things got better when we started dating two years ago. It's the best two years of my life and I love you so much and I don't want to let you go. So Y/N, will you-"

"Yes." she says immediately. Tom grins and leans in to kiss her. He pulls away after a while and opens the drawer next to the bed to get the velvet box. He shows it to her and he opens it to reveal the most beautiful ring with her birth stone on it.

She gasps at the sight of the ring and Tom quickly takes it out of the box and puts it on her ring finger. "Tom, it's beautiful." she gushes.

"Only for the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Tom grins.

They get married a year later and went to Maldives for their honeymoon. They lived happily after that. They didn't plan on having kids, because of their careers, but they want kids in the future.

They were thankful for Harrison for helping them get together and Harrison was glad that he could help his best friends.

Sometimes we don't know that the person we would end up with is actually right in front of us. Don't wait for an experience like Harrison and Y/N in this alternate ending.

* * * *

TODAY'S A SPECIAL DAY BC IT'S THIS FIC'S 1ST BIRTHDAY <3

A year ago today, I published the first chapter here not knowing if people would love it. Originally, this would only have a few chapters, but I guess I got carried away. I'm so blessed to have every single one of you to support and read this.

Thank you for reading it. Thank you for all the likes and reblogs. Thank you for all your entertaining comments! I loved reading every single one of it.

You guys are amazing. I love you all. I hope you continue to support me in my other fics <3

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[thorne93]

Inside The Criminal Mind (Part 24)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2441

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, crime fighters,” Garcia began as she stood before the screen. “This one is a doozy. Bring your sunscreen because thirty bodies were discovered in the ocean in Florida. And none of them were in one piece.”

“Did fish get to them?” Luke asked. 

“No, they were found in bags. The, uh, nature of the mutilation was done by the unsub.” 

“Where is this at in Florida?” Tara wondered. 

“Bay Harbor, Miami. Hence the icky name of Bay Harbor Butcher,” she explained. 

She went through the pictures on the screen as you were drinking. You didn’t pay much mind to the things being said until she said that and you choked on your water. Coughing. 

Your blood ran icy hot. Your veins had been replaced with white hot rods of steel, your legs replaced with jello. 

Jesus fucking christ this wasn’t happening. 

Spencer glanced at you and patted your back. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Miami?” you asked once you got through coughing and everyone was done staring at you. 

“Yes, and it appears that some of them may be the eighteen cases you were looking at before you went down,” Garcia explained. “So, guess you’ve got some more to help you with the profile. If there is a bright side at all to this.”

“And on the not so bright side, we have another case in Oregon. Which means we need to split up. Reid, Y/N, Rossi, and Luke go down to Miami. Y/N since you know most of the victimology, catch everyone up on the jet. Matt, Tara, JJ, and I will go to Oregon.” 

The team was dismissed and everyone started to head for the bullpen before Spencer grabbed your sleeve and kept you in the conference room. 

“Hey, are these his?” he whispered, sure that everyone was out of hearing range. “Are they Dexter’s?” 

You nodded, a look of apology in your eyes. 

“Are any of them yours?” he asked even quieter. 

“Possibly,” you said. 

His face morphed into upset. “Alright. Call him and see what he’s doing to handle this. Tell him we’re on our way. I’ll go get our overnight bags out of the car.” 

You nodded again, trying to keep your composure. Jeez, lying was getting easier with Dexter, but when you were faced with scrutiny, it was earth shattering for you. 

You took out your phone and went into Derek’s old office where no one had been using it for years. You shut the door and turned the blinds so no one could see you. You called Dexter and paced, your heart hammering. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his tone serious. 

“Hey, so we just got a case for Miami, Florida. For dismembered bodies in bags on the ocean floor!” you whisper-yelled. “When the hell were you going to tell me?” 

“Look, I’ve got it under control.” 

“Really? Then why is my team being called in?” 

“That’s Captain Matthews. It’s a political move. Your team does the work, he gets the credit.” 

“Do you have any plan on how to fix this? Were you ever going to tell me?” 

“I’m working on it. I didn’t have time. They found the bodies last night and I’ve been up all night trying to think of a way to get ahead of it.” 

“You need to work faster.” You glanced up at the clock. “Shit, I gotta go. I’ll be down there in a few hours.” 

“Looking forward to it,” he sarcastically responded before you rolled your eyes and hung up. 

You exited the room where you saw Spencer with his back turned towards you. 

“Hey,” you greeted as you walked up. 

“What’d he say?” 

“Not much. We’ll talk more when we get there.”

With that, you two took off to the air strip and boarded the jet. Once everyone got settled and in the air, the victimology took off. 

“Alright, Y/N, catch us up,” Rossi directed. 

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your nerves steady as you looked around your teammates, trying to do your best to hide every minute facial expression, tick, inflection in voice, change of speech pattern. Lying to the beat cops was one thing. Lying to your husband was hard, emotionally. Lying to a team of the best profilers and cold case crackers - that would be a miracle. 

Not to mention you had to be sure not to include any details that weren’t found in the files sitting right in front of you.

But you had to do it. Your life, Dexter’s life, even Spencer’s life depended on it. You had to be cool, calm, controlled. Dexter had tested it out on you once or twice, lying, being interrogated, but it was hard with him. It was a killer interrogating a killer. 

“So when I was studying this, I narrowed it down that most of them had a run in with the Miami PD before going missing. Now though, that doesn’t fit. Not everyone had a run in with the law. In fact, some of them led model lives. That’s where I got stumped.” 

“Did you interview all the detectives and everyone that had come in contact with the ones that did go through the Miami PD?” Luke asked.

“Just about everyone on their payroll. Everyone admitted to interacting with some of them, to some degree.”

“Alright so we know the unsub chose an underwater grave, why?” 

“Forensic countermeasure?” Spencer offered and you tried not to smile at him, a sign that you knew he was trying to help you and Dexter. 

“But if that’s the case, why put them in bags? Wouldn’t you just dump the body parts by themselves, let the fish take care of the rest?” 

“The unsub might worry about the parts floating, or washing to shore. This way, if the bag is weighed down by something, it’s at least going to stay put on the ocean floor,” Spence countered and you wanted to thank him for thinking quick on his toes. 

“Did you get anything out of the victims’ families?” Rossi questioned.

“A little. Some said the ones that had run ins with the law wouldn’t be surprised if they left, others were still in hock that they left the house without their cell phone.” 

“Was there anything to tie them to the others? Maybe a past they didn’t show on paper. Did Garcia find anything?” 

“Not that I could see,” you admitted, trying not to sweat bullets. “I didn’t get a chance to get all of my info over to Garcia though. I had so little go to on. I checked into some of the cleaner ones pasts but came up empty,” you explained. That wasn’t a lie. Dexter had found out most of the dirty secrets and told you once you confronted him. 

“Alright. Luke, question the victim’s families again. Now that they’ve been found, I want to see if they’ll share anything else. I’ll go with the Reids to the PD. Hopefully a familiar face will set them at ease.” 

I hope something puts me at ease, you thought before looking to Spencer who gave you a face you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Before you knew it, and before you were ready, you were landing in Miami, and at the police department. 

“Ah, Dr. Reid, good to see you again,” Captain Matthews greeted, shaking your hand. 

“Likewise. Captain, this is my husband, Special Agent Dr. Reid, Special Agent Tara Lewis, Matt immons, and my boss David Rossi.” 

“So good to have you all here. You can set up in our conference room and I’ll gather my men,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Rossi replied with a nod. “Ah, so you left everyone with a good impression of the Bureau I see,” he teased and you smiled.

“Let’s hope so.” 

All of you entered the conference room and began setting up, when it was only an hour later that cops and the Captain started to file into the room. Dexter and his sister were some of the last to come in. You made eye contact and for the life of you, you couldn’t be mad. 

Well, okay, you were pissed, panicking, under tremendous pressure. 

But Dexter was on the line here too. No, when you saw him, you just saw… a friend. Dexter was smart, cunning. He had the help of his cop father to lead him out of this, and with you and Spencer on the inside, you could hopefully pin this on someone who deserved to be the unsub. 

When you saw Dexter and he gave you the tiniest of side grins, you felt… better somehow. 

Matthews spewed off some bullshit about working together and then everyone was let loose. Your team worked on the case some more, until it was 10 oclock at night. They hadn’t gotten very far. You all had to wait on forensics. It looked like most of them matched the files, but nothing had been confirmed except about five, and four of them were criminals. 

When everyone went their separate ways for the night, you and Spence headed to Dexter’s small workspace in the back. You knocked on his door and he  looked up. 

“Hey, got time for some company?” you asked with a smile. 

“Sure. Let me just put these up and I'll meet you downstairs okay?” 

You nodded before the two of you turned and walked out of the bullpen.

“Are we just supposed to go drinking with him now? Be friendly?” Spencer asked, the irritation clear in his voice. 

“I don’t have to pretend. He is my friend,” you reminded. You two had stepped into the elevator. “This is a chance to catch all of us up on what happened.” 

Spencer nodded, putting his head back against the wall. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said. 

“I know. I’m so sorry to put you through this. You don’t deserve this part. I never thought you’d have to cover up for me like this.” 

“It’ll be tricky, but we’ll make it work,” he promised, looking down at you with a promising smile. The two of you got off the elevator and waited for Dex, who arrived in just minutes. 

“So, your place or mine?” he asked with a grin. 

“Yours,” you answered. You rode with him to his apartment. As soon as the door was shut, Spencer laid into him, something you weren’t expecting. 

“How could you let this happen?” he demanded, getting close to Dexter. 

“I didn’t let anything happen. I was scrupulous. I was careful, painfully so.” 

“Right,” Spence said sarcastically, his face made of stone as he stared Dexter down. “So careful that your victims were found by a fishing expedition.” 

“Look,  I made sure there was no trace evidence, fiber, DNA. Nothing can trace back to me,” he assured him calmly. 

“And what about Y/N? Can any of it trace back to her?” 

“No, I disposed of her bodies myself.” 

“And look at just how careful that turned out,” Spencer retalitated. 

“Hey!” you demanded. “Knock it off. Both of you. Dex, is there any cause for alarm right now?” 

“You tell me, you’re on the special task force assigned to this. What do you have? What have you given them?”

“Not much of anything. Since we are waiting on confirmation, we’re just reviewing missing persons cases.” 

“Then all we can do is wait. I can’t be proactive about something that shouldn’t even be happening. Nothing points to me, nothing points to Y/N. So can we all relax a little bit, please?” he asked, begging in his tone. 

“Relax? You want me to relax? Because of your negligence, my wife’s life hangs in the balance. If they trace anything back to her--”

“They won’t,” Dexter assured firmly, darkness encasing his face and tone. “As for your wife, she approached me, remember? She didn’t have to go rogue. That was her doing. Don’t blame me for her crimes. I’m just as exposed as her. Most of the bodies are mine, if anything, it’ll all be pinned on me.” 

“That sounds just fine to me,” Spencer snapped with a coolness.

“Hey,” you interjected. Both men were staring each other down before you sighed. “Arguing won’t help right now. Dexter’s right. We can’t fight something that hasn’t happened yet. We know they’ll look at victimology. All that will tell them is that they’re criminals and they have a vigilante.”

“And that most of them came through Miami PD,” Spencer reminded. 

“That wasn’t all though. We still have a few that won’t show up on those radars.”

“With Garcia? She’ll dig up all kinds of dirt.” 

“Yeah but maybe we can point her in someone else’s direction,” you offered.

“You want to pin this on someone innocent?” Spencer asked.

“For once, I agree with your husband. We aren’t doing that.” 

You balked. “Are you serious?”

“That’s taking an innocent life,” he reminded. “I can’t do that.”

“Okay, so how do we defer blame from us?” you inquired. 

“Sabotage the evidence,” Dexter realized, hope in his voice.

Spencer frowned. “Evidence? What evidence? All you have right now are the bodies.”

“Exactly. If we can decompose them quicker, they won’t be able to see the injection sites or pick up as much forensic evidence.” 

You questioned, “So what do you suggest? A giant body snatching?” 

“Not the worst idea,” Dexter commented. 

“We’re not hauling off tons of slimey dead bodies from a forensic lab,” Spencer argued. 

“Well, they’re being contained in that state of the art warehouse. Is there a way you could mess with the AC? Maybe swap samples? Anything?” 

“We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here, guys,” Spencer suddenly said.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, right now, the BAU has no leads. Like we said, even if we identify all the bodies, all they have is a pattern that vaguely leads to a vigilante. At best, we’ll profile a cop, someone within the police department, that will point to a dozen people. I think for now we should just see if it blows over. Maybe we won’t get any solid leads. But if someone sees one of us tampering with evidence, questions will begin to spark.”

You looked to Dexter. “It’s not a bad call. You don’t have a plan of action anyway. Best we can do right now is lay low, see what they dig up.”

“You mean what you dig up?” Dexter replied. “It’s your team on this. I’m trusting you to keep their eyes diverted.” 

“I’ll do my best but our team has solved nearly every case we’ve come across.” 

“Make this one of the ones you don’t solve,” he ordered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[drsilverfish]

Nothing Gold Can Stay... (15x04 Atomic Monsters)

Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

Hey everyone, as ever, I am catching up British-time, so I haven’t jumped into your posts yet, but I’m looking forward to it!

I’m sure there are some great gifs and discussions already out there about Dean and his “man meat” grief-eating. 

But I thought I’d start with Veronica and Robert Frost.

Those of you who’ve been following mine or @occamshipper​ ‘s musings on the use of alchemical themes in Dabb-era SPN will know that gold was highly significant to the medieval alchemists. It was their ultimate goal, to turn “base metal” (lead) into gold, and that was understood as a metaphor (or a mirror on the earthly plane) for the refinement of the soul on its journey to God. 

Next week’s episode, 15x05, is titled  Proverbs 17.3, and in the Bible, Proverbs 17.3 reads (King James version):

The fining pot is for silver, and the furnace for gold:

But the LORD trieth the hearts

Gold is, officially, a theme. As is the symbolic red of the heart.

As Becky tells Chuck, it’s not the monsters (ooh shade at the Leviathan, whom Chuck thinks were “great”, just like he thought the ending of Game of Thrones was “great”) which SPN fans are really interested in, it’s the emotional interactions between the characters - i.e. their hearts. 

Becky, in Perez’ metafictional commentary, is the fan-fiction representative who has come to understand the SPN story better than sucky origin-writer Chuck. She knows it’s about the emotional notes, the heartfelt conversations between the hero characters (including Cas, since she shades his non-mention all too often in Chuck’s MOTW stories) - aka the real “gold” of the story.

Interesting also, in terms of alchemical colour symbolism, are Sam’s God-wound induced “red visions”, which seem to be of an AU in which Sam has succumbed to his old demon-blood addiction (symbolic of his S5 apparent “destiny” of possession by Lucifer):

I was waiting for the Ouroboros (spiral/ circular narrative) reference to 5x04 The End (in its numerical correspondence to 15x04). And here it is, because Sam in the red-vision in 15x04 speaks in a similar voice to Lucifer!Sam in The End. Dean in the 15x04 red vision is a desperate fighter and Sam has said “Yes” to the demonic, just as was the case in 5x04 The End.:

In alchemy, there are four traditional colour-stages along the alchemical transformational road from lead to gold - nigredo (blackening) albedo (whitening) citrinitas (yellowing) and rubedo (reddening). Reddening is the final stage before gold. So Sam’s red-visions, and the gold which becomes a theme in 15x04 by means of the quotation from Robert Frost’s beautiful poem, are linked pieces of alchemical symbolism. 

Their meaning, I think, is that just as Amara’s link to Dean through the Mark of Cain changed Amara for the better (she learned about love through experiencing Dean’s “heart” through the Mark in S11, thus shaking off The DarknessTM to become clothed in yellow, the colour of the sun, at the start of S15), so Sam’s link to Chuck through the God-gun (of equalising/ revenge) will (hopefully, eventually) change Chuck for the better. A balance of powers - the feminine God-principle and the masculine God-principle, both learning compassion and becoming their higher selves (achieving the spiritual synthesis of “gold”) through their links to the (red) hearts of the Winchesters.

That means suffering for the Winchesters along the way, of course, as they too, undergo the alchemical process of self-transformation by (eventually) fully facing their Shadows (their unconscious); Sam’s fear of being permanently “contaminated” by the demon-blood fed to him as a baby, and Dean’s fear of abandonment (stemming from the loss of his mother) which leads him to be over-controlling and to act out and push people (ahem, Cas) away.    

But back to Veronica. Veronica who quotes Robert Frost’s lovely poem in her tribute speech to her “best friend” Suzy (possibly, her lover - that subtextual reading is certainly available).

Veronica is a fascinating character, because she is “read wrong”, by Dean in particular, who thinks she’s the vampire, the one killing her cheerleader rivals in order to get the top spot. And he’s wrong because, as Sam points out, she has braces, a no-no for vamp-teeth. Dean is really sarcastic about the memorial speech Veronica is practising for Suzy, of whom she says, “I’m lost without Suzy, it’s like a piece of my heart is gone.”  

Here is Dean, being a sarcastic little shit about Veronica’s emotive school-girl speech: 

Of course, Veronica’s eulogy for her dead beloved, who was “gold” and thus (in her Frost’s poem analogy) was too beautiful to last in this world, is too painful for Dean to hear. It verbalises what he cannot (he can’t even bear to speak Castiel’s name, all episode):

“My best friend Suzy who I miss like she was a part of me, and in many ways she’s still a part of me.”

In subtext, Dean also reads Veronica “wrong” because he thinks she was Suzy’s rival, when in fact, she was her lover (part of a Veronica-Suzy-Billy love-triangle, the F/F element emphasised by their attendance at a school called “Beaverdale” where “beaver” is of course slang for vagina). 

Look at all those red hearts (symbols of romantic love) on Suzy’s memorial pin-board, Indeed, look at all that red in general. A “match” for Sam’s “red-visions”. If Sam’s rubedo (alchemical reddening) trial is his God-wound, Dean’s is his separation from Cas: 

Veronica, it seems (unbeknownst to the Winchesters) is a neophyte hunter (as well as, in subtext, Suzy’s lover) a sleuth, on the trail of whoever killed Suzy. And it looks like she knows it was a vampire. When Sam and Dean are questioning her (and she’s clearly suspicious of them) we see her with a syringe of what looks like blood behind her back, ready to jab them:

We know, from 1x20 Dead Man’s Blood, that in the SPN universe, a dead person’s blood can temporarily take down a vamp. So it seems that whilst Dean suspects Veronica of being the vampire, she suspects the Winchesters (a recurrence of SPN’s perennial - “Who is really the monster?”/ it’s not black-and-white theme. The reference to Dead Man’s Blood is also interesting, as this was an early episode in which Dean defied his father (stepped out of being John’s “good little solider”, who did see monsters in black-and-white) yet now, we have, Ouroboros-style Dean regressing to old John-learned behaviours (conceal, don’t feel) after the second death of Mary. 

I love this little Veronica detail. It’s an un-explored thread in the story, a piece of fan-fiction catnip begging for further elaboration. More Perez meta-narrative, in fact, in which he suggests that, despite the sinister Chuck and his insistence on a final SPN ending with a gravestone reading “Winchesters”, the story itself is WaywardTM; it is capable of fluidity, of control being wrested from the origin-creator (God). After all, Chuck created free will, and despite his desire for total control, he cannot undo this wild-card element in the narrative, which Veronica’s little secret hunter-identity (in subtext, also, her secret queer identity) just like Becky’s fan-fic, is a mirror for. 

Veronica’s citation of Frost’s melancholic poem becomes a metaphor for (Dean’s) lost love. Just as Sam’s mention in the final Impala scene, of how he still thinks about Jess often, becomes a verbalisation for Dean’s own constant (unspoken) thoughts about his own lost love; Cas.

 Veronica and Billy (who were possibly both Suzy’s lovers; although in text it’s Billy, in subtext Veronica, true to SPN’s ongoing bisexual subtext in relation to Dean) exchange a memorial bracelet to Suzy in front of Suzy’s picture, as Veronica tells Billy a piece of her heart is gone:

Both are mirror images for Dean - Veronica-the-vampire-hunter who mourns excessively, and Billy-the-vampire, who has killed the person he loved (just as Dean has driven Cas away):

Dean is forced by Chuck’s authorial hand to kill Billy, who is both a representation of his own lost son, Jack (Chuck’s cruel re-staging of the scene in which Dean almost kills Jack in 14x20 Moriah) and of Dean himself (symbolising Dean’s present “self-murder” aka his self-punishment and repression re Cas):

Nothing gold can stay....

Frost’s poem is also used by Perez as a metanarrative commentary on the sadness we all feel as SPN draws to a close. Everything beautiful has its time to fade and die, Frost says; even SPN, says Perez.

Frost’s poem also makes reference to Eden, to the Fall, and how that was, in God’s plan, an inevitability; the descent from the Godly to the earthly. 

It’s noticeable how, just as The Fall was presented as Eve’s fault in the Bible, Chuck is, yet again, trying to eliminate the feminine principle from the narrative, just as he has always done throughout SPN (which began with the deaths of Mary Winchester and Jess). Chuck kills Suzy, as the driver of the episode, and he “poufs” Becky (the fan-fic writer) out of existence (possibly into an AU) so he can finish the story the way he wants, just as he has re-murdered Mary Winchester (or possibly also poufed her into an AU) to continue the Winchesters’ suffering. 

But Chuck’s determination to arrive at a tragic ending, an ending in which the feminine principle is still subjugated, Perez suggests, can be subverted, because the seeds of subversion are already there in the story; Veronica’s secret and subversive sleuthing (slash her subtextual queerness), Becky’s emotionally open, subversive, fan-fic, and the continued yearning of the Winchesters for true free will (not yet knowing Chuck is still actively f-ing with them) despite the burden of their grief,  

If gold is the result of the final alchemical synthesis, of “masculine” and “feminine” principles, of the conscious and the unconscious mind, here represented by Chuck-the-author and Becky-the-fan-fic writer (who were once a couple, but are now broken up, just as Chuck and Amara, Dean and Cas, are currently broken up).... Then, the alchemical symbolism suggests, the darkness of the break-up stage (The Abyss, which we are currently in) can be overcome by the red (rubedo) power of the heart - Sam’s God-wound trial, his heart-connection to Chuck, and Dean’s own heart-wound trial, the loss of his (heart) connection to Cas.

Yes, we are still working on the power of love.

Love ultimately confounded Chuck’s apocalypse in S5, when TFW went “off script” and, Ouroboros-style, it can do so again in S15.

Chuck can be overthrown (transformed), Perez tells us, by his own story; and thus the story can find its own (heart-filled) free will ending. 

Perhaps, after all, something gold can stay.*   

*My usual disclaimer applies - none of this suggests or implies an inevitable Dean/ Cas romantic (unequivocal) textualisation. 

Although, I would like to think that Perez, by including the by now all too formulaic Dean-is-bisexual subtext via bisexual (subtextual) mirroring in 15x04, is commenting, meta-fictionally, on Chuck’s (aka TPTB’s) (wearisome) eternal tendency to do this, thereby suggesting that the over-turning of Chuck’s narrative control should, by rights, also include the overturning of this formula into... something new. 

[yasxgamal]

Basic Information

Full name: Yasin Gamal Pronunciation: ee-ah-ceen gah-mah-l Nickname(s): Yas, E. Birthdate: November 20th, 1986 Age: 34 Zodiac: Scorpio Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him/his Romantic orientation: Panromantic Sexual orientation: Pansexual Nationality: English Ethnicity: Egyptian Current location: London, UK Living conditions: Yas' place is a one-bedroom mess. It's a good flat, spacious and in a good location, all things considered, but he's not the best at decorating. Apart from the very odd artwork or two hanging crookedly on the walls, there isn't much more to it. He keeps his space clean and tidy when he has the time to do that, but it's not a very personal place. Also probably smells like smoke most of the time -- or, air freshener if he's trying to impress you.

Background

Birthplace: London, UK Hometown: London, UK Social Class: Wealthy if you count the parents' money, Middle if you consider his own money and lifestyle currently, and his tendencies to waste it all on cigarettes. Educational achievements: A really fancy degree in Computer Sciences and Computer Engineering at the most expensive college in the UK Father: Omar Gamal Mother: Safiya Gamal Sibling(s): Samir Gamal and Aisha Gamal. Birth order: Samir, Yas, Aisha is the youngest. Pets: Ramen, the stray cat that crawls in through his window and occasionally spends weeks sleeping inside, and then disappears for months on end. Previous relationships: One big relationship in college for 3 years, a miserable breakup. Then mostly only casual things after that, none he would consider true relationships. Arrests: N/A Prison time: N/A

Occupation & Income

Current occupation: Programmer for the Time Machine project Dream occupation: Programmer for the first working Time Machine Past job(s): College Era: various internships, waiter, freelance photographer for kids' parties, freelance I.T., tech teacher for the elderly, tech teacher for children, coder and manager for a pornographic film company's website. Post-College Era: has helped coding and programming several apps and softwares independently, then a stable job at GoodCore Software Ltd. as SQA Lead. Spending habits: Yas spends a lot on cigarettes and technology, but everything else he doesn't care enough for. In debt?: No Most valuable possession: Emotionally, his own laptop or phone, and all the photos and memories stored in them, as well as his work. Legally and monetarily, though, it's the BAFTA statuette from his sister, which he now gets to keep for a year because he won a bet (it's fine, she has more than one).

Skills & Abilities

Physical strength: Average Speed: Average Intelligence: Above Average when it comes to all things technology, Average on some other subjects. Accuracy: Average Agility: Above Average Stamina: Above Average Teamwork: Great in environments where everyone is delegated a certain job and he gets to do his thing in his corner to add to the mix. When it comes to people wanting to mess with his codes, he gets a bit stubborn and difficult to deal with. Shortcomings: often lets his pride ruin things, a bit of an inflated ego when it comes to his work, bad at communicating. Languages spoken: English, Arabic Drive?: Yes Jump-start a car?: No Change a flat tyre?: Yes Ride a bicycle?: Poorly Swim?: Yes Play an instrument?: If you count the guitar lessons in his childhood (he does) Play chess?: Yes Braid hair?: No Tie a tie?: Yes Pick a lock?: No Cook?: Yes, the very bare minimum, and he hardly does it.

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Rami Malek Eye colour: Greyish green Hair colour: Black Hair type/style/length: Shaved on the sides, originally short on top but it grows out too fast and he can't be bothered to get a haircut, so it grows out curly. When it starts to become a mop and look like he has a helmet of hair on, he cuts it short again, and repeats that cycle. Glasses/contacts?: No, but they're needed. He has shit eyesight and no one ever forced him to get glasses so he never did. Don't ask him to read any signs that are far away. Dominant hand: Right Height: 5'9 / 175cm Weight: 154 lb / 70kg Build: Slim Exercise habits: Nonexistent, but he does a lot of walking Skin tone: Olive (Type IV) Tattoos: The initials of his siblings, A.S. in a simple font, on the bottom of his ribs on his right side. They all have matching ones. He continuously tells them the joke that they should get a fourth sibling with an S name, so he can get A.S.S. tattooed instead. Piercings: None Marks/scars: Several small scars around his legs and arms, from climbing around and getting into trouble as a middle child desperate for attention. A more notorious scar runs up behind his left elbow from a night in college when he got wasted with his friends and had an accident with a knife (don't ask). Clothing style: Black, a lot of black. The most colourful thing in his closet might be a dark grey jumper. Very minimalistic in the sense that he never wears patterns or colours or graphic tees, it's always just very dry and kind of bland. He probably could get into fashion if he wanted to, but he feels bad spending so much of his hard-earned money on the high-fashion stuff. Also he can frequently be spotted wearing those compression gloves/braces on his hands, for carpal tunnel syndrome Jewellery: A couple necklaces that have no emotional attachment besides "I thought they were cool so I bought them", but he's never without them, even when they mostly just hang inside his shirts. Dabbles in rings if he's feeling fancy. Allergies: None Diet: Consists of mostly snacks. He occasionally buys the healthy kind, like a couple granola bars or some fruit, but if he's going through a big project, he'll only snack. Anything easy to eat with one hand goes. He does, however, understand the value of nutrition and that he needs to fuel his body properly every once in a while; when that happens, he resorts to ordering food from some healthy restaurant nearby. It's basically a couple salads a month and then nothing but Doritos for days straight. Physical ailments: Carpal tunnel syndrome happens often enough that it's almost chronic, because he doesn't usually take breaks or stretch his wrists out like he's supposed to. Back pain from sitting all day (and bad posture) is also so present that he barely notices it anymore.

Psychology

MBTI type: INTJ Enneagram type: Type Five Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Temperament: Somewhere between Phlegmatic and Melancholic? Element: Water Emotional stability: Who is she! Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert Obsession(s): Outdoing his siblings, no matter how much he loves them Compulsion(s): Working to the point of forgetting to take care of himself Phobia(s): Acrophobia and atychiphobia Addiction(s): Cigarettes/Vaping Drug use: Sometimes wrongly and terribly pops an Adderall when pulling all-nighters. Has smoked weed before, but he doesn't love the slowness of when he gets high. Alcohol use: Not very often nowadays, but the occasional blackout still happens. He's known to become a completely different person when he drinks, much more loose and fun and happy, so he does it sparingly Prone to violence?: No Prone to crying?: No Believe in love at first sight?: Yes, but doesn't think he's the type to ever experience that, since it takes a while for him to get close to people, so he believes in it as an abstract concept

Mannerisms

Accent: RP English Speech quirks: A lot of pauses between words and sentences, since he often thinks a lot before he speaks. The occasional ums and uhs and some stuttering if his mind is working faster than he can speak, too. Hobbies: Photography, playing video games, reading novels (graphic or otherwise), finding passive-aggressive memes to send into the Gamal siblings groupchat Habits: Stealing wifi, smoking and vaping, ordering delivery of everything instead of getting it himself Nervous ticks: lip chewing, tapping fingers, bouncing one knee, scratching his neck/jaw or touching his nose Drives/motivations: It's all for the glory, babey Fears: Never achieving anything grand Sense of humour?: It goes as far as memes and roasting his loved ones, but not much further than that. He's usually not comfortable enough to crack jokes, but you might get a sarcastic comment or two if you're lucky. Deep down, he can be sharp and quick-witted, but it doesn't come out often, unless he's having drinks. Do they curse often?: Hecc yes, probably as a form of rebellion against his posh parents

Favourites

Animal: Tarsier Beverage: Strong black coffee with two spoons of sugar Book: Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes Colour: Green Food: Zalabya Flower: Jasmine Gem: Peridot Mode of transportation: Walking, and if not, the metro Scent: Oranges Sport: Tennis Weather: Rainy enough that he doesn't feel anyone's judgement for staying inside all day Vacation destination: Japan

Attitudes

Greatest dream: Finally being famous for his work Greatest fear: Never achieving anything big enough to make him happy, and being forever miserable because of it Most at ease when: Left by himself or enjoying someone else's company that he's truly comfortable with, probably in silence, doing his own thing Least as ease when: Forced into environments where he has to put on fancy clothes and pretend to be enjoying himself when he's not. Alternatively: when he's going on hour 32 without any sleep and he's denied more coffee Worst possible thing that could happen: Achieving greatness but realising he needs something else in order to feel fulfilled and be happy Biggest achievement: His degree and hopefully the first working Time Machine Biggest regret: He doesn't like to say he regrets things, so there's nothing he'd call a huge regret. But if he had to say something, he'd probably say it was not telling that one high school crush that he liked them.

[5hfanfiction]

Love Will Remember

Chapter Thirty Eight: Wedding Planning

             Partial Smut Warning (A/N) Forgive me for I am awkward when it comes to writing this. Read at your own risk.

“I can’t believe we’re finally getting a Camren wedding!” Maggie squealed as she threw herself on the couch beside her girlfriend.

After last night’s shenanigans, the group had assembled into Lauren’s penthouse to discuss everything that had happened. After a few breakdowns, especially when Lauren discovered that the reason Camila couldn’t come back to her was that she physically couldn’t. Everything seemed to have been going rather well. Now, they were onto planning the wedding at 4 in the morning.

“I know right. It’s about damn time these two tied the knot,” Ally agreed from the floor. “I should probably check up on Will and Elena. I’ll be right back,” she dug out her phone and went onto the balcony to call her husband.

Camila was currently sitting in her fiancée’s lap, while the woman’s arms  were wrapped tightly around her waist. It was though, if Lauren were to let go, the woman would slip out of her grasp and she’ll never see or hear from her again.

“When will you be giving the people what they want?” Dinah asked Maggie. Everyone and their mothers knew not to ask the restauranteur this question, but the women weren’t exactly acquainted so she didn’t know.

Maggie sat up on her elbows, while Ariana kinked an eyebrow at her. “Oh that’s not going to be happening anytime soon. Marriage is a no no for me.”

“Oh really? So you have no intentions of marrying me? What’s the point of us dating then?”

Dinah snickered in her corner of the room. “Ooh you’re in trouble.”

Maggie sat upright and gulped. “That’s not what I meant! I mean yeah I never wanted to get married before but I mean, spending the rest of my life with you doesn’t sound like a bad idea! You know, you can be Mrs Lindemann one day,” she rambled.

“Your name is a mouthful,” Mendes commented which caused Maggie to roll her eyes. “If anything, I prefer Grande but that’s also a dumb name. Ew.”

The restauranteur groaned loudly and buried her face in her hands. “That’s not the point! My point is, marriage was never a thing to me because for years, I had to watch my parents argue over pointless bullshit. For years, I watched my dad cheat on my mom and when he came back home to us, he acted as though nothing was wrong. He didn’t physically abuse us, but the verbal abuse was enough to fuck with my head and make me feel as though, I wasn’t shit,” she ran a hand through her hair. “So maybe yeah, I never wanted to get married. But you’re not like that Arii,” she took her girlfriend’s hand in hers. “It’s still the early stages of our relationship, so can’t we just see how this goes? I love you and you love me. Isn’t that enough for right now?”

Ariana nodded and pulled her girlfriend in for a kiss. Their lips brushed together. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. When it seemed as though the kiss wasn’t going to end, Dinah threw a pillow in their direction.

“Okay that’s enough, some of us have virgin eyes.”

Camila snorted. “Really Dinah? You’re like the biggest whore I know.”

The Polynesian clutched her chest and gasped. “Wow, Mila. You cut me deep, you cut me so deep.”

“But you didn’t deny it,” the Cuban laughed when her best friend flipped her off.

Lauren cleared her throat and slapped Camila’s thighs gently for her to stand up. “Anyway, guys it’s getting late, and I think you should head out,” she looked over her shoulder and shouted. “That means you too, Ally. You can carry the food with you.”

The oldest of the group stepped out of the kitchen with a bowl in hand, she swallowed and smiled. “I’m sorry, I was starving,” Lauren laughed. “But she’s right. Let’s go and give the newly engaged couple some alone time. If you know what I mean.” She winked.

“ALLY!” The couple exclaimed at the same time.

She laughed. “I’m just saying. From what I know, you two need to be reacquainted, it’s been three years after all,” the woman winked again.

The CEO ushered out the women quickly to avoid hearing anymore of the conversation. She shot the door and locked it immediately as the last person left. 

“Well, that’s that,” Lauren laughed awkwardly. “Can we talk?”

Camila nodded sceptically from her position on the couch. “Are you breaking off the engagement? You don’t like me, do you? Fuck, you probably don’t even like me. You just said yes, out of pity. Right?” She started rambling. “I’m so stupid. Of course, you wouldn’t want to marry me, I don’t even deserve you. You’re so perfect, and I’m just…shit.”

Lauren shook her head furiously and sat next to her fiancée, pulling her onto her lap. “No no, Camz it’s not that. Shh. I’m not calling off anything. And I do love you, more than anything, so please don’t doubt my feelings for you,” she placed a light kiss on Camila’s lips. “I’m the furthest thing from perfect and you’re the furthest thing from shit. You’re the most amazing, beautiful, smart, funny, talented woman I’ve ever had the opportunity of falling in love with. I may not deserve you, but I want you. You have no idea how much I want you.”

The brunette sighed. “What’s there to even love about me, Lauren? Nothing,” her eyes glistened over. “I hurt you! I did something I didn’t want to ever do. I broke your heart and here I am, back as though nothing even happened.”

“What’s there to love? Camila, what kind of dumb question is that?” The older woman scoffed, she titled her fiancée’s face to look her in the eyes, as she ran her thumb to catch her tears. “I love your passion when it comes to what you love, I love the way you value people’s feelings, I love the way you love love. But most importantly, I love the way my heart speeds up with just the mere thought of you. I love how I can fall more in love with you just by hearing your laugh. Or when you randomly sing terribly on purpose. I love when you go to any store for a few items, you come back with shit we don’t actually need,” Camila giggled softly at the mention of her shopping habits. “Lastly, I love when I can’t see myself doing something without wishing you were there. How I can’t watch a romance movie without wishing we were cuddling in bed. I love how you make me feel, Camila. And well, if that’s not something to love, then I don’t know what is.”

Camila connected their lips, after that whole speech, what else was there left to say? People would’ve assumed that the sparks they felt when they last kissed years ago, would’ve been long gone, but if it seems as though it had increased the years they were apart.

Pulling back from the kiss, breathless, they rested their foreheads together.

“You ignite a flame within me, that I didn’t think was ever possible,” Lauren lightly kissed the brunette on the lips. “Let me show you how much I love you. How I’ll always love you,” she looked for any sort of hesitation and found none.

(A/N) Prepare to cringeeee 🙈

Lauren led them to her bedroom. A room where no other woman ever had the privilege of venturing into since Camila’s disappearance. She couldn’t find it within herself to go with someone. There wasn’t any time for the brunette to even observe the bedroom, because before she knew it, Lauren attached their lips and pulled her body to hers. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, you could’ve said that they were practically made for one another.

Lauren’s hands found their way to Camila’s back and then slowly began tracing small patterns underneath her shirt. Her breath hitched in her throat when she felt the coldness of her fiancée’s hands on her hot skin.

Lauren took that moment to quickly lift her up, with Camila wrapping her legs around her waist as she was carefully carried over to the bed.

It had been so long since either of them had been intimate, but Camila had increasingly felt more nervous as Lauren’s body hovered over hers. 

She was always very insecure and shy when it came to this. She was the last person who had touched her, not just physically but emotionally, and the last person who she had touched. So there she was, feeling as vulnerable as ever, because she may not want to do this again. What if after this, Lauren wouldn’t want to be with her anymore? Could she possibly blame her?

Would you even want to have a lifetime of terrible sex?

“Camz, what’s wrong?” Lauren whispered into her ear, noticing her discomfort.

The brunette sighed loudly, “I haven’t…you know…did this in years,” she muttered then buried her head into the pillow beside her. “I might disappoint you.”

Lauren’s mouth opened but she quickly shut it and tilted her head to the side, “So you mean to tell me, three years in a coma and you never found someone else?” She asked cheekily.

Camila shoved her fiancée away, and sat up. Her inexperienced mind felt incredibly insecure and tiny in this moment, “I’m being serious, Lauren. Do you want to have a lifetime of terrible sex?!.”

Lauren laughed loudly and sat beside her. She grabbed Camila’s hands before she kissed her knuckles and locked eyes with her. “Do you really think I’m going to care about the sex when I have you back? Sure, it’s important, but I remember having a lot of fun when I was with you.”

Camila chuckled sarcastically and huffed against Lauren’s shoulder, “Why? I don’t even remember how to do some things,” she shifted her head into her hands and cursed quietly before telling her what she always deeply feared, “I’m probably going to be shit at all this…as usual.”

Lauren turned Camila’s body so that she was looking into her eyes again and she shook her head ‘no’ before placing a kiss on her lips, “You’re not going to be shit, Camila. And if you’re not comfortable doing this, we can hold out until after the wedding if you want.”

“No…” she interrupted Lauren, and straddled her. Camila’s hands went instantly behind her neck and started to play with her fiancée’s hair. “I do. I really want to do this with you. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

The CEO smiled and ran her tongue along the brunette’s jawline. “Camila Cabello,” she sighed. “You will never disappoint me. As long as it’s with you, I’ll never be disappointed.”

Lauren kissed the brunette again and then laid her down on the bed. Her body being held up by her hands which were placed by Camila’s shoulders. She leant down and kissed her again, but this time more passionately and desperate. Lauren pulled back and looked at the woman underneath her intently, to make sure that she still wanted to do this.

Camila nodded and reassured her, when she started undoing the buttons on her white shirt. She tugged the shirt off and then quickly undid her bra; tossing it carelessly to a side of the room. Lauren gasped softly when she saw her. It felt as though it was forever since she saw her like this.

Self consciously, Camila’s hands came up to cover herself. Lauren gently took her hands and moved them away from her chest.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Amor. I love you and I accept every single thing about you,” Camila couldn’t help but blush lightly. It all seemed like deja vu; like their first time all over again.

With that Lauren slowly kissed down Camila’s collarbone until her head was directly above her breasts, and her lips were tracing small kisses along the curve. Her back arched when she felt Lauren’s lips come in contact with her breasts. She couldn’t help the small moan that left her lips, when her fiancée’s lips wrapped around her nipple and began gently sucking on it, while she played with the other.

After alternating, Lauren’s lips travelled further down her chest, kissing and nibbling in the soft skin. She was now kneeling between Camila’s legs and playing with the button of her pants. She looked up at her expectantly and all the woman could’ve done was nod, because as usual, Lauren had left her breathless.

Before Lauren could do anything else, Camila grabbed her body and brought her back up; to pull her into a deep passionate kiss. As their lips molded together perfectly, and their tongues danced together, Camila undid the zip of her fiancée’s dress and she quickly got out of it. To her surprise, Lauren had not been wearing a bra. She bit down on her lip hard when she felt their breasts brush together. Camila’s hands travelled down to the button on her pants and yanked at them aggressively.

Lauren chuckled against Camila’s lips, “A bit eager, are we, Amor?”

She shook her head but moaned loudly when the older woman began kissing down her body, and skilfully pulled her pants off of her body, leaving Camila in only her underwear.

Lauren attacked her lips and started moving downwards again, she kissed her throat, down to the valley of Camila’s breasts. She settled herself between the brunette’s legs and stroked her thighs gently.

Camila’s heart started to beat wildly in anticipation. Lauren made her way down to the other woman’s stomach. She kissed every inch of her body, trying to familiarize herself to it again.

“Baby, please,” Camila begged and looked down at her with pleading eyes.

“I’ll give you what you want in a minute,” Lauren locked eyes with her. “Just let me appreciate every single part of your body,” she casted her eyes back onto Camila’s body. “Let me kiss every inch of you. Let me show you how much I love you. How much I want you,” she murmured against Camila’s skin.

Lauren slipped her fingers in the waistband of her panties, slowly pulled them down, and tossed them aside to where their clothes laid on the floor.

“Tell me what you want,” Lauren breathed out sensually.

Camila let out a low moan at the sound of Lauren’s raspy voice. “Make me yours, Amor.”

Lauren looked at Camila once more asking for permission, seeing no hesitance, she slowly pushed herself inside.

The brunette couldn’t help release a throaty and loud moan when she felt her walls clamping around Lauren.

(A/N) Okay I’m sorry. I have to stop there. If anyone actually knows me while reading this, knows I’m too awkward. Plus I like being a tease so 👻

***

“Okay, so we’ll go with Camila, given that we’re technically her best friends,” Dinah pointed to her and Maggie. “It’s bad luck to see each other in the wedding dress before the wedding.”

“And we’ll go with Lauren to ensure that she doesn’t choose a black dress,” Mendes laughed and elbowed her friend gently. “Come on, Mani, let’s head out.”

Ariana and Ally remained behind. The two had only spoken briefly on few occasions but were never stuck together.

The nurse rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “So, I guess it’s just the two of us, huh?”

“It sure looks like that,” Ally chuckled. “Do you want to go look at cakes? I mean I could’ve probably made one, which as I mention it now, does seem like a really good idea, but we can always go look at them. See if they can make better ones than me.”

Ariana nodded. “Sure,” they started walking around aimlessly until they stumbled upon a bakery. “Listen, I’m not too big on these things. If it was up to me, I probably would’ve bought a couple dozen cupcakes or whatever,” Ally laughed. “But I think after everything they’ve both been through, it should be special even though Camila is a pretty chill person.”

The baker greeted them when they entered the bakery and handed them a pamphlet with various wedding cakes to look at. He also brought out some samples not too long after for them to taste.

They went through various samples with Ariana being obsessed with each flavour but Ally had been a bit more critical.

“I really like this one,” Ally pointed.

Ariana choked. “That’s fucking huge. But it looks nice. It’s extravagant but at the same time, not over the top. What flavour did you like best? Because they’re all really amazing to me.”

“I really like the pink champagne. It has a nice aftertaste,” Ally said after she took another bite out of the cake. “It’s really moist. It’s also going to tick Lauren off because she doesn’t like pink,” the older woman laughed.

Ariana snorted. “Wow and to think we all thought you were the sweet one,” she shook her head laughing. “I guess this will be our contribution to the wedding?”

Ally nodded. “Let’s go buy this and wait around for these losers.”

After hearing the price of the cake, Ariana almost had a heart attack, but she still paid for it nonetheless because Camila was her friend and she wanted the day to be special for the couple.

***

Maggie, Dinah and Camila had been through various stores looking for that one perfect dress. Much to the bride’s protests, her friends insisted on looking for perfection.

“Okay, so Camila, help us out here,” Maggie whined as she held up two dresses. “Did you ever have an idea of your dream dress?”

The brunette shook her head 'no’. “I always thought it would’ve been spontaneous. We probably would’ve gone to Las Vegas, I would’ve been wearing some ripped jeans, my favourite blue flannel and black boots. Romantic, huh?”

Dinah smacked her. “You’re no fun! Plus, that’s the gayest outfit I’ve ever even heard about.”

Camila rubbed her head and laughed.

“Wait, Camila?” Maggie furrowed her eyebrows. “Are you even gay? Or Laurensexual? Cause I mean, we’ve never done the whole label thing before.”

“And we never will,” the brunette stuck her tongue out at her friends. “I’m not gay, but I’ve never been opposed to dating guys either. I guess it doesn’t matter to me. I just love love.”

“Ew,” Dinah made a weird face. “Love can suck my dick.”

Camila rolled her eyes. “You’ve just been done dirty by all the douchebags you’ve dated CheeChee. You’ll find Mr Right one day, your person, all you’ll be like 'Where have you been all my life?’ And then you’ll be one of those annoyingly cute couples.”

Maggie laughed loudly and shoved a dress at Camila. “Okay, whoever willingly puts up with Dinah for the rest of their life deserves an award. Honestly.”

“Puta,” Dinah shoved the restauranteur. “I fucking hate you, my god.”

Camila laughed and went into the changing room to try on, what felt like her millionth wedding dress. “Please don’t kill yourselves out there. I can’t afford to lose my best friends.”

“Camila? Can you kindly tell Margaret who you actually like more?” Dinah asked from outside of the changing room. “Tell her it’s me, the captain of this ship, the one who dried your tears constantly over the time I knew you.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “You don’t call me that! It’s an old woman’s name,” she whined. “And we all know Camila likes me more! I’ve stuck by her side for three years. It’s me. Right, Camzii?”

The changing room door opened and the moment Camila stepped out, both Dinah and Maggie’s jaws dropped. The dress she had on complimented her figure perfectly. She blushed profusely.

“Do you guys like it?” Camila asked shyly. “I mean, I like it but is it a bit too much? Do you think Lauren would like it?”

Her friends took a moment or two to collect themselves until one of them finally spoke up.

“This…this is the dress. This is so you, Camzii,” Maggie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. “Fuck, I’ll marry you now if I could.”

Dinah laughed. “Don’t let Ariana hear you say that,” she turned to look at her friend again. “Damnit, Mila. You look so beautiful. I’m trying so much not to cry right now, but oh my goodness. I never expected I’ll live to see the day.”

They pulled Camila into a group hug for a few seconds.

“So…are you saying yes to the dress?”

Camila shook her head and smiled. “I’m saying yes to the dress.”

Dinah kinked an eyebrow and tapped at her chin. “So now that we found your dress, I think we need to address an important matter,” Camila stared at her blankly. “Who is going to be your maid of honour?”

Maggie snorted loudly and threw her hands up in defence. “As much as I love Camila, and believe that I’m her best friend, I’m not trying to start world war 3 with you, Deenah Jane. That position is all yours.”

Camila laughed and threw an arm around Maggie. “Thank you for being the bigger person, Mags. I love you,” she kissed the woman on the cheek.

The dancer pouted and crossed her arms. Though she was internally screaming at the fact that she’ll be Camila’s maid of honour. “So I’m the maid of honour by default? Then I don’t want it.”

“Cheechhhh,” Camila whined and took her friend’s hand. “Maggie, I’m sorry. But the position was always going to be Dinah’s,” the restauranteur nodded in understanding. “You’ve been there with me since the beginning. You were the first person I let in besides Lauren. You’re the first real friend I ever had. It’s not by default. This was always going to be yours.”

Dinah smiled and pulled her into a hug. “Ugh, I love your stupid, annoying ass so much. Come on, let’s go pay for this.”

***

“I hate everything,” Lauren stated. “Find me something in black. Something that matches my soul and I think we would be able to agree on something.”

Normani scoffed. “Stop being so damn difficult! Why didn’t I stay behind with Ally and Ariana?! You’re being so annoying. Pick. A. Damn. Dress!”

Lauren smirked. “I don’t want your opinion,” Normani rolled her eyes. “I’ll pick a dress only if it’s black.”

Mendes smacked her boss upside the head. “If you don’t pick a dress right now, you annoying piece of shit, I swear to god, I’ll…I’ll,” she weakly threatened.“

"You’ll what?” Lauren crossed her arms and kinked an eyebrow In superiority. “Let me have it, Mendes.”

She sighed. “I’ll tell Camila.”

“We both know, Camila wouldn’t even care about the dress I’m wearing,” Lauren pointed out. Which was actually true. Her fiancée was never a big fan of extravagant gestures and anything too flashy, so she knew Camila wouldn’t have any issue with what she was wearing. “But fine, for you sake, I’ll look at some of your options.”

Normani threw her hands up. “Ugh. Finally! The lord is good.”

“Amen,” Mendes agreed. 

The two women went looking through various racks to find the perfect dress for their friend. They didn’t have much to go on besides the colour black but they definitely wasn’t going to let her wear black to her own wedding.

“Okay I have two options,” Mendes held up two dresses to Normani. “Which one? Or should be let her try the two?”

The journalist surveyed the dresses, “I guess we’ll have her try them on and we’ll see from there.”

They headed back to look for their friend, and to their surprise, she had just stepped out of the changing room in her pick of a wedding dress. A woman had been standing with a clipboard in hand admiring the dress.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Normani breathed out. “You happen to have some taste after all.”

Lauren chuckled. “I just was rummaging through some of the racks and this lovely lady here came up to me and offered her expertise.”

The blonde woman stuck her hand out and greeted the women. “Hello. I’m Pnina Tornai,” she shook Lauren’s friends hands. “I was informed that Miss Jauregui was here and I know that she’s such a huge fan of my work. I couldn’t just not meet her and offer my expertise.”

Mendes and Normani high fived one another.

“And you managed to get her to settle on a dress? You’re a miracle worker,” Mendes cheered.

Pnina laughed softly. “Well what can I say? I know my way around dresses. I just need to make minor alterations for the bride and you can come back a month before the wedding.”

“Well that’s that. We’re getting this dress! No ifs or buts,” Lauren laughed at her friends’ reactions.

Pnina smiled when she watched Lauren looking at her reflection in the mirror. She stood behind her. “Lauren?”

The CEO looked at her.

“Are you saying yes to the dress?” The designer asked with a smile on her face.

The woman laughed. “Yes. I’m saying yes to the dress.”

Lauren thanked Pnina for her assistance and went around looking through various racks with her friends to choose the perfect bridesmaid dresses. They were a lot easier to please when it came to choosing. When they were done, they made the necessary payments and went to regroup with the others.

***

After making their purchases, the group reassembled at a nearby restaurant. Camila, Dinah, Maggie along with Ariana and Ally were already seated at a table with their various meals in front of them.

“Wow, Camz. I can’t believe you’re eating without me,” Lauren gasped as she took a seat next to hear fiancée. She placed a kiss on her cheek before grabbing something out of her plate.

Camila laughed. “I was actually planning on waiting, but Dinah forced me to eat without you. She’s the culprit,” she pointed a finger at her friend.

The dancer shook her head 'no’. “Oh don’t be blaming me, Miss I’m-Starving-Lauren-Can-Kiss-My-Ass.”

“I never said that! I just said I was starving,” Camila pouted. “Babe, I’m sorry.”

Lauren laughed. “It’s fine, Amor. Don’t worry about it,” she signalled for the waitress and placed an order.

They sat, chatted and laughed. It had been quite sometime since the group had felt as though it was complete. It now had an addition of two.

When we can honestly ask ourselves who means the most to us, we find ourselves thinking back to those who stuck with us through all the bullshit that life threw at us. All the crappy moments of our life, where someone sat by our side, held our hands, dried our tears. Life is an awful place not to have a friend.

“I’ve missed this,” Camila spoke up randomly causing everyone to look at. “It’s just being here with you guys, makes life just feel like it’s finally going to be something worth looking forward to. I have my best friends in the world,” she looked at her friends, “and the love of my life here with me,” Camila looked at Lauren lovingly. “Can life get any better?”

“Aww! Camzii, stop you’re being too cute. I think I might just cry,” Maggie clutched her chest. “Life can get better if I had dessert though.”

Ariana rolled her eyes at her girlfriend. “I think what my girlfriend here is trying to say, is that we’re really happy that the universe seems to be working in your favour. We’ll always be here for you,” she reached across the table and grabbed Camila’s hands. “We love you.”

***

Well guys, the book is coming to an end. There are two more chapters and an epilogue then it’s adios Love Will Remember 👋

Hope ya enjoyed the chapter 🦋 Wattpad: Commander_Camren

[rottenbrainstuff]

Last Jedi Thoughts

Everyone is chiming in with Last Jedi thoughts, so here's mine. Spoilers, obviously! Long and rambling and pointless discussion full of lots of spoilers below the cut.

In general I did enjoy the movie. I have some complaints about it that are really just technical in nature, a bit like reading a book with a good story that has a lot of spelling mistakes. You can still enjoy the story while you grumble about the spelling. And it's funny: watching the extremely negative reaction it's gotten from some people, especially fanboys, has had the effect of making me defend it more rigorously.

The one thing I was worried about was the characterization of Luke. Luke was always My Fav and the really important thing about him to me was his gentleness and compassion. I’m not sure this movie gave me exact the character I wanted, but like, I think I’m ok with it? It was different, and that’s ok.

Look, here's the thing. If you hate the new movies, and you think they're doing terrible things to your favourite characters, well, like, you always have the old movies, and you can ignore the new movies. Shit, you even have an alternate future laid out for you in the EU so like. Just ignore them. I fucking hate the prequels with a passion, you guys, but the prequels didn't ruin Star Wars for me. I just.... don't watch them. Ever. And I ignore everything that happened in them. And. I'm good. Like. That's all it takes? Anyways. The very best thing that I loved about the movie was all the playing with the audience expectations. (man though I think the stress shortened my lifespan. I'm telling you guys, if I watched Finn actually fly into that cannon I probably would have left the theater) Like. Man, I just about had a heart attack like three times. I think this movie shortened my life span. I really especially loved the plotline with Poe and Admiral Holdo, fuck I loved that so much. Guys I was just dying in the theatre when they set it up, DYING, my friends. That is probably my least favourite trope in the entire world, the hardass woman walks in like she owns the place and fucks everything up because she's a hardass, and the heroic rule breaking man saves the day by breaking rules because that's how it's won. I was dying. And Poe was WRONG, SO VERY WRONG. He got a lot of people in this movie killed. A lot of people. But like. It's not because Poe is a bad person. Leia AND Holdo can both see that. I really honestly think he learned a lot, and grew as a character. When he repeated Holdo's "spark of the resistance" speech later on I was so goddamned touched, obviously he has learned so much and has come to respect this person. I loved it. Oscar Isaac is a really charismatic and likeable actor but like, honestly Poe didn't have a whole lot to do in TFA. I feel like I know a lot more about Poe now and I like him so much more. I am kind of hoping the next movie keeps going with this "turn expectations on their head" thing because I really enjoyed it. Well it was sure funny watching Poe bullshit Hux on the comm, and funny to watch him get thrown around like the shit he is, but I'm not so sure... is it wise to set him up as the comic relief like that? I kind of feel like he could be a really sinister threat now, with Kylo Ren in charge and Hux ready to shoot him at the first opportunity... but I'm not sure I take him seriously. I feel like Hux probably had a job in customer service before he was a First Order Commander and that's why he's such a nasty little dogshit now. That sour face he has is the face of a man who has had to deal with a lifetime's worth of dumb customers. I can see myself as Hux in a few years... Ohhh that tricksy tricksy trailer, hunh?!? I was just about choking to death when Ren was in the cockpit and aiming at Leia’s ship, because!!! he presses!!!! the goddamned trigger!!! in the trailer!!! we saw it! Oh my fucking no! And then he TAKES HIS GODDAMNED THUMB OFF and I died. (well actually I started crying) Who else had a goddamned heart attack there????????? Rose was delightful. I wish she could have had more time with Finn cause they were delightful together. DJ (Benicio Del Toro's character) was just...... awful. Like, awful in a good way. Like. That character right there is everything that's really wrong in the world, everything that prevents us from being better. He's not "evil", he's not supporting the First Order because he believes it's the right cause, he's not even an ignorant asshole who doesn't know any better... he knows exactly what he's doing and he does. not. care. One of my favourite lines in the entire movie was Finn yelling at him that he's wrong, and he says, "maybe." Like, not in a sarcastic villain way like Kylo Ren telling Rey "we'll see" when Rey says she's not telling him anything. He means it absolutely sincerely. He doesn't even pretend he's right, like "oh kid, you're so naive, you'll see it my way someday," nope, just, you're right, he might be wrong. He doesn't care. That took my breath away. The porgs: I liked them! They were funny! I wasn't annoyed! And as for the stuff I didn't like.... welp, guys what I'm hearing is that you're hearing a lot about what's wrong with the movie and it's bumming you out a bit. So you know what, I don't know if I'm going to get into it. I do have some complaints about this movie but they're mostly technical. I have some issues with the plot and pacing, and I think the visual composition and visual narrative are weak, (and sometimes just downright bizarre) which is kind of a disappointment when traditionally, Star Wars has always been very big on the visual composition. There were a lot of moments were I was going "oh, that is a very odd choice". To be very honest, it reminded me a lot of the prequels, the prequels had the exact same problem. HOWEVER, the reason I actually liked this movie whereas I can barely even watch the prequels is that all of the characters are emotionally resonant, the themes of the movie are strong, and the playing with expectations was so delightful. Oh no wait, I do have one complaint: why the hell cast Gwendolyn Christie if you're not going to use her? What a waste. I'm hoping against hope she's going to be resting up in a med bay in the next movie and actually have some shit to do, but I'm not holding my breath. Guys I think I could have lived my whole life without that green milk. WTF Now here's some things I'm *confused* about. Why.... why are so many of you talking about Kylo Ren like... you seem to have split him into two people? Almost like Kylo Ren is this malevolent evil spirit occasionally possessing the body of the pure and lovely Ben Solo? It bothers me to see this and I actually kind of wish people wouldn't do it. It's all one single person, and like, that's kind of the point. Kylo Ren has fucked up, a lot. He's made bad decisions and has disappointed literally every single person who ever had faith in him. He feels conflicted by his actions though and hates himself down to his last atom. That's all him. That's BEN SOLO down there making these shitty decisions, and I feel like that's important. I don't like the character because I have excised all his faults and attributed them to some outside force, I like the character because he's complicated and struggling and because he has the capacity for compassion and darkness all in the same breath. I mean I feel like that's kind of why he insisted on Rey saying out loud what he had done. Say it out loud. I own it. That's me. And a monster, yes, I own that, too. I'm not your poor lost prince who just needs a hug and I'll come following you back to the Resistance ship. So guys, like, let's own it, too. It wasn't Ben's alter ego Countess Boochie Flagrante doing all the bad stuff. Life, and the decay underneath, that makes more life, right? I see some of you despairing about Rey closing the door and leaving without Ben, but I'm also a bit confused about that. Like... you didn't really think he would go, did you? This is only the second movie in a trilogy, and just like the original trilogy, it's ending on a low note with lots of conflict and unanswered questions for us to build up from in the next movie. Like, did you see the anguish in his face? Does this look like the face of a man who has lost the last spark of compassion in his heart, and is now ready to unhesitatingly rule the galaxy as the new Supreme Leader? And do you really think Rey has lost all that amazing compassion that she found? All that's happened is that she's realized that her approach didn't work, there's too much history there for her to just walk in and ask him to come with her. Honestly I agree with what a lot of you have said: Rey can't save Kylo Ren, he has to save himself. For as much as he talked to her about giving up the past, he is hilariously unable to do so himself. He can't forgive the people in his life for failing him, and he can't forgive himself for all the stupid shit he has done. He won't be able to go with Rey until he does that. I have no idea what he needs to be able to do that, or if it's even possible. I guess we'll see. Lastly I see some people saying Star Wars has become Pride and Prejudice in space. The comparison is funny but I don't know if I quite agree... Kylo Ren was haughty in the very beginning, but ever since the interrogation scene he's been pretty bluntly honest in his admiration of her. She's being pretty blunt about her intentions, too. And her journey hasn't been so much trying to see the truth about him, but rather becoming a strong and independent person on her own. The problem now is that they're both trying to convince each other to do what they think is right, so, as other people have pointed out, I am instead getting a JANE EYRE in space vibe. So we're at the part in the story where Jane has realized she can't be with Rochester and go against everything she feels is right, and she's left him to go and be her own person without him. ...the comparison is slightly worrying though because Rochester had to loose everything and also get seriously injured before Jane came back.............. (the whole "you're nothing" thing was... I don't see it as him insulting her out of a Darcy-like pride, I see it as...... a really big thing for him in this movie seems to be blunt truth. Yes, I'm a monster. I killed my father, say it out loud. Here's the truth about what happened with Luke that night. You know the truth about your parents, say it out loud. Accept the unpleasant truth. So here's the unpleasant truth she needs to accept. She's nothing, she came from nothing. She has no secret Skywalker or Kenobi parents who loved her. Accept that truth and then move forward.) So now let's talk about Rey, and let's talk about Kylo Ren. So, I think the big success of the Star Wars franchise has always been that all the characters are very emotionally resonant. It so happens that the two most personally resonant characters for me are Rey and Kylo Ren, and how lucky for me that the movie focuses so much on them. Rey just breaks my heart. She is so lonely and so desperately wanting to feel part of something. She doesn't NEED to be a part of anything, of course. She is beautiful and strong all on her own, all from herself. But goddammit it sucks being lonely. That wistful look she had watching Finn fuss over Rose at the end, "I'm happy for you but goddammit watching you makes me feel lonely" fuck man I know that face. Oh Rey. I'm so proud of her this movie, I'm so proud of her strength and her compassion. Man, she's a better balanced Jedi than almost every single person I've ever seen in any of these movies. I'm really glad she got to confront Kylo Ren about him killing his father, what a monstrous thing that is in her eyes, that a family was all she ever wanted in life and it's monstrous to her that he could destroy it like that. And Kylo Ren. I continue to be shocked at the development of his character, that an important Hollywood franchise would make a character so different like this, so emotional and vulnerable and complicated and downright ugly sometimes, and... yeah. My heart just breaks for him too. He has been failed by every person in his life who should have helped him, he's had no one on his side. This is a character who is completely fueled by his struggling and self loathing. Just... yikes. My heart was breaking. I was really interested by his thing in this movie, as I've said already, of being insistent on accepting uncomfortable truths. I think part of it has to do with his self-loathing... when you hate yourself, you delight in inflicting cruelty upon yourself. I think he gets a self-hating thrill out of being named a monster, and accepting the name. But part of it is...... accepting uncomfortable truths. Seeing things clearly for what they are, not what you want them to be. That's something I really personally value, and something I find fascinating about him. It's..... so, like. Lmao. I really can't overstate enough how I much I relate to Kylo Ren and relate to his struggle. With that in mind, I project rather a lot of my own personal experiences and thoughts onto him, so I'm sure it colours my interpretation, and I completely recognize that. But for everyone who was upset he didn't run off into Rey's ship, I don't think he's ready to go with her yet. He can't. I think he feels unworthy. He hasn't forgiven himself for his flaws and weaknesses. It's easier for him to hide in the dark rather than have it all exposed like that. He feels too dirty to be in the light like that. He needs some more time, some more character development. I think he has to forgive himself first, and he can't yet. It's.... a very interesting acting choice to have Adam Driver's face remain so impassive all the time. He took off his mask for the movie, and yes it was a silly mask but wow was that ever a cruel scene with Snoke calling him a child in a mask......... he took off his mask but it's almost like it didn't really help. His face is *so* impassive. When Rey is trying to convince him to go with her in the elevator, he has no expression at all in his face. You only see in the eyes what a furious conflict this makes for him in his soul, what hope and anguish it stirs in him. Obviously this is someone who has had it (probably literally) beaten into him that showing emotions will only get him hurt in the end. Well anyway. I'm rambling a bit now. He reminds me slightly of another very dear character to me in something else. This character, it is eventually revealed, had unfortunate beginnings and is actually on the path to her eventual self destruction because she is so angry at everyone, and so full of sadness, that she can't let it go. In the end she realizes the only way to save herself is to reach out and ask for help. She almost can't, because she feels she doesn't deserve it, and she's too afraid of the possibility of asking for help and no one comes. She does in the end and it's a happy ending and now I can never tell you the name of this thing because I just spoiled the entire ending, but I wonder if that's the key for Kylo Ren too... he can't bring Rey to the dark with him, he has to find the strength to ask for her help. Anyways. One last thought: It's really interesting how like... all the characters are really... really brand new. There's no character with an arc quite like Poe in the original trilogy, no character quite like Rose, no character quite like Finn. And then there's Rey and Ren, who are doing a beat-for-beat recap of the original trilogy plot points, but always with a twist. So we're set up with the scary bad guy in a mask working for an even scarier bad guy, and the dusty kid from nowhere. So first of all the bad guy kills her new mentor (so far so good) They have a dramatic first fight (except she kicks his ass and injures him) He dramatically reveals who her parents are (except it's nobody) Then asks her to join him (except she refuses) She decides she can save him so she turns herself in to the bigger scarier bad guy who tortures her, and he kills the big scary bad guy and saves her (except he still refuses to be a good guy) Well........ we've run out of movies, now. What happens next??? Honestly I don't know, I really don't know. I mean I would say that there's been so much buildup and emotional investment in Kylo Ren and his connection with Rey that obviously they are planning to have him redeemed, and the twist will be that unlike Vadar, he survives at the end. Then again I don't know. This movie was so hardcore about smashing expectations, and really hammered home the thing that you have to let go of the past. Maybe part of that is letting the Skywalker legacy die. I mean. Shit that also sounds equally likely to me, guys. I don't know. I mean I never ever thought we'd get so much character development in this movie either so like. I literally don't know. Anything is possible. Well.... there's a lot of pointless thoughts. If you want to chat about the movie, hit me up in my messages.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

An Everyday Hero by Laura Trentham

Heart of a Hero #2

Eagerly anticipated and well worth waiting for! The second book in this series takes on a new set of characters living in a new town but continues to deal with life issues of military veterans and the people that are in their lives. In some ways it is the story of dreams and goals that were held dear for years and yet something happened in life to derail, detour or destroy the dream from appearing as reality. Greer had dreams of being a hit in the music business, Emmett dreamed of adding to the family military legacy in a big way, Ally and her mother dreamed of a family life with father and husband and yet...those expectations were not to be. And yet...when things don’t go as expected there is always the opportunity to do one of two things...wallow or move on and make the best of it. I really enjoyed this book!

What I liked:

* Greer: banged up and bruised and wallowing a bit she is given a job to do and in doing community service impacts Ally and Emmett in ways that improved her life, too. I liked the way she interacted with Emmett and with Ally...she is a person I wouldn’t mind having as a friend.

* Emett: withdrawn and nursing his wounds he is hermit-ting and wallowing until Greer shows up and begins to draw him out. When he started to emerge I really REALLY began to like him.

* Ally: an old soul that had more on her plate than a fifteen year old should have to deal with. She was tough with a soft center – was rooting for hermit-i

* The parents of Emmett and Greer – they were a soft place to land for their children even though their children might not have always realized it. It did take a bit to warm up to Emmett’s father but all’s well that ends well.

* The military persons from old and current wars that made appearances

* Eddie the horse and Bonnie the cat

* The big reveal...and how it impacted more than one

* Even the sad bits were heartwarming and gave a positive vibe for the future

* The “realness” of the story

What I didn’t like:

* The fact that sometimes people, for whatever reason, opt to escape and in doing so harm not only themselves but others...but...that is life. If those people are lucky they will have people come into their lives that can help them do a U-Turn.

I can’t wait for book three…

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press – Griffin for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

SYNOPSIS

Laura Trentham, the author of The Military Wife, is back with an emotionally charged novel about redemption and second chances. In the vein of Josie Silver’s One Day in December, AN EVERYDAY HERO (St. Martin’s Griffin, February 4, 2020, $16.99), explores the challenges of a relationship and ultimately discovering that love…and joy is worth fighting for.  

At thirty, Greer Hadley never expected to be forced home to Madison, Tennessee with her life and dreams of being a songwriter up in flames. To make matters worse, a series of bad decisions and even crappier luck lands her community service hours at a nonprofit organization that aids veterans and their families. Greer cannot fathom how she’s supposed to use music to help anyone deal with their trauma and loss when the one thing that brought her joy has failed her.

Then there's Emmett Lawson, the golden boy who followed his family’s legacy. Greer shows up one day with his old guitar, and meets Emmett’s rage head on with her stubbornness. A dire situation pushes these two into a team to save a young teenager, but maybe they will save themselves too. . .

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EXCERPT

Chapter 1

“Disorderly conduct. Public intoxication. Resisting arrest.” Judge Duckett put down the paper, linked his hands, and stared over his reading glasses from his perch behind the bench with a combination of exasperation and fatherly disapproval.

Greer Hadley shifted in her sensible heels and smoothed the skirt of the light pink suit she’d borrowed from her mama for the occasion. “I’ll give you the first two, Uncle Bill—” The judge cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me—Judge Duckett—but I did not resist arrest.”

“That you recall.” Deputy Wayne Peeler drawled the words out in the most sarcastic, unprofessional manner possible.

She fisted her hands and took a deep breath. The impulse to punch Wayne in the face simmered below the surface like a volcano no longer at rest. But ten o’clock on a Monday morning during her arraignment was not the smartest time to lose her temper, and she’d promised herself not to add to her string of bad decisions.

She sweetened her voice and bared her teeth at Wayne in the facsimile of a smile. “I recall plenty, thank you very much.”

Truth was she didn’t recall the minute details, but the shock of Wayne’s whispered offer on Saturday night to make her troubles go away for a price had done more to sober her up than the couple of hours spent in lockup waiting for her parents.

Dressed in his tan uniform, Wayne adjusted his heavy gun belt so often she imagined he got off every night by rubbing his gun. Giving him a badge had only empowered the part of him desperate for respect and approval. His nickname in high school, “the Weasel,” had been well earned.

Unfortunately, she was the unreliable narrator of her life at the moment and no one would trust her recollections. Judge Duckett, her uncle Bill by marriage until he and her aunt Tonya had divorced, rustled papers from his desk.

The ethics of her former uncle acting as her judge were questionable, especially considering they had remained close even after he’d remarried, but if nepotism is what it took to make this nightmare go away, then she wouldn’t be the one to lodge a complaint.

“A witness claimed you were sitting quietly at the end of the bar until a song played on the jukebox. What was the song?” Her uncle glanced at her over his glasses again, which made him look like a stern teacher.

“‘Before He Cheats’ by Carrie Underwood.” She forced her chin up.

His mouth opened, closed, and he dropped his gaze back to the paper. A murmur broke out behind her.

She would not cry. She wouldn’t. She blinked like her life depended on a tear not falling. Later, in the privacy of her childhood bedroom, she would bury her face in the eyelet-covered pillow and let loose.

Beau Williams, her cheating ex-boyfriend, was only partially to blame for her embarrassing behavior. It was a confluence of setbacks that had had her holding down the end of the bar. Hearing Carrie’s revenge anthem had hit a nerve exposed by the shots of Jack. Rage had quickened the effects of the alcohol, and that’s when things got fuzzy.

“Yes, well. That is a rather … Let’s move on, shall we? The witness also claims after a heartfelt, albeit slurred speech about the vagaries of relationships and how the moral fiber of the Junior League of Madison was frayed, you fed five dollars into the jukebox and played the same song for over an hour. ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline, was it?”

Ugh. She didn’t recall how much money she’d fed the machine, but it sounded like something she would do. “Crazy” was one of her favorite songs. A master class in conveying emotion through simple lyrics. She was just sorry she’d wasted five dollars on Beau. He didn’t deserve her money, her heart, or Patsy.

“No one can fault my taste in the classics.” Greer tried a smile, but her lips quivered and she pressed them together.

Her uncle continued to read from the witness statement, “You proceeded to throw two glasses on the floor, shattering them, and attempted to break a chair across the jukebox.”

She swallowed hard. A vague picture of a frustratingly sturdy chair surfaced. The fact the chair remained intact while she was falling apart had sent her anger soaring higher and hotter. A glance from her uncle Bill over the paper had her giving him a nod. She couldn’t deny it.

He continued, “A patron called 911. When Deputy Peeler arrived, he pulled you away from the jukebox and forced you outside. That’s where, he claims, you kicked him … well, you know where.”

“Wayne dragged me down the stairs—”

“Deputy Peeler, if you please.” Wayne sniffed loudly.

“As Deputy Peeler escorted me down the stairs, I lost my balance and fell. The heel of my shoe jabbed into his crotch. Sorry.” Greer didn’t make an attempt to mask her not-sorry voice with fake respect.

If she accused Wayne of misbehavior on the job, he would deny it and spin it somehow to make her look even more irresponsible. Lord knows, she’d embarrassed her parents enough for a lifetime. Anyway, seeing him rolling on the ground and cupping his crotch had been sweet payback.

“I sustained an injury where that spike you call a heel caught me.” Wayne half turned toward her.

Instead of playing it smart and soothing his delicate male ego, she batted her eyes at him. “I’m sure that’s left the ladies of Madison real upset.”

Wayne took a step toward her. “You are such a—”

The gavel knocked against the bench and her uncle stood, looming over them. “I’ve heard enough, Deputy. Sit down.”

Wayne turned on his heel and left Greer to face her uncle Bill. This was where she would promise such a thing would never happen again, and he would give her a stern warning before dismissing all charges.

“I’m striking the resisting arrest charge. It was an accident.”

Greer forced herself not to look over her shoulder and stick her tongue out at Wayne. That left only two misdemeanors, which her uncle could expunge with a swipe of his pen.

He settled behind the bench and picked up his pen, his gaze on the papers. “You will pay for any damages.”

“I’ve already reimbursed Becky.” Technically, she’d had to use her parents’ money, considering she’d crawled home from Nashville broke. “And apologized profusely. You can be assured there will not be a repeat performance. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Good. As for the other charges…”

Her deep breath cleansed a portion of the tension across her shoulders, and a smile born of relief appeared.

“You will perform fifty hours of community service.”

Her smile froze on her face. It sounded like a lot, but she’d been stupid and immature and deserved punishment. “I understand. Clean roads are important.”

“Litter pickup? Goodness no.” He took his glasses off and smiled at her for the first time, but it wasn’t the jolly-uncle smile she was familiar with. “You have talents that would be wasted on the side of the road picking up trash, Ms. Hadley. You will spend your fifty hours working at the Music Tree Foundation.”

“I’m not familiar with it.” She swallowed. The mention of music set her stomach roiling. “Highway 45 was in terrible shape on my drive in last week.”

“The foundation is a nonprofit music program that focuses on helping military veterans and their families cope with the trauma they’ve endured serving our country. They’re in need of volunteer songwriters and musicians.”

“I can’t write or play anymore.” Her dream of hearing one of her songs on the radio had died. Not in a blaze of glory but from a slow, torturous starvation of hope. At thirty, she was resigned to finding a real job and cobbling together a normal life in the place she’d tried to leave behind.

“My decision is final. As far as I can determine, your brain—despite this lapse in judgment—is in fine working order. You can and will help these men and women heal through your gift of music. Unless you’d rather spend thirty days in county lockup?”

Would her uncle actually throw her in jail? For a month? “No, Your Honor, I don’t want to go to county lockup.”

“Good. Once you turn in your log with all your hours signed off by the foundation’s manager, your record with this court will be cleared.” He handed her file to a clerk. “Case closed. Next up is docket number fourteen.”

She stood there until he met her gaze with his unflinching one. “Go home, Greer.”

Her parents were waiting at the door to the courtroom. While they’d faced the horror of having to bail their only child out of jail stoically, her mother’s embarrassment and disappointment were ripe and all-encompassing. Greer wilted and trailed her parents out of the courthouse.

She felt like a child. An incompetent, needy child living in her old bedroom and dependent on her parents for emotional and financial support. She thought she’d hit rock bottom many times over the years, but her situation now had revealed new lows.

The silence in the car built into a painful crescendo.

“The tiger lilies are lovely this year, don’t you think?” Her mother’s attempt at normalcy was strained but welcome.

Her father’s hands squeaked along the steering wheel as an answer.

Greer huddled in the backseat and stared out the window, the clumps of flowers on the side of the road an orange blur. As a teenager, she’d chafed at her parents’ protectiveness and had wanted nothing more than to escape to Nashville, where she’d been convinced glory and fame awaited. Now she was home and a disappointment not only to her parents but to herself. Even worse, she hadn’t come up with a plan to turn her life around.

“Ira Jenkins is back in the hospital. I thought I’d run by and check on him. Since Sarah passed, he seems a shell of the man he once was.” Her mother turned to face the backseat. “Would you like to come with me? I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

“He won’t remember me, Mama.”

“I’m sure he will.”

Greer scrunched farther down in the seat. The last thing she wanted was to make small talk with a man she hadn’t seen in years.

“You’ll have to get out eventually and face the music.” Her mother’s smile wavered and threatened to turn into tears. “So to speak.”

Her mother was trying, which was more than could be said for Greer at the moment. Her parents deserved a better daughter. Someone successful they could brag on at the Wednesday-night potlucks at church. Not a daughter they had to bail out of jail.

“I will. I promise. Just not to see Mr. Jenkins.” Greer leaned forward and squeezed her mother’s hand over the seat, needing to give her something to hope for even if Greer wasn’t sure what that might be.

Her father cleared his throat. “You need to think about the future.”

He ignored her mother’s whispered, “Not now, Frank.”

“A job. Or back to school. We’ll put you through nursing or accounting or something useful.” He shifted to meet her gaze in the rearview mirror. “But you can’t keep on like you’re doing. You need a purpose.”

“I’ll start looking for a job tomorrow.” School had never been her wheelhouse. She’d been sure she’d make it in Nashville and had never formulated a backup plan.

They pulled up to her childhood home, a two-story brick Colonial on the main street of Madison, Tennessee. Oaks had been planted down a middle island like a line of soldiers at attention. They had grown to shade both sides of the street. It was picturesque and cast the imagination back to a time when ladies lounged on porches with their iced tea and gossiped with their neighbors to escape the heat of summer. Air-conditioning had altered that way of life.

At one time, as a kid, she’d known every family up and down the street well enough to knock on their door for help or run through their backyard in epic games of tag. Now, though, the houses were being bought up by people who used Madison to escape the bustle of an expanding Nashville. They built pools in the backyards and fences and weren’t outside except to walk their trendy dogs.

The march of progress through Madison added to her melancholy sadness. There was a reason not being able to go home again was a recurring theme in books and songs.

“We love you, Greer. You know that, don’t you?” Her mother’s voice was tight with emotion, but she didn’t turn around, thank goodness.

Her mother never cried and if Greer witnessed tears, she would burst into sobs herself and embarrass everyone.

“I know. Thanks for everything. I’m going to do better. Be better.” It seemed a wholly inadequate promise she wasn’t even sure she could keep, but it was all she could manage. She ducked out of the car and skipped around to a side door of the house that was always unlocked.

Her room was both a haven and a mocking reminder of the state of her life. Posters of album covers papered the wall behind her bed, the colors faded from the sun and the edges curling with age.

In high school, she’d gravitated toward indie folk artists and away from the commercially driven country-music machine located a few miles south. Joan Baez was flanked by Patty Griffin and Dolly Parton. Even though Dolly veered more country than Greer, no one could deny the legend’s songwriting chops. The guitar Greer had hocked for rent money had borne Dolly’s signature like a talisman. Sometimes Greer ached for her guitar like a missing limb.

The flashing glimpse of a woman in a pale pink suit stopped her in the middle of the floor. She turned to face the full-length mirror glued to the back of the closet door. God, it was like glimpsing her mom through a time warp.

Greer touched the delicate pearls that had been passed down to her on her eighteenth birthday. They were old-fashioned and traditional and stereotypical of a Southern “good girl.” Not her style. She’d left them in her dresser drawer when she’d left home the day after high school graduation.

A tug of recognition of the women who had come before her had her clutching the strand in her hand as if something lost were now found. Was it her circumstances or her age growing her nostalgia like a tree setting roots?

She turned around to break the connection with the stranger in the mirror, stripped off the pink suit, and pulled on jeans and a cotton oxford. Her mother would appreciate seeing her in something besides the frayed shorts and grungy concert T-shirts she’d lounged around in the last week. She reached behind her neck for the clasp of the necklace, but her hands stilled, then dropped to her sides, leaving the pearls in place.

She stepped out of her room and was enveloped in silence. Her father had returned to his insurance office and her mother must have set off for her hospital visit. The house took on an expectant quality, as if waiting for its true owners to return. She was no longer a fundamental part of this world. Not unwelcome, perhaps, but a loose cog in her parents’ lives.

She tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen and made herself a ham sandwich. May was too early for fresh tomatoes, but in another month or two her mother’s garden would make tomato sandwiches an everyday treat.

Craving an escape, Greer grabbed a book and settled in her favorite window seat. The rest of the afternoon passed in the same expectant silence. The chime of the doorbell made her start and drop her book. If she pretended no one was home, maybe whoever was on the front porch would go away. The last thing she wanted was to face one of Madison’s gossips masquerading as a do-gooder.

The creak of the door opening had her bolting to her feet.

“Greer? I know you’re home. Are you decent?” Her uncle Bill’s booming voice echoed in the two-story foyer.

She propped her shoulder in the doorway of the sunroom. “Letting yourself in people’s houses is a good way of getting shot around here.”

“While your mama would have liked to have shot me during the divorce with her sister, I hope we’ve made our peace.” He closed the door behind him and Greer did what she’d wanted to do in the courtroom—she threw herself at him for a hug.

He lifted her off her feet and spun her once around. Her laugh hit her ears like a foreign language. It had been too long since she’d laughed from a place of happiness.

“You could have just come out to the house. You didn’t have to get arrested to see me.” Bill let her go, and she led him into the sunroom.

“Do you want something to drink?” Greer asked, already turning for the kitchen and the fresh brewed pitcher of sweet iced tea.

“No, thanks. Mary has fried chicken ready to go in the pan, so I can’t stay long.”

Bill had divorced her aunt Tonya more than a decade earlier and married the choir director of the biggest black church in town. A scandal had ensued not because he’d married a black woman, but because he, a long-standing deacon in the Church of Christ, had converted to a heathen Methodist.

“How is Mary?”

“Always singing.” He shook his head, an indulgent smile on his face, as they settled into their seats.

His comment sprinkled salt on an open wound. She’d begged off going to church with her parents because of the questions she was sure to face and the hymns she couldn’t bring herself to sing. Some of her earlier happiness at seeing him leaked out. “Good for her.”

“I came to make sure you weren’t mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I got the impression you expected me to dismiss the charges.” His smile turned into a wince.

“I wouldn’t have been upset if you had, but I get it. I was an idiot and deserve punishment.” She picked at the fringe on a decades-old needlepoint pillow and cast him a pleading glance. “I’d rather pick up trash, though, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It’s not the same to me.” He crossed his long legs and tapped a finger on the cherry armrest of the antique chair that looked ready to surrender at any moment to his bulk. “Do you remember Amelia Shelton?”

“Mary’s daughter? She was a couple of years ahead of me in school. We didn’t hang out or anything, but she seemed nice.” Greer couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Amelia. Greer’s side of the family had skipped Bill and Mary’s small wedding ceremony; the acrimony between him and her aunt Tonya hadn’t faded at that point.

“Amelia is the founder and director of the Music Tree Foundation and is desperate for qualified volunteers. You’ve been playing and singing and writing music since you were knee high. It was meant to be.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’ve got to get a real job.”

Her uncle made a scoffing sound. “You’re too much like my Mary. You could never leave music behind.”

“Music dumped me on the side of the road, gave me the finger, and peeled out.” Greer shook her head and touched the string of pearls, her gaze on his polished black dress shoes. “I’m a mess, Uncle Bill. I have nothing to offer. In fact, I’ll probably make things worse for whatever poor soul I get paired with.”

She expected him to argue, but he seemed to be weighing the truth in her words like the scales of justice. His shrug wasn’t in the least reassuring. “Amelia has done something really special with her foundation. It might do you a world of good to focus on someone besides yourself.”

“Dang, that’s harsh.”

He patted her knee. “I’ve seen all kinds come through my courtroom. The ones who turn it around are the ones who quit feeling sorry for themselves.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Beau is an asshole. Not the first or the last you’re likely to encounter. Don’t you deserve better than him?”

“Yes?” She wished she’d been able to put more conviction into the word.

Beau was successful, nice-looking—even though a bald spot was conquering his hair day by day—and respected in their town. They’d known each other since high school, but had only started dating in the last year.

He was solid and steady and comfortable. Three things lacking from her life. Catching him cheating with the president of the Junior League had been another seismic shift in her world, leaving her unsure and off balance.

“If you can’t believe in yourself yet, then believe me. You are talented, Greer, and you have the ability to help people find their voice.” He slipped a card out of his wallet. When she didn’t reach for it, he waved it in her face until she took it.

A tree styled with musical symbols of all different colors decorated one side of the card. She ran her thumb over the raised black ink of Amelia’s name and an address on the outskirts of Nashville. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to stay in my—and the court’s—good graces. She’s expecting you tomorrow at three.”

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Her smile was born of sarcasm.

Bill rose and ruffled her hair like he had when she was little. “Not wicked. Lost.”

Greer walked him out, brushed a kiss on his cheek, and murmured her thanks. She leaned on the porch rail and waved until he disappeared down the street.

I once was lost, and now I’m found. She’d sung “Amazing Grace” so many times that the lyrics had ceased to have an impact. But, standing on her childhood front porch, having come full circle, a shiver went down her spine, and goose bumps broke over her arms despite the heat that wavered over the pavement like a mirage. Her granny would have said that someone had walked over her grave. Maybe so. Or maybe change was a-coming whether she wanted to face up to it or not.

Copyright © 2020 by Laura Trentham

AUTHOR BIO

Laura Trentham is an award winning romance author. The Military Wife is her debut women’s fiction novel. A chemical engineer by training and a lover of books by nature, she lives in South Carolina.

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[dachi-chan25]

Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 6 Recap Pt. 3

WARNINGS:SPOILERS; not a D@€n€r¥$ fan; Jonsa shipper ( I still believe)

————-

6.- Back on Eastwatch, we have this morons trying to not freeze, too late for Thoros tho, I mean dude was a walking corpse since the Hound had his fire vision, he was completely obtuse for the plot so they got rid of him. I feel nothing. Guess his conversation with Jorah (that I totally skipped cuz boring) was heartwarmming but still I knew he was dead as soon as the bear got him. They burn his body with his own alcohol.

7.- An invitation arrives for Sansa to go to KL, amd she is like LMAO I think no you trick ass bitch, my girl is not an idiot and there is no way in hell she’ll go, if Cersei wants to make her prisioner again she can damn well bring her ass to the North and try, and she sends Brienne in her stead, Brienne doesn’t want to leave her on her own with LF, Sansa has to snap and her and basically throw her on the street to get her to go (god Jon is gonna have a hissy fit when he sees Brienne at KL and knows Sansa is alone at WF with LF) very wise decision knowing LF wanted to get Brienne tagled up on his schemes.

8.- In Dragonstone Tyrion is trying to stop D from going to the rescue cuz he doesn’t want her to die even tho he is fine with the man that volunteered for this stupid ass mission that was his idea dying (consistent characterization where art thou?) but she goes anyway cuz #YOLO

Also this unsubtle shift to white clothes now that she is gonna do an heroic thing, she honestly looks kinda like Elsa from Frozen, where does she get this clothes anyway, did she brought a new wardrobe from Essos? Are the Dothraki sewing and knitting clothes??

Where are the Unsullied and the Greyjoys????

7.- Yeah so they just kinda waiting around for their Uber, but the Hound is taking none of this boring but safe bull, let’s throw rocks at the wights for funnsies. So he does and the wights get angry? Annoyed? Who knows really? And they begin to close in our heroes.

Jon thinks they’re doomed without D’s help but Beric points put that not really (Beric and his sexy ass voice are winning me over)“as long as they kill the Night King everyone else is gonna be detroyed (this sounds waaaaaay to convinient, almost as if d&d want to get rid of the WW as fast as possible so they can focus on the political/human problems) but Jon is not so optimist. So yeah we get some fighting in, and things are beginning to look real bad for the Wight Hunters when boom Khaliisi comes in rising and burning wights (and ice) as she goes! They are saved OMG what a relief! (excuse my sarcastic ass) everyone is getting on the Dragon choo choo, except Jon (guess we’re saving the dragon riding for laters) who keeps on fighting.

Now I guess this is relevant, he thought they were doomed until D arrives, she is burning her way through th wights like you couldn’t believe and Jon is visibly relieved, he is getting the hope that maybe they can win this war, he is clearly trying to fight his way to the NK, I thought he wanted to end it right there, go for the NK and be done with it that is why he refuses to go.

Now his hopes get dashed away when NK throws at spear at Viserion and kills him, now I’m really worried, did I broke something inside me? Why is it that I don’t care? Oh right we never got a scene with Viserion alone, if he had bonded with Jon last episode instead of Drogon (Jon still thought this giant lizards ugly af tho) then Hey maybe I could have cared, but this feels like super dramatic and emotionally manipulative from the writers tbh. I feel the whole purpose of killing him off was to have "Cool Ice Dragon” and for some rushed J/D moment (I have a lot to say about it) D is stunned by grief I guess? Jon gets angry but I don’t think it’s cuz he cared about the dragon or for D, i mean of course he must have felt sympathy for her she stated that she loved them just last episode, but i think his rage comes from the frustration of knowing he can’t end this right now, he can’t prevent more people from dying and now with a dragon in the army of the dead…

So yeah Jon tells them to go away cuz the crazy ass bitch wants to die I guess, and he doesn’t want anymore Dragons joining the wights.

The lake gives away, but Jon comes out of the water freezing to death, the Wights surround him but he is too weak to fight, when BAM! Magical convinient Uncle Ben saves him, Jon is clearly surprised and emotional at seeing the uncle he loved so much and thought to be dead (dammit those Starks are hard to kill) but Benjen is having none of that cuz he has to be a martyr saving your ass Jon! So he gives his stupid ass nephew his horse, Jon gallops away while seeing his uncle dying (OK my emotions are back, I love uncle Ben even if D&D made him this protagonist characters convinient saviour).

8.- Back at Eastwatch, you know the actual castle, D is waiting for Jon looking hopefully at the horizon, while Jorah is trying to save her the heartache (I mean if this had any realism anymore Jon would be totes dead) but here he comes riding and all that jazz.

Before we dive into that scene (you know which) I’d like to stablish some thoughts:

-I believe D’s feelings for Jon are real, but they are not based in real things. First let’s ask ourselves why is she even in love (if we can call it that at this point) with him? She is clearly attracted yes, but Love is different than lust, so yeah he is a great guy I guess? But she hasn’t really seen him at that, everything she knows about him is based on the stuff Tyrion knows about him: his brothers are dead, as well as his father,he was at the Wall, he has a wolf?? I dunno if Tyrion mentioned that cuz the only one who remembers Ghost exists is Sansa, and the mystery about the dagger to the heart. And that’s where I think this fixiation comes from, this man could be her equal he is not afraid of her and stands his ground (on her POV) and maybe he is as magical as she is, Drogon let the man pet him!!!

But what she sees vs what actually is, shows she doesn’t know this man at all, what’s more Jon doesn’t want her to know him.

-She talks to him about her brothers when she is telling him the names of her Dragons, perfect oportunity for Jon to talk about Robb,Rickon and Bran(Jon thought he was dead as well) but doesn’t.

-She is talking about Ned on her big speech on their meeting, yet Jon his biggest admirer didn’t jump to defend his beloved father??

-When she is talking about her Dragons he could have very well mentioned Ghost yet he didn’t

-Davos jumped to defend him, and was telling D all Jon went through but Jon stopped him, she asked directly about the dagger to the heart and he said nothing.

-She was happy for him when he finds out his siblings aren’t dead, but Jon doesn’t show any emotion about it.

-As a matter of fact he never símiles or seems at ease in her presence. Fuck it even jondry has more build up in their two episodes together. Jon smiled at Gendry and talks with him about Ned. (not to mention Sansa, she makes him smile like no other.

It all feels almost like he has no goddamned interest in getting to know her (she is always the one to share this information without him asking) as a person, he doesn’t want her to know him. Why???

Reminds me about this quote:

“When you are attracted to people, it’s because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.”

- Jodi Picoult, Sing You Home

Jon has never laughed or smiled near D, and that's the most telling stuff about this whole romance debacle in my humble opinion.

9.- Boat time! so Jon is just waking up (I knew my son didn't decided for himself to ditch WF and go to KL instead) and D is there (no I was just joking about the Twil1ght and 50s0g last week stop staring at people while they are asleep and shirtless is creepy) Honestly her eyes when she saw the scars on his chest made me uncomfortable (I could practically see her delusions about how magical Jon is and barfed, cuz yeah Jon is pretty magical, but the amazing thing about him is that he wants none of that he doesn't want t be a hero or a god, hells he didn't even wanted to be King!!) Anyway Jon's eyes focus on her and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is that he is sorry about Viserion?For real? Uncle Ben died to save you and you care about this? Of course not! Have some faith in Jon ffs! Goddamn it he got killed by the NW when he rushed from his office cuz Uncle Ben had returned!!! He loved uncle Ben, why would he care about Viserion?? He does not! This is another 'they are gorgeous beasts" he is bullshiting her so hard it's obvious.

She thinks he is her equal and defy her and all that jazz, but in all their interactions (except that time he said I am King to get away from DS) he caters to her, he is never sincere with her, for he has learned she doesn't listen.

She says she'll fight the WW and about how the dragon are the only children she'll ever have, doesn't mention a thing about kneeling everything seems almost too perfect, so why would Jon bullshit her?? Maybe I am just a salty shipper, but point is I don't think Jon trusts D a lot, oh yes he talked about trust when he wanted to get away from DS, and he did show trust going to meet her without weapons or a proper guard, but I stand by what I said last week she betrayed that trust the moment she called him a rebell and took his boat making him prisioner in all but name, not to mentionhe saw in frist row how she blamed Tyrion(her hand) for things going wrong and he doesn't have the luxury of having her turn on him, she is alright now but if another Dragon or one of her friends died what then? She could just go back to Essos, he can't afford that.

So he calls her Dany, and she laughs (bitch me too the fuck) but he doesn't smile at all, and he takes her hand, this gave me serious flashbacks of the Jonsa scene Back on S6 when Sansa takes his hand, or the scene from 7x01 when she takes his arm and he looks down, just his time positions are reverted, Jon is the one touching D (this gesture he has come to learn is very effective to have someone listen to you) and D looks down on their joined hands but Jon doesn't, he looks almost pained and guilty (he is an awful liar) Jon goes as far as to call her my Queen and saying he would bend. Seriously y'all think he was being sincere, why would he go from calling her stranger just last episode to being all Dany my Queen with no development in between the very next? No this doesn't make sense at all.

Why do you all think all this random ass conversations about Honor=Dead and "bending the knee is OK if you do it for your people's life" if not to foreshadow this? Jon himself said he went on the mission for the North, why would he seriously ditch his family and people for someone he just met? You can scream he is attracted to her all you want, I personaly don't see it, but it's a disservice to Jon to think he could mean any of this, he is not above using sex and romantic feelings (Ygritte) to do his duty, even if he developed feelings in the last situation he choose his duty and he will again because he loves Winterfell and he loves the Stark shipping aside. It would be ridiculous to have Lord Glover talking about foreing whores, Sansa warning about to be smarter than Robb and Ned, Tormund going on and on about Mance's pride, Jorah and Jon's conversations about Jeor and Ned and Beric talk about how thrones and Queens don't matter if Jon is suddenly gonna forsake it all in the name of a love we have no proof but Tyrion's and D&D's words (that we shouldn't trust cuz it's not likely they would give away such a twist) that it exists at all.

D eats it all up (I kinda feel bad for her, almost, only if she weren't such an entitled brat) and she tells him to rest. Jon clases his eyes and as soon as she is out he stares at the ceiling and sighs, again not subtle at all.

Anyway that is just what I think.

10.- The wights are getting Viserion out of the lake with some big ass chains, where do they even get this stuff? Hardhome? The had this big ass chains? A convinient again. Anyway so Viserion's out and his eyes open, and they are blue. Real talk the NK has had more bonding with him in this 2 min than D in all the seasons.

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That's all I hope the finale is a bit better cuz this episode was hella boring.