#you have to approach a conversation in good faith otherwise you’re just gonna make people hate you more

[perfectlyasymmetrical]

Some of you need to understand that no one has ever changed their beliefs because some rando in a video is telling them to in a very condescending way

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter Two)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Language... shitty language. And maybe sheer size? This one’s nearly 6,000 words... I may have gotten a little carried away. 😬

It began as a drunken joke, a flippant what if…

“If no one else is gonna do it,” you’d slurred out, voice barely above a whisper despite the cantina being utterly empty aside from the two of you, “we should take the motherfucker out ourselves.”

He’d laughed at the time, and promptly cut you off before insisting on walking you home. He helped you along the uneven streets of Leticia, held back your hair as you blew chunks into a dark alley, even slept on your couch that night just to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. That’s what he told you, anyway. But you suspected that Santiago stuck around that night because he just couldn’t get your words out of his head.

You hadn’t been so drunk that you’d failed to notice the way he went eerily silent following your seemingly ludicrous suggestion. You hadn’t been so far gone that you’d missed the sudden glint to his eyes, nor the crooked smile that wrapped around his face as you said the words, “I want Lorea dead.”

That next morning, he brought it up casually, asking – before you even had the chance to brush your teeth – if you remembered what you’d said. When you told him you remembered every part, he simply told you to go on, nodding slowly along as you dove headfirst into a painfully impulsive proposal, your words still tinged with a lingering, drunken idealism. You spilled out the disparate thoughts you’d been harboring for months, if not longer – the ones that together formed little more than the ill-conceived beginnings of a damn stupid plan – only to discover that they were precisely in line with what he’d been contemplating as well.

By the end of the week, you were introducing him to your longtime informant, a woman who’d worked for Lorea in some capacity for years. A gorgeous woman, whom you’re almost entirely certain Santi fell into bed with later that same night. And after just a few months of nearly constant off-the-record investigating – both of you becoming utterly consumed by the thought of bringing Lorea down – that crazy, ridiculous, fucked-up joke you’d made had become a highly illegal, morally questionable, might-just-get-you-fired-and-thrown-into-a-federal-prison plot for ending the reign of one of the premier drug traffickers in South America.

You’d started it. There was no denying that. You’d started the whole damn thing.

For nearly three years, you fought the good fight with Santiago Garcia down in Colombia. He was one of just a handful of people there whom you trusted. He actually was one of just a handful of people there you even really knew.

If you ever got to chose an advisor to head up a mission, he’d be it. Any raid that fell within your purview, he’d help to organize. Intel was slow in coming, CIs dropping off, bosses telling you not to leave Leticia and to remember to stay in your lane? No problem. Garcia to the rescue.

He was able to operate largely independently – unlike poor, bound-by-the-rules-and-regulations-of-the-DEA you. Local cops and the surrounding military actually liked him and never balked at bringing him in, mostly because he was more than capable of playing along with their bullshit. Hell, he was so good at it, that for the first few months you knew him, he had you convinced that he either completely bought into the very obvious corruption surrounding that Amazonian paradise, or – if he really didn’t see it – he was dumber than a fucking box of rocks.

But Santiago Garcia never missed a damn thing. And while he might have seemed to have written off the actions of certain officials or the peculiarities you both encountered, he never ignored – nor forgot – the individuals he suspected of collusion. He was just smart enough to know when to act.

You, on the other hand, well, you never were very good at not calling people out. For all your life, if you saw something that seemed funky, you’d say something… immediately. If you ever suspected someone of lying, plotting, taking bribes, just plain being dirty, you’d raise an accusing finger high. Hell, that’s the main reason you got sent down to that southernmost point of the country, transferred away from what you saw as being the real goings-on, to simply help keep an eye on the drug runs taking place at the border.

Santiago taught you to quell your initial reactions of raising a stink when you believed something was amiss. He urged you to stop seeing the word in a never-ending list of black and white rules. He showed you how to keep from boiling over and calling people out, a thing that undoubtably kept you from getting yourself reassigned somewhere you’d be less of a nuisance… again.

He also fed you intel, shared specifics of his suspicions, and helped get you into military-run raids where DEA might otherwise have been shut out. And in the time in between – when you would normally just stalk around your small apartment all alone or perhaps stalk about the city… also all alone – he provided friendship, that not-so-tiny thing you’d been lacking ever since getting transferred from your post and away from the workmates and friends you’d had for years in Mexico.

He was fun and sharp-witted and outgoing, eager to make friends with just about anyone. He invited you out for drinks, dancing, into local card games. And though you often wondered why – did he feel sorry for you because the local police and military alike treated you like a damn leper? Was he trying to show others that you were alright, despite being a gringa DEA agent? Did he simply want to fuck you? – you’d be lying if you were to say that you didn’t feel damn lucky he’d stumbled into your life and forced his friendship upon you.

And how did you repay him? For all of the invites he’d extended, all the drinks purchased, all the intel he threw your way, all the military-run raids he somehow managed to get you in on? All of the trust and faith he invested in you?

You’d set him on a path to ruin.

000

The bar was much larger than you’d anticipated, the quick drive-by you did on your way to the motel earlier this afternoon making the freestanding structure – out in the middle of nowhere, like everything else in this Bumblefuck, USA town – appear small. Maybe it was because the massive parking lot dwarfed it. Maybe it was because you were only half awake, at best, and just didn’t notice the size of the place. Maybe it was because Santiago drove past it at 65 miles per hour, alerting you to it – that’s where we’ll meet up tonight – just as you flew by, allowing little more than a meager glimpse.

Regardless, you expected… less.

But the place is huge. There are two bars on either side of the sprawling building and tables flanking the wide-open center, which you could only imagine would at some point be flooded with drunken townies, eager to dance the night away.

When you first arrived – well over an hour ago – it had been just you and a handful of incredibly loud bros populating the place. You took off for the far bar, ordered yourself a drink, and slinked into a large table in a dark corner, eager to remain invisible until Santi arrived with his friends… his crack team. But – just as you’d come to expect from Garcia – he was nearly an hour late, and by the time he and his brothers-in-arms strolled in, you’d already been spotted by the douchebags at the bar and had to fight off the advances of two separate assholes, each of whom only approached you when making their way back from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, bonita,” Santiago had proclaimed with a wide smile and a not-at-all-stifled laugh after you told him of your troubles. He turned to face the group of strangers at the bar, caught the glares of a few of them, and shouted over a simple dictate to, “Fuck off!”

And that had been the cap to your introduction to your new co-workers. They strode in, all smiles and laughter and blooming drunken glows, coming from what must have been a great fight night, undoubtably made all the better by being together once again, only to be forced to shake hands with you… a jetlagged stranger, washed out in the low light, obviously frazzled by having a guy fresh from the men’s room – who probably didn’t even bother to wash his hands – wrap an arm around your shoulder and tell you that the bathroom door locks… in case you wanted to check it out with him later.

They took your uncomfortable story in stride, exchanging pleasantries and apologizing again for their tardiness – well, Will apologized at least – before grabbing some drinks and then plopping down at the isolated table you’d chosen.

For a bit, the group of them just talk to one another, tying up loose ends to the conversations they’d been having before arriving. You catch snippets of nah, man, she’s gone… didn’t work out and do you have any idea how expensive kids’ soccer is? as their conversation flows around you, seemingly oblivious to your existence. For those first ten minutes or so – save Santiago’s paltry threat shouted across the bar and Benny’s rather flirtatious introduction – the whole team settles in around you and acts as though you aren’t even here at all.

The only exception during this time is the pilot, Frankie Morales – had Santi called him Fish? He keeps quiet as the others speak, cracking a smile at their comments every now and then, but mostly nursing his beer and awkwardly picking at the label in silence. Every so often, he steals a glance over at you, as if to say, yeah, I know you’re here. His eyes are warm and friendly despite the otherwise utterly unreadable expression planted on his face.

Maybe you’re simply intrigued by the fact that he’s the only one actively acknowledging your presence, or it could be that you’re just rather curious to figure out what his placid expression is hiding. Or perhaps you’re merely a fan of the subtle beauty that his sharp profile paints on the background of the dark, seedy bar. Whatever the reason, you find yourself not just staring but gazing at the man long after he looks away.

“So, shoot me straight,” Will says suddenly, nudging your shoulder and tearing into your thoughts as he turns to face you. Your eyes bounce wildly away from Frankie’s face, a heat creeping up your neck as you light on the patient smile of the man next to you. “That file… it’s your work, right?”

“Hey,” Santiago scoffs from across the table, leaning over to backhand his friend in the chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Will’s face cracks and a deep rumble of a laugh spills out of him as he bites out, “It’s good work. Too good to come from your sorry ass.”

Santi scoffs, his hand flying to his heart with a wounded quality. You simply shrug, small smirk perking your lips as you feel some of the initial tension of the gathering – and the strange concern that you might actually have somehow become invisible – finally start to lift. “He helped,” you say, tone coy.

“Oh, c’mon,” Santiago gripes, giving you a slightly irritated, definitely amused look. “Half that intel came from me. The PNC, Colombian military, they barely even acknowledge you’re there.”

You interrupt with a snort and a scathing, “Yeah… it’s really fucking annoying when people do that,” before choking down the rest of your beer.

If he understands the jibe about your current situation, he doesn’t let on, instead pushing his point that, “None of them would’ve given you jack shit.”

“And the one informant who actually got all this started?” you counter, accusing brow raised high. “Who’s informant was that?”

His face begins to blush, just a bit of redness seeping into his cheeks, as he reaches out to grab your empty bottle. “She was mine in the end,” he mutters, shoving back from the table and rising from his stool. “I’ll get the next round.”

“Yeah,” you call out after him. “You owe me more than just a beer for stealing my CI!”

“I’ll get you a shot too!” he throws over his shoulder, never looking back as he makes his way to the bar.

You turn back to the men surrounding you, each of them now eyeing you warily, and a part of you wants to go back to when they ignored your presence entirely. Tom – what did Santiago call him? Redfly? – is the first to break the awkward silence, ticking his chin in your direction. “So,” he starts before pulling a long breath in through his nose. “DEA.” He overenunciates each letter and states rather than questions your affiliation, despite there being an inquisitive – or is it accusing? – glint to his eye.

“Yeah,” you say with a lingering nod. “Yep. DEA.”

“They teach you about this kind of thing?” Will asks, his drawl deep and languid. You turn to look at him, the imposing man by your side, and feel your shoulders tighten all over again when you see that the stern expression he had worn when first shaking your hand has returned. But then something lightens, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, his gaze softening as your eyes meet. You’re certain that he can sense the rise in tension, understands with just a glimpse of your face that you’re way out of your element here. Intimidated. Nervous. And while the softening of his countenance doesn’t wipe away your anxiety completely, you do at least appreciate the attempt.

Ben, the tall, younger man flanking your other side, must notice the unease building up inside you too. He leans in and bops you with his shoulder, a light, buoyant laugh bursting out of him. “Aw, hell,” he emits breathily. “Leave her alone. If Pope trusts her, she’s got to be good.”

“Not saying she’s not good,” Will intones, shooting you a quick wink that, oddly, really does manage to set you at ease. “Just wondering how much experience she has with ops like this.” His eyes start to sparkle as they lock onto yours once again. “So, sweetheart, you ever pull a recon mission deep in the jungle?”

You offer an evasive shrug and release a tightly held breath. “I got lost in a corn maze once. Had to find my way out on my own. Probably would’ve starved in there if I hadn’t had the presence of mind to bring a funnel cake in with me.”

On your left, Ben snorts out another laugh, and across the table you see Frankie try to maintain that straight, impassive face. But Will’s deadpan expression doesn’t shift in the least. “Well,” he says with a sigh, bringing his nearly empty beer bottle up to his lips. “I guess that is pretty damn close.”

“Ha, ha,” Tom mocks. He waits to go on until you look his way, and once you do he levels you with what can only be described as a fatherly stare – oddly disappointed and imploring, stern and warm all at the same time. “We’re all very glad to hear that you have a sense of humor.”

“Very glad,” Ben interjects with a wide grin.

“But,” he continues, “You’re not gonna go in there and be part of this unless you can convince us that you’re capable.”

Santiago’s voice cuts in then, sounding over the clink of beer bottles as he lays out the next round on the table. “She’s capable,” he states simply before sliding back into his seat next to Frankie. “We’ve been on…” he glances over at you, “how many raids now?”

“At least a dozen,” you answer.

He gives a firm nod and lets his eyes drift between the men at the table. “She’s done good every time. Stays outta the way, does what she’s told.”

Your brow wrinkles and tugs tightly together, deep frown taking over your face. “Jesus, Garcia. I’m not a fucking dog.” He gives a quick laugh, but says nothing, prompting you to defend yourself. “I’ve worked with military advisors for years. Most of my career has been spent working alongside foreign armies and police forces. I’m not just some kind of desk jockey, I promise you that.”

“This is different.” The words flow across the table, the deep rumble sliding just beneath the reverberating bass coming from the jukebox in the corner. You look up and lock onto Frankie’s eyes, note immediately the hesitancy building behind them. He raises his brows as he looks at you, almost into you, and says simply, “This isn’t a raid. This isn’t some amateur hour bullshit put on by the local cops. And you won’t have the military or CNP or the US government at your back if something goes wrong.”

You nod, wanting – for some inexplicable reason – to pull your gaze from him, but finding that you just can’t. “I know. I get that.”

“Do you?”

Santiago gives his friend a little shove, just enough to cause him to look his way, breaking the odd hold he has over you. “She’s a good shot,” he tells him, tells all of them. “And she’s done enough undercover work for me to know that she sure as shit can keep her head.” He looks over at you again – “I still don’t know how you managed to get out of that shit in the comuna last year.” – and then gives a wry little laugh as his head shakes absently.

“Alright,” Tom mutters just as he slams down an empty bottle and reaches over to grab a new one. “She follows orders and keeps her cool… at least we can work with that.”

Benny nudges you with his elbow and when you look up at him you’re met with the widest, sunniest of smiles – never mind the deep split in his lip from the fight that he claims to have won just a few hours prior. “Hear that? That’s just about the best kind of approval you’ll ever get from Redfly.”

“Approval?” Tom shoots across the table. His voice drops an octave as he aims a serious stare over at you. “I’m still not convinced that we can actually trust you.”

“Jesus,” Santi breathes out with an annoyed air. “You really think I’d bring her here… hell, you think I’d have put all this together with her if I didn’t think – know – that she can be trusted?”

He shrugs. “You haven’t really known her that long,” he mutters thickly, his expression slipping back into something wary as he folds his arms across his broad chest and falls into a speculative silence as he mulls over his friend’s words.

You watch him closely, trying to discern what exactly he’s thinking. But long before you’re able to draw any sort of conclusion, Benny bumps you with his shoulder again and says simply, “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. He’s onboard.”

There’s a part of you that balks at the darlin’, just as you had almost called Will out on his use of sweetheart. But the truth is – both times – the names are uttered with a casual, even reassuring, cadence that you’re certain holds no demeaning intent. And you’ve been in enough male-dominated circles over the years to be able to discern at least that much. Even the way Ben’s looking at you now – genuine grin and kind eyes – seems to hold no innuendo. So you let it slide.

“How long did it take him to trust you?” you ask, the tension in your shoulders lifting when a throaty chuckle bubbles out of him.

“Oh, I don’t know that he does. I don’t know if Tom really trusts anyone.”

A snort of a laugh rings from the other end of the table, surprisingly coming from the Doubting Thomas himself. “You’re so full of shit,” he mumbles as he sits back upright and grabs his beer. He takes a giant swig and tacks on for good measure, “Besides, nothing wrong with being… cautious. My being – ”

“A distrustful prick,” Santiago interjects brazenly.

“Whatever you want to call it,” he counters with a faux-saccharine lilt. “It’s saved all your asses more than a time or two. Hasn’t it?”

There’s a quick round of almost wistful snickers from nearly all the men, each seeming to light onto a particular memory, their gazes faltering and ticking briefly off towards nothing. The exception is Frankie, who simply stares down at the battered beer bottle in front of him, sticker half peeled off and clinging to his fingernails as he continues to work at it with a frown. “What about this informant of yours,” he says, low voice slicing into the newfound silence. He shifts nervous eyes over to the man at his right. “You’re sure she can be trusted?”

Without hesitation, Santiago nods. “I’m sure of it. And besides, we’re not basing all of this just on her word. You read the file, right?” He glances over at you and ticks his chin in your direction. “We checked it out. We’ve been out there enough to get a lay of the land. We’ve seen the deliveries of cash coming in… and not going back out.”

Will speaks next, his words soft and slow. “Could all be a setup… a giant, well-planned setup.”

You shake your head. “No. No, it’s legit.” Five sets of eyes turn to you, drilling into you for something more substantial. But the truth is, all that you have is in that file. And, yeah, it could be an elaborate setup. Or – more likely than that – just a really, really bad idea. But your gut says it’s neither. Your gut says that this whole damn thing is the only way to put an end to Lorea’s ever-growing cartel.

Tom’s eyes narrow at you once again, suspicion still lingering in his glare. “How’d this all happen, huh? How’d you even get involved with this… this shit-brain scheme?” he asks before the serious countenance begins to crack and he blows out a harsh chuckle. “How’d Pope sucker you into all this?”

Santiago answers before you get a chance to even open your mouth. “I didn’t sucker anybody into anything. And I don’t use the same callsign down there, so…”

Your eyes flash over to meet his, face splitting into an insolent grin. “Pope…” you mutter, popping the p at the end. “How exactly did you get that name, anyway?”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to know.”

“He spent his first firefight hailing Mary through the coms,” Will chimes in with a teasing lilt. “All damn night.”

“I was nineteen.” He defends… almost whines. “You wanna tell her how you got Ironhead?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of his beer. “I’m not embarrassed.”

Frankie smirks from the other side of the table as he issues out under his breath, “You should be.”

Your eyes bounce eagerly back and forth between the men, silently pleading for someone to tell you the story of Will’s ridiculous moniker. But it seems that you’ve once again gone invisible.

“Hey, he held that record for a solid decade,” Benny mutters beside you. “And I’m pretty sure that dipshit, MacCovey, cheated to take the title.”

“How can you cheat at that?” Frankie asks with an incredulous laugh.

“He cheated.”

“Cheated at what?” you blurt out, eager to just hear the tale. “Ironhead’s a title? With a record? For what?”

Will pivots in his seat, flashing you a smug grin as he rather haughtily announces, “Record for the most concussions sustained during basic training. And no one can take Ironhead away from me… especially not some hardheaded kid from freaking New York.”

“How do you know he was from New York?” Santi asks.

Frankie cocks his head at his friend too. “You met him?”

“Didn’t he die?” Tom interjects, confusion suddenly weaving through the lot of them.

“Did he?” Will asks. “Shit, guess he wasn’t that hardheaded after all.”

Benny leans forward to address them all. “He didn’t die. Just lost a leg. Roadside bomb.”

“Shit,” his brother repeats solemnly.

“Was supposed to be his last tour too. Well, guess it still was.” He looks down for a somber beat before lighting on Frankie. “And I heard that he never actually hit his head when he fell off that tower, so… cheated.”

Throughout all of the back and forth, you just sit, eyes wide, expression both amused and deeply concerned. “Jesus,” you finally breathe out once everyone falls quite. You turn to Will, look a little closer at him as though you might be able to discern some of the damage done so many years ago. “Are you… okay?”

He lets out a hearty laugh and raps his knuckles on his skull. “Nothing to worry about here,” he tells you with a wide smile. “Ironhead, remember?”

Tom snorts and shakes his head skeptically. “Tune’ll change when that CTE shit kicks in… start wandering around the neighborhood, talking to yourself, picking fights with people in grocery stores.” He stops short and flashes a shit-eating grin. “Oh wait…”

The joke – if there even really is one – is lost on you. But Will must get it, because his face flashes in irritation, a mere, “Very funny,” falling from his lips as he brings his beer bottle up to meet them.

You let out a sigh – “I’m confused.” – and choose to ignore Tom in favor of getting more of the story from Ironhead himself. “Did you get concussions on purpose? Why does this seem to be some kind of source of pride?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“What about that full can of soup you tried to crush on your head?” Frankie interjects with a raised brow.

“Yeah, alright, there was that one,” he concedes.

Your forehead furrows deeper. “If you were always getting hurt, why didn’t they call you something like, Falls-a-Lot or Unlucky Charms or just Blockhead?”

He stares at you for a long moment, face hardening into a stoic set. “Wasn’t Tom asking how you got yourself into all this? Wasn’t that what we were talking about?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t think we were really talking about it…”

“She basically started it,” Santiago states simply. “I mean, I was in the minute she brought it up, completely in. But it was her shit-brained scheme from the get-go.”

“Really?” Tom smarts, skeptical look once again riding his face as he takes a pull from his beer.

“Look,” you begin, tone painfully sincere, “I’ve been on the losing end of this battle for years. And the people down there, the families… the kids he recruits…” You stop for a beat and slowly, bitterly shake your head. “Lorea, and all the others like him… It’s their turn to lose.”

Tom nods, his gaze never breaking from yours. “You do realize you sound just like him,” he mutters, ticking his chin towards Santi. “Seriously,” he begins, stare serious, but tone glib. “Did you two hatch this crazy little plan together in bed?”

You glance over at Garcia, quickly taking note of the burning blush creeping up his neck as he hides beneath his baseball cap and tries not to laugh. Then, on their way back to Tom, your eyes light on Frankie. He too is ducking his head. But he doesn’t seem to be laughing like the others. Rather, from what you can make out beneath the shadow of his hat, he looks… embarrassed. No. Dejected.

Your heart skips a beat and you blurt out suddenly, “We’re not sleeping together,” a little too loudly to come across as anything other than agonizingly defensive. The laughter intensifies and you clear your throat before going on to say, “Garcia’s usually too busy fucking his informants to ever even think of giving me the time of day.”

Benny just about loses it, his body pulsating with fits of giggles as he leans back a bit and reaches out to give you a high five. You oblige, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you see Santiago shift across from you. He peers at you from beneath the ballcap, eyes dark and smile wide as he says, voice deep and honeyed, “Oh, bonita, trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

You roll your eyes and tip back the nearly empty bottle to your lips, draining the last dregs of your beer before rising and stating, “I’ll get the next round… as long you guys promise to do nothing but regale me with embarrassing stories about Pope for the rest of the night.”

000

Jetlag. It’s something you’ve experienced countless times over the years, hopping from place to place, office to outpost to field. And yet you’ve never really managed to get used to it, the bone-deep fatigue kicking your ass after each and every trip you’ve ever taken. A full day of travel, and now a full night of drinking, and by the time the lot of you stumble out of the bar, you’re barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

“Lightweight, huh?” Benny jokes as he pushes past you on the way to his car.

You grumble under your breath, something akin to, shut the fuck up, though your words aren’t all that put together right now either. But Ben doesn’t hear any of it anyway, he’s already giving his brother an unforgiving shove in the nearly empty parking lot and laughing maniacally as he dodges the lazy retaliatory punch.

“Don’t mind him,” Frankie mutters from behind you. You stop and turn, squinting through the harsh halogen light piercing your eyes as you look up at him. He notices the pained grimace you give and lets out a light chuckle as he takes your elbow and swings you back around to lead you to the car. “You seem more tired than drunk to me,” he says with a lilt as he easily slips his arm beneath yours for a little extra support.

Without thinking, you let your head tip to the side and rest on his shoulder. “Soooo tired,” you bemoan. A deep rumble of a laugh pulls from Frankie’s chest, reverberates up and through his entire body so that you feel it vibrate into you. It makes you smile. It makes you tuck yourself in a little closer. You stumble a bit, your toe catching on a crack in the pavement, and before you can even think to right yourself, his arm pulls away and reaches around, the warmth of his hand splaying across your hip as he steadies you. “Maybe a little drunk too,” you admit with a sigh.

If he thinks it’s odd that you’ve burrowed so close to him, or if he’s the least bit uncomfortable with your fingers now clinging to the back of his shirt, or if he’s irritated at having to slow to a crawl to help you to Santiago’s car, he doesn’t show it. Instead he easily slows his pace to match yours, giving your hip a little squeeze as he says, “Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Your shuffling stops as you pull back to look up at him with a confused frown. “You mean telling that story about Santiago’s ex? I don’t think I’m the one… to apologize…” Your brow furrows even deeper as you try to sift through what you just said, trying to determine if it makes any sense.

He lets out another low laugh, the sound quickly becoming a new favorite tune. “No. I mean about…” He hesitates for a moment, the smile slowly melting from his face. “When I was… questioning you. Whether or not you’re up for this. And, you know, whether or not you’re getting played.”

“Oh,” you bark out, far louder than intended. “Yeah, no.” You wave it off and waste no time at all – fatigue and alcohol both wiping away any embarrassment you might otherwise feel at plastering yourself up against a near stranger – falling back into him.

He chuckles again as he hikes you a bit higher and leads you over to the tiny blue rental car in the corner of the lot. “It’s just… I know you put a lot of work into gathering the intel. And I know this is… important to you. Or you wouldn’t be here. But still…”

You turn your face into his shoulder, his chest, unabashedly breathing in the musky scent from the collar of his jacket as you mumble into him, “I promise not to fuck it up. At least not too bad.”

“Hey!” Garcia calls out from the car, swinging the back door open as you two approach. “You getting handsy with my girl?”

Frankie snorts out a laugh, incredulous, almost sardonic, and not nearly as endearing as the ones that have been rumbling into you for the last however many glorious minutes it’s been. “Not your girl,” you mutter blandly. “Too risky… too many possible diseases.”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, standing back as Frankie helps you into the car, his palm pressing gently on the back of your head to make sure you duck inside safely. “She took like five Xanax on the flight in,” he tells his friend with a snicker. “Probably shouldn’t have let her drink so much on top of that.”

“Hate flying,” you breathe out as you settle back, harshly tugging at the seatbelt to your left.

Frankie shakes his head in amusement as he watches you grow increasingly frustrated with the non-cooperative seatbelt. “How can you hate flying?” he asks, crooked smile stretching across his face.

You stop the infernal struggle and collapse back into the seat, “Fucking hate it,” coming out of you in a petulant whine.

“Alright,” he murmurs amid a snicker as he leans into the car, easily tugging the seatbelt out and reaching around to buckle you in. Your eyes droop further, slipping closed as he pulls back out of the car, fading into the night. “You guys good?” you hear him ask, the deep tenor of his voice sounding even more melodic when penetrating the dark.

“Yeah,” Santiago tells him, fatigue drowning just that single word. “We’re over at the Motor Inn. Just a few miles up. Listen, Frankie… thanks for this. Really. This…” You almost open your eyes again, want to just to see if the expression on Garcia’s face matches the earnestness in his tone. “This isn’t just a standard op, you know. To me. To her. This is… just… thanks.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “Well, uh… I’ll see you Thursday.”

The only other sounds you hear before slipping away entirely are the door gently closing beside you, the engine starting up in a soft roar, and Santiago muttering, seemingly to himself from the front seat, “I am not carrying your ass to bed.”

Taglist: 

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 56

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @thunderintheshadows​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Tyler arrives in Christchurch at four in the afternoon; wasting no time in collecting his lone bag from luggage claim and then picking up the rental car Nik had arranged under an alias.  After the fuck up leaving Colorado the first time, Nik had been on the ball about making sure security and privacy were locked up tight; no trace back to his real name or hometown, an extra secure encryption every he sent a text message or email, arranging to pay everything by cash instead of using a credit or debit card that could be linked back to his real identity. While it's near certain that word had gotten back to the Buckman family about who he is and that he's coming for the kids, it's essential that his exact day and time of arrival isn't discovered. It would keep them on  their toes, perhaps even make them anxious enough to start making mistakes, and make it easier to get in and around the building for initial recon without being spotted. So he wears a a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap low on his brow; the hood of his sweater pulled up to cover his head.  It's a cool day in New Zealand, so he won't stand out in his attire or draw any suspicion towards himself. It's the last hing he wants or needs, preferring to just show up out of nowhere and catch the Buckmans -and whoever is doing their dirty work- by surprise.

He heads to the hotel first; a modest yet spacious two room suite on the ninth floor of a fifteen story building on the busy downtown core. Nik had already arranged for Yaz to have access; everything that he'd left behind in Ireland -clothes, personal belongings, the weapons- having been brought along and dropped off. The weapons behind locked in one of the closets; a heavy metal chain wrapped around the handles and then secured with a combination lock. The code sent to his SAT.

He calls home. It's nine in the morning back in Colorado and he wakes her from a dead sleep, and he spends the first minutes apologizing profusely and the following ten making sure that she's feeling okay; checking that she's been taking her meds, eating, drinking. Once more clarifying that she knows exactly how to handle things if the worst case scenario becomes a reality. If he doesn't make it home and she's left to not only face the aftermath, but relegated to being the sole caregiver of four -soon to be five- children. And he tells her he loves her; making sure that she knows -beyond all shadow of a doubt- just how much, and how'd she'd changed his life...and him...for the better. Things he probably should have told her a long time ago. Avoiding all the hurt and the feelings of doubt and abandonment that she'd gone through during his frequent absences.

Next he leaves the hotel and heads out into the street; grabbing coffee and something to eat before texting Yaz for his exact whereabouts. Anxious to see the suspected extraction location. Check out the locals. How busy the street and the neighbourhood itself is. How likely was it  that there would be civilian casualties when the Buckmans fought back. Where could an offensive be launched from? What did the possible entrance and exit points look like and how many options for both were there? Where could the hostiles hide out or mount their attack from? Relaying on other peoples' observations and plans is useless and a waste of his time. He has to see things for himself; run through every possible scenario, make his own plans. In the end if was his show to run; he was the one with the experience, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, who got down into the trenches where things were the most dangerous and unpredictable.  

Yaz has set up shop in an abandoned office building across the street from the old store owned by Heather McMann's grandmother; the twelfth floor giving an unobstructed view of not only the front and back of the little shop, but of the entire row of brownstones and the alley ways on either end of the block, and behind.   And he knocks twice on the door; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back and forth on his heels ever so slightly as he waits for someone to answer. Listening to the muffled conversations and the push of a chair across hardwood and the shuffling of footsteps as they approach the door. Mark answers; giving him little more than a smirk and then stepping back and holding the door open for him, gesturing for him to come in.

“Holy fuck, look at this!” Yaz calls out. “The lost sheep has returned to the flock! The fucking prodigal son has returned!”

“I've only been gone for two days and you missed me that much? What are you going to do when I'm gone for good? When I stop picking up the phone when your sister calls?”

“I'm going to stalk the every loving shit out of you until you come back,” Yaz says, and then embraces him warmly.

“I'm not coming back. I told you that. This is it Last one.”

“I give it a year. Before you're bored as hell and itching to get back out there.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you.  I'm done after this. Time to be a family man. Time to be the husband my wife deserves.”

“Good like with that,” Mark mutters as he steps past him.  “She doesn't know a good thing when she has one.”

Tyler smirks. “I know you're not talking about yourself, because everyone in this room knows what you're like. Or do we need to talk about it again? About how you like to beat on women?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz clamps a hand down onto his shoulder.  “...don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get under your skin. How about you go over there and sit down, Mark.  Quit trying to cause shit with my boy. Because you push your luck too far, he's going to rip you limb from limb. And not one of us in here are going to stop it. Are we boys?”

Both of the young Marines shake their heads.

“Good to have you back,” Nathan says, and pulls him into one of the awkward, one armed hugs that some guys seem to be into these days. “I know you wouldn't bail. Zak and I had faith. Unlike some people,” he jerks a thumb in Mark's direction.

“Thought maybe you didn't have it in you anymore,” Mark says, as he spreads his legs out in front of him and clasps his hands behind his neck. “That you lost your nerve.”

“Man's got more nerve in his baby finger than you have your entire body,” Yaz remarks. “And he wasn't bailing on us. He had some shit to take care of back home.”

“What kind of shit?” Mark inquires.

“Shit that isn't any of your business,” Tyler replies, and follows Yaz as he motions him over to the window.

“I figured if you wanted them to know, you'd tell them,” Yaz says, voice low.  “How's things? She's okay?”

“Fainted, hit her head and gave herself a handful of stitches and a concussion. Doctor says her blood pressure was high and she was severely dehydrated. To the point of kidney issues.”

“But she's going to be okay, right? Like it's nothing that could...you know...”

“Nothing that bad.  They've got her on meds. That should keep things normal from here on out.”

“And the baby? Everything's okay?”

“So far. Baby looks healthy, everything is where it's supposed to be, nothing's missing. The date's a little fuckey, but....”

“Fuckey how? You weren't home that day or something?”

“Not like that. Just farther ahead than we thought. Way farther ahead. Almost four months.”

“I mean, I'm no expert, but shouldn't you have known sooner? Like aren't these things obvious before now?”

“Normally. But when has anything ever been normal with us?”

“Well congrats,” Yaz pats him on the back. “Now get neutered okay? Five of you is enough. Did you look over what I sent you?”

Tyler nods.

“What do you think?”

“I think I need to get down there and see things for myself. Old blueprints and land claims and photos mean nothing. I need to get actual eyes on the place. Anyone been coming and going out of there?”

“Lot of weird shit been happening. Mostly people going in and out of the back door.”

“Get a good look at them? Anything that can be used for facial recognition?”

“Always keep their heads down. And there's no security cameras anywhere in that alley. We've checked. Twice.”

“Do people live in the apartments above? They occupied?”

“There's twenty residential apartments and five businesses. We haven't checked with the residents.”

“Someone might have their own security camera,” Tyler suggests. “Fire escapes right? They might be wanting to keep an eye on anyone coming up and down them for safety reasons. What's the alley like back there? How wide?”

“About ten feet. If that. Get a car in there and get blocked in...”

“You're totally fucked,” Tyler concludes.

Yaz nods. 'We've got Tanis down there right now. Doing some recon. We thought we had a sighting of Heather McMann yesterday but it never panned out. She went in the back door, never came back out.”

He frowns. “You've been watching all this time? Who's been watching the cameras when you're not here?”

“That would be me,” Mark pipes up.

“And you never saw anyone come back out?” Tyler inquires. “Whoever this woman was. She just went in and never came back out?”

“Not on my watch.”

“Not on mine either,” Yaz says. “And you know I'm anal about watching my cameras.”

“And she went in yesterday and you never saw her again?” Tyler stares pointedly at Mark. “You're one hundred percent sure that you never saw her.”

“I have eyes.  I can fucking see,” Mark snarls.

“I want to see the footage. Bring it up on the computer, Yaz. You keep that shit, right?”

His friend gives him a look that clearly means that was a ridiculous question to ask. That of course he keeps the footage and how dare you suggest otherwise.

“I just fucking told you!” Mark snaps.

“I know what you told me. And I'm telling you that I want to see the footage.”

Mark jumps up with enough force to send the chair sliding backwards and then toppling to the ground. Crossing the room in four strides, until he's toe to toe with Tyler, who only smirks in response.  “You telling me I don't know how to do my job? I'm FBI you fucking half wit. We do this shit for a living.”

“I'm just saying you might have fucked up. How does she go on and not come back out? Explain that to me.”

“Maybe he fucked up,” Mark nods at Yaz. “Maybe he missed her.”

“I don't fuck up,” Yaz informs him. “Never do I fuck up.”

“I want to see the goddamn footage,” Tyler demands. “What's the problem?”

“You think you can just walk back in here like you never left?” Mark rages. “Like you run the whole show?”

“Well technically it is his job,” Zak attempts to reason. “So he is kinda running things.”

“You take off for a couple of days and think you can just walk back in and...”

“I want to see the fucking footage,” Tyler angrily interjects. “I'm not asking. I'm telling. What's the goddamn issue? Just get on the computer and show me what I want to see.”

“You're an arrogant fuck, Rake. You think you can just take off for a couple of days so you can go home and get your dick wet and...”

Frowning, Tyler steps even closer to Mark.  His tone calm and even, despite the rage that begins to simmer inside of him.  “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz lays a hand on his shoulder. “...no reason for this to turn into a thing...”

“It's been a  'thing' right from the beginning,” Mark says. “He's had a hard on for hating me right from the get go. Before he even met me.”

“I didn't need to meet you to know you're a fucking asshole, mate.  I'd heard all about you.  I'd been hoping I wouldn't meet you because I knew I'd probably kill you if I did.”

'Well I'm right here. What's stopping you? If you're as big and tough as you let on you are...”

Tyler smirks. “You're not even worth it.”

“You go home, you get laid, you come back and suddenly you're the boss? Fuck you, Rake. We've been doing all the work while you were off getting your dick sucked...”

“You need to watch your fucking mouth. Don't bring my wife into this.”

“Hey, I get it. I understand. I mean, she gives really good head, am I right?”

His forearm is across McMann's throat before anyone in the room can even react, and he forcefully pushes the other man across the room, slamming him against the back of the door. And as there's chaos and clamour as the Marines and Yaz rush over in an attempt to diffuse the situation, Tyler leans into his full body weight into Mark, further cutting off his airway.

“Don't ever talk about my wife like that.  You don't bring her into your issues with me. Don't say her name. Don't even think about her. Because I will fucking kill you and I won't feel the least bit sorry about it.”

“You can't stand it can you,” Mark chokes out.  “That I was with her before you.  Fucking her before you were. You can't stand thinking about it, can you.”

“I don't give a shit about any of that. She had a life before me. You know what I give a shit about? All the things that you did to her. How you fucked her head up. You're a real man, Mark. Putting your hands on a woman that's half your size. Did it make you feel big and tough? When you were beating the shit out of her? I bet it made you feel like a real big man, didn't it.”

“You have no clue what went on.  How she pushes and pushes and...”

“Oh I know. I know what she can be like, trust me. But you know what? I don't put my fucking hands on her. Because I'd kill myself if I ever even thought about it. I don't give a shit what she does or what she says or how big of a pain the ass she can be, you don't do shit like that.  You're a coward. You beat on women because you can't take on someone your own size. Well I'm right here. You want to take a shot, just do it.”

“Yeah...that's not a good idea...” Yaz pipes up. “...not a good idea at all.  So can you two comparing your dicks long enough for us to get some work done? Because I'd really like to get this job over and done with. And you two assholes are not helping.”

“Do it...” Tyler takes a step back, removing his arm from Mark's throat.  “...I'm right here, fuck head. What? Suddenly you're not so tough? It's a whole different ball game when you've got someone your own size willing to take you on, isn't it.”

“Not exactly a fair fight,” Yaz says. “You've got like six inches on him and probably fifty pounds, so...”

“Not to mention you would kill him,” Nathan adds. “You know, considering the shit you've done to people with your bare hands.”

“Typical for guys like you, Rake, “ Mark scoffs. “All show and no go. All those muscles don't mean shit when you got nothing to back them up.”

“I've got plenty to back them up, mate. All you've got is that mouth of yours. Constantly fucking running it. And I won't hesitate being the guy that knocks all your teeth out. So keep fucking testing me. See how far you can push me. Go ahead.”

“No, don't,” Yaz manages to get between them.  “Don't push him. This is not what we're here for. We're here for those two kids. This job has gone on long enough and I'm tired and I'm pissed and I'm irritated as fuck. So stop the pissing contest. Both of you. I get it, Mark's a huge dick and he deserves to have the shit kicked out of him for what he did to Esme. But can you at least rein all this in until after the job is done? Let's get those kids the fuck out of there and then you can drag him out into the street and finally beat the shit out of him. But for now...” he lays his hands on Tyler's shoulders and pushes him backwards. “...you need to calm the fuck down and focus. I need you to focus. You're not good to me or those kids if your heads not on straight. Right?” he lightly slaps his friend on the cheek. “Right?”

Tyler nods.

“Get your shit together. I need your head in the game. And you...” he turns to glare at Mark.  “...get off his jock and quit trying to cause shit with him. Because he will do some serious damage and not one of us in here has the balls to try and stop him when he gets doing. Talk a walk or something. Go and get us coffee. Food. Make yourself useful. Maybe one of you boys can go with him. Calm him the hell down. We do not need this shit!”

“I'll do it,” Zak offers, albeit reluctantly. “You wanna come with, Nate? Stretch your legs? I promise I won't push him into traffic. Unless...” he playfully bumps Tyler's shoulder with his own. “...you want me to. Blink one for yes, twice for no.”

Tyler chuckles. “It's all good, mate. You keep your hands clean. He'll get what's coming to him.”

“That a threat?” Mark asks from the doorway.

“Naw...” Tyler shakes his head. “...that's a promise.”

****

“You good?”   Yaz asks, after the commotion has finally settled down and he sits at his laptop, bringing up the file containing the camera footage from the day before.

“I'm good,”  Tyler replies, and drags over a chair, turning it backwards before sitting down on it. “Fucking guy gets under my skin. I shouldn't let him, but he just doesn't stop.”

“He's like one of those sea dwelling amoebas that you can only see under a microscope yet they burrow into you and start causing all kinds of shit from the inside out.”

Tyler arches both brows.

“Remind me about it later. I'll show you. There's some cool shit about them on Youtube. Look, I know he's a pain in the ass. I've wanted to kill himself about ten times since yesterday. But he's doing this on purpose. To get a rise out of you. To get in your head. Stopping letting assholes like that take up space in your head without paying rent.”

“You been talking to my wife? Because you sound just like her.”

“Well, brilliant minds think alike. Although I question her intelligence and her sanity considering she willingly took up with you. I can't begin to imagine what she saw in you. Not even in the slightest.”

“Start using more than five pound weights in the gym and you can look like this too. Might take you forty years, but...”

“I will have you know, my lady is happy and satisfied.”

“Lady, huh? The one from the coffee shop? Shelly? Sherry? Whatever the hell her name is? The one I saw half naked.”

“Siobhan. And I'm still pissed at you about that. Cockblocking wasn't on your resume when you applied for the job. You at least like what you saw?”

Tyler chuckles. “You want me to rate your 'lady' or whatever the fuck she is?”

“I'll go first if you want. I'll rate Esme and then...”

“Yeah, no. Don't do that. Because I will have to kill you and it would break my heart a bit because I kind of like you. So...”

“I'd put her at a ten, by the way. If that makes a difference.”

“When have you seen enough to rate my wife? Is there something you're not telling me about?”

“I've seen her in a bathing suit. Ten. Definitely a ten. You lucky fucker.”

“Well, it's a ten plus, actually. But stop talking about my wife like that, for fuck sake.”

“You should be flattered. That guys find her attractive. They like what they see but she sticks with you.”

“I am flattered. But it also pisses me off. So...”

“Your turn. What did you think? At least a ten, right? Come on. I know you're married but I also know you look. We all look. Human nature. You like what you see?”

He shrugs. “I'll give her an eight. Nine at the most.”

“Fuck you, Tyler. I gave Esme a ten.”

“Because she is a ten. What I saw was an eight at the lowest and nine at the highest. I'm not into red heads. Plus she's not you...top heavy...”

'I forgot. You're a boob man. Is it true that when women have kids they get bigger? The boobs?”

“We are not talking about my wife's tits. So can we get on with this?”

“Just tell me if it's true. Do they?”

“It's not the kids that make them bigger, dumb ass. It's when they're pregnant with the kids. Pick up a fucking book or look it up on the internet. Why are you asking me?”

“Because you're kind of an expert. You've been through it three times. Now four if we count the one in the oven. So it's true then? You've experienced this yourself?”

“If I give you an answer will you shut the fuck up and get to work?”

“Swear on my mother's grave.”

“Your mother is still alive,” Tyler reminds him.

“My grandmother's than. True or not? Just a one word answer.  Seeing as your so sensitive about this.”

“True. Now can we do this? While I'm still young enough to not be collecting an old age check? Fuck sake. Let's go.”

“So are you really doing it?” Yaz asks, as he puts in the approximate time of the day they'd seen the woman they'd thought was Heather McMann.  “Leaving? Calling it a day?”

“When this is over, yeah. I've got five million reasons not to stick around. And five that are even more important. I've got a family, Yaz. And they deserve to have me around. Not just some of the time. All the time.”

“You're going to drive Esme crazy,” Yaz chuckles. “Being around all that much.”

“I already drive her crazy. What's your point?”

“You're not worried you're going to get bored? Having nothing to do?”

“I'll find things to do. I've got four kids to help take care of. In a few months until be five. That'll keep me busy enough. I don't need to be out killing people.”

“Daddy Tyler,”  Yaz grins.  “Can't wait to see that. I mean, I've seen it before, obviously. But I can't wait to see it at full force. You going to start coaching little league and soccer and driving a mini van?”

“Fuck you, Yaz.”

“You're going to start wearing cardigan sweats and growing your hair out and shaving off your beard,” he laughs. “You're going to turn into a regular Mister Rogers. You and your Starbucks and your deck shoes and your hipster haircut.”

“I honestly will punch you in the throat.”

“I kid, I kid. I can never see you doing anything of those things. And I'd probably put a hit out on you if you ever did do any of those things. You guys gonna stay in Colorado?”

“No. We're leaving. As soon as we can.”

“Back to Australia?”

Tyler nods.

“Can't say that surprises me. You guys were a lot happier when you were there. Didn't fight as much. Things just seemed to change when you guys went to Colorado. And not for the better either.  That's where all the shit started to happen.”

Tyler can't deny that.

“It's like there's something bad in the air. Some bad fucking karma or juju or something. You guys will be happier back in Australia. I'm going to miss you guys. Especially those kids.”

“You can come and visit. I'm leaving the job. Not the people connected to it.”

“See, you will miss me.”

“Of course I will. Everyone needs a dorky friend, right?”

“You know, you start out so well and you go so wrong,” Yaz chuckles, and then stops the footage on the screen. “So, this is the camera in the back alley that I set up. And this is her. The one we thought was Heather McMann.”

Tyler leans forward in his chair, squinting his eyes. “Can you make it bigger?”

“Can I make it bigger,” Yaz scoffs, as he zooms in on the still. “Of course I can.”

Frowning, Tyler pulls his SAT phone out of the side pocket on his cargo shorts and brings up the photo gallery; selecting a picture he'd saved of the woman in question and then holding it up to the screen.

“Looks like her,” Yaz says. “Sort of? Right?”

“That's her. That is definitely her.”

“How can you tell?”

“Look at the marks on her face. The photo I have is when she was being 'held',” he makes air quotes around the last word. “So the bruises were still fresh. Now they're healing and not as noticeable, but they're still there. In the exact same places. Zoom in on her left hand.”

Yaz does what he's told.

“Same tattoo in the exact same place. And her rings are the same. Same engagement ring, same wedding band. There's no way that's not her. And she never came back out? What time is it...” he checks his watch. “...she's been in there for over eighteen hours? No fucking way.”

“If she came out, she didn't come out the back door.”

“You have cameras on the front?”

“You're asking a lot of stupid questions today,”  Yaz sighs, and brings up the footage from the other camera, slowly scrolling through it, frame by frame.  

“Has there been any sign of the kids?” Tyler asks.

“None. Whatsoever. But she did take food and shit in with her. So...”

“Still doesn't mean those kids are in there. She could have been bringing that to people she's working with.”

“You think the shop could be a front for something?”

Tyler shrugs. “This is so fucked up, anything is possible. Stop it. Go back about fifteen seconds.”

Yaz complies, then leans closer to the screen. “Sonofabitch...”

“She came out the front door. She changed her clothes and put a hat on and she walked right out. Right fucking in front of us,” Tyler sighs heavily, then runs his hands over his face. “Fuck!”

“She knows someone is watching her,” Yaz concludes. “It's why she changed her clothes and put a hat on.”

“Fuck!” Tyler rages, as he stands up and kicks the chair across the room. “Fuck!!”

Yaz remains silent.

“How the fuck did you guys miss that? She walked right out the goddamn front door! How the fuck does that happen? She's right across the street! Why did no one go over there and see if it was her when you saw her on camera? You thought it was her but didn't go and check it out? What the fuck, Yaz?!”

“I get it. You're upset. And you've got a right to be. But....”

“I'm not upset. I am beyond upset. Way beyond it  How did you guys fuck up this bad? Four people in this goddamn room, Tanis on the street, and not one person thought to go and see if it was Heather McMann? Not one of you thought that was a good idea?”

“In all fairness, you're the expert and you weren't here so...”

“They're Marines! They know how to take someone down if they have to. Jesus fucking Christ...” he punches a gaping hole in one of he walls. “...how the fuck does this happen?! She was right there. Right across the street. And not one of you went to get her. Who was watching the cameras? Who fucked up? Who didn't see her come back out?”

“I'll give you three guess. But you're only going to need one.”

“Of course it was Mark. Of course it was. That fucking prick!”  Tyler lays his palms against the wall and drops his chin to his chest, attempting to calm himself. “This is a big fuck up. A huge fuck up. An epic fuck up.”

Yaz nods in agreement.

“She was right there and we could have had her. She could have lead us right to those kids.  And not one of you went to see if it was her for sure.”

“We fucked up,” Yaz admits. “Big time.”

“You think?!”

Neither of them speak for several minutes; Yaz waiting for Tyler to fully calm down. He knows it would be a huge mistake; to even utter a single word when his friend is so worked up. Eventually Tyler moves; grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler one of the others had brought with them, twisting off the cap and downing half.

“She come back?” he asks. “Any sign of her returning?”

“None. And I scoured the tapes. Twice. She hasn't come back. Think she will?”

Tyler shrugs. “She knows she's being watched. She knows you guys are here.”

“Think she knows you're here?”

“Probably not. I'm pretty much non existent right now.  There's no sign of me coming into New Zealand. No flight manifesto, no real sign of me on any of the cameras, I haven't used a bank card or a credit card, Nik ordered the car under a different name. So we at least didn't fuck that up.”

“We still have the element of surprise,” Yaz concludes. “At least where you're concerned.”

Tyler nods.

“So we just wait? To see if she comes back? What do you think?”

“I need to get down there. Get my own eyes on things.”

“Could make you. If anyone sees you. If she sees you.”

“Guess it's too late now to worry about it, yeah? If they're going to find out, they're going to find out. But I need to get down there. See things for myself. I don't think it's safe yet to actually go into the building. No way of knowing if there's anyone in there. And if there is, how many there are. I'm not walking into a massacre. Fuck that.”

“You're armed, aren't you.”

“I've got a fucking Glock, Yaz. What good will that do against bigger weapons? It won't do shit. I'd get two, three shots and that's it. We need to know exactly what's going on down there. Any way of getting eyes inside?”

“I could get a hold of my guy. I'm sure he's got the tech. I'll give him a call,” he pulls out his own SAT phone. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to go down there and check shit out,” he finishes off the water, tossing the empty bottle into the garbage before heading for the door. “Keep an eye on things. Message me if you see anyone that looks even remotely like her. Can you do that?”

Yaz nods. “Be careful, okay? Don't get yourself killed the first day.”

“Just watch my back,” Tyler responds, and then steps out the door.

[bigskydreaming]

I really encourage people who have legitimate gripes with something I say or express on here to like.....either just DM, @ me directly or if you’re going to pop into my inbox to debate something with me, like, do so off anon, even if you ask that I don’t publish your ask and just respond to you in private. I always abide by that if people ask me to do that, and I’m 10000x more likely to treat your complaint or disagreement with dignity even if I completely disagree with it, than like....if you go on anon with it. 

Because dunno if you’ve noticed, lol, but there’s kinda a tendency with people who pick fights with me on anon or who @ me in general with some form of “LOL I can’t believe you’re so dumb as to believe this thing [that you don’t actually believe or else is not at all actually what I’m framing it as being],” to like.....only really do so in an attempt to trip me up, expose me as a hypocrite or pull some kind of ‘Gotcha!’ So, realistically, it just is not possible for me to give most anons who disagree with me the benefit of the doubt or for me to assume they’re at least coming from a place of actual honest disagreement rather than just....playing games, which I fucking despise and I refuse to respond to with respect. 

I sound ridiculous in nine out of ten of my over the top responses to people giving me shit, because of...deliberate intent on my part. *Shrugs* Because I personally consider it to be extremely ridiculous, how often I have people trying to poke holes in things I say, by.....poking at stuff I never even say, lol. 

I don’t actually always believe I’m right about everything, but I fully understand how my tone can convey that I do think that in a lot of these back-and-forths, because.....the one thing I do pretty much always think I’m right about is what it is I’m actually saying or believe. And thus, I really do not care for people trying to tell me I said otherwise, when I have a looooot of proof to point to how even when I’m being like, King Ridiculous in how I say or phrase something....nobody ever seems to have trouble comprehending my points on pretty much any topic across the board......until it happens to be a point I make on a matter they take issue with.

So just a general PSA, do with it what you will, but like. I’m just saying: 

I know I’m contentious, and I don’t actually want people to just automatically 100% take everything I say as fact or just never disagree with me, since that’s like....the polar opposite of pretty much my entire belief system or view of life and how to go through it lol. 

Buuuuut it honestly is exhausting constantly being hit up by people in bad faith, and who prove over and over again that they are perfectly comfortable saying or doing anything with no loyalty to even their own arguments, as long as it nets them a ‘win’ in arguing with me for the sake of arguing or whatever the fuck their motivation might be, I honestly do not care, lol. And I’m just......long past assuming that someone who is approaching me on anon to argue or contest something I’ve said or a position I’ve taken, is doing so in good faith instead of just as part of a twelve step plan wherein they disingenuously go about trying to lay some kind of convoluted ‘trap’ to lure me into. As though any of this is worth that fucking effort in the first place. LOL.

So by all means, disagree with me, contest me, put the screws to something I say and force me to defend my point further.....but like.....just be fucking honest about it. Or be willing to put your URL/name to it when doing so, even if you ask that I keep it out of public view, so that at least I know you’re not one of my half a dozen hate-following Regulars who habitually pop up on anon pretending to be someone brand new until three messages later when they’re like “Surprise! You thought I was just some rando, but here I am with the same receipts I’ve been claiming to have for the past half a decade!” (Oh no, much shock, mortification, oh unknowable plot twist, who could have ever seen that coming). LOL, y’know what I mean? Like, if you’re off anon or if you at least @ me with something approaching at least SOME modicum of respect, I’m soooooo much more likely to not just dismiss anything and everything you say from the word go, just because the sheer novelty of that approach is gonna be more engaging to me than, like, Me Vs Some Rando Whose Opening Gambit Is “Well Actually.....*proceeds to argue against points several galactic light years north of anything I’ve ever actually said ever*”: Round Fifty Two Bajillion. 

Like yeah, I’m rude as fuck in a lot of the arguments I get into on here, because I’m not a big fan of turning the other cheek and also I’m not gonna gloss over the ugly in something someone says just because they couch it in ‘civilized, well-mannered discourse.’ So I’m not at all offering some carte blanche guarantee or a secret password for how to go about saying something vile to my face without me responding by verbally ripping your head off, lol, I just mean like.....you ever have some free time to kill, go back through my archives to my earliest posts on this site. You can literally WATCH the slow expiration of my Give-A-Fucks in real time. I usually position myself to be the Reactive part of an argument on this site deliberately.....I don’t go starting things unless I’m weighing in on something that crosses my dash and already is looking ugly as hell, and for the most part, 90% of the fights I get into on this site are people approaching me to begin it, and y’know.....I don’t owe it to anyone to treat them or their position with more respect than they approach me with. LOL. And also, I don’t owe it to my own reading comprehension or that of anyone else who is similarly not an idiot to treat the ‘faux-respect/politeness’ people are addicted to on here as anything other than rudeness couched in the additional insult of assuming I and others are too stupid to see the subtextual disdain. Like. Nope. Miss me.

Bottom line is just, I’m not looking to be yet one more person giving people who are legitimately questioning things they’ve been told or led to believe, like, reason to be too intimidated or afraid to actually question these things rather than just keep to their personal status quo in an effort to avoid confrontation. But I’m always going to be trying to balance that with being equally not a fan of enabling people who play-act at being too fragile or delicate to face up to their own behavior or the ugliness of their own opinions or stances if its delivered to them in ways that inspire them to cry-type about how like, its not their fault society told them it was okay to shit on entire groups of people as long as they could safely get away with it.

There’s a line there and I’m no tight-rope walker so no, I don’t have all the answers and am not actually trying to pretend I do, and believe it or not, I put a lot of thought and introspection into constantly self-evaluating not just my own stances and beliefs, but the why’s of them, and the how’s of how I go about interacting with others because of them, or talking about them, or anything of the like.

But because I do put a lot of effort into that myself, I am aware of like....there not really being an excuse for others not being similarly willing to do the same with their own behavior, beliefs or approaches to others, so.....meet me halfway, is all this really comes down to. To anyone who genuinely does find themselves at odds with things I say or troubled by viewpoints I espouse or even just flat out confused as to how to reconcile something I brought up with contradictory beliefs they’ve long held or been instilled with and are just trying to figure out which actually sounds more right to them now.

I do not want to be the bogeyman who is just so intimidating that even when he says something that makes you go ‘huh, maybe this thing I thought was wrong, but I’m not sure,’ you’re afraid to follow-up and explore that further in a back-and-forth with me. But I’m similarly disinclined to be used as the strawman/patsy/etc of people who are just interested in trying to manuever me into some conversational position they feel they can use to discredit me in front of their own followers and thus cement their own bullshit position that way. 

I just happen to get a lot of the latter, and that kinda plays directly into why I so often end up defaulting to the former. That’s not actually an excuse and so its more than fair for anyone to think that’s no reason to change their mind about me, a thing I’ve said or a way I’ve said it. But if fair is actually a thing you’re interested in, then please consider factoring all of the above in when deciding how or why or in what ways you approach an argument or disagreement with me, if you find yourself inclined to do so in the future. 

I would appreciate it, and even more importantly, I promise you it will be far more productive in encouraging me to actually argue or debate a point with you. As opposed to just making light of anything you say to me, much like I feel most approaches to me make light of the things I say, and thus.....my tendency to default to variations of LOL, you got some dumb on your face there buddy.

ANYWAYS.

Thank you for your consideration in this matter,

The Extremely Tired and Over It Management

[morgz2014-blog]

Brain Dump Sunday

You know... throughout my life, I’ve never been too confident. Not in my faith, morals, thought process, relationships, self esteem... but as I approach 25, there’s this nudge I feel telling me I need to get over a lot of things.

The first thing is body image. Everybody knows (if you grew up in the 90s and early 00s) that being thin was poppin. This body positivity stuff wasn’t a thing when I was growing up, so if you were anything more than thin, people either overlooked you or felt this need to ridicule you based on your size.

In high school, with the people I hung out with, I felt like the fat friend. And in hindsight, that’s relatively true. I was a size 14-16 in high school and my friends were a size 5-7. Naturally (because science), I looked bigger than them, and... I was lol. But now when I look back, I’m like “ morghan you weren’t even fat “ when back then, I thought I was.

In middle school and elementary, I looked like a blueberry 😂😂 (insert Violet Beauregarde). We’re not even gonna go there lmao.

When I reached high school, A LOT of things happened and changed in my life.. very fast at that. So instead of eating like I used to when I was stressed, I just stopped. One could say I was... depressed (still am today, but we’ll get to that later). Weight fell off almost instantly. So when I hit high school, I got taller, boobs got a little bigger (itty bitty titty committee tho), curves came in and my butt got a little round too. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t ridiculed for my size AND I started receiving male and strangely enough female attention. My freshman year was pretty good regarding that aspect.

Sooo... let’s fast forward to 2020 because we’ll get into the tea of my high school experience later. Due to life being a... female dog... I gained over 100 pounds within 3 years. Got to the highest weight I’ve been at. You ready for that number??? 325 lbs. When I bought a scale and I saw that number, I felt god awful but deep in my heart I expected to see a number to that magnitude. I know what I did to get to that point.

So Morghan tell us, what was the motivation to get better??? I simply just wanted to live. I had a convo with my dad a few months back and he told me “ morghan your need to take control of your health “ and in a nutshell, he was worried because I already have an auto immune disorder and obesity don’t make it one ounce better. He was worried that won’t live a long fruitful life. Which I understood. As children of old people, you expect them to be worried about you, but not to the extent where they think you’re self destructing. I won’t hold y’all; I had to unpack that conversation for a couple months, then I kicked it into gear.

As of today, I’m 40 pounds down from that top weight. I talked to my dad the other day and he was extremely proud of my accomplishment and encouraged me to not give up and keep going. He then asked me “ send me a pic of your progress “ and I was like 😳😳. I had just realized that I never really took any pictures of myself because I didn’t want to face the fact that I got so big and unhealthy. I had my boyfriend take some pics and I was pleasantly surprised. I looked good. And idk why I felt otherwise, even at my biggest size.

Today, I had my boyfriend take another picture. Unedited, raw... me. And I love it. I feel this surge of confidence I’ve never had before and I hope it never goes away.

My thoughts have never been cohesive and I don’t expect them to be because I’m low key crazy lmao, but it feels great to get this off my chest and essentially dump my brain lol.

Until next Sunday for another needed brain dump.

[i-writeandread-blog]

Wonderland - Chapter 10

Authors Note- sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. It’s most likely not that great either, but I’m writing and I’m happy about that. If you want to be tagged let me know, thanks!

Staying at Jared's house isn't that bad. Everyday he wakes me up with breakfast in bed, every night he kisses my forehead before closing his eyes. He thinks I'm asleep when he crawls into bed usually sometime after midnight, but I am not. I don't let him think otherwise because I like this nightly routine. It shows me his respect for me. He hasn't pressured me once for sex in the two weeks I have been here.

Jared had hired a home nurse to come in and basically keep me company. I could do everything on my own. It only took three or so days to gain enough strength to start walking around. Once I did I really didn't need anyone to help me. I was fine to go home the other day, but Jared hadn't really been around for me to explain to him my intentions. After everything he has done, I didn't want to just disappear on him.

He has been so busy with the album and then he had some engagements come up that he had agreed to prior to meeting me, that he couldn't get out of. Not to mention they released the dates for a European tour in the spring to coincide with the album release. It was no doubt a very busy time for him and the band. He didn't bring up his work with me and I didn't ask questions. We hardly ever saw each other so there really hadn't been any conversations.

~~~~~~~

It is day 16 at Jared's house. I am feeling way too cooped up. I want to get out of this house, I want to take a drive.  As luck would have it, and I mean bad luck... the excuse to get up and go comes in the form of a phone call.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Yes I am sitting." The person on the other end is my old friend Darlene.

"Yes, Dar, I swear I am sitting. What is going on?" I ask thinking this is a joke.

"You have got to be kidding me?"

"No, no, you're lying. Shut the fuck up. You're fucking lying." I scream at the top of my lungs.

Jared runs in and finds me doubled over the bed half screaming and half crying. 

"Ali, what's wrong? What hurts?"

"He's... uhh... gone. He... is... dead." I say through sobs.

"Who Alice? Who is dead?"

"Nicky"

"I don't understand. Who is Nicky?"

"Nicky, my best friend's boyfriend. My friend. He is gone. I've got to go. I need to go home. They airlifted Gemma to Duke, she may not make it."

"I'm coming with you!" Jared says without hesitation.

"No, you have too much going on.  I can do this alone.  I appreciate all you've done."

"Ali, I want to be with you. Just let me clear my schedule and we will fly out first thing tomorrow morning."

"No, Jared. I have got to go now.  If Gemma doesn't make it, I'd never forgive myself for not being there."

Jared left the room without saying anything and I can't tell if it is because I refuse to let him rearrange his life for me.  I start grabbing the few odds and ends I have lying around his room so I can leave LA as soon as humanly possible.

Jared walks back in quietly and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.  This startles me.

"Shhh shhh, it's just me. Everything is going to be okay.  I've went ahead and booked a flight for you.  It leaves in 3 hours.  It was the only one available this short notice."

"Jared, you didn't have..."

"I wanted to.  I'm gonna fly out tomorrow, I promise.  I'm gonna be with you every step of the way, and that's final."

"Thank you."

"It's my pleasure.  Ali, you've wormed your way in to this ice cold heart of mine.  Don't you know you have me wrapped around your finger?"

"Yeah whatever Leto."  I roll my eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?"

"Maybe."  I say coyly.

Jared pulls me backwards and we both tumble onto the bed.  He rolls over facing me, leaning in so that his lips find mine.  This kiss was sweet and gentle, yet had anger and desperation in it.  I got lost in it.  My hands fisting his hair.  His beard scratching my face.  I needed air.  He tends to take my breath away even in the small glances he occasionally gives me.  He thinks he is wrapped around my finger but it really is the other way around. 

As soon as I break the kiss, reality sets in.  For one small iota of a moment I had forgotten what was going on.  He is a distraction and I wouldn't normally mind, but I have a flight to catch.

"Jared, I gotta get to the airport."

"We have time."

"No, I can't get sidetracked right now.  Please don't be mad.  I'll make it up to you."

I stand up, walk to the door, turn around and blow him a kiss.  He smiles as I leave him for the first time in what feels like a long time.  I tell myself that this is actually a good thing.  The heart grows fonder when you're apart.

The drive to the airport from Jared's seems longer than it should and I am sure it is because I don't know what kind of hell awaits me in North Carolina.  I cringe at the thought just as I am pulling into the long term parking at LAX.  I don't know how long I will be gone but the shorter the stay the better.  I'll be there as long as Gemma needs me.  She'd do the same for me, if ever I was in her shoes.

I am grateful that the doctor had prescribed pain medication when I left the hospital.  Up until now I hadn't used any, but the only way I am getting any sleep on this plane tonight is if I am medicated.

                         ———————————

It feels odd that Ali isn't in my bed tonight. I am already packed and I was able to get any meetings or engagements put on the back burner with the help of Emma and Shayla. Everything is working out in one way or another, but I can't seem to fall asleep.

Every part of me says I should be here working and not getting too involved with a woman right now. I have so much going on and this has really complicated things. I don't have many people I can count as friends in my life, but I know I can always call on Shannon. There isn't anything we wouldn't do for each other. I call his number and he answers within two rings.

"... Shan, I just don't know what to do here. I was thinking about how crazy I'd be if anything ever happened to you. So I get it, this is her best friend. If she loves Gemma as much as I love you, then I would need someone good and pure to help me through the tough shit."

"Yeah but Jay, you aren't good and pure."

"You know what I mean. I know I shouldn't get too attached, but..."

"Okay, so my advice to you is to consider all angles here. So far, you've managed to keep working even while she was getting better at the house. As much of a distraction that she is, she really hasn't been that disruptive."

"True."

"But, Jay, we all function on our drugs of choice. Me, it's always been alcohol and drugs. You on the other hand, it's been work and chicks. Can you sacrifice either of those things?"

"You quit using."

"Yeah, but you saw how hard that fight was..."

Shannon was right. I was managing fine with work, and I hadn't had any of my previous temptations show up unannounced. But what if work suffered because of Ali? What if I keep falling for her and I can't be faithful? I don't want to hurt her.

Ali and I haven't made any agreements about being exclusive, but I respect her and she deserves someone who can only be with her. I know I want to give her that but I am not sure I can be trusted. I need to put myself in the line of fire, I need to be tested.

As soon as I think about that, I remember how reluctant Alice was to be with me after my little white lie.  She had made reference to being hurt before.  If you think about it, we all have, but something tells me her hurt is more than just the run of the mill break up.  There was a pain in her eyes when she opened up and told me she couldn't trust me. I'd have to find out sooner or later what exactly had happened.

"Okay Shannon, I'll weigh the pros and cons, but if I'm being honest here, I at least want to try. You said mom wants us to be better men. I do want to be a better man. I've been thinking a lot about settling down. Maybe Ali came right at the perfect time... anyway I'm gonna try to get some sleep." We say our goodbyes and disconnect the call.

I lay in bed tossing and turning, wondering how I could prove to myself that I could be faithful. How I could put myself in the line of fire being around hundreds of girls all throwing themselves at me and turning each and every one of them down. This would be hard for me as it's been over fifteen years since I was in a committed relationship and that relationship ended because of infidelity.

I believe in the idea of soulmates. I like the sound of it. And it's true Ali is me in female form. We laugh at the same things, we do the same silly things when we think no one is looking. We both like attention, me more than her. We both are creative. There's so many similarities and very few things that make us different. She probably is my soulmate. I smile at the thought of that.

~~~~~~

I wake up and blink my eyes a few times.  Sometime in the night I must have fallen asleep.  I'm grateful because I have a long flight ahead of me and I won't be able to sleep on the plane.  I take a quick shower and eat a banana for breakfast.  The lab became alive sometime around my last gulp of juice.  I wash my glass and step into the office to bid everyone a farewell.

Everyone looks at me incredulously as I've got very neutral clothing on topped off with a black hoodie and sunglasses.  It's imperative that I am as incognito as possible.  I am in no mood to deal with any paparazzi today. 

I make it to the airport with minutes to spare and board the flight.  As soon as I can, I take my laptop out and work on more lyrics.

"Started a stranger, a love endangered

The edge of a night

The face of an angel, the heart of a ghost

Was it a dream?"

I had started the song as a love letter to America, but I can't help but feel it's also a love letter to Alice too.  The lyrics I just wrote are definitely to her.  I can't wait to sing it to her the first chance I get.  I write as much down as I can and close the computer when the flight crew tells us we are approaching our descent.

Before I know it the plane has landed and I'm headed to the hospital in a hired car.  Once there I send a text to Ali asking if she's at the hospital.  She confirms that she is in the operating room waiting area and that she hasn't been able to see Gemma yet.

I walk in to the waiting room where there are a few people sitting around talking.  I take notice of Ali looking at her phone, no doubt waiting for my reply.  I clear my throat and all eyes are on me.  The only ones that matter are her bright blue ones.  She stands up and runs into my waiting arms.

@branded-with-a-j @burritoverload @llfd1977 @nikkitasevoli @msroxyblog @lolainblue @snewsome756 @lady-grinning-soul-k @letojokerownsme

[speakingsharkffxiv]

LOOKING FOR RP- Bikki Blacktongue

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: 25

Birthday: 31st Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Au Ra (most likely 1/2 Xaela, 1/2 Raen)

Gender: Female

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Blond, kept long with some natural wavy curls

Eyes: Purple

Height: 5′0″

Build: Petite with wide hips

Distinguishing Marks: Freckles, a beauty mark at the corner of her left eye, and what looks almost like a surgical scar on her left side from an incident five years ago

Common Accessories: Her reading glasses, a file that contains current loan contracts and the safe it resides in when she’s not in her office, Phillipe

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Loan Shark

Hobbies: Singing, theatre, fashion, and technology

Languages: Hingan, Common, Gobspeak

Residence: Limsa Lominsa

Birthplace: A whorehouse in Kugane

Religion: N/A

Patron Deity: N/A

Fears: Voidsent, death (the two main reasons being the fear of just ceasing to have ever existed because she left no lasting mark and fear of the unknown of what happens after dying), excessive amounts of blood (tied to her mother’s death and “the incident”), and Ishgardians

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Enkhtuya Avagnar (Mother; deceased), Father: Unknown

Siblings: Brix Silvertongue (half-brother)

Other Relatives: Possibly, but she does not know them or care to find out

Pets: A fox kit she rescued named Phillipe

TRAITS ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: Never Drugs: Never Alcohol: Socially

RP HOOKS ––– –

Help Wanted: When debts need paying but people have no money, who you gonna call? Though she is learned in the ways of thaumaturgy, and not afraid to use a little (or a lot of) fire, Bikki finds that intimidation tends to get the job done. When that doesn’t work some bones might need to be broken, and that’s where the hired help comes in. She treats her employees well and pays fairly, just don’t betray her or you might be let go--permanently. (Bikki is always looking for folks willing to shake down, and break down, debtors who try to weasel out of paying her back.)

"This is a legal business, Officer.”: Sure, everyone complains about the interest rates, but everything was outlined in the contract. And there is a contract. Always. Hers is a perfectly legal establishment. She has the financial backing and certification to run it. Just because some people are claiming “threats” and “extortion” doesn’t mean they’re right. It just means it’s time for them to settle. (Bikki’s business is perfectly legal, even if some of her interest rates and methods of getting her money back are not, and good luck proving otherwise, Lawman(woman). On another side, she does make it her business to know the local law enforcement and be on good terms with at least one person there.)

Need some coin?: Sometimes people skip town. It’s understandable, really. You owe money but you don’t have it, so why not just go where no one knows your name and try to start again? Except she knows your name and she will find you even if she has to hired an adventurer to do it. (Looking for some quick cash? Bikki has a job for you! Sometimes debtors skip town and she’s not going to send her employees out too far beyond her reach. That’s where those handy dandy adventurers and their want of coin come in. There will be a detailed contract for your service, of course, and if you do a good enough job she might just consider keeping touch to hire you again in the future.)

Thespians and Fashionistas: Life isn’t all about business. While Bikki doesn’t have friends, per se, she does people who enjoy similar hobbies that she tolerates. Maybe one day she’ll come out of her shell, but for now she’s fine with keeping her discussions across her work desk or at arm’s length. (Bikki is a naturally wary and mistrustful person, for reasons, but she has specific hobbies and passions that she enjoys talking about with like minded individuals. She can lose time talking with tailors over the latest fashion trends and as long as you’re engaging she doesn’t mind people with similar interests butting into the conversations or approaching her at an event.) 

CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

If you’re 21+ (not trying to be rude to you young’uns, but it makes me more comfortable to have that age limit), message me here directly or ask for my discord. You can also add me in game, though it would be best to coordinate when as Bikki is not my main (and is still being leveled, hyuck.) In the essence of honesty, I’m not currently looking for in-game RP (as she’s still leveling and I’m trying to decide on her permanent home) until she’s more established, but I am perfectly willing to utilize tumblr or discord. So, if you’re interested, or think you might be and want to discuss, hmu. 

[swanqueeneverafter]

38. The Snow Queen, Pt.4

Arendelle. Past. (Elsa is in her castle practicing magic when Anna enters, having just returned from the Enchanted Forest.) Anna: “Elsa?” Elsa: “Anna! (Rushes to hug her:) Oh! Oh, I was worried I'd never see you again.” Anna: “I'm afraid you're stuck with me. I'm sorry I left without telling you.” Elsa: “Oh, and I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to. I know you did it for me, to try to make me feel better. So, what did you learn? Did you discover why our parents went to the Enchanted Forest? (Anna looks down:) What is it, Anna? What did you find?” Ana: “Nothing. I mean, I'm still waiting on some answers from a few people I met, but I wouldn't expect anything anytime soon because they have to find it out, then get on a ship and come here. It could take a while, a long while, and... Wait, no flurries? No frost on the windows? Usually a conversation about our parents ends with a chill in the air.” Elsa: “I've been learning to control my powers when I get upset.” Anna: “Really? How?” Ingrid: (Enters the room:) “By training with me.” Anna: “Who is that? I mean, who are you? I-I mean... Hi.” Elsa: “She's our aunt.” Anna: “Our what?” Ingrid: “Your aunt. My name is Ingrid. Your mother and I were sisters. You look exactly like her.” Anna: “But our mother doesn't have a sister. At least, she never told us about one.” Ingrid: “I'm sure it was too painful for her to talk about. You see, many years ago, I was trapped in a magical urn by... People who didn't exactly understand me.” Anna: “Didn't understand you?” (Ingrid uses her powers.) Ingrid: “Our gift runs in the family.” In The Stables. (Anna talks with Kristoff.) Anna: “I'm telling you, that woman is up to something.” Kristoff: “What, you mean your aunt? What makes you think that?” Anna: “'Cause it's weird and strange, her being here. And because I'm a good judge of character.” Kristoff: “Yeah, says the girl who agreed to marry Hans ten minutes after you started talking to him.” Anna: “I was young and naive.” Kristoff: “You met me the next day.” Anna: “Young-er. Anyway, I just want to make sure we're asking all the right questions.” Kristoff: “Like what?” Anna: “Like, is she really even my aunt, or is she just some imposter trying to worm her way into our family?” Kristoff: “Anna, look at her. You can't see the resemblance? Oh, yes, the ice-power thing, there's that. I was there when she was released from the urn, she saved Elsa and me from Hans and his men.” Anna: “Maybe, but if she's really my aunt, why isn't she in the family portraits, the royal records? There's no trace of her. It's like she never even existed. There has to be an explanation for all this.” Kristoff: “Yeah? And how do you think you're gonna find it?” Anna: “Your family.” Kristoff: “Careful. Grand Pabbie's still a little miffed that you postponed the wedding.” Anna: “I can handle Grand Pabbie. Will you go back to the castle and cover for me... Watch Elsa while I'm gone?” Kristoff: “If it'll put your mind at ease, of course.” Anna: “Oh, but, Kristoff, you have to be careful what you say around her. I... Might not... I might not exactly have told her what I discovered in the Enchanted Forest.” Kristoff: “You lied to her?” Anna: “Ohh, I didn't lie. I just... Withheld the truth. Telling her our parents wanted to take away her magic... I just have to find the right moment. That's all.” Kristoff: “Right, right. Of course. Yeah. You know I'll support you no matter what. Unless I think it's really dumb. Then I'll tell you.” Anna: “Thank goodness I haven't hit ‘really dumb’ yet.” Kristoff: “Can I get you supplies for your journey?” Anna: “You're sweet, but no. I'll stop by Oaken's on the way. You'll see me as soon as I return.” (She kisses Kristoff and leaves. From outside the stables we see that Ingrid was listening to the conversation.)

Storybrooke. Present. (In the woods, near Robin's camp, the ice cream truck is found.) Emma: (Via walkie:) “David, call off the search party. We found the truck near the merry men's camp. (To Robin:) Thanks for keeping an eye out.” Robin: “Gladly. You're the first sheriff I don't mind assisting. Uh, Regina, I was hoping we could talk.” Regina: “Um, in case you haven't noticed, I'm about to storm an evil ice-cream truck.” Emma: (As Regina moves to walk with her:) “You could have just said, ‘maybe later.’” Regina: (Sighs:) “I’ve gotten no where closer to saving Marian, I don’t want to give him any more false hope. It's bad enough we’re stuck with Captain Guy-liner.” Emma: (Chuckles:) “Be nice.” Hook: (Approaching from behind:) “Ready, love? (They open the truck:) It appears she beat us to it. She's cleared out the vessel.” Regina: “What now? Should we question the cows she gets her milk from? Maybe search the waffle-cone factory?” Emma: “Hang on. Look. Who locks their freezer? Was she afraid someone was gonna steal the rocky road?” Hook: “Stand back.” (Hook breaks the lock. Emma opens the freezer and finds a file.) Emma: “Looks like the dairy queen's been following me for a long time.” Regina: “Since before foster care?” Emma: (Hands Regina the file:) “Since I landed in this world.”

Storybrooke Library. (Elsa sits combing through books, surrounded by snowflakes.) Belle: “Are you okay?” Elsa: (Wiping the snowflakes away, flustered:) “This is pointless. I don't know why I thought I'd find anything about Anna in here.” Belle: “You know she's somewhere.” Elsa: “But if what the Snow Queen told me is true and Anna is the one who put me in that urn, then maybe she doesn't want me to find her.” Belle: “That's not true, Elsa.” Elsa: “You're just saying that to make me feel better.” Belle: “No, I promise you, I'm not.” Elsa: “How would you know what my sister thinks? You've never even met her.” Belle: “Well, just from what you've been saying, I-I feel like I know her. You two were very close. Something must have pulled you apart... Something beyond your control.” Elsa: “But my memories are gone, and no one in this town has even been to Arendelle. I need to face the truth, Belle. No one here can help me, and I'm afraid that means I might never see Anna again.” Belle: “Okay. You will. I know it. Now, keep looking. I'll be back.” Elsa: “What? Where are you going?” Belle: “There's something I-I need to take care of. We will find Anna.” Arendelle. Past. Oaken’s. (Anna enters Oaken's shop. Belle is there looking for directions.) Oaken: “You want to find trolls? You know they're dangerous, yeah?” Belle: “Oh, no, no, no. Rock trolls, not bridge trolls.” Oaken: “Oh, yeah, they're quite nice.” Belle: “So, you can... You can direct me to them?” Oaken: “No. I've never met them. (Waves to Anna:) Yoo-hoo!” Belle: “But y-you just said they were nice.” Oaken: “I've heard.” Belle: “Please help me. I-I just lost my mother.” Oaken: “Oh, I'm... I'm so sorry. Uh, trolls can't bring life. But I can help soothe you. Have you tried the sauna?” Belle: “Uh, no, no. Thank you.” Anna: “Need some help?” Belle: “Uh, well, I was trying to find my way to the rock trolls, but this map is not being too helpful.” Anna: “Oaken means well.” Oaken: “Yeah!” Anna: “But you don't need him or a map. I can help you. I'm on my way to see them. Come with me.” Belle: “Really? Thank you. Uh, I'm Belle.” Anna: “I'm Anna.” (They shake hands.) Oaken: “Friend of Anna's? Half price on the sauna.” Storybrooke. Forest. Present. (In the woods, near the ice-truck, Robin approaches Regina.) Robin: “I can't help but think you're avoiding me.” Regina: “And not very well, it seems.” Robin: “You can’t even look me in the eye?” Regina: (Sighs:) “Because I don't know how to tell you the truth.” Robin: “You can tell me anything.” Regina: “I've read every spell book in my possession, experimented with every potion in my vault. I even tried to defeat the Snow Queen so I could force her to reverse the spell. But... Nothing I do seems good enough.” Robin: “But it will be, Regina. I have faith in you. You will figure out a way eventually.” Regina: “That's what I'm trying to tell you. I'm not sure I can figure it out. Robin, I'm sorry, but if you truly want to save Marian... You're gonna have to... Find a way... To fall in love with your wife again.” Robin: (Shakes his head:) “I grieved for Marian for so long, wanted nothing more than to see her again. Now she’s back and I can’t even manage to give her true love’s kiss.” Regina: “Try to remember the time you spent together, look to your son. Look to Roland and the love you have for him, and maybe that will be your way back to Marian.” Robin: “Of course! You broke Zelena’s curse by sharing true love’s kiss with your son. Perhaps Roland is the key.” Regina: (Smiles, unsure:) “It’s worth a shot.” Robin: “Thank you, Regina.” (Robin walks away to find his son in the hopes of waking his wife.)

Elsewhere In The Woods. (Mr. Gold stands in the woods, alone.) Mr. Gold: “You can show yourself, dearie. I'm not the one you're hiding from.” Snow Queen: (Appearing beside a tree:) “No, you're not. To what do I owe this intrusion?” Mr. Gold: “A warning. Emma Swan is onto you. She knows your history began long before you came to Storybrooke.” Snow Queen: “I'm aware. Do you really think she would have discovered that if I hadn't wanted her to? It's all part of my plan... A plan you thankfully know little about.” Mr. Gold: “You're being awfully secretive.” Snow Queen: “You didn't come to warn me. You came to find out my secrets.” Mr. Gold: “Or offer up a deal. Whatever suits you best. But if you decline, I'd be careful.” Snow Queen: “There it is. There's the warning. You want something out of me? Why don't you just ask for it?” Mr. Gold: “If I wanted something out of you, dearie, believe me, I'd take it.” Snow Queen: “But you can't, can you? Otherwise you would. You and I both know... To get what you want, you need one thing that I have and you're sorely lacking... Leverage. And until you get that... I have a warning for you. Stay out of my way.” Arendelle. Past. (Belle and Anna walk towards the Rock Trolls.) Anna: “So, Belle... I couldn't help overhearing... Well, actually, I could, but I'm naturally curious. Anyway... I heard you lost your mother.” Belle: “Yes, in the... In the ogres war.” Anna: “I'm so sorry. I lost mine, too. There are no words.” Belle: “No, there aren't, especially when you don't know what happened. I was hoping the rock trolls could restore my memory so that I can finally be at peace.” Anna: “Sometimes the answer isn't what you want.” Belle: “Which is what?” Anna: “One that makes you feel better. But if Grand Pabbie can help you get what you need, I'll make sure he does.” Belle: “Thank you. (They come to a cliff face:) Uh... So, now what?” Anna: “Now we climb.” (Pulls a pick axe from Belle’s bag.) Belle: “Okay. (Anna tries to climb but falls:) You okay?” Anna: “Ohh.” Belle: (Catches her:) “Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Anna: “Whoo! Oh! Kristoff makes this look easy!” Belle: “Here.” (Belle picks up the Sorcerers hat box that has fallen out of Anna’s bag.)  Anna: “Careful! Careful.” Belle: “Why? W-what's inside?” Anna: “A hat which can strip the magic from the most powerful of sorcerers.” Belle: “Why do you have such a thing?” Anna: “I sort of stole it from an evil sorcerer when I was back in the Enchanted Forest. I went to him to help with my sister, but things didn't exactly go according to plan.” Belle: “Why? What... What happened? Who... Who is this person?” Anna: “I-I'd really rather not get into it. The less you know, the better. I just pray you never cross paths with that twisted man.” Storybrooke. Present. Mr. Gold's Shop. (Mr. Gold enters the shop to find Belle packed and ready to leave.) Mr. Gold: “Belle. Where are you headed?” Belle: “To the north woods, where the Snow Queen's hiding.” Mr. Gold: “And what business do you have with her?” Belle: “I have to fix a mistake that I made a long time ago.” Mr. Gold: “What are you talking about?” Belle: “I'm afraid I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand.” Mr. Gold: “Whether or not that's true, the fact remains that she defeated both Emma and Regina. She is far more dangerous than you realize.” Belle: “I know. That's why I was... I was hoping you'd come with me.” Mr. Gold: “I'm sorry, Belle. That's out of the question. I won't let you anywhere near her.” Belle: “I was worried you were gonna say that. Because... I really... Really didn't want to do this.” (Reaches into her bag and pulls out the dagger.) Mr. Gold: “Belle, I gave you that dagger because I trusted you... Because I thought you would never want to control me.” Belle: “I know. I know, and I'm so, so sorry, Rumple. But if you won't come with me willingly, what choice do I have? Take me to the Snow Queen.”

Storybrooke. Forest. (Emma sits on a fallen tree and reads the Snow Queen's file.) Emma: “According to this, she was my foster parent for six months. That's the longest I was ever in one spot, but I don't remember a second of it.” Regina: “Are you all right, Emma?” Emma: “I'm fine. It was all a long time ago.” Hook: “Mm, perhaps, but wounds that are made when we're young tend to linger.” Emma: (Turns to him:) “How would you know?” Hook: “Believe it or not, I was once a child.” Emma: “Yeah, like a million years ago.” Hook: (Smiles:) “It was more like 200.” Regina: (Notices Emma staring at something:) “What is it?” Emma: “It's a painting I did when I was in school.” Hook: “That so surprising?” Emma: “It's not the only one. This crazy woman has a whole file of my old art projects and essays. Just like the one I have for Henry. You don't keep stuff like this unless you care about someone.” Regina: “Well, perhaps the Snow Queen wasn't simply using you. Perhaps she'd grown fond of you over time.” Emma: “Looks like the feeling was mutual. (Reads a card:) ‘Thanks for being the family I never had. Love, Emma.’ I wrote that to her.” Hook: “Seems like you two were close once. As I hope to be with my child, should I find them.” (Hook and Regina exchange looks.) Emma: “But she still erased my memories. Something must have happened to change all that. There has to be a clue as to why.” Hook: “Perhaps there is... (Reaches across and pulls out a scroll from the file:) If you can read hieroglyphs.” Regina: (Takes the scroll:) “No, not hieroglyphs.” Emma: “You can read it?” Regina: (Staring at it:) “Maybe.” Emma: “This isn't from our world. What the hell was she doing with me?” Outside The Snow Queen's Ice Cave. Belle: “This is it? This is where she's hiding?” Mr. Gold: “Indeed. But she's not at home. I don't sense her magic.” Belle: “Good. Okay. You stay here as lookout. I'm going in.” Mr. Gold: “No, Belle, y-you're not going in there alone.” Belle: “Look, I won't be long. I just need to find something.” Mr. Gold: “What could you possibly want from the Snow Queen's cave?” Belle: “A hat... One that can strip a magical being of their powers.” Mr. Gold: “That sounds like a remarkable object... Almost too good to be true, which means it probably is.” Belle: “It isn't, and I know she has it, I need to get it from her. It's the only way to force her to tell us where Anna is.” Mr. Gold: “So this is about Elsa's sister? Why are you so invested in a girl you've never even met?” Belle: “Because a hero always helps strangers. Now keep watch. I'll call out to you if I need your help.” (Belle enters in the cave.) Arendelle. Past. (Belle & Anna arrive at the Rock Troll crater.) Anna: “Grand Pabbie? Grand Pabbie, it's me!” Grand Pabbie: (Rolling towards them:) “Ooh, Anna, my dear, you're back! Have you come to tell us the new wedding date? I have been working on my speech.” Anna: “Not yet, but we can get into that later. First, I want you to meet my friend Belle. She's come a long way to see you.” Belle: (Kneels before him:) “It's an honor to meet you. I'm, uh... I'm here because I-I...” Grand Pabbie: “I know. I can help you get the memories of your mother. (Grand Pabbie use his powers on Belle, producing a stone that contains her lost memories:) Take this to the place where you lost your memory, then brew a tea with the stone in the kettle. When you drink it, your memories will return.” Belle: “Thank you. (Stands, returns to Anna’s side:) Thank you, Anna. I-I owe you, as well. How can I repay you?” Anna: “You don't have to. Having a new friend is payment enough. All I need is a moment alone with Pabbie. I'll be quick.” (Belle nods and walks off, giving her space.)

Grand Pabbie: “What can I help you with, dear?” Anna: “Some woman claims to be my aunt. I just don't believe her! Mother would have told us if she had a sister.” Grand Pabbie: “Actually, she had two sisters.” Anna: “Wait. What? Mother had two sisters that she never spoke about? Why didn't she say anything? Why didn't you say anything?” Grand Pabbie: “Because I was sworn to secrecy.” Anna: “Grand Pabbie, I need some answers. Please.” Grand Pabbie: “Your mother, Gerda, was the youngest of three. And then there was Helga, and Ingrid was the oldest. As children, the three girls were quite close, often seen playing together in the royal gardens. But then, one day, Helga and Ingrid vanished. No one ever knew what happened to them. It was a tragedy the royal family wanted to forget. And they did, with my help.” Anna: “You took the memories of everyone in Arendelle?” Grand Pabbie: “Yes. And the royal family erased mention of Helga and Ingrid from every book and record they could find in our realm.” Anna: “Why wouldn't Ingrid tell me what happened, or that she had another sister?” Grand Pabbie: “Those are questions you'd have to ask your aunt.” Anna: “Like she would tell me. If she's keeping these secrets, who knows what else she's hiding. I have to warn Elsa. Belle, we have to go!” Belle: “What? Is everything okay?” Anna: “I don't think so. It's my aunt. She's up to something.”  Storybrooke. Inside The Ice Cave. Present. Belle: “The hat must be in here somewhere.” (A disembodied voice calls out to Belle.) Voice: “Belle. Belle. Belle! Over here, Belle. Over here, Belle. Over... Here.” (Belle finally uncovers the mirror. Staring back at her is Belle’s enchanted reflection.) The Mirror: “Hello, Belle! I was hoping you'd find me.” Arendelle. Past. (On the mountain path, a storm is brewing.) Belle: “I wish I didn't have to wait to use this.” Anna: “You'll be home before you know it. As soon as we get to town, we'll put you on the first ship back to the Enchanted Forest.” Belle: “If any ships are even setting sail. It... Looks like a storm's setting in.” Anna: “I don't think it's a storm.” Belle: “Well, what else could it be?” Anna: “My aunt. I don't think my aunt wants me to tell my sister what I found out.” Belle: “Well, if she... Has all this magic and... And you have, well, g-good intentions, then what are we gonna do?” Anna: “I have more than good intentions! I have this! (Pulls out the box:) She can't hurt us if she doesn't have magic.” (The wind blows. knocking them both over. Belle drops her rock. Anna slips, falls and hangs on to the cliff.) Anna: “Belle! Belle! I can't pull myself up!” Belle: (Reaching for the rock:) “Just hold on! I'll be right there!” Anna: “Belle, hurry! Please!” (Belle's rock falls and breaks.) Belle: “Oh!” Anna: “Belle, hurry!” Belle: “I'm coming! I'm coming. (Anna falls:) Anna!”

(Anna lays on the ground, unconscious. Ingrid approaches. She takes the box.) Belle: “Leave her alone!” Snow Queen: “You'll have to excuse us, but this is family business.” (Ingrid vanishes, taking Anna with her.) Storybrooke. Present. The Ice Cave. The Mirror: “I'm surprised you were brave enough to come in here.” Belle: “I had to. I have to find a way to help Anna.” The Mirror: “Why? You never really cared much for her before.” Belle: “That's not true.” The Mirror: “Sure, it is. You chose that rock over her. You had to remember what happened to your mother, no matter what the cost.” Belle: “I made a mistake. I didn't mean to...” The Mirror: “Ruin someone's life? It certainly wasn't your most heroic moment. Not that you've ever really been hero material.” Belle: “No, please... Please stop.” The Mirror: “Everyone sees you for what you really are, Belle... A pathetic coward. I mean, why do you think the Dark One married you? You think it was love? He needed someone weak, someone he could manipulate.” Belle: “That's not true. He loves me. He gave me this.” (Holds up the dagger.) The Mirror: “You truly believe that's real? Deep down, you know what kind of beast you're dealing with.” (Mr. Gold enters.) Mr. Gold: “Belle! Belle. The Snow Queen's approaching the cave. Belle. Look at me. Don't look in the mirror. Look at me. We have to leave.” (Belle swipes at Mr. Gold with the dagger. Mr. Gold grabs his wife, restraining her.) Belle: “Let me go!” Mr. Gold: “You don't know what you're doing.” Belle: “No! Please, let me go!” Mr. Gold: “It's okay.” Mr. Gold’s Shop. (Mr. Gold magically transports them back to the shop.) Belle: “Let... Let me go!” Mr. Gold: “It's okay. We're back in the shop. We're back in the shop. It's okay.” Belle: “No, no!” Mr. Gold: “It's okay.” Belle: “Wait. No. You were outside the cave. I commanded that you wait there.” Mr. Gold: “You commanded me to keep watch. I sensed she was coming back. I came to find you, and I'm glad I did.” Belle: (Noticing the cut on his neck:) “I... I hurt you. I... I'm so sorry, Rumple.” Mr. Gold: “It's okay.” Belle: “When I f-found that mirror, something came over me, like a... Like a spell. And... And it spoke to me and made me... Made me believe all these horrible things, and it said to me that the dagger you gave me is fake.” Mr. Gold: “I can assure you that nothing that mirror said is true. It was imbued with the darkest of magic. I-I know you would never wrong me.” Belle: “I have wronged you. I've kept a terrible secret from you. I'm the reason... that Anna's missing. I didn't want anyone to know until I could make things right and save Anna. But I couldn't. I failed. And all I managed to do was abuse the dagger and... And take advantage of you, my true love. I-I don't even know if I... If I deserve to be with you anymore.” Mr. Gold: “No, no, no. You were only doing what you thought was right.” Belle: “You... You forgive me?” Mr. Gold: “Of course I forgive you. Thank you for telling me everything.” Belle: “Thank you for understanding. I never should have kept a secret from you, especially 'cause I know that you'd never keep one from me. I love you, Rumple.” Mr. Gold: (Holds her close:) “And I love you, too.”

[flamboyantommo]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

@allwaswell16 tagged me to reflect on my writing this year. And because I’m a huge procrastinator, clearly, I’m doing it right now! 

(My GOD, this is so long, so if any of you actually read all of this, God bless.)

1. List of works published this year: In the order that they were posted

- What's Stopping You?

- Know It All

- Curveball

- Shut Up and Wink at Me

- One Day, Maybe Next Week

- It’s Hard to Say It, Time to Say It

- Got It Backwards

- NC-17

- Members Only

- Ready

- Aim

- Fire

- From the Floor to the Ceiling

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Um... Probably Got It Backwards. It was a pinch hit, written for @stnbutterflies, and she loved it! I churned that fic out in like, three weeks, and it got so long so fast that I had three betas working on it as I was writing it. It was... a lot, haha. I did a lot of literary research for it because Harry was a tutor in it, so he needed to know what he was talking about, and I wrote about 20K words of it - so, half - in a weekend because I was just going so fast. I think it’s the fastest I’ve ever done a fic of that size before, and it’s definitely something to be proud of. Oh, and Denise got it turned into a book, like an actual physical copy, and I think that’s pretty damn cool! 

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

I can honestly say that I loved all of my fics this year, and there’s two of them that I want to write sequels to. But if you've been paying attention, then you know those sequels won’t be coming out for like, another year, hahahaha. 

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

(this is from Members Only, which may be the fic I had the most fun writing this year)

“Um… Save me a spot in there?” Louis stumbled.

“You do yoga?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. Every week.”

Fucking liar.

“Really? Oh, I’ve never seen you.”

“Yeah, um, it’s usually in the morning. Or during the day. But yeah, I’m waiting for my coverage to get here, and of course Perrie is running late, so… But yeah, I’m totally coming.”

Why am I like this? Louis wondered.

Harry grinned, though, so Louis supposed it wouldn’t be too bad. “Well cool, then. Yeah, I’ll save you a spot by me. OK?”

“OK.” Louis saw Perrie coming from the locker rooms, so he told Harry, “Be right in. Get us a good space.”

“Cool.” Harry was still smiling when he walked away, so Louis hoped Perrie would be a good person for once.

“Perrie!” Louis hissed when he approached the counter. “You love me, right?”

Perrie eyed up Louis and kept walking.

“Perrie Louise, get over here!”

Perrie sighed. “Yes, Louis?” She didn’t walk over to the counter, but she didn’t walk out of the building, either, so Louis figured that was a good sign.

“I need you to cover me so I can go to yoga.”

Perrie frowned. “I’m sorry. Did you just say you wanted to go to yoga?”

“Yes! Keep up!”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you once say that yoga was only for hippie vegetarians who needed to learn how to breathe?”

Louis shook his head. “Nope, wasn’t me.”

“What about that it was just for people who wanted to be flexible so they would be better in bed?”

“Can you just help me, please?” Louis whined. “Please?”

“Harry’s going to yoga, isn’t he?”

“Who?”

Perrie sighed again. “Go. Just know that I’m only doing this because you’ll never shut up about it if I don’t.”

“Thanks, Perrie! You’re the best!”

“You don’t listen to me when I talk, do you?”

But Louis didn’t answer her. He was too busy grabbing his water bottle from behind the desk and hurrying back to the training room.

When he walked in, Jade, the instructor, was just turning down the lights.

“Louis, what are you doing here?” Jade asked him. “You know this is yoga, right?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. His eyes darted over to where Harry was sitting on his mat, hoping he didn’t hear. Luckily, Harry was doing shoulder rolls to get warmed up, so Louis didn’t think he did. “Everyone has to start somewhere, right?”

“Yeah. Just never thought you would.”

“Why doesn’t anybody have any faith in me?” Louis muttered as he made his way over to Harry. There was a spare mat next to him, so Louis sat down on it.

“Hey,” Louis whispered as he took off his socks and sneakers. He was glad he wore basketball shorts today instead of actual pants. He was feeling warm already.

Harry just smiled at him, looking perfectly peaceful already.

Louis wanted to suck a mark into his neck.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

OMG I love my comments. But I’m going to put two here, and they’re from the people that my fics were written for. 

First is from @stnbutterflies on Got It Backwards. She wrote: 

I'm so in love with this story and I feel so honoured, that you wrote this story for me. The whole idea with the robin picture was wonderful and I might have shed quiet a few tears while reading. And liked how you put together the story with the flashbacks and everything. This really might be my favourite mpreg fanfiction I've ever read! Thank you so, so much! You really did great! xx <3

Second is from @harrystinychristmasshorts on It’s Hard to Say It, Time to Say It when Kat clearly knew I wrote it but wasn’t calling me out yet. 

i was going to wait until you were revealed to come talk to you but i couldn't wait any longer! by the looks of it the round of fics yours is in will be revealed next week and i'm just so excited because? i have a very vague idea of who you are but i really don't want to spoil the fun so. i'm forcing myself to be good and wait. but! i'm gonna come yell at you when i found out who you are because you deserve more than just comments on here! okay Xx

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Well, this year, I actually took a break from writing. It was only for a few months, just because I was just so stretched thin last year of fics I wrote. And this year is actually the year I’ve written the least since beginning to write. 

So the time for me that was hard was when I was trying to get back into it, trying to remember how to write a sentence and how to characterize people. That was tough. I got back into it with What's Stopping You?, and then of course, it was just continuous writing after that. But getting back into my routines was really difficult. 

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Actually, in What's Stopping You?, when HL were finally finally about to hook up, the dirty talk part of their conversation had me in giggles because dirty talk is so not something I write on the norm. Like, it just felt so strange to me? But it fit the scene of the story, so it had to be done. 

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I think this is the year I stopped caring about how many kudos my fics got and focused more on writing because I enjoyed it. Of course, I want people to read what I spent all of my time working on, and I do think there are some fics that have been definitely slept on, but it doesn’t make me as upset or frustrated as it used to if my fics aren’t super read. 

And, I guess I tried new things. Like, I wrote two proposal fics this year (wow, I’m such a sap), and I took part in the Drabble challenge, after complaining forever to the gc about not wanting to because I thought it would be hard. (It was, but I still liked it and might do the spring one) 

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

Next year, I want to follow through on all of the sequels I’ve planned and have been planning for God only knows how long. *cough* Taylor Times, if anybody’s still interested *cough*. That’s literally it. Hopefully I can follow through! 

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Let’s see... As always, @temporaryfixlouis for being my go-to beta, even if our schedules haven’t quite lined up in a while. I know I can still count on Michelle! 

Then there’s @harrystinychristmasshorts, who has become a new beta and friend this year, and is always there to boost me up. I loved being able to work with her and also write a fic for her and being super sneaky about it, lol. 

Then we have @wonderdaysoflunacy who I only met because she made me a moodboard for Runner on Third, and she always has a compliment ready. She’s also an amazing person and so so so easy to talk to, about fics or anything else. 

And of course, everyone in the Life Ruined But It’s Fine gc, because all of them are amazing writers and it’s an honor to be included with them and fangirl over each other, hahaha. 

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Bahahaha of course. Nothing specific is really coming to mind at the moment, but it’s mostly the characterizations. In every fic I write, one of the characters is based on me, either a little or a lot. Also, the setting. Unless I actually say otherwise, just assume all of my fics take place in South Jersey/Philly, because that’s just where I live and where I spend a lot of my time. 

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Don’t be afraid to find a beta. It took me more than a year and a half to start working with a beta, and all of the fics I wrote in between then and the time I started probably could’ve been much stronger. It also would’ve made less work for me, so I didn’t have to read over my fics four times. I could’ve just done two. And it doesn’t hurt to have extra eyes looking over a fic or get another perspective on something you’re writing. 

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

OK, let’s see. I have: 

- a fic for the @1dshortficfest due in February. 

- a fic for Rachel’s @moodboardprompts due... shit, when is that due? March 1.

- my next prompt for the 1000 Feelings challenge. I had an idea all ready, but then I read another fic with the almost exact same plot line, so back to the drawing board! 

- Thursday Deadlines! The last part of The Taylor Times series. I revisited what I had written the other day and have started adjusting the plot for it. It’ll be shorter than what I planned, but it’s been hovering over my head for the last year, and I need to finish. 

- Eventually, I want to write one more part in the Bottom of the Tenth series. Destination wedding? We’ll see. 

- A full fic to tie up the Your Move series (my winter drabbles)

- I’m working on an age difference fic that I’ve been thinking about for a while. 

- I’m still working on the famous/famous AU I started planning like, months ago

- Oh, and I’m working on a pinch hit for the @hlwinterficfest2017! 

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read.

@harrystinychristmasshorts @wonderdaysoflunacy @tommostummie @harrygotthebee and anyone in the 1000 Feelings gc who hasn’t done this yet!

[kitten1618x]

GoT Afterthoughts 7x03 The Queen's Justice (Jonsa Edition) SPOILERS

I’m sorry for the delay, but ffs this is LONG! Well ...now we know that this week's episode title was def. referring to Cersei, let's get to it. 

We begin this week with foreboding music -Jon and Davos riding the crashing waves onto the shores of Dragonstone -which I still highly prefer the exterior to the interior -though, I suppose it fits the "mood". Little bit of banter between the boys, and after a friendly introduction and a smiling face, Missandei asks for their weapons. A skeptical and non-to-pleased looking Jon obeys, then turns to watch warily while the Dothraki take their rowboat as well. Okay Gendry, you can row up at any time now ...we may need you as the getaway boat. 

So they proceed up the long winding staircase (which has more steps than Dany does titles) and not even a full 3 minutes into the episode, Sansa is already brought up in conversation. I'm dead serious - 02:30 minute mark on the dot. I actually only know this, because at this particular moment, I paused the DVR to grab a snack -but I like how in what is supposed to be such a J/D-centric episode (er-meh-gerd they're finally meeting!!!), Sansa takes precedence. Good call D&D ...I see what you did there. 

Now about that conversation -is it odd that Tyrion would bring up Sansa in passing conversation with Jon? No, not at all -she is a connection that they both share, but ....

T: Sansa, I hear she's alive and well? 

J: She is. 

T: Does she miss me terribly? (clearly he's attempting a bit of a joke here). 

J: *silence as he stares down at Tyrion like he damn well better explain himself*

T: *looks over his shoulder, to see that Jon is not amused, quickly explains* A sham marriage, never consummated. 

J: I didn't ask. 

T: Well it was, it wasn't. Anyway, she's much smarter than she lets on.

J: She's starting to let on. 

T: Good. 

So, what exactly was the point of this conversation? If Tyrion just wanted to know if Sansa was well, and the narrative wanted to establish how clever Sansa is, they could have done that without all that "missing me and marriage sham and unconsummated" banter in between. We as an audience already know all of these things, so how does that little nugget of information help in furthering the narrative? To put it quite simply -it doesn't. Again ..I see you D&D, I see exactly what you did there. 

A bit more banter between the boys -Tyrion's ironic statement about Starks not faring well in the South, as to which Jon replies that he's not a Stark (shut up baby, yes you fucking are!) and BOOM! Cue: Drogon swooping down over the crowd, and Jon and Davos hitting the deck like a bunch of dropped wet rocks. You will NEVER convince me that was coincidence. Dany is in full control of her Dragons now, and that was a total (cheap) intimidation tactic. 

PS: Jon is wearing leggings! Show me tha booty! 

Cut to Varys and Melisandre perched high above on a cliff and watching the welcoming committee march up the guests. Varys prods her on why she won't greet them considering she spoke so highly of Jon Snow. She replies with how she's "brought fire and ice together and she's done her part" -I believe this is a deliberate misdirection from the writers. We already know that Jon is fire and ice on his own -the characters do not, and you know the dark ship is going wild over this line right now, but don't any of you pay it any mind. It's like a magicians trick -slight of hand ..look over there, while we do this over here. 

Varys still has a healthy skepticism of this religion and these priestesses -and I'm still 1100000% with him. Melisandre is going back to Volantis (spelled right??) it seems -but will return to die -just like Varys. Ohhhh prophetic. And damn but these red witches get under his skin! Why???? I must know!

Poor Jonny-boy walking into the throne room looks nervous AS HELL, with the Mad Kings daughter perched on that wiggy-ass throne, and half of Dany's face is bathed in shadows, and she's once again cloaked in all black -shadows, darkness = symbolism at its finest folks. Hiding ones face half in shadow is a popular trope to emphasize that someone has a "sinister side" , and wearing all black is also a trope - "evil wears black." 

Now, for arguments sake (and because I like to play devils advocate -the Nights Watch also wear all black, and Jon did too -however, Dany's wardrobe went from bright white (innocence and purity) to black upon coming to Westeros.  

So as Missandei rambles off all 101 of Dany's titles (like I swear they do this purposely to annoy us at this point), Davos shoots back with "This is Jon Snow and he's King of the North". (See this juxtaposition they just shoved RIGHT IN OUR FACES???). LMAO -by the way, I just fucking adore Davos! He is a damn precious dewdrop, and I will fight you if you say otherwise! 

D: You are here to bend the knee?

J: I am not. 

Who else screeched with glee here? Huh? Huh? 

Bend the knee. Bend the knee. BEND THE KNEE. 

I'm not going to rehash this entire exchange, but a few important things that stuck out to me: 

Jon's primary focus is "us", "we" -he's concerned about saving people.   

Dany's primary focus is "Me, me, me!!"  

 It is interesting how she asked that the father's sins not be passed onto the daughter -reminiscent of Jon's own words regarding the Karstark and Umber children. I wonder if this is a sort of foreshadowing that by not being more wary of Dany's Targ temper, it just may bite him in the ass later.   

 Also Dany is a hypocrite. "Don't blame me for my ancestors -blah blah blah, but bend the knee because of my ancestors." Sigh.   

I'm insanely curious why Jon didn't want Davos to tell them he'd been resurrected -or why Melisandre left that little tidbit out too??? 

 Jon is now essentially Dany's prisoner.  

Dany's narcissism is growing by the day. I can't believe people don't understand what GRRM (D&D) are deliberately doing with her character! This is an actual quote: "Do you know what kept me standing all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any god, not in myths, and legends. In myself. Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries, until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea, any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will."  

Varys delivers the news that Dany's  fleet is gone, and then Theon is fished from the sea by his people. And let me slip in here that if you're one of the people bashing Theon for jumping overboard because he so clearly suffers from PTSD -you're a shit, and you need to stop. That's not something that just suddenly disappears ...he will struggle with that for whatever is left of his life. He's gonna rescue Yara ...I just know it. 

Now we're in Kings Landing and Euron is parading Yara and the Sand Snakes through the city. Like, I'm so torn, because I hate this dude, but I also kinda love him? His teasing of Jamie is PRICELESS, if not highly inappropriate. It's also pretty clear to me that Cersei has no intent on marrying him. In typical Cersei fashion, she'll keep him at arms length while she uses him, and then dispose of him when he wears out his usefulness -clever girl that she is. 

And now we're in the dungeon where the Sand Snakes are chained -after a bit of tormenting them, she takes Tyene the same way they took her daughter -with a kiss of death. As a mother, I truly feel for Cersei here as she talks about Mrycella -for both of these mothers actually. Say what you will about Cersei, but Lena is a fucking GODDESS! She owns this role so well. Like, I can't stand Cersei, and yet, I literally cheer for her sometimes. One thing is for certain -people better stop underestimating her ruthlessness. And my God, the Sand Snakes -magnificent acting with no dialogue!

After a romantic romp with her dear brother (and damn, Jamie has a sweet ass), she boldly allows the servant to see them together -she's queen now, and apparently has no more fucks to give. It's time for the Lannister's to pay their debts, and she's off to meet with a rep. of the Iron Bank. Using the sharp negotiation skills she inherited from Tywin, and the same "foreign invader/mad Kings daughter" approach that she used to sway the Lords, it appears she gets what she wants and the Iron Bank will extend her the credit she needs - "gold wins wars." 

We jump back to Dragonstone, where our brooding prisoner/hero is staring forlornly at the sea. He's a Northern fool who didn't listen (to Sansa). Tyrion tries to appeal to Jon's good side, and talks up Dany a bit, while simultaneously trying to help him. He's looking to strike an alliance -"use each other to further your own needs approach", and after a somewhat comical conversation with Dany (thank God because we need a bit of levity surrounding her scenes) -he urges her to let Jon mine the dragon glass. I think Tyrion does truly believe Jon is telling the truth. The knife in the heart comment comes up again -and again, I wonder why Jon didn't want them to know about his resurrection -but clearly, it's important because it was brought up again. 

Now Jon approaches Dany who's gazing off towards the sea and watching her Dragons soaring in the distance. Sounds kinda romantic, right? Well not really, as during most of this conversation they stood facing opposite directions, barely making eye contact -save for a few moments. Shipping goggles are fully affixed here, but compare this to the way Jon and Sansa are always staring into each other's eyes (usually in softly lit rooms). Just sayin'. 

Jon comments on Dany's Dragons, and she tells them that she named them for her brothers -Viserys and Rhaegar. This made me smile. And what I find so amusing about this, is just a few nights ago, I had a Nonny send me an ask referring to the general audience possibly forgetting that Rhaegar (Jon's daddy dearest) was Dany's brother --well, there you have it, Nonny, the narrative just delivered your reminder. Heh heh heh. ;)   I don't think that Dany believes Jon about the WW/NK yet (and really, we can't fault her) but he is getting his dragon glass, and in the meantime, it keeps Jon hanging around -more time to woo him to their side. 

And we head North to Winterfell (finally) to see that the Sass QitN is pretty freaking good at this ruling stuff. Like really, did we ever have any doubts? She's preparing for the enemy coming from both sides, because she's clever as hell (and I'm so proud of her!!!). Can't-take-a-hint Lord Creepyfinger is at it again -whispering in her ear with his creepy-creep-ness, and our girl once again, deliciously puts him in his place. Look, this constant talk of Cersei with Sansa, and the fact that she's lived and learned from her -plus this emphasis on how well she's taken up the helm at "ruling" and caring for her people, all while Tyrion, Jon and LF are all saying how smart she is ...I'm really starting to get the feeling that Sansa is THAT queen. Ya know -the one from Cersei's prophecy ...  

"You'll be queen, for a time. Then comes another, younger, more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold dear." 

I usually try not to get tin foilish in my recaps, but this is the Jonsa edition after all, so bear with me. Sansa has literally learned from the master of ruthlessness, and I truly believe all this emphasis on that this season, is setting up the fact that Sansa will be the only one clever enough to see through Cersei's scheming, won't underestimate her, and in fact, be the one to bring her down. Sansa, if not indirectly, could be linked to all of Cersei's children's deaths (all she holds dear): 

She was betrothed to Joffrey, who after he cruelly tortured her for a time, discarded her for Margaery. Being the clever old bird that she was, Olenna got Sansa to open up about Joffrey's cruelty, which ultimately led to his death.  

Thrusting Sansa into a marriage with Tyrion who then were both accused by Cersei of murdering Joffrey. Sansa escapes due to LF's scheming, leading to Tyrion's trial by combat with Oberyn as his champion. When he is killed by the Mountain, Ellaria exacts revenge on the Lannisters by killing Mrycella.   

Due to Joffrey's death, Tommon becomes king, and takes his brothers widow for a wife -the same family responsible for Joffrey's death -who only murdered him because Sansa confirmed his cruelness. Tommon falls hopelessly in love with Margaery, and upon her death, commits suicide.   

It's also important to note, that Cersei is technically the one to blame for the deaths of all of her children, although she will never see it that way. While I was studying up on this prophecy, I also stumbled onto this from one of the book wiki sites:

When will I marry the prince?

Cersei is talking about Prince Rhaegar, whom Tywin Lannister intended to offer her to for marriage. Maggy tells Cersei that she will never marry the prince, but will marry the king. This foreshadows King Aerys refusing Tywin’s offer, Robert’s Rebellion, and Cersei eventually marrying Robert Baratheon after he is crowned king.

I just find highly coincidental that Cersei was almost wed to a Targaryen prince (and Jon Snow's father, to boot), and if we're all correct in our assumptions that Jonsa is in fact endgame (it is, by the way) then Sansa will take that from her, too. Which also strangely ties Sansa to -going from in the beginning of the story, wanting the prince who was actually a bastard, to getting the bastard who is actually a prince. Just sayin' ....

Okay, back to the show. 

Bran has arrived at Winterfell! I repeat BRAN HAS ARRIVED AT WINTERFELL!! And we are treated to yet another beautiful Stark reunion -minus "the nuzzle" -I repeat MINUS THE NUZZLE!! 

They are catching up in the Godswood, and the first thing out of Sansa's mouth (when she's in what she perceives is a safe space, and she's allowed to be vulnerable) is "I wish Jon were here". Ship them or not, there's a reason that they both mentioned each other in this episode -if only to remind us (the general audience) that they are, indeed, on each other's minds. 

Bran is quite emotionless, and I guess I get it. He needs to disconnect and emerge himself completely in this whole 3-eyed Raven deal, because the NK is coming, and he doesn't have much time to hone his powers. In light of their reunion, the writers chose to have him bring up the horrors Sansa suffered at the hands of Ramsey Bolton -to prove his power. I've seen some speculate that this was in fact Bran seeing a future Sansa wedding, and this very well may be, as he admitted himself that it all comes to him in bits. Part of me REALLY wants to believe that, but I think this had more to do with choosing something that would shake Sansa enough to know that what he says is true (cuz come on, he does seem a bit eccentric and cray, peeps). Or maybe it's both? Take it for what you will. 

Jorah has been successfully cured of his greyscale, and he is off to find his Dragon queen -and just ffs, I ship them so hard !!! They (Jorah/Sam) will meet again -although, I hope it's not on different sides of the battlefield. *cough* Targbowl. 

Sam doesn't get rewarded, but you can def. see that the Archmaester IS proud of him. Oh my heart! 

And we're back to Dany's war room. Two allies are down, her armada is gone. She wants to take her Dragons and go burn Euron's fleet -oh, I'm so shocked! But, her wise council talks her out of it, and Tyrion narrates the scene of Casterly rock being taken, while quoting his bro, Bron (like -I can't wait for these two to reunite). The siege is successful .....or is it? Well, NO -because Cersei is a BOSS! 

Euron has effectively taken out the rest of Dany's ships, and trapped GW and the remaining Unsullied at Casterly Rock (which by the way, is gorgeous, and it's about time we see it) -with limited supplies, and no one to come to their aid, they will likely die. 

So where is the rest of the Lannister army? Capturing High Garden, of course (and now Cersei will have their riches, as well). The battle scenes are skipped, and we see Jamie seek out Lady Olenna, who admits to being outsmarted. She warns Jamie that Cersei will be the death of him, and calls Joffrey a cunt (lmao, I love her), before swigging down the poison Jamie offers her. And right before the credits roll, she SAVAGELY admits to Jamie that she was behind Joffrey's murder, and she wants Cersei to know that. Daaaaaammmmmnnn!

And that concludes my Afterthoughts  ...see you next week. 

Oh, and Jonsa is endgame -spread the word. 

[eeveelutionsforequality]

Submission:

@Mod Vaporeon I guess

Look I aint a fan of MAPs but if they're not hurting anyone then whatevs

BUT anti-contact maps that still gush about how attractive children are are still harming them.  Sexualising children is harmful.  Normalising attraction to children by talking about it like it's just a regular crush thing, or being all cutsey about it is harmful.  I really hope I don't need to tell you why that is the case.

https://shameshack.tumblr.com/post/166785893508/the-creepy-emoji-really-sells-it-on-the-you-dont

Does that person touch any of those children, her own included?  Does she even flirt with them?  No, I don't think so.  But going "ohhhh my kid-crush is fugly as now he's a teen but his younger sister??  JUST got into my pedophile range and she is fine." *Cue another MAP engaging with them, discussing it without a hint of shame and a fucking smirking emoji*

Allowing MAPs a platform to talk about coping with their thoughts and offering support and methods of non-harmful coping with other MAPs?  Great!  Chatting away with others about how lean, athletic and soft a child's body is without a hint of remorse until they're called out, because they're blog and those posts are fucking public on a 13+ age site?  And therefore is absolutely open to a child stumbling only their blog because it's public?  Not cool.

Just because they wouldn't touch a child doesn't mean it's okay to try and normalise children being sexually attractive.  We can look at it as an intrusive thoughts thing, sure, and I agree that's the best way to get MAPs help!  But that doesn't mean those thoughts are okay.  Someone with intrusive thoughts about how they're the reincarnation of Hitler and must restart his legacy shouldn't just be forgiven if they ham it up with a bunch of Nazis because "they can't help it and hey I never actually harmed any Jews (physically anyway, but w/e I'm not culpable for any Jew I harmed with my posts bc the only way someone can get onto a blog is OBVIOUSLY if they're looking for it amiright so it's their fault)!"

We can accept that MAPs have little to no control over their attraction without accepting that their attraction is valid, reasonable or worth discussing except to demonise.  If these MAPs were truly as saintly and suffering as you make them out to be they wouldn't be all cutesy and wink wink nudge nudge about discussing it, because they would understand that attraction to children is wrong regardless of how much they can help it.

MAPs need help, not a niche on Tumblr that defend their attraction and their "non-contact but still skeevy af" actions.

Idk if you're gonna say you agree with me or whether you're gonna pull a "not all MAPs are like that!" or w/e but there is an undeniable issue with the MAP community on Tumblr, and that the ones like the above are as harmful as the Nazis that have "thought experiments" on what the world would be like without black people.

First off, please go back and re-read my opinions.

Such as the ramble where I explained how positivity without pragmatism and awareness of risks is dangerous: http://eeveelutionsforequality.tumblr.com/post/167978864727/grunkle-rian-eeveelutionsforequality

Or the post where I talk about the risk of radicalization in a community and condemn maps who talk about it like infatuated school girls, referring to the very post you linked: http://eeveelutionsforequality.tumblr.com/post/167769139872/what-the-hell-are-maps

If you want to discuss this with me, please come at it in good faith and discussing my actual beliefs, not twisting my opinions into things they're not.

"Idk if you're gonna say you agree with me or whether you're gonna pull a "not all MAPs are like that!" or w/e"

Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to pull a not all maps because not all maps - some just wanna tell you where Greenland is.

In all seriousness, no, I do not agree with judging an entire demographic by their bad eggs - "not all maps" wouldn't be inaccurate to say. I think it's shitty that saying "not all X" has become something that's shrugged off as you simply defending X from an emotional standpoint, even when you're just stating a fact - not all men, not all maps, and if somebody's argument relies on all of a group being something that they're not then it's a bad argument.

"there is an undeniable issue with the MAP community on Tumblr, and that the ones like the above are as harmful as the Nazis that have "thought experiments" on what the world would be like without black people"

I criticize both them and the Nazis whenever I see them doing something out of line, I try to explain why they're wrong and help people see other perspectives - that's a tonne of what I do on this blog, I talk to people about my opinions on particular topics and criticize things that I think should be criticized. I have, at no point, said that the map community is flawless - in fact, I've been vocal in criticizing certain methods and in saying that I think that they need to listen to people's concerns and approach conversation from a point of empathy rather than defensiveness far more than they do.

"anti-contact maps that still gush about how attractive children are are still harming them.  Sexualising children is harmful.  Normalising attraction to children by talking about it like it's just a regular crush thing, or being all cutsey about it is harmful."

Unfortunately, like everything in this dark and stressful topic, this is more complicated than that. I believe that I've made it clear in previous posts how creepy and unsavoury I find the way that the people in your example talked about it, and that I'm not on board with what they were doing.

However, there are a few factors that I think should be taken into account in working out how best they as an individual should manage talking about their interests themselves. On one hand, you have the dwelling or "normalizing" of it to themselves, and the discomfort such conversations cause others. On the other hand, you have the fact that locking away your feelings and struggles isn't good for you (you can dwell or "normalize" something to yourself without ever mentioning it verbally or in typing - in fact, expressing it is one of very few ways to have it actually challenged). To that end, I don't think that public tumblr posts, and especially not encouraging replies, are the way to go about getting certain feelings out. However, only talking amongst each other can lead to echochambers - I mean, if you think that them saying those things publicly can increase the risk and that they need to have those things challenged, then surely them simply moving that to messages isn't the answer you want.

Amongst other things, I've been vocal about how maps should seek therapy/counselling and should be ensuring that their community doesn't become an echochamber, especially encouraging them to allow and take on board fair criticism (and encouraging others to present their criticism in fair ways rather than attacks, insults and suicide baiting).

They're only human, and they do need people to talk to about these things and to get things off their chests - they're not perfect, they're not angels - and while therapy can play a part in achieving that, they also likely need a support network (otherwise they wouldn't be part of the map community in the first place). If/when you've ever had a crush that was disgusting or wrong in some way, did you keep it inside and start wondering whether there was something wrong with you, or did you tell somebody you trusted how you felt?

I don't think that publicly saying it on tumblr, especially not in the manner that they did (in fact, the tone is possibly my biggest issue with it), was good for them or good for the people that saw it (and, by extension, could've emotionally harmed children that saw it) - but I don't think that means that they're not ever allowed to talk about it, or that it's harming children if they ever do, just that it's gotta be done safely and reasonably.

You sound just like an anti-shipper right now, honestly.

I'm totally up for talking about how to prevent echochambers in whatever place they find to vent, while also preventing people who could be triggered and minors from accessing such a place, and helping the maps keep a constant wall between thoughts and actions, ensuring that discussing something in a place specifically catered to discussing it doesn't translate into any kind of warped perspective on how you can behave towards children. In fact, that'd be a great conversation to know was going on in their community - but at the moment nobody seems to be actually talking about solutions to problems or whatever, one side just wants to attack and the other side just wants to defend, so these things only ever get brought up in a "look how bad maps are" way.

"Allowing MAPs a platform to talk about coping with their thoughts and offering support and methods of non-harmful coping with other MAPs?  Great!"

I totally agree, and I'm glad that we share this common ground - it's more than most offer them.

But unfortunately at some point we have to realize that learning how to cope with thoughts partially entails talking about the thoughts you're trying to cope with. The same goes for people who occasionally post things about wanting to die or wanting to drink themselves stupid - the posts can be harmful if seen by the wrong person, and if seen by the right person they can result in much needed help, or simply a shoulder to cry on. That's one of the uses of the tagging and blacklisting we have on this site - to ensure that the right people see the right posts, and the wrong people never have to. Plus, there's a balance to be found in expressing stuff, and a lot of it comes down to how and where they're talking about the thoughts - the people in the link you posted got both wrong, in my opinion.

"Chatting away with others about how lean, athletic and soft a child's body is without a hint of remorse until they're called out, because they're blog and those posts are fucking public on a 13+ age site?  And therefore is absolutely open to a child stumbling only their blog because it's public?  Not cool."

Again, I don't know why you're posing this as an argument against me when I've openly condemned that post multiple times.

The appropriate tagging, password protected blogs, NSFW marked blogs, adequate warnings, etc, would prevent these posts from ever falling into the path of someone who isn't looking for them, especially a child, and maps should be utilizing those features. Plus, 13+ year olds aren't children, they're teenagers (but I'm not particularly complaining about that because I call everyone under like 30 "kid"). I've been encouraging people to stop turning safe search off when they're too young, to stop seeking out that kind of content, and to utilize blacklisting and chrome filters and such, and I've been encouraging maps and shippers and kinksters to adequately tag things.

And, outside of pro-contacts and that particular example, I've only once (that I can remember) seen maps publicly talk about someone being attractive who wasn't either an adult or a fictional character (and it wasn't done in the way that the example did) - maybe I only interact with the good ones, that's entirely possible, anecdotal evidence is anecdotal. I've also seen multiple antis posing as maps lately. The actual genuine maps that I've interacted with have had a similar opinion to mine on this topic - they understand why people don't like that sort of thing, they don't want children to find it, but they want to get things off their chest and be allowed to vent sometimes. So, and you're not gonna like this... not all maps.

"Just because they wouldn't touch a child doesn't mean it's okay to try and normalise children being sexually attractive."

Why are you bothering with the maps on here then? A tiny and hated subgroup on a tiny and hated website is not normalizing anything in society (and they don't want to, in my experience, they just want it understood and not to be treated like shit for it) - what about the countries where young boys and girls are routinely used as prostitutes, where assaulting young boys regularly is "tradition"?

Maybe I'm just manipulated, maybe there's some grand scheme to turn everybody in the western world into pro-contacts, and a tiny anti-contact community on tumblr dot com is where the disgusting revolution begins... but I highly doubt it. I'm trusting them when they say that their intent is to find the most effective way to support each other and to live their lives safely and without offending, while hopefully teaching others that pedophilia and child abuse aren't synonymous, that maybe there's prevention methods, that maybe they don't deserve to die.

"But that doesn't mean those thoughts are okay."

Is this just an experiment to see how many times in a row you can make me say "I never said that"?

I have, however, said that things you have zero control over do not dictate whether or not you are a bad person - mostly in regards to slavery from generations ago not dictating whether people alive today are good or bad, but it applies here too.

What does whether or not the thoughts are "okay" have to do with any of this? Plenty of my intrusive thoughts aren't "okay" - that's part of why they're so hellish to deal with, because they disturb me. I can't do anything about them though. I can't make them disappear. Whether or not they're "okay" is irrelevant - how to cope with them is what's important. I don't care for ascribing morality to the thoughts, it's like ascribing morality to the sun - it's there, it's doing shit, if I'm an idiot it'll burn me, but if I'm pragmatic about it everything'll be okay.

The maps can't magic away their thoughts either, neither can therapy, so whether their thoughts are "okay" or not is also irrelevant - what matters is how they can go about coping with those thoughts, and part of that is via their support network.

"Someone with intrusive thoughts about how they're the reincarnation of Hitler and must restart his legacy shouldn't just be forgiven if they ham it up with a bunch of Nazis because "they can't help it and hey I never actually harmed any Jews (physically anyway, but w/e I'm not culpable for any Jew I harmed with my posts bc the only way someone can get onto a blog is OBVIOUSLY if they're looking for it amiright so it's their fault)!""

Honestly, I'm so surprised that the award for worst analogy of 2017 got snatched away from the previous leader so late into the year.

Person with intrusive thoughts of being Hitler (believing you're actually Hitler reincarnated would be a delusion, not an intrusive thought, by the way, but I'll forgive you) is being compared to an anti-contact map, right? So by extension the comparison for neo-nazis would be child molesters or pro-contacts. Because other anti-contact maps would be other people who think they're Hitler, while people who actually genuinely wanna preach nazism are people who actually genuinely wanna hurt kids, right? So already we're comparing somebody talking to other people who have the same struggle, so that they can help each other cope with it, to somebody seeking out a group that actively harms people or promotes harming people in a manner that their particular struggle fixates on... different scenarios.

Saying what amounts to "I saw a hot kid, but I don't wanna act on that" is so hugely different from plotting with neo-nazis and spreading holocaust denial. The equivalent to those would be somebody advocating to make child molestation legal or spreading bullshit pro-contact talking points that child molestation is okay - again, I strongly disagree with those people, I argue against them, they're disgusting, but they're not the people that we're talking about here so the comparison falls apart.

Please, can we use comparisons that don't completely belittle anti-semitism? Can we use comparisons that don't act like giving in to a Hitler identity delusion and promoting the neo-nazi cause as a result is even remotely comparable to venting about a paraphilia that you're keeping under control? These are such different scenarios. And it's a complete non-point because I've never said that people aren't responsible for the things that they say (although, someone with a Hitler delusion that bad wouldn't have legal capacity so, legally speaking, no they wouldn't be responsible for what they said).

"We can accept that MAPs have little to no control over their attraction without accepting that their attraction is valid, reasonable or worth discussing except to demonise."

Sure, you can do whatever you want. I, on the other hand, think that it's not the most effective approach if you want to prevent crimes and to help people.

If you demonize the act of thinking that thought and the thought itself, rather than the content of the thought if made real, what do you hope to achieve other than causing unnecessary mental strain on a person that could negatively impact their coping? Do you feel the same way about people who ship certain ships and talk openly about it?

Valid and reasonable? Completely irrelevant. The thoughts are there, validity and reason didn't play a part in dictating whether or not those thoughts would come to be, it's a pointless way to judge them and it's unproductive - we're talking about how best to deal with the thoughts and how to prevent harm. That's like saying that my arthritis isn't okay, it's not reasonable... like, it doesn't matter, I've still got arthritis.

Not worth discussing? The people struggling with the thoughts and needing support, the people who's lives have been improved by that support, I'm pretty sure they'll beg to differ.

"If these MAPs were truly as saintly and suffering as you make them out to be they wouldn't be all cutesy and wink wink nudge nudge about discussing it, because they would understand that attraction to children is wrong regardless of how much they can help it."

"Saintly and suffering", what? I don't understand how you got that impression, I'm sorry that you did and all of that, but I also think that it's ridiculous. I talk about them like they're human beings with complex emotions - on account of the fact that they are.

Yeah, I understand that setting myself on fire right now, even the fact that I want to, would be pretty wrong... I've still been casually making jokes about it. I also make dead baby jokes. I make jokes about blowing up parliament. You can understand that something is terrible and still talk casually about it.

"MAPs need help, not a niche on Tumblr that defend their attraction and their "non-contact but still skeevy af" actions."

What do you think a support network is for? It's part of that help. The community and the people within work towards keeping each other non-offending and supporting each other's mental well-being. Just because you can cherrypick an asshole doesn't mean that they should just disassemble and throw away the entire community and the advantages it can bring - it just means that they need to work on having more open conversations about what the impact of certain behaviour and posts could be and how to mitigate that.

"the ones like the above are as harmful as the Nazis that have "thought experiments" on what the world would be like without black people"

I prefer when they have their thought experiments somewhere that I can butt in and correct them, rather than building themselves a little echo chamber.

But, since we're talking about anti-contacts here, you've actually taught me something... I didn't know that there were anti-nazi nazis who talked about hypotheticals and thoughts, while simultaneously advocating against any real world nazi regime or ethno-state, and arguing against discrimination based on race or religion. That's interesting.

[milliemichalchuk]

so we mibby trash.

There were things that Gabriella Gomez II learned from a young age. She knew a proper curtsey could make or break an appearance. Manners were everything, especially when photographed. And newspapers would say anything about her if that meant their tacky tabloids sold more. 

Breaking News: Princess Gabriella Stole Princess Svetlana’s Diamonds?!

More like Svetlana took her emerald necklace but whatever. 

Princess Gabriella Flashed the Prime Minister of Uruguay?!

That pig actually tried to sneak a peek of her bum, and she shoved him off. But, of course, blame her for that. 

Princess Gabriella Thinking of Abdicating the Throne?!

She would always pause at that headline. It was possibly the only one that might’ve had a glimpse of truth. Being the only prince or princess of her country meant that she would naturally succeed the throne. She was supposed to succeed and lead her country to bigger and greater successes. But would she be any good?

Gabby knew how not everyone believed she should take the throne. She heard their whispers of how she wasn’t good enough, not worthy of leading the country. She was well aware of how even her own father had less faith in her than her own advisors. Naturally it stung, but she understood not much would be done to persuade him otherwise. 

But things changed during the “World Leaders of Tomorrow”. Honestly she hadn’t expected much during the month-long conference. It seemed rather unlikely that anything drastic would transpire amongst young royals around the globe. She was well aware that it was mostly a public image makeover for the royals who needed it most. (Perhaps she did, but nothing would be cleaned up in a month. How dreadfully unrealistic.)

Yet her relationship with Mikhail Volkov would change everything, for better and for worse. And sure enough in Gabby’s case, things would get worse. 

 “Are you having a good time, Gabriela?”

No. She was at a conference she was being forced to attend. Sure, some of her friends were here but she already felt over this whole ordeal. But she couldn’t say that to the Queen of Monaco who stared at her expectantly. After all, the country of Monaco had been “ever so lovely” enough to host the event. 

Instead, she paused to think of a sufficient answer. “I think so” she eventually swallowed. “After all, this is only the mingler. I have a good feeling that, um, we as the future leaders will band together to have a good experience.” Did that make sense? Apparently it seemed sufficient enough for the Queen who nodded and excused herself. 

With the open bar inviting her in, she found herself glued to the stool as she threw back her glass to down a couple shots. She would need a good drink or two to get through the opening dinner. 

Gabby sat on the toilet, leaning her head into her hands as she groaned. She shouldn’t have drank. 

The bathroom doors swung open, and the Argentinean held her breath. She hoped that whoever needed to use the restroom would use it quickly to leave her in peace. To her surprise the stranger stopped at her stall and paused. 

A second later, the mysterious figure tapped their feet in short intervals. Tap. Tap tap tap. It took her a second before she realized who it was. 

“Aira, leave me alone and stop trying to talk to me in morse when we’re the only people in the bathroom” she groaned. 

  “I think Jude’s playing the ‘penis’ game with Noah right now” she noted as she tapped her cheeks. 

“Who?”

“Y’know. Danish prince. Brown curls. Bit of a crooked grin” she commented as Aira finally realized who she spoke about. “Got a whole bunch of flack from his parents when they found out he was dating a commoner.” Aira shot her a look, and Gabby corrected herself. “I mean, regular citizen.”

Sometimes Gabby forgot that Aira wasn’t royalty but a dignitary’s daughter. It felt like they’d been friends since forever, though they knew one another even before Aira’s father became president of Brazil. Using language like “commoner” irked her, and Gabby understood she needed to treat lightly. 

Viva la democracy, she supposed. 

  “Did you get exposed for wanting to call your crush ‘daddy’ today, Aira?” she asked irritatedly, trying to watch her growing temper. 

“No, but I also wouldn’t call any man ‘daddy’. Because apparently I’m not as kinky as you.”

“I’m not kinky!” she hissed, giving her friend a swift shove. “I’m just an idiot, alright?”

“It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work” she insisted

“No, it’s still pretty stupid. You think Volkov will just forget that?”

Letting out a loud and frustrated groan, she stomped her heels before squatting to the ground. Who the hell let her be a human being was beyond her comprehension. And she was supposed to lead a country? Double whammy. 

Gabby didn’t bother standing or look around when she heard footsteps approaching. “Fuck off” she grumbled assuming it was one of her best friends. She didn’t need their comments tonight. 

“What a lovely way to greet an old acquaintance” a wry voice smirked. Gabby raised her head only for her face to pale upon realizing who she cursed at. There was Alex Volkov, black shirt with the first few buttons undone and a mischievous grin on his face. His hair was tousled and the lipstick mark on his neck didn’t go unnoticed. Typical Alex fashion.

“When’d you get here?” 

“Oh, no ‘lovely to see you, Alex’? ‘I missed you, Alex’? I’m hurt.” 

“It’s so wonderful seeing you, Alex! I missed you so much!” she faked exuberance which caused him to chuckle. “You gonna tell me when you got here or what? Didn’t even think you were attending this summit.” 

“Didn’t plan on, but apparently my old man expected otherwise.” He took a draw of his cigarette, letting the smoke out in her direction. “Just got here so unfortunately I’ve missed dinner. Care to fill me in?” No doubt he already knew what was going on from the sly look on his face.  

  “Heard you’ve been calling my brother ‘daddy’, Gabriella” Alex smirked, tossing the cigarette butt to the ground before crushing it under his foot. 

“What’s your brother’s name again? I don’t recall.” She was feigning ignorance. Stupid move, but it seemed better than confessing. 

“Such a shame if you forgot. Heard he’s been interested in you. Been saying some things” 

“What’d he say” she eagerly asked, taking hold of his arm. All cool went out the door when it came to her crush. 

“I thought you didn’t even know my brother’s name.”

“It’s Leo. Full name Leonid. Just tell me!” she begged, tugging on his arm. 

 While Gabby dealt with quickly putting out fires from news sources besmirching her reputation, Alex thrived on such outlets flaunting his poor notoriety. The worse the story, the better it was for him. 

Rumors swirled about the tscarevich that were difficult to ignore. The stories of him starting fights at clubs were numerous, often him leaving shiners on his enemy that day. He staggered out of the venues, slick smile across his drunken face as he tossed an arm around a pretty little thing with no remorse for his actions. 

His destructive tendencies extended to the bedroom as well. It was well known that Alex had numerous affairs, none lasting more than a week if a woman were so lucky. Any woman that showed any type of affection towards him was quickly dismissed and relegated to a fun mistake. 

If Gabby was an impending storm, Alex was a violent tsunami already raging on as he dragged and sank everything in his way. 

She only met him a handful of times before the conference, developing a strange bond with the man. He wasn’t the first born of his country, but she didn’t dismiss him as hastily like others did. She saw the way that his eyes scanned the notes of Russian foreign trade agreements, often whispering to his eldest brother political advice. Gabby knew better than to count the middle child out.

It was easy enough to relegate Alex to the title of acquaintance. She could easily call him a friend, but she knew he would dismiss that easily. He was difficult to crack, and she hadn’t any interest in opening up to him. The only thing he most likely would prefer was for her to open up her legs. She didn’t care for those sexual activities. At least not with him. Who she did care about was his older brother, Leo. 

Leo had always crossed her mind, a glimmering beacon of possibility. For what, she herself had no clue. The crowned prince of Russia was blessed with good looks and despite his often brooding personality, he could charm women quite well. He would shower them with compliments and poetry, and Gabby couldn’t help but become smitten when he finally showed her the time of day. 

“I’m not one of your conquests” she would text him, rolling her eyes at his flirtatious comments. 

“Never say never, Gabby” he would reply. If it was possible, her eyes would pop out of their sockets from rolling her eyes too hard with how much she couldn’t stand his ways. 

Her father’s relationship with Leo hadn’t improved since their first run in. After all, what father reacts well to finding out that their child calls another man ‘daddy’? 

Gabby hadn’t meant for that information to leak. In fact, that wasn’t something she wanted to even have a conversation about in the first place. But when a scandalous gossip blog leaked her private details, there wasn’t much she could do besides face her father and -

She wondered how long this relationship would last -

The break up had been messy in the politest of terms. Leo questioning her frantically as she persisted that this was for the best. “Gabby, you’re being ridiculous” he insisted, his grip on her wrist tightening as she shook her head. 

“I’m being realistic, Leo. Neither of us is going to abdicate our thrones. It’s not going to happen.”

“I’d give up being Tsar if it meant we’d be together.” His words struck her in the same manner when he asked her to be his girlfriend. The notion shocked her, almost made her heart melt, but this wasn’t their fate. 

She couldn’t bear to hear all the comments about how she took the rightful heir away from Russia. The Russian tszar never approved of Gabby from the start, and now he had even more of a reason to despise her. How long would it take for her to crack? A year? Perhaps less? No, Gabby wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be perceived. 

“I can’t do this, Leo” she choked out. 

“So that’s it? You’re going to throw this away?” he yelled at her. He cursed in his native tongue and while she couldn’t understand all of it, she picked up enough to understand he would never look at her the same way again. 

“You’re an absolute idiot for doing this, Gabby” he scowled before slamming the door shut. The next day not a trace of Leo was left. He took away everything, even the picture frame that had sat on her desk. 

All traces of their relationship from social media vanished with only the small slivers left on her Instagram. Leo made it clear she was no longer welcome in his life by blocking her on all of his accounts. She didn’t blame him, but it didn’t sting any less. 

Friends would ask her how she was doing. It was strangely easy enough for her to lie. She could fake it, pretending it didn’t bother her. Even her closest friends who had their suspicions were easy enough for her to fool if she gave enough of an elaborate story. She could trick Aira into thinking that Leo was a jerk, creating fake memories of how he never listened to her or that he didn’t connect with her the way she wanted him too. 

But it didn’t stop the tears from flowing at night. She would cry herself to sleep, replaying Leo’s final words to her. 

oKAY but gabby never really talking to alex after the break up

Not because she doesn’t want to but because she doesn’t know how to be normal

So she doesn’t message him 

Which seems alright because he doesn’t actively message her either

But then the birthday incident strikes

And she thought that maybe things would get repaired with alex

Except he never messages her

So she’s realizing that maybe this bond wasn’t as strong as she thought it was

It’s her birthday party and she’s got this club rented out for her 

Which sounds fun in theory but it’s just a bunch of royals/diplomats getting trashed for the sake of fun

And she can sing and dance and sway to the music trying to drown herself  in anything but her own thoughts, but she keeps thinking about leo 

How Leo would always wrap his arms around her waist, pressing tender kisses along her cheek before moving down to the jaw and then to her neck

How Leo’s lips would curve upwards as she giggled feeling his breath ghost over her neck like such

And how he’d whisper how sexy she was dancing even though she knew she looked like an absolute idiot. But not for one second would she think otherwise of how he felt about her

But he’s not here with her now in the club. And she can laugh about how silly Aira is being or how her best friend is hollering how much he loves his girlfriend over the blast of music, but the thoughts would haunt her of what Leo would be doing if he was with her

And the night gets worse as it goes along 

Someone throws up on her shoes - barf! - and some stupid dutchess tries to start a fight with her, yanking her hair and eventually shoving her hard enough that she stumbles into a bench and twisting her ankle

So Aira is helping her out of the venue as paparazzi swarm them

“Gabby! Is it true you’re giving up the throne to your cousins?” “Gabby! Gabby, look this way!” “Gabby, is it true that you’re now Leo’s mistress since he’s getting married?” 

“Fuck off” Aira pipes up at that leaving a flustered Gabby to process what was just said

“Is it true he broke up with you to be with her?” “Do you think they’ll be a good power couple?”

No one’s wishing her a happy birthday or anything. They just want information from her like always. Some juicy story to make money

And perhaps because she’s so frazzled that she slips out of Aira’s grasp and falls to the pavement scraping her legs

“That’s one way to get her on her knees. Leo knows the other way!” someone shouts in the crowd and she feels downright humiliated 

One of her friends threatens to beat the guy up while Aira and Jude help her up and quickly to the car

The next day the tabloids have slandered the absolute crap out of her

But the one that stings the most is one of her looking frazzled, hair messy, makeup smudged, eyes confused 

The headline reads “Princess Gabby a Mess Without Leo!” And it stings

And the video is circulating all around the internet of her falling and the comment that follows

She gets the texts from her friends telling her to ignore it, that it’s total garbage

But she can’t help but want one specific person to tell her it’s false and she hasn’t talked to him in five months

“Alex do you think I’m a mess?” she’s never been one to beat around the bush with him so why start now

She stared at her phone waiting for a response. An hour passed by and she picked up the phone to send another message. 

Gabby: Alex - is this still your number?

There was no notice that the number was disconnected. Perhaps it was someone else’s phone number now? No, someone would’ve at least said that this was a new phone. So she decided texting again. 

Gabby: You know yesterday was my birthday, right? Gabby: Did your brother see the newspaper? Gabby: Alex, will you please just talk to me?

Nothing.

Gabby: I’m gonna call you. Please pick up. 

She pressed the call button and put the phone up to her ear. Two rings and she was immediately taken to voicemail. It was clear he was ignoring her. 

Her heart ached as she stared at the phone screen. She wasn’t sure why this hurt so badly. 

Gabby: Call me when you get a chance. 

She’s not sure why this hurts so badly but she can’t help but stare down at her phone, wishing he’d just say something to her

HFDSHFHSF I FORGOT ABOUT THE LABBY ONE X ONE HSHFHSD I’M ABOUT TO FUCK SHIT UP SO BADLY HAHAHAHA

Valentina Cortez (val) princess of Spain

Gabriel Orsini (Gabe) prince of Italy

Okay but keeping that Gabby is now engaged to Gabe 

And that Leo is engaged to Val 

Except they’re not even dating anymore in this scenario so it’s Gabby having to hear about this engagement about her ex-boyfriend from a fuckin tabloid

And she’s not even sure what to think about that 

Because honestly she’s just stunned that she’s the last one to know when they thrust the microphone in her face, asking her how it feels to know that Leo’s set to marry Spain’s “wild child”

She’s never even met this Valentina girl, so she’s not even sure what to say to that

And Gabby’s only met Gabe a couple times, but their engagement is currently being kept under wraps because they’re trying to get all the logistics figured out when Gabby finally ascends the crown

Which only stresses Gabby out even more

Gabriella hadn’t seen or talked to Alex post-breakup. 

Because how do you talk to someone normally once you break up with their brother

Fun fact: you don’t and you pretend that whatever friendship you built with them never existed

And it’s not like it makes a difference because he never bothers to reach out to her

“Gabby” he breathed out her name softly. She relaxed at the sound of his voice, letting her eyes flutter shut. 

She turned around to take him in. He was still taller than her, standing straight as he looked at her. His hair was slightly disheveled though she knew this was on purpose. The popped collar with the first couple buttons undone was also a strategic look she was familiar with. But there Alex Volkov was in all his handsome glory. 

“Hello, Alex. Glad to see you again.” Gabby would later regret that statement as she found herself wondering how the hell this man always had a hold on her. 

“You wanna talk about something, Alex? Then let’s fucking talk!” she snapped, giving him a shove. He stumbled back, surprised by the amount of force. 

“You and your brother wanna demonize me? Fine! Go ahead! The newspapers do it all the time so what’s new? I don’t give a fuck!” she shouted, voice getting louder as she spoke. 

“But what you can’t say is that I didn’t try.”

“You broke it off with Leo. How’s that for trying?”

“Is that what he told you?” She let out a harsh laugh looking at his fierce gaze. “Did Leo also tell you he had plans of abdicating the throne?” She took his silence as a no. “How well do you think that would’ve gone over with your father, Alex? How well do you think the newspapers would’ve made it for me and him? You think they would’ve been nice to us? You think your father would’ve acknowledged my presence then when he wouldn’t even talk to me when I visited your stupid country?”

“You didn’t break up with him for his sake, Gabby. You broke up because you were scared.”

His words cut deeply. Of course she had been scared. There was no doubt about that. But if he only saw her actions as someone terrified of the future, then he didn’t know her at all. 

“Get out” she whispered on the verge of tears. He leaned in to touch her, but she swatted his hand away. “Get the fuck out, Mikhail.” 

“Why? Cause you’re in love with him, Gabriella?” he sneered, shaking his head. 

“It doesn’t matter if I lo-”

“Bullshit. You’re doing this because you’re scared.” There he went again, saying how she was scared. 

Right as she was about to dismiss him, he continued. “It’s fine if you’re not in love with him, Gabby. But don’t pretend that he’s going to make you a better ruler if he’s by your side.”

“Because you know so much about how to run a country” she snapped. She heard the malicious tone and regretted it immediately. “I’m s-”

“Save it.” 

“Did you tell Jude?” She shook her head. “Aira?” Another shake of her head. “Who else knows?” 

“It was my birthday, Alex.” He said nothing. Both of them knew the truth. He received the texts from her, but never responded. 

“It was my birthday, and you didn’t say anything. Not even a ‘happy birthday’” she choked on her words, tears forming in her eyes. “I know you saw the video. I know you did. Everyone saw it. And everyone was...Everyone was fucking awful.” That night replayed in her mind, how the paparazzi mocked her relentlessly. And where was Alex? 

“We were best friends! Did that mean nothing to you?” The tears slipped out as her body sunk, finally clearing the air of the incident that always bothered her deeply. “You were supposed to be my friend!” He moved closer to her, pulling her in slightly. She could feel that he was trying, attempting to be sympathetic. Yet it wasn’t enough. 

“Where were you, Alex?” she cried, slamming her fists into his chest. “I needed you. I needed you, and you weren’t there.” He said nothing, only holding her hands as they hit him repeatedly. He would let her cry until she was finished, unable to give her an answer. 

She knew he would never tell her, even if she begged for an answer. Before the break up she thought she understood him. Gabby was getting somewhere with him, breaking down his walls slowly but surely. And now after all this time, it was as if nothing happened. She was no better than his past conquests. 

“Gabby, I...care about you. But I care about my brother’s wellbeing too. I wasn’t going to let him ruin himself.” 

“So you would let me sink instead.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“So am I.”

She sucked in a long breath, trying to compose her breathing. He handed her a tissue, which she took and cleaned her face with. Looking in the nearby mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her face was splotched with makeup running. Her eyes were swollen. Rubbing her face roughly, she took a look at Alex. 

OKAY BUT HIM SHOWING UP TO THE CLASSES THE NEXT DAY SLIDING NEXT TO THE SEAT NEXT TO HER

AND HE’S PRETENDING AS IF NONE OF THIS HAPPENED

THEN THAT’S WHEN GABBY SEES IT

HE’S WEARING THE MIBBY JACKET

AND FOR A SECOND SHE MIGHT BE DREAMING

BUT SHE PINCHES HERSELF AND SHE REALIZES SHE’S AWAKE

AND THERE’S ALEX LEGITIMATELY WEARING THAT JACKET HE CONSTANTLY COMPLAINED ABOUT AND SWORE HE BURNED

HE SLIDES HER A NOTE THAT SAYS “DON’T GET USED TO IT.”

AND IT’S NOT A LOT BUT IT’S ENOUGH FOR HER TO KNOW THAT HE’S TRYING

EVEN THOUGH ALEX DIDN’T CHOOSE HER, SHE’S ALWAYS GOING TO BE ON HIS MIND WHETHER HE FIGHTS IT OR NOT

It seemed rather silly, crying over a dog she only knew for a couple of years. But Anya’s presence always comforted her that it was only natural that Gabby mourned the passing. 

Leo let her rest on his bed as she she sniffled, thinking about how life could be so unfair, taking away lives that mattered the most. 

“Leo, we can’t do this” she murmured, pulling away from his kiss. 

“Why not? I know you don’t love Gabe. And I don’t love Val.” It was the confirmation she wanted to hear, yet it didn’t make her feel happy in the slightest. “So what’s the problem with us being together?”

“For starters, I’m in love with your brother” she thought to herself. 

“I’m not allowed to like Alex, Aira”

“Who the fuck said that?” 

She internally groaned, wishing that she didn’t have to deal with Aira’s stubbornness. “Everyone, okay?”

“I say you can like him, and I’m part of the everyone club. So not everyone is saying that.”

“You know what I mean” she scowled at her best friend. 

“So you’re not gonna tell Alex you like him because you think people might judge you?” Why did she make it sound so easy, as if telling Alex her feelings would make everything become alright?

“Because I can’t, Aira! Okay? If I tell him, what then? I become the bad guy again! I let down my parents for not marrying the person they chose! I ruin the relations with Italy! I’m some slut who can’t keep it in her pants for the Volkov men!”

“When have you cared about what others think?”

“Since forever!” 

“Was I actually your best friend, Alex?” Silence filled the room. Gabby wondered if it had been difficult for him to separate himself from her during the break up. He always seemed to be fine, get back on his feet with considerable ease. But for the first time she was left contemplating if he wasn’t as strong as he appeared. 

The two of them had such similarities that they shouldn’t have worked. They had their stubborn natures and their desperate desire for at least a semblance of acknowledgement from their fathers. While she would never be good enough to rule, he would never earn the right to rule. 

As he laid on his back staring at the ceiling, she got on the bed and laid beside him. His slight flinch at her joining went without comment from either party. She held her hands over her stomach, feeling the weight of her breathing as it slowly heaved up and down. 

“Yes.” Her head turned slightly, acknowledging his one word answer. She wasn’t used to his vulnerability. 

Turning back to stare at the ceiling, she knew she’d regret saying the next words. Still, there was no way she could let it eat at her the way it did. She knew what would happen, how nothing would get resolved. But she wasn’t looking for a solution; she was looking for a sense of freedom from the words that tugged at her heartstrings. 

“I’m in love with you.” She swallowed, letting her words linger. “I’m like, stupidly in love with you. Not your brother. Not Gabe. Just...you, Alex.” 

She didn’t hear him move, not even a single rustle. For a second she thought she might’ve made up the moment in her mind. But when she looked back at him, face hard and cold, she knew he heard her. It was fine for her to know that he would never reciprocate it back. 

“See you tomorrow.” The bed creaked as she sat up. Gabby smoothed her hair, refusing to turn in his direction. Once again she heard no noise from him. She found herself walking straight ahead to his door and letting herself out of his room. 

Her heart ached more than she could bear. Why did it feel like she had been treated in the same manner of his usual conquests? This low and unworthy feeling of not being good enough for another tscarevich crept into her thoughts as she rested her back against his doors.

[imagines-never-die]

Hello! I'd request a scenario where Soldier, Mccree and Mei (the most "scarred" characters imo) meet (one by one) a young, naive looking Water Nymph in a lake, where she tries to befriend them, maybe seduce them, and then ask to end her loneliness by bringing them to "her world" through a leap of faith: drowing in the water. If they accept or not, and how things end up going, I'll leave it to your creativity. (Bonus points if the Nymph also knows of the current loneliness of the protagonist)

(I added a break since this was gonna be long)

Soldier: 76

He had never noticed such a pretty girl sitting out by the lake before. The most he usually saw were herons and turtles, but never a naked girl with long hair reaching down past her bottom. Jack questioned if he should approach her, maybe ask if she was lost or needed help. After all, it wasn’t entirely warm out, and she must have been cold. Letting his chivalrous side win over, he trudged over to the lake where the girl was.

Before he even got to the water’s edge, she turned and smiled sweetly, “Hello, Soldier.”

Jack figured she had heard the rumors about Soldier: 76, and recognized him.

“What are you doing out here in the nude?” he asked bluntly.

“I live here, silly,” she gave a bubbly giggle, “Besides, I don’t need petty clothes.”

“You’ll catch your death otherwise,”

She laughed again, “I don’t get sick, Soldier. I’m above that.”

“Quit being so vague,” he grunted, “How did you get out here wearing nothing?”

“I told you, Soldier,” she said, pulling her hair back to reveal a set of gills on her neck, “I live here.”

The gills caught Jack off guard, making him flinch back a little. He wasn’t one to believe in superstition, so maybe it was just a makeup trick…

“As I said, Soldier,” she purred, “I live here. I’m a water nymph, or naiad if you will.”

“You’re crazy is what you are,” he sighed, grabbing her by the arm, “Come on, I can’t leave you out here.”

“You’re no fun!” she laughed, pulling back and getting him to sit beside the water’s edge with her, “Why is it that you’re so grumpy all the time.”

“Because you’re not listening to me,” he growled impatiently.

“Because you’re sad, Soldier,” she cooed sweetly, running a slender finger across his collar bone which Jack quickly swatted away, “You miss those old days soooo much.”

“What are you talking about?”

There was no way this loony could know…

“You lost everything, and now you’re all by your lonesome with nobody but your own reflection to keep you company,” he mumbled sadly.

It was…pathetically true. This was the first conversation Jack had had with anyone in weeks. Life as a vigilante kept him very removed.

“But I know how you feel,” the girl sighed wistfully, “My fellow sisters framed me for a murder and kicked me out of our tributary. Now I live alone in this lake and talk to my own reflection in the water…”

She turned to the lake, looking at her rippling reflection staring back at her, “But sometimes not even my reflection wants to talk to me,”

Morrison couldn’t help but feel a little bit of empathy for her. Whether she was crazy or not, she still sounded like she had been genuinely lonesome and ostracized. As far as he knew, not many came by this lake, so she would have been as solitary as she said.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way for us, Soldier.” she whispered, turning back to him.

Gently, she reached a webbed hand up to his face. He didn’t react, still too lost in thought to really notice or care. Her cold, wet hand wrapped around his visor and slowly pulled it off, revealing the sullen face of a broken man. Then she stroked his warm, gristly face.

“We can stay together and never be lonely again,” she promised with her melodic voice, “Come into my world, and you’ll never be so sad.”

His eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, he felt all his thoughts melt away into nothing. Suddenly all she had said seemed to make a lot of sense for some reason. The nymph began sliding back into the water, leading Jack by the hand, and for a moment, he began to lean towards the water. But the soldier’s resolve was too strong to be entranced for long. He suddenly pulled away, scrambling for his visor and snapping it back into place.

“Soldier…” she tried to stop him.

“You really are crazy,” he huffed, standing up and shaking his head, “I don’t need some self-proclaimed mermaid.”

“M-Mermaid?!” she felt insulted when people mixed her up for that, “Wait! Soldier, please!”

But Jack just kept walking. He knew he was alone in this world, and no “naiad’ was going to change that.

Mei

Adjusting to her new life in the present was difficult for Mei. So much had changed, so many of her friends and family had changed…or died. And it had all happened while she slept the years away in an icy prison. It didn’t help that she was the only survivor from that incident. Why her out of all the brilliant minds at that eco point? On days she was especially gloomy, Mei would go down to the river to mull things over on the the pebbly shores.

But one day as she came out of the woods and onto the water’s edge, she spotted someone in her usual spot. On a big rock laid a short girl with long, long hair and–well, that was it. She wasn’t wearing anything notable; nothing in fact. Sure it was a nice day for sunbathing, but doing it naked out in the open? It seemed a little too bold to Mei. She thought of just pretending the girl wasn’t there and went to the edge of the water, slipping off her shoes to feel the cool ripples.

But then the girl looked over from her spot and gave her a smile. Out of politeness, Mei smiled back and gave a timid wave back.

“Hi!” the girl chirped.

“Hi…” Mei said shyly back.

She wondered if she should ask, so eventually she did, “Why are you out here naked?”

“Enjoying the weather,” the girl shrugged.

“But…like that?” Mei asked tactfully.

“Of course. This is my river after all,” the girl shrugged.

“Your…river?”

“Yes, I’m one of the couple water spirits that rules this river,’ she replied simply.

That made Mei giggle. A water spirit? It was such a funny notion, but it had such a humorous tone that she decided to play along.

“A water spirit?”

“Indeed. I am a water nymph,” the nymph nodded.

“Ok then,” Mei chuckled along.

Sliding off the rock, the girl approached, her wet hair swaying from side to side. Mei tried to avert her gaze elsewhere.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked.

“M-Mei,” Mei blushed a little.

“I am Selena,” the nymph introduced herself, “Why are you out here, and why did you look so sad earlier?”

“Oh, uh…” Mei mumbled before taking a seat by the river, hugging her knees to her chest, “I just…I just get lonely sometimes. I mean, I haven’t been around people for years, so it’s difficult to adjust. What do people talk about these days?”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t know,” the girl took a seat next to her, “I rarely talk to humans,”

Mei sighed, looking somberly out at the water, “I wish I was a nymph like you, Selena. I bet life is all sunshine and rainbow fish…”

“Actually it’s not,” the nymph sighed as well, “I get lonely sometimes, too. Like one of my bestest sisters in this whole river just got banished! My sisters said she did something unforgivable, but I just can’t believe it,”

“I’m sorry…” Mei mumbled, placing a hand on Selena’s shoulder.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, watching the river float by as they thought about their troubles. Suddenly, Selena perked up and hopped up from the shore.

“But it doesn’t have to be so lonely for us!” she grinned, “We can hang out together in my world, today!”

With that, she held out a hand that looked vaguely webbed to Mei.

Giving her a curious look, Mei echoed, “Your world?”

“Yeah! The river! Let’s go for a swim, Mei! Let’s hang out! I’ll be your friend, I promise!” Selena spouted excitedly.

Her first friend back in the present: a strange girl who called herself a water nymph. It was a strange start, but a start nonetheless.

“Urm…ok,” Mei got up and took off her shit to reveal a sports bra.

Carefully taking Selena’s hand, she let her lead them out into the water, wading further and further into the deep end. At first, Mei was happy to finally have a good day for once. But then Selena’s grip around her hand suddenly grew tighter and she began to walk faster and faster until they were waist deep in the water. Now Mei knew something was off.

“Selena, that kind of hurts,” she called out, but Selena didn’t answer.

“S-Selena!” she tried again.

This time when the nymph didn’t answer, Mei tried to pull away from her grasp only to get some surprisingly strong resistance from the girl. Now the two were struggling against each other as Selena tried to pull her deeper and Mei tried to go back to shore.

“C’mooon, Mei!” Selena turned to her with a scary grin, “We’re almost to my world!”

“i-I think th-this is deep enough,” Mei tried to reason.

“Come ON!” Selena gave one last tug, knocking Mei off her feet and sending her under the water.

Mei immediately felt Selena wrap her arms around her, keeping her from going back to the surface. She had no idea why her new friend was trying to hurt her, but she knew she had to get away! After a sufficient struggle, Mei began to run out of air, letting the rest of it out in a muffled, underwater scream. Amidst her scream, she finally got loose enough to slam a kick right into Selena’s face!

That got the nymph off her, so she made a mad dash for the shore, sending water splashing all around her. When she finally made it, she collapsed onto the rocks, gasping for breath and shaking all over. When she got her bearings around her, she looked back out to the river to see Selena’s peaking out at her from above the waves. She had a bloody nose and a black eye, although her blood appeared to be black. Selena looked hurt both emotionally and physically, and poor Mei couldn’t help but feel bad, even if she had just been nearly drowned. Giving her an apologetic look, Mei ran from the shore and back home.

McCree

Jesse wasn’t sure why a pretty young lady would be sitting naked by a pond by herself, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If this was what fate handed him, he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Yer gonna catch a cold ya know,” was his opening line as he dropped his serape around her shoulders.

The girl blinked in surprise, feeling the smoothness of the fabric and wrapping it around herself. She gave Jesse a curious look as he sat next to her, stretching out his legs to dangle over the water.

“That’s one of the kinder reactions I’ve gotten,” the girl smiled.

“Oh yeah?” he tipped his hat, “Other men don’t know how to treat a lady sitting by a pond in her birthday suit?”

“Heeheehee!” the girl laughed, wrapping the serape around her tighter.

“Most try to scare me away of call me names,” she sighed.

“Doesn’t seem right,” he said.

“It’s not. People don’t know how to treat water nymphs these days,” she sighed.

A confused look crossed Jesse’s face as he turned to her and repeated, “Water what now?”

“A water nymph,” she clarified, “Spirits of springs, naiads. Thins like that,”

The cowboy chuckled and shook his head, “Forgive me if I don’t believe in fairytales, missy, but I suppose you can pretend to be whatever you want,”

“It’s not pretend,” she made a mock pout and crossed her arms.

As McCree pulled out a cigar to smoke, the nymph watched him carefully. It was so rare to see a human smoke so up close. Naiads never smoked simply because, well, they lived in water.

“Why did you come out here?” she asked, “Hardly anyone comes out to this pond,”

“Ah, I just,” McCree scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Just come out here to clear my head sometimes,”

She looked at him closely again with big, ocean-colored eyes, “What’s on your mind?”

“Just, uh, life stuff,” he mumbled.

The nymph smirked and leaned in close, “Penny for your thoughts, I believe is the human expression?”

Jesse couldn’t help but let his eyes linger to her chest for a moment. Then he grumbled something inaudible as he looked away and considered telling her.

“I’m just one, little, isolated spirit. I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” she cooed sweetly.

“I’ve left so many people in my life,” he exhaled, “First my friends in Deadlock, then my own comrades in the war. Now I roam by myself trying to do good…but even then I’m still considered an outlaw. No matter how hard I try, it’s like I can’t shake my past,”

The girl’s expression slowly dropped as she leaned away from him again, twiddling her thumbs in thought.

“I know how you feel,” she said weakly, “I had to leave my sisters behind. One of them was going to kill me, so I had to run away. Now I feel guilty for leaving the others. They must think I’m dead…”

She noticed the way he looked over at her in pity, so she shook her head, “Oh now I’ve distracted you from your own problems. I didn’t mean to belittle your own life,”

“No, it’s fine,” McCree answered softly, “Have you ever thought about going back?”

“No…what if Melody is still there–I mean, the one who was trying to hurt me?” she mumbled, “And I might just make things worse. I’m better off dead to them.”

But no matter how hurt the little naiad was, she still couldn’t deny her instincts. Her instincts which told her to lure her prey.

“…But you don’t want me dead, do you?” she looked up at Jesse with pleading eyes.

Trying to keep himself from getting too excited by a naked girl looking at him with adorable bedroom eyes, McCree cleared his throat and looked the other way in embarrassment.

“Um…I mean I’ve known ya for a few minutes, but I guess I can’t say I’d want you dead,” he sputtered, “Don’t know anyone who would want a pretty lady like you dead.

“And I wouldn’t want you to leave behind,” she said in a sing-song voice, “But even if you did, I’d forgive you. I’d never forget you~”

“C’mon, don’t say–” McCree started to say, turning back to the girl. 

But he found she had moved a lot closer to him now, her damp skin right up against his flannel shirt. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Fuck, this girl was going to be the end of him. She slowly started to lean closer to him until her lips were inches from his. Then she waited for him to meet her halfway, which he gladly did.

They kissed for a second before the nymph tried to deepen the kiss, begging for entrance to his mouth.

But McCree couldn’t help but pull  back a little and whisper, “Darlin’, I don’t even know your name,”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s Persephone, you dummy,” she smiled and pressed her lips to his again.

But no matter how many times she tried to French it with him, something kept holding him back from parting his lips! How was she supposed to get the toxins in his system if he didn’t open his mouth!? Growing impatient, she began to lower herself into the pond, trying to lead him along with her.

“Wait, where ya goin’?” he asked.

“I’m a water nymph, remember?” she smiled mischievously, “It’ll be better in the water.”

Now Jesse knew things were going too far.

Taking off his hat to fan himself and running a hand through his hair, he stammered, “Heh, I–uh–think we should get you dry first. Maybe some clothes.”

Seeing her hurt expression he quickly added, “Yer a nice girl, don’t get me wrong, just that…I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you is all,”

“But you’re not,” she whined, holding out a hand to him, “I’m offering myself, so help yourself,”

Jesse stared at her slightly webbed hand for a few moments, clearly thinking it over. Then he darted his hand out and took hers, but rather than let her pull him in, he yanked her out of the pond with an immense force. She squeaked out of surprise, especially when he scooped her up in his arms.

“W…What are you doing, human?!” she protested.

“Gettin’ you some dinner and somethin’ suitable to wear,” he said casually, heading off back to his ranch.

“You will not!” she squealed, “I want to be in my pond!”

“You said you’re a naiad? So you like fish? I got some sardines back at home,” he chuckled.

Persephone couldn’t help but feel her tummy growl. It was clear this human wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to eat…so maybe some little pickled fish would be worth it.

(*DIES* THAT TOOK FOREVER :O)

[harry-writings]

Stay Away From Me

- Part 3 of the one where he’s dangerous, but not around you

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio

-

Three months after Harry called off his relationship with Y/n, it was his birthday.

And just like every other year for the past five, the boys decided to spend his birthday weekend at Louis’ family lake house. It was one of the few times a year they’d go as the house is only saved for special occasions. It’s secluded—far from the city—but close enough so that it’s not too much out of their way.

Their tradition when it comes to Harry’s birthday has remained the same for years now—abonfire, a couple of poker games, countless amounts of beer, and occasional midnight skinny dipping. 

However, this year, the only change in tradition is Y/n not attending.

The second Harry steps foot out of his car, the whole idea of spending his birthday without Y/n makes him feel sick to his stomach, considering the lake house was their favorite place to be together. They didn’t know why, but something about the privacy and the exclusiveness of it enhanced their relationship in unimaginable ways. They have had almost too many occasions where they would flee from London without a word and spend a couple days alone there. 

Which is why the whole idea just seems so wrong to him. 

And he really can’t be any more depressed if he tried. Even when his best friends are already having what seems to be the time of their lives, he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself in the slightest. 

He can’t blame them for their excitement, though. He shouldn’t have expected them to be any less because they had absolutely no idea what was going on. 

He didn’t tell them—he didn’t tell them any of it. Because if they had found out that he let Y/n slip right through his fingers, he’d never hear the end of it. And in between constantly beating himself up for his decision and sulking in his guilt every second of every day, he didn’t need anyone else to remind him of how much he fucked up.

But ever since Y/n left, something in him changed. 

He had no desire to fight anymore. 

Three days after he broke it off, he was worse than ever. Getting himself into numerous fights multiple times a day. It was his way of coping the loss of her— the loss of his only true humanity. However, when the fourth day came, and Harry started to really understand the fact that he was never going to see Y/n again, was when the pain really set in.

She tried so hard for him. She pushed him harder than anybody else had— nobody put as much faith in him as she had. She stayed with him in times he truly didn’t deserve it. Hell, there were even days where she was so livid with him that all she could do was yell and yell and yell until she had no anger left in her. 

But even then, she still slept in the same bed as him—still kept him by her side because she wanted to reassure him that no matter what happens between them, she’d never leave him. 

He couldn’t live with letting all of that go—letting her go—so he decided to prove himself wrong.

It was the biggest fight of his life—the one against himself; when half of him wanted to inflict his pain onto other people and the other half wanting so desperately to change himself for the sake of their relationship. But he knew he was stronger than the monster inside of him, even though he convinced himself otherwise. What made him strong was his relationship with Y/n. 

He would stop at nothing to get her back.

As for Y/n, it didn’t take Y/n more than a couple days to tell Zayn what had happened between them. 

He called her, asking what was going on since everyone has noticed Harry had been a complete wreck with no sign of her in his life. She explained—in the best that she could between her harsh sobs and broken whimpers—that Harry had left her. He broke up with her, tried to convince her that they didn’t belong together, and eventually confessed that he just couldn’t be with her anymore.

Y/n made him promise not to tell anybody else because she felt that this was Harry’s responsibility. Which, luckily for her, Zayn kept his promise and never said a word about it to anyone. 

The rest of the guys tried to get it out of him, though. They never forced it, but occasionally mentioned her in casual conversations to see what he would say or do. But each and every time, he ignored them. The mention of her name killed him on the inside, and he still can’t face the reality that they aren’t together anymore.

To say the guys have been concerned for him is an understatement. Sure, he’s stopped fighting, but he’s still not the same Harry he was when he was with Y/n. He’s constantly distracted—his mind always somewhere not where it’s supposed to be. He drinks more, too, which used to spike up his anger, but now only spikes up his depression. He has no motivation to do anything besides stay in his house and dwell on the guilt he’s carried.

Getting him to the lake house is one of their ways of getting him to heal. They just don’t know how much this place kills him, though. God, he can’t even look at a single square inch of it without seeing her in his head. 

How the hell is he going to get through the weekend?

The boys begin to notice how hurt Harry is when he begins to prepare for the bonfire they planned on having later on that night. And instead of telling them how truly heartbreaking this weekend is going to be for him, he avoids that topic of conversation completely. 

He was already depressed enough, he didn’t need to bury himself in it on his own birthday.

Harry groans, lifting heavy piles of wood and constructing them into a setup for later. He’s finished now—has been finished for a while—but he just can’t stop. All he can think about is how Y/n isn’t with him—how she’s probably in her new home, sulking, hating him for ruining her life. 

It’s his weekend, and she probably hates him.

He sighs, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward, eyes trained on the ground. He just can’t get her out of his head, no matter how much he tries to distract himself, almost every waking moment he’s thinking about the first time they met.

-

They were at a party Zayn’s aunt decided to host. It was a casual-formal event, just something special for her close friends to feel welcomed to upon their return to London after being in the states for a while.

Zayn was, obviously, invited. His aunt even insisted on him bringing his best friends, which he probably would have done, anyways, because he wasn’t too familiar with the family the party was for. The only member he’s ever really talked to was Y/n. She was super shy, very introverted, but was extremely sweet nonetheless. She had talked to Zayn a couple times when they stayed at his aunt’s house simultaneously. Other than that, they didn’t talk much.

“C’mon, you’re just gonna stand in the corner all night?” Zayn approached Harry, a glass of vodka held loosely in his hands.

Harry was pissed he was even in the situation he was in. Social events weren’t his thing—never something he found entertaining. He didn’t care about this stupid family’s return, he didn’t even know them.

“This is the last goddam place I want to be right now” Harry seethed, “I’m pissed off at you for even fucking forcing me here, don’t force me to try and mingle, too.”

He let out a slight grumble in Zayn’s direction before making his way to the mini bar. On his way, in the midst of his aggravation, he felt a body collide with his. 

He groaned, a slight growl in the mix, definitely not in any mood for people to get in his way.

“Watch where you’re—"

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The girl gasped, “I didn’t see you there.”

Harry’s body immediately froze at the sight of her. She was the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. Her eyes were sparkling in the dim light, lips parted slightly due to the impact, her body complimented beautifully by her outfit, leaving him absolutely speechless.

“I—It’s okay” He stuttered, eyes never leaving hers, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

She nodded slightly, completely captivated by the most handsome man standing in front of her. God, how he was so beautiful? She would have never known a man like this could ever exist in this world.

“I’m okay.” She softly spoke, “Thank you.”

Harry insisted on buying her a drink as a way to apologize for not paying attention to where he was going. They chatted for a while, mainly about the party. Come to find out, she was the daughter of Zayn’s aunt’s friends. She hadn’t gone to the states with them, however, she didn’t really make too much of an effort to go and see her during her stay in London.

They were talking quite well, considering Harry definitely did give her an attitude at times and somehow made her feel extremely intimidated whenever he did so. But he had to admit, it was one of the best conversations he’s had in a while, despite his unfriendly character.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry finally asked.

She blushed slightly.

“I’m Y/n. And you?”

“Harry."

“Oh, you’re Harry.” Y/n said quietly, a hint of realization in her tone of voice.

Harry didn’t like the way she said it—as if insulting him in a way. Which, for him, was a bit of a let down considering there was a moment where he genuinely believed she was different.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped, his voice somehow rougher and raspier than how it was before, “Like you’re any better?"

His harsh glare upon her made Y/n feel belittled. When he spoke to her, he made her feel as if her existence was the dirt beneath his shoes. No wonder Zayn had warned her, no girl like Y/n could survive five minutes with such a vulgar man.

“Oh, um—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—it’s just that Zayn had told me to stay away from you.” She stuttered, her voice barely above a mumble.

She still refused to make eye contact with him, only for the sake of her safety. She was too afraid to look at him—when his body seemed tense and eyes filled with aggression. She was an easy prey for people like him to feed on—to get a good kick out of. 

She had to get out of it immediately.

“I should go.” She muttered as her fingers brushed loose pieces of hair behind her ear. “It was lovely to meet you.”

Almost too quickly, she grabbed her bag off the bar and began to make her way back to where she was before. However, before making it too far, she felt a hand grab ahold of her wrist.

He didn’t know why, but when he had seen the fear set in Y/n’s eyes, an overwhelming feeling of guilt set upon him. It was strange—to feel so much of it hit him over one girl’s reaction. He had done this many times to many people, all of which having a moment of complete vulnerability during his encounters with them. But they didn’t necessarily make him feel anything more than the slightest bit of regret.

“Hey,” He whispered softly, gently pulling her back to where he was standing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Y/n looked into his eyes as he spoke, giving her the reassurance she needed. He was genuine, she could tell, his eyes screamed sympathy.

“It’s oka—“

“But Zayn is right,” Harry continued, slowly letting her arm go. “You should stay away from me.”

Before she had any time to react, he had walked away from her.

The rest of the night, Y/n was determined to speak to him again. After meeting him for the first time, she had an innumerable amount of questions she pressed Zayn to answer. Why is he always angry? Is he dangerous? But why was he so nice to me when I walked away?

Zayn explained that Harry wasn’t someone she should be concerned about. All he told her was that he had been hurt one too many times and it caused him to become violent towards those who threaten potential pain. He doesn’t apologize to anybody and told her that it was quite strange how he had to her.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, that intrigued him so much. Besides the fact she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on, she was so easy to talk with. She was quiet, and apart of him liked that about her. The moment he hurt her, he just felt so bad, like her saddness was the last thing he ever wanted to see.

Which is why he walked away from her.

When he saw Zayn later that night, he had asked about her. He asked how they had known each other, asked about her life and where she lived. He was determined to know more about her. It wasn’t even that he just wanted to, but it felt like he had to, like he was being compelled to feel this way toward her.

Right as he was about to leave the party, he had heard her voice behind him

“Harry?”

He slowly turned to look at her. She was looking as shy as ever, fingers fiddling together, cheeks blushed, eyes unsure. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say, but she wanted to try.

“I want to get to know you.” She spoke softly, her hand nervously reaching to her lips.

He swore his heart melted. The second the words fell from her lips, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to know her.

“I know you said I should stay away from you, but I don’t want to."

-

“Harry,” Zayn calls a bit loudly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, “do you want to talk about it?”

Harry didn’t realize he was near tears until Zayn snapped him out of his trance. And he didn’t look at them as he returns to placing the logs in piles, contemplating whether or not to disregard his statement or not. 

Of course, he wants to talk about how much mental pain he’s in from not being with Y/n anymore, but he just can’t talk about it. They know that, too, because if he were ready, he would have already.

“Can you stop asking about her, please?” He groans, tossing the last piece of wood onto the top of the pile, “I know you guys know, so please, don’t make me say it.”

He doesn’t bother to look at them, instead, wiping off some of the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel before making his way inside the house to change out of his sweaty clothes. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he’s completely and utterly broken, if he has to be questioned about her again he swears he’ll actually become ill.

Half-heartedly making his way to the bedroom, Harry opens up the duffle bag that sits on top of the bed, searching through the folded clothes to find his plain gray t-shirt he plans on wearing for later that night. Slipping off his flannel and sliding off the now dirty white tank top underneath, he puts on the t-shirt, throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry bin.

Once changed, Harry begins to unpack the remaining clothes out of his bag. His hands are shaking as he does so, breathing heavy when he sets his clothes down on the bed. His stomach twists with sick at the idea of sleeping in this goddamn room.

This was the first place they made love. It was within the first month of being with each other, filled with beautiful romance and bliss. It was the best night of his life. It was the first time he had touched someone so delicately before—the first time his violent hands spread love throughout her body. 

He said words he never thought he’d say again. Words that he actually fucking meant, words to express how his once cold heart felt warm for what felt like the first time in his life. 

-

It was her first visit to the lake house. She had just finished cleaning up the remaining dishes, insisting that even though she was the guest, she had to contribute to the clean up after having a barbecue. Harry was sitting by the kitchen table, just watching her, observing her as she hummed an unknown tune, her hair messily tied up on her head. He could hear the boys playing poker in the living room, which he would have played if Harry hadn’t already planned on taking Y/n out near the lake after she had finished cleaning up.

“Alright, Harry, all done.” she smiled, “Now what was it you wanted to show me?”

She made her way toward his sitting frame, taking a seat right on top of his lap. Combing her fingers through his hair, she planted a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose, making Harry’s face blush the color of roses. He reached his arms around her waist, nuzzling her body against his.

“Hm,” He hummed, kissing the exposed skin on her shoulder. “Was gonna show you the lake, but almost considering just cuddling you all night long.”

Y/n smiled as Harry leaned in to press a hard kiss against her soft lips. She breathed out heavily through her nose, fingertips moving to caress his cheeks, his unshaved stubble scraping against their pads.

“Gross!” They heard Niall call from the living room, “I call the room farthest from yours!”

They both laughed, Harry rolling his eyes at the comment.

“As fantastic that sounds” Y/n smirked, raking her fingers on his back under his shirt, “this is my first time here, and it’s your birthday weekend. I want to explore it with you.”

She leaned down to quickly peck his chapped lips, which soon turned into a wild smirk. His green eyes looked into her brown ones, his fingers dancing along the nape of her neck.

“I can do that for you.”

Once they were by the lake, they sat in silence together. She was cuddled into him, sitting in between his legs, her head rolled back onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. They admired the nature they were surrounded by, overwhelmed by the feeling of each other’s company under the moon. It felt like a dream, every bit of it did. It was such a surreal moment for them. They didn’t need to speak about anything for a while, being this close to each other, feeling each other’s bodies against one another was enough for them. They felt closer than ever.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. So much so that Y/n ended up on top of him. Her legs were straddling his waist, hands roaming under his shirt, nails scratching at his ribs. Harry had his hands all in her hair, as if trying to pull her closer to him, as if it were even possible.  Her lips traveled down to his neck, kissing every bit of the exposed skin. She just couldn’t get enough. They both couldn’t.

“Y/n.” Harry whispered.

“I love you, Harry.” She muttered against his skin.

“So in love with you."

It was the first time it was said. They both knew they loved each other once they met. Hell, it was obvious. It didn’t need to be said, but she said it anyways. She said it like she meant it, too, like her heart was blooming as she spoke. God, he even felt her tears against his neck. She was so overwhelmed by their love, the words just slipped out in the moment, but oh how she meant them.

In that moment, he was a weak man. He completely surrendered himself to her love. He was willing for it to have all control over him. He made a promise to himself, to devote his life proving his love for her, proving that he will be the man she deserves in her life, not the man he had other people see.

“Y/n,” he whispers again, fingers gliding down her waist, “I’m so in love with you. I always will be."

That night, once he had taken her to their room, they made love over and over and over again. It was their first time, opening up to each other in a completely different way than they usually did. His lips captured hers perfectly, his hands fit in hers as if they were, quite literally, made for each other. His name became a mantra, her body became a temple. It was an entirely new level of trust. It was a night that they could have re-lived every day for the rest of their lives, easily, with not a complaint in the world.

-

“Fuck” Harry spits, reaching the back of his hand up to eyes in an attempt to wipe the tears threatening to spill.

He can’t sleep in here. There’s no way he could sleep here, not without Y/n. Not without her in his arms, not without making love to her beforehand. His bed at home made him sick enough, but here? He just can’t fathom it.

He begins to shove the clothes he’s started to unpack back into his suitcase. He can’t stay in here another minute. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.

While zipping up his bag, he hears the front door open. Niall’s laugh fills the silence in the house upon his entrance, which gives Harry an idea on how to fix his sleeping situation without raiding the couch.

“Niall!” Harry yells, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Niall makes his way up the steps toward his voice.

“Yeah?!”

“We’re switching rooms!”

“Oh hell no!”

Niall goes into the room Harry’s in, his face strict and serious.

“You and Y/n have fucked on that bed way too many times. I don’t even think you washed the sheets last time you guys did it on there, either. Pretty sure this room has a permanent stench of sex because of you two.”

Harry’s jaw clenches. Normally, he’d have a rational conversation until he got his way, but he isn’t taking this situation lightly. 

So, instead, he grabs Niall’s wrist harshly, eyes narrowing down at him as he takes a threatening step closer to him.

Niall’s eyes widen as he looks up at him. Not even because a small part of him felt intimidated, but because this is the first time Harry has shown aggression toward anybody within the past couple of months. There is a chance the part he’s been hiding is becoming unleashed, but Niall knows it was easily set off by Harry’s many failed attempts to get Y/n out of his head.

“I don’t think you understand, Niall” Harry seethes, “I may have not laid my hands on anyone in months, but missing Y/n doesn’t only make me sad, it makes me dangerous. I will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to be as far away from this room as possible. Now I will not tell you again, we are switching rooms.”

Niall rips his hand out of Harry’s grip, shaking it around a bit from the amount of pressure Harry was gripping it with.

“Alright, Jesus,” He groans, “but you better wash those fucking sheets. I refuse to sleep in a bed full of sex."

Harry lets out a breath he was holding in, somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to be spending three nights in his own personal hell. 

Adjusting the strap of his bag onto his shoulder, Harry slowly nods as he continues to look at Niall. He feels bad for treating him in the way he just did, but the idea of becoming more hurt than he already was is something he wouldn’t be able to live with. 

“Yeah, yeah I will.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, by the way, for that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t be in this room for another second without losing my mind. I really can’t.”

Niall sighs, slowly reaching up to wrap his arms security around Harry. Being like his brother, he really has felt so bad for what he’s been going through. He can’t imagine the heartbreak, or how he’s even surviving the breakup as well as he has. 

Harry reaches his arms around Niall’s body, hugging him back.

“It’s okay, bud. I get it, you don’t have to apologize. I’ll even wash the sheets for you.”

Harry lets out a slight laugh, shaking his head briefly before detaching himself from Niall and making his way into his room.

Once settled, Harry makes his way down to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and take some time to himself. If this weekend is going to haunt the living shit out of him, he might as well try to make himself relax the slightest bit.

With a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand, he opens the sliding door that leads to the porch. Leaning his body against the doorway, Harry admires the sun setting on the lake, watching as the wind moves the leaves in small dance.

For the first time since the breakup, he actually feels at peace.

“She broke up with you, didn’t she?” Liam asks, suddenly joining Harry on the porch as he sips on a bottle of beer, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry rolls his eyes, the accusation of her leaving him must have been the topic of all their conversations. 

Of course, that’s what they thought, it must have been so convenient for them to think Y/n could live a great life without him while he would be a danger to the streets. That’s how much he needed her, but they never seemed to notice how much she needed him—not how Harry noticed.

“Why is everyone so convinced that if we were to ever break up, she’d be the one that called it off?” Harry snarls.

“I was the one who ended it.” He continues, “It wasn’t working out.”

He takes a swig from his beer, eyes still trained on the view of the lake. He doesn’t want to continue this conversation—doesn't want to relive the night that tore his life apart. But most of all, he doesn’t want to talk about it here, at this stupid fucking lake house, and have to dwell on the pain he wishes he could erase. He doesn’t want to be reminded that he was the one who did this to them.

“C’mon,” Liam sighs, “She was the only thing you had. She was the only one to get this Harry back. You were just afraid she’d leave you first.”

Harry decides not to answer, not knowing how to respond. Of course, that’s why he ended it—that’s how he operates. He pushes those away just so that nobody pushes him away. 

He could deal with anybody else doing it, but if Y/n had left him first, there was no way he’d ever make it through that. Not a fiber in his body doubts that for even a second.

“Have you spoken to her at all?” Liam breaks the silence.

Harry looks down at his beer, circling it in his hands. Why does he keep asking him questions he clearly doesn’t want to answer?

“She said she never wanted to see me again.” Harry mumbles, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left.”

“Jesus, Harry.” Liam whispers. “Are you okay?”

Something about that question makes something inside of Harry twist. 

Is he okay? How can he be okay? He hasn’t seen the love of his life—hasn’t talked to her, hasn’t even heard the sound of her breathing in months. Every part of his body hurts every time he thinks about her because the feeling of being away from her is the most painful feeling in the world.

His life was consumed by her love. His entire world changed when he met her. Nobody else could he lay his hands so sweetly on, could his voice speak so softly to, could his heart swell so greatly for. She changed him, even though he was too scared to admit it to her, she changed him. She gave him hope—gave him a reason to hold onto himself.

Since she’s left, in times when he’s at his all-time low, all he can think about is how his arms felt holding her, how his lips felt kissing her, how fucking relieving and beautiful it was to talk to her, and how he let all of that go.

How can I be okay?

Tears cloud his vision, his hands begin to shake. Oh, God. He thought he was over this. He thought he was over the emotions, he didn’t deserve them. He did this, he caused all this, this was his decision. Yet here he is, again, fighting back the tears that have been so desperate to be released.

“I mean” Harry begins, his voice shaking as he speaks, “I mean, I fucked up everything. I had everything I ever needed and I was the one who let it go. I was starting to think that her leaving me would be worse but now—”

He’s choking back sobs, face wet with unwelcomed tears, “Now I can’t stop thinking about how much she hates me right now. She has a home without me, she lives her life without me, she is falling asleep at night without me. And the worst part is that she didn’t want it that way. That was all me, everything is because of me!”

Liam rushes to wrap his arms around him, pulling Harry’s head down onto his shoulder so that he has a place to cry. Harry’s holding him like it’s his every last bit of hope, almost as if grasping for reassurance for his relationship with Y/n.

“Harry—” 

“Trust me, Liam, I didn’t want this, either” He continues, words scrambling out of his mouth, “but what else was I supposed to do? And now I’m at this stupid fucking lake house where we talked about getting married and she’s not here with me and I can’t do this anymore!”

He’s completely helpless now. His body is weak, shaking against Liam’s tense frame. He’s in so much pain, so much heartbreak that he’s almost screaming, begging God for some mercy because he can’t take this anymore. The constant thought of her—the constant reminder that he’s never going to see her again rips his heart out every second of every day.

“I just really don’t want to know what it’s like to live another day without her” His voice quivers, “I never do.”

Harry’s wet eyes meet Liam’s sympathetic ones. Liam opens his mouth, preparing to say something, but Harry simply shakes his head. 

He can’t do this anymore. 

He pats Liam’s shoulder—thanking him for being by his side—before turning around to walk away. He slides the glass door open, walking inside the kitchen to replace his now empty bottle of beer with a new one.

“Wait,” Liam mumbles, “Wait, Harry, I have to tell you something.”

Harry stops in his place, slowly turning his body around to look at him. He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed, seeming confused.

“Y/n, she’s—she’s coming here tonight.”  

[twinkubus]

so so so with your triad of thomases, I have several questions: 1. how does this correspond to the Trinity, if at all? 2. in what ways do they help you understand aspects of being a Christ that Jesus himself kinda doesn't? (more to come in another ask, because i totally cannot fit the last question into this tiny box)

3. you have a Jesuit spiritual director, right? if so: have you told them about this framework, and what was their reaction to it? maybe it’s because I’m still extremely early in the conversion/discernment processes, but I always veer toward excessive scrupulosity and often am afraid of what Real Christians™ will think of my spiritual experiences (especially with, like, Mary and a couple of other saints)

ok SO!! i am not sure if my response is going to be in order but i WILL say some things and hopefully they will answer the questions: 

I got introduced to each Thomas in chronological order funnily enough, haha. some background: i just became officially catholic last easter, but I’d been involved in “the community” 2 years prior to that. before I was an atheist and even before that i was Lutheran. 

so when I first started doing Catholic things I thought it would be cool to get into, and I liked it a lot, but I didn’t think belief was possible for me. During this period Thomas the Apostle was (and still continues to be) extraordinarily relatable. this is a man who has spent the past three years being one of the 12 main apostles to jesus, and when he meets up with the gang after the crucifixion, everyone but him is going on about this amazing experience they’ve had with the resurrected christ. thomas has had no access to this. it might be something he wants, even very badly, but he cannot bring himself to believe unless he actually touches, is able to literally feel jesus’s wounds under his hand. and he does! he gets it! (I’ve used his response, “My Lord and my God” in a fuckton of poetry i feel like btw). Jesus says to him, “blessed are they who have not seen but still believe” and thomas has been great to like…look up to in both 1) certain personal experiences that I see as a sign of God and make me respond w/ astonishment & incredulity, and 2) I’m never gonna get to stick my fingers into Jesus’s side, but Thomas knows exactly the frustration I feel at not getting that, especially when it seems like so many people around me already have. 

there’s also this great caravaggio img, “the incredulity of thomas” 

(i really appreciate the apostles in general- judas is popular on here, and holds a special place in my heart, but he gets a little bit more exposure so let’s just talk about how the twelve are, especially in mark’s gospel, shown repeatedly to have no clue wtf they’re doing or who jesus is or why anything is happening. they fuck things up repeatedly, and are comprised of random people with no real theological training, and they’re the chosen ones. simon peter is the absolute exemplar of this. he constantly misinterprets what jesus does, goes way overboard, believes in jesus enough to get off the boat but not enough to stay on top of the water, and denies jesus three separate times to save his own skin on the eve of the crucifixion. and he’s the vicar of christ!) 

thomas aquinas happened a little further down the road, when i was in RCIA and reading basically everything I could get my hands on. aquinas is basically emblematic of that time-  do you want book recs? i can give them to you (i also have a word doc full of notes from things that i took from certain books that i can share if you want). but also i was on bishop barron’s website, word on fire, you may or may not have heard of it. i was extremely wary of it bc i found it from a conservative friend of mine’s fb page and was basically going on it just to be disappointed at shitty conservative things… but that wasn’t it at all and i instead got introduced to thomas aquinas. i watched a video of fr barron’s that explained thomistic theology and went :OOO because it gave me a couple new ways of thinking about God and… ok, aquinas is just great as well because he introduced me to this whole tradition of intellectual & rational catholic theology that i wasn’t exactly aware of? when I was an atheist the most “intellectual” christianity I knew was fundie apologetics which is basically shit, but there’s a lot of stuff in the catholic tradition that has faith and reason as positive complements to each other. depending on your background this coould seem an extraordinarily obvious point but it’s cool to be like “oh hey 13th century scholasticism laid the groundwork for rationality and empiricism etc”, and faith isn’t by any means exclusive of reason

also I really like aquinas as a person- he  was called “the dumb ox” and people in his classes thought he was really stupid because he was quiet and didn’t talk much….. and then he became one of the most influential doctors of the church 

i don’t have a good picture for aquinas so i’m going to start off the merton section with a pic of him: 

one thing that struck me is how peaceful/content he looks in like all of his photographs. he looks absolutely like he has been in touch with God and that’s phenomenal. 

I’d heard about merton’s most popular book, The Seven Storey Mountain, a while ago, but waited to read it until this july because I was worried I wouldn’t like it. That was an extremely bad move- I loved it. it’s a chronicle of his life from birth —> being a rowdy boy and pretentious english major —> converting to catholicism —> entering the trappist monastery Gethsemani in Kentucky.  He’s really funny/witty (please read this amazing acct of him driving a Jeep) and has a lot of amusing anecdotes as well as more #relatable things. I also recently read The Sign of Jonas which covers 7 years of his journals in the monastery, and that one just, fundamentally affected me in ways I’m sure I’ll still be finding way down the line. 

On an immediate level, he writes a lot of things about writing that I relate to as both someone who writes and is catholic. He had plans to become an author, and basically gave that up when he became a monk, He ended up becoming a bestselling author still, though- only after he had articulated his willingness to give up that goal. That’s amazing to me. He also worried occasionally about writing being bad for him or bringing him away from God but his superiors kept telling him to continue, that it was a good thing, etc etc.   So just on a level of “person who wrote and is a convert” he is relatable but he also has a lot of very good more “spiritual” insights/struggles/etc that I can identify with, esp. written in Jonas but I’d rec Mountain to read first to just get a better sense of his life, if you’re interested. 

On the subject of Jesuit spiritual directors- and Jesuits in general, I know a number of them- they’re imo some of the best the church has to offer. They’re also not necessarily an accurate representation, if you want to compare the experience i’ve had with them to like, some random parish in Nowhere, The Midwest. Like I’ve shared some things I’ve written with some of them, including a more recent poem that involved the speaker making out with the devil, and no eyes were batted. Another is also the source of all my jokes that I don’t want to say around my parents :P They’re good eggs. A non-insignificant amount of the ones I know are gay, too. 

RE: scrupulosity, I have two things to say, the first being that I don’t think you have to worry about that w/ spiritual experiences concerning Mary and the saints. Those are classics. People have literally seen apparitions of Mary and the Church’s response has been “yo, cool”. Sole focus on Jesus to the exclusion of anyone else is more of a Protestant thing, imo, and there are tons of people now that are perfectly orthodox gushing over how cool the saints are. 

My second thing on that is, alright, I know the feel to be overly scrupulous. I was scrupulous as SHIT when I was a Lutheran, and actually one of the processes of becoming Catholic for me has been trying to let go of that, and trying to learn that, A) it’s okay to get things wrong, and being wrong is part of the process of learning to get things right, and knowing what goodness is, otherwise we don’t have any of that and don’t truly know it, and B) God cares more about loving every part of us than any type of ostracization or punishment for “being wrong”. God is always approaching us trying to forgive us, and it’s that first approach that even enables us to ask for forgiveness in the first place. It’s not like God withholds love and forgiveness until we realize we’re caught up in something that doesn’t lead to our flourishing. The love and forgiveness is always there already, even if we’re in a situation that doesn’t let us immediately recognize it. 

OKAY THIS TOOK…MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT OMFG I have to go to class but, I hope this was helpful in some way and feel free to ask me any question you might have abt this!!! 

[survivorwakea]

Episode #3: “New Tribe New Tribulations.” - Ben

That joint tribal went almost perfectly besides the fact that a dean voted for me for whatever freakkkkiing reason, but I really came out of that tribal with close allys in Johnney and Chloe from the other tribes so I really think that is dope I would type more but I’m shot

wow ladies so im sitting on the toilet rn and i am fucking shaking in my boots. do u know how worried i am rn. im so worried. johnny said at the joint tribal that we were SOMEHOW not a part of that the 13 of them had already gotten to know each other and meet each other and everything that hit me rly hard bc like.... shit. shit shit fuck. fuck fuck shit. fuck. they’re friends already and more likely than not lono is gonna get picked off one by one at the tribe swap or whatever im literally so scared

Omg omg omg I just went to like my first ever live tribal and it was soooo exciting omg omg omg. I really loved having the chance to sort of better connect with these people and have a moment with them that you wouldn't otherwise have really. And, I survived so that's a massive plus as well!! Eek I'm just so excited right now to be playing this season and everyone on the other tribes seem so active and happy and I'm really looking forward to getting to know them more throughout the season. It sucks I had to lose Dean but we all have to make sacrifices somewhere.

Just got on new tribes and I’m pleased. I think I should be able to make some strong connections here. Elmo’s on my tribe and that really helps. Also talking to Joey and he seems pretty cool. Hopefully we do a good enough job on whatever song we choose so none of us have to go home. Hopefully Johnny, Justin, and Taylor are alright. I still kinda don’t know what I’m doing or where I am. Didn’t realize until half way through the last round that all 3 tribes were at the combined tribal. I thought there were 10 of us and that it could be a split vote. True flop? Yes. Maybe I’ll decide to get it together.

After a really crazy tribal council, we swapped and to be honest I don’t feel as bad about this as I probably should. I feel like during the joint tribal I bonded well enough with Chloe, Thomas and Taylor where I think that if we go to a tribal I have enough bonds started that will keep me safe at least for another round and on top of that we also got Cullen on our tribe which is honestly the best case scenario because that could honestly be a free round!

Trust Rankings (Early AF) 1. Chloe 2. Thomas 3. Taylor 4. Randy Who’s Cullen?

Well I knew I was going to be talking about the swap eventually. Cullan just got evacuated which is sad and I hope he is doing okay. I'm glad I swapped with Chloe and I feel Adam and Taylor are staring to see me and Chloe as a duo, which can be either good or bad. Randy I need to talk to more. Taylor and Adam both said they would be a number to me and Chloe if we need them, but I hope to hold that off for a little while.I just want to win this next challenge and avoid tribal :)

WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCK DOES THOMAS THINK HE IS DOING RIGHT NOW?   Taylor has messaged me saying last night they spoke to Thomas about maybe us 3 working together and that Taylor thought maybe Thomas should message me first about it. But here I am with Taylor messaging me about it and no word at all from Thomas. I've given Thomas a chance to bring it up, I've been sat talking to him about how he's now finished school so he has more time to play orgs. This could so easily lead into a conversation about how Taylor messaged him. But instead he's just said "Im gonna go get a slurpee" well while you're out go find someone else to work with you because you're gonna need all the help you can get because I'm fucking coming for your bitchass now and I'm not gonna stop until it's red raw from taking all these hits from me.

New Tribe New Tribulations. I stayed with Elmo which is good, and I have been chatting up the rest of the tribe. Jared seems nice and I've floated the idea of working with him at a potential tribal. I've talked less with Lily, but she seems nice. People I've talked the least with are Ian and Joey. Joey never responded to my messages, and Ian I just don't talk to lol. I'm pretty confident ian would stick with me and elmo and I think we could successfully target Joey, especially if we hold the milo 3 over their heads and threatened rocks.

So, my premonition was most indeed correct. We ended up swapping from 4 tribes to 3 tribes. Not that that’s a totally bad thing. I mean, looking at OG tribes on Haumea 2.0, I’m in a 3-2-1 majority. And we had a music video challenge. My tribe lip synced to I Write Sins Not Tragedies. The question is, will we be pouring the champagne in victory? Or will the goddamn door be closed on one of us at tribal council?

whew. sorry i haven’t made a confessional yet i’ve been busy. but now i feel like i’m gonna leave out important info so let’s hope i don’t. we swapped tribes and that was... a bummer. i had my 3 person alliance over on my other tribe and i had elmo! i miss elmo so much and just hope we meet again soon. i don’t really loooove my new tribe.. i like justin of course and i think i’ve been hitting it off with johnny. and strayed talking to anbel a bit. tried to talk to bodhi and asya but nothing really clicked. here’s something interesting.. justin told me he went idol searching and he looked where i looked round one and where i found the idol. he told me that a power was there but it’s now gone and he told me that johnny told him he looked there but said he just drowned in the vortex and didn’t say anything about a power being there. so i think johnny just messed up his words but now justin thinks johnny has a power and i’m just letting him think that and throwing scenarios out there and i can let johnny take the blame hehe. i also went idol aka advantage searching somewhere and i got somewhere asking if i’d be willing to give up 2 votes. i thought about how during the joint tribal a vote was missing so i assumed whatever power is there, somebody has it. so i said nope bye i want my votes! i told justin about this so i can kinda pin asya having this power since she was at the joint tribal and she’s on my tribe now so it could be a good excuse to vote her off if we ever go to tribal and i can be safe another round.

so now justin thinks johnny has the idol or some kind of power even though it’s really me who has it. and thinks asya has whatever power she got for giving up 2 votes. idek if asya is the one who got that power but i needed someone to pin it out so we have an excuse to vote her out and i can stay safe.

i also wanna apologize for whatever spelling mistakes i make and if i literally don’t make any sense at all. it’s so hard to type up exactly what i’m feeling and put it into words kdkdkdkd.

Trust List:

1. Joey 2. Anabel 3. Elmo 4. Ben 5. Bodhi 6. Lily 7. Randy 8. Ian

so we swapped which is great! the initial numbers are 3-2-1 and im in the 3 so that's great! however ian isnt the most socially active player so i think he could easily be the target of the 2 and the 1 and i dont think either ben or myself would want to pull a rock for him right now

i think i will hint him to get close to like lily or someone so in case we ended up losing a challenge she'd want to target joey instead of him. thats the goal. i dont want to lose ian bc basically if lily sides with joey in that situation, jared will be the decider and while i do trust jared, i think it gives him too much power yanno and it might be enticing for him to stick to his OG tribe ally rather than two ppl he met at the swap

im not sure how that will go but i hope well hehe! ALSO I FOUND AN IDOL, ZACK'S INFORMATION PULLED THROUGH!!! i havent told anyone yet, in fact host made a mistake in the beginnin sayin that it was already found and then said like 1h later, oh u actually have an idol and that got me SHOOK TO MY CORE! the awk thing is that i told ben already that i didnt find it so hdiasfahsdif! i just hope that when / if i tell him, he wont be too upset with me bc i right now i consider us p close!

It’s hot as hell where I am right now. Better to be sweating over the heat than sweating over tribal, I guess.

I got tribe swapped fucked and im annoyed.

So i got put on a tribe full of STINKY stinky players. And the challenge is a lipsync so im like "submit the lipsyncs ASAP" and theyre practically more than useless and do nothing. So we submitted practically nothing because theyre so fucking bad at time management. And now we're at tribal.

Nobody talking to me about the vote, so I'm going home. I'll try and pull a stunt but idk. Wish me luck

Milu 2.0...hmmm... Where do I begin? 🤔 So my feelings on the tribe are mixed. Adam, Tom and Chloe were all part of the previous joint tribal so I had already had conversations with all of them. It made it easier to socialize when the swap actually did happen. Tom seems like a cool cat, and I had approached him with the idea of him, Chloe and I grouping up. Chloe seemed more than okay with it, but Tom never talked to Chloe about it like he said he would. That raised some red flags for me and Chloe. Adam and Randy I didn't feel as comfortable to begin with, but in the past day or two Adam has really came around and proposed we work together. Thus CAT was born. It's maybe not something long term but I think I could have great allies in Chloe and Adam individually. Tonight's vote is probably the most uncomfortable yet. Nothing feels solid, everything feels very much in the air, even if I have a majority alliance. This game is a rollercoaster and tonight I'm teetering on the edge and I have that sinking feeling in my gut. All I can do is put blind faith in my people and hope for the best.

Milu 2.0...hmmm... Where do I begin? 🤔 So my feelings on the tribe are mixed. Adam, Tom and Chloe were all part of the previous joint tribal so I had already had conversations with all of them. It made it easier to socialize when the swap actually did happen. Tom seems like a cool cat, and I had approached him with the idea of him, Chloe and I grouping up. Chloe seemed more than okay with it, but Tom never talked to Chloe about it like he said he would. That raised some red flags for me and Chloe. Adam and Randy I didn't feel as comfortable to begin with, but in the past day or two Adam has really came around and proposed we work together. Thus CAT was born. It's maybe not something long term but I think I could have great allies in Chloe and Adam individually. Tonight's vote is probably the most uncomfortable yet. Nothing feels solid, everything feels very much in the air, even if I have a majority alliance. This game is a rollercoaster and tonight I'm teetering on the edge and I have that sinking feeling in my gut. All I can do is put blind faith in my people and hope for the best.

This confessional is for the Third cycle where the end result was 4-1 (Randy, Tom) Loosing this challenge as honestly a rally hard pill to swallow I was absolutely pissed if we’re being honest, pissed at the fact that the final product was my video that as supposed to get snipped and trimmed because I didn’t know legit anything about that song or even lii syncing. I think me competing and being the one that submitted helped me when it was time to vote somebody out because I was told by basically everyone that sending me home would have been a silly decision. I honestly think my only option was too got out Randy because I think I’m solid with everybody else individually where I was trying to force something with Randy. If we lose again things will honestly go from 0 to 100 real fast as I don’t think anybody knows if Tom and Chloe are actually tight or what the deal is there but that will one hunger percent come in to place. All in all very successful round for me in my opinion. I think I need to be careful not to build this huge target on my back but I’m staying focused and just plowing through

https://soundcloud.com/bodhi-small/week3/s-0kmTB

I’m doing wonderful! As far as this game is concerned, Jared and I are tighter than Ralphie May’s(RIP) pants. We know what each other is doing, and we communicate CONSTANTLY. Ian is tricky to get. He just says “Oh, okay” to everything, its as if he’s building up a wall to prevent me from having a social game, it’s highkey INFURIATING. I LOVE LILY, she’s an actual angel, and she’s a good player. I like Elmo alot, he’s definitely at a disadvantage due to his timezone. As far as everyone else, I’m getting closer to Asya as we’ve put our “beef” aside and we realized we’re friendly. Johnny and I have known each other for 3 years, he was the first person I knew in this community, he was the first person who hosted me and got me into this community, he’s going to always be like a brother to me.

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Cullan is removed from the game. Randy is voted out 4-1.