#it may get easier once i stop living alone since ill be able to rely on someone else for daily activities

[natandacat]

Hungry but too weak to cook :(

#should have put my foot down with the pt #like today is still too early in the PEM to demonstrate exercises #sigh yes even though theyrr all done laying down #i hate this so much #YES i am aware its a vicoous circle of #PEM -> i spend days bedridden & weeks diminished -> i get more deconditionned -> it gets easier to trigger PEMs #i would love to stop the cycle #unfortunately things keep happening #it may get easier once i stop living alone since ill be able to rely on someone else for daily activities #and then maybe i can focus on strenghtening myself to increase my treshold #but rn ive been in survival mode physically speaking for a solid 15 months lol

[thoughtsofa20somethingyearold]

How to be happy Happier: 6 Habits to Adopt for a Happier You!

Over the last few days, I’ve really been thinking about how much my mindset has changed for the better since the start of this year and how much happier it has made me! This in turn has inspired me to write about it, and while I’m no expert on these things, I think it can be useful to know that you’re not alone in how you feel and there are ways to help make it better! Obviously, if you feel that you may have a mental illness or something similar, it is definitely best to seek professional care.

Before my “big change”, I almost constantly felt stressed, anxious and was pretty much always putting myself down for my looks, how much work I did (or didn’t do), what other people thought of me etc etc etc especially since going to university. I think I fell into a bit of a rut, particularly in my first year, going through the ordeals of living in a new city where I didn’t know anyone, trying to cope with the seemingly endless deadlines and trying to balance work and studying whilst still maintaining a social life…Honestly it’s all harder than it looks!

So, on New Year’s Eve, I made myself a resolution to start focusing more on myself and improve the way I dealt with things that came my way.

Here are the 6 ways I went about helping myself live a happier life…

Be grateful

Now this isn’t the kind of “Get over it, there are kids starving in the world” grateful that some people tend to force on you when talking about your problems. I’m talking about being grateful for the things that personally affect you.

By focusing on what is going well in your life and savouring those moments, even for just a minute, it can really put things into perspective. I’ve found keeping a log of things I’m grateful for every time I feel sad or anxious has really settled my moods… it could be something as simple as a comfy bed or being able to spending time with your pet but it just goes to show that more often than not, the good outweighs the bad that’s going on.

Meditation- particularly self-love courses and positive affirmations

While meditation may not be for everyone, it’s definitely worth a try! Over the last 7 months, I’ve followed many meditation courses but the one that struck home the most was the self-love courses.

I feel like self-love is something everyone has struggled with at some point in their lives. I’ve been really trying to change the way I see myself and how I talk to myself (I promise I’m not a crazy woman) and by following these mediations, I’ve really noticed a huge difference in my self-esteem. Granted, there are still off days, it wouldn’t be human to feel amazing all the time! But it’s about learning that we are more than just our clothes, our looks and our thoughts and learning how to put distance between those negative thoughts and ourselves in order to have a more rested and confident mind state.

In my opinion, changing that little voice in our heads from “I’m so ugly” to “Everyone is beautiful in their own way” or “I’m not as smart as them” to “I might not understand X , but I know a lot about Y” is such a life changing skill and allows you to accept those “flaws” as new strengths.

Acknowledging bad moods

A bad mood isn’t like a cut or scrape that you can just cover up temporarily with a plaster, it’s more than that. You have to address these emotions! Of course, the only reasonable solution seems to be avoiding negative emotions because well they don’t feel good but in the long term it only makes these problems much bigger.

Now, what I’m about to say may shock you but in my experience, feeling bad can actually be a good thing! Once you come to terms with what triggers these feelings and understanding what your coping mechanisms are, it becomes much easier to learn how to control your moods and change up how you cope if it’s something that could be more damaging than helpful.

One of the ways I’ve learned to do this, is by visualising my problems as a different person. By giving it an identity that wasn’t my own, I’ve been able to distance myself from it and make better judgements on how to deal with said problem as well as being able to comfort and give advice to myself as I would if it were one of my friends.

Music – make happy playlists

When I was feeling sad, I would instinctively put on a sad playlist and just wallow in it. Unsurprisingly, this never made me feel better. Even on the average day I listen to music 24/7 and never really stopped to notice how it made me feel until one day when boredom struck me and I decided to organise my one giant “songs I like” playlist into separate mood-themed playlists. Who knew that upbeat music stimulates your brain to release those feel-good hormones? (Just common sense that passed me by? Okay then…)

Whether you’re into pop, rock, EDM or alternative genres, you can rely on your favourite song to make you feel happier, even if you’ve had the worst day.

Here’s some links to my personal favourites for feeling good, getting motivated and even having a little boogie in the shower:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0ZykvqL8a4j3V5BjRCBXLG?si=A8Ky8BxAS3GgyhhSf3uDWg

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/11CAEqfxaFicMCEMI6uW1v?si=hJDPu7BNTg-2RIQhEkh-6w

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2IccZrgTOrWYFiWDhF3zah?si=FGcZXlZMRwWSTxsI6nvDVw

They are collaborative so if you feel like I’ve missed something significant from them, add them on!

Get into nature

I’ve always loved going for walks and more recently running. Just being outside in the fresh air and exploring the world around us. This has only grown over the course of lockdown as I’ve found myself going out much more frequently and for much longer periods of time in order to combat anxieties about the uncertainty of the world right now.

I find that going with friends/family, is a real mood-booster as you get to spend quality time together and really focus on what matters to you but sometimes you just need that all important alone time, and there’s nothing better than taking a stroll alone!

When everything is quiet you can just take in what is surrounding you and your mind goes blank, completely at ease. It becomes hard to focus on those problems that were buzzing around in your head 5 minutes ago.

However, from time to time, these thoughts might not go away so easily, and that’s okay! Even in this situation, going for a walk/run or whatever allows you more space (literally and mentally) to think about how to deal with the issue and come up with more rational solutions.

Self-care routines

Who would you say you spend the most time with? Your parents? Friends? Well you’d be wrong…it’s yourself! Day in, day out you are the one who experiences your life, your attitudes, your feelings, and everything else so it’s super important to keep yourself healthy!

In case you’ve been living under a rock, self-care is anything we do deliberately to take care of our mental, emotional, and physical health. Pretty vague huh? This could be anything from a bit of exercise to knitting yourself a jumper.

In my opinion, self-care is such a simple concept, yet I believe it can be harder to put into practice than it seems. Sometimes I feel like I’m wasting my time trying to follow my self-care routine, as it’s time I could be spending working or studying and I don't doubt that many other people feel the same. However, it is so important to understand that self-care is an UNSELFISH act that we all need in order to look after ourselves and avoid burning out.

I think many people do want to focus on their self-care, but find it difficult to know how, so these are some of the ways I have found that effectively allow me to practice self-care. Although, this doesn’t necessarily mean they are right for everyone, but just because something doesn’t work doesn’t mean you should give up! It’s a total trial and error to find what personally helps you!

My top self-care strategies:

Luxurious bubble baths with relaxing music and maybe even some candles if I’m feeling in an extra “treat yourself mood”

Yoga classes – My friend had got me into this around November time and I haven’t looked back! It was such a relaxing way to destress for an hour.

Mindfulness meditation – My words of advice, don’t give up if you still feel your mind races rather than settles… it takes time and practice to be able to meditate!

Mindful colouring – This is one of my absolute favourites, it’s such a satisfying activity! Stick on some instrumental music and get the mood lighting going for optimal relaxation…

Watching a sitcom – Something that is light, funny, and doesn’t require too much attention is perfect for quick mood improvements!

If you still don't know what to do, I hugely recommend following BlessingManifesting on instagram/twitter whatever social media platform you have or go to her website! It's full of info/challenges you can follow for example this nice and easy one here:

I’ve tried to keep this as short and sweet as possible as I know how overwhelming it can be to read pages and pages of info that ultimately just falls out of your head and this is one of those topics I could probably talk about for days because of its importance.

I hope this has inspired you a bit to reflect on your current state of mind.

Maybe you’re already on your pursuit of further happiness or you’re just starting, but I’d love to hear about your journey! What’s been working best for you?

𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

Bethany x

[365daysoftododeku]

28th December 2019

Author: Kenyoda

________________________________________________________________

People always act like fate is a stone maze from which no man can escape. But the truth is that reality is the maze and fate is a collection of runaway bullets that ricochets off one wall into a person before bouncing off another wall and breaking another one. People can choose to bow to it and await their end or continue on to see what havoc it has wrought until their time is up. In this world full of mysterious and wonderful Quirks, the people living in it are not exempt from this truth. In fact, in this realm, those bullets can split into pieces that can have long lasting consequences.

One of the more fascinating paths is the one involving All For One and his brother.  A man was born in Japan during the most tumultuous time of Quirk manifestation. He had a powerful Quirk that could change the face of Japan or even the world for good or ill. Unfortunately, ill became his mark as he succumbed to the lure of power. The man nearly bent Japan and possibly the world under his foot, but he made a mistake. He split the bullet by forcing a Quirk onto his younger brother. From then on the two pieces raced in parallel to one another bouncing from incident to incident, person to person. The Quirks within his brother being cultivated into One For All, a Quirk that could change fate...

It was again split when the two collided with a heroine named Shimura Nana. The brother’s bullet splits, a piece ended up with the son she abandoned for what she believed was his own good and safety… the other in the hands of a young man named Yagi Toshinori. He later goes on to become All Might, one of Japan’s Greatest Heroes. Meanwhile, her son let his part turn bitter and brittle. He ends up launching it at his family, his son Tenko specifically. It would lead to an incident that would leave Shimura Tenko alone, broken, and vulnerable. 

Easy pickings for the embittered All For One. 

While the villain was poisoning his possible replacement into Shigaraki Tomura, Yagi was plowing through rankings and villains, barely able to function around the injuries he had sustained in his final clash with the villain. His bullet also split, half ending up in the hands of his bitter rival, Endeavor. When the time finally came that he had to give One For All up, he was drawn to another young Quirkless boy with an impossible dream. 

He gave the other to the boy when he passed down All For One. 

Midoriya Izuku clung to it like a lifeline. Training to wield it effectively as he could. His journey to UA would put him in the firing range of Endeavor’s pride, his son Todoroki Shouto. The boy was forced to hold the bitter piece of the projectile by his father. Midoriya, by choice, gives him a piece of his to free him from his father’s folly. The two combine in the boy bring the shards back down to 4. 

At the moment our story begins, there are 4 shards of fate that are on a collision course for one another and in the middle of them was the fate of Japan. So what will happen? After all, a handful of choices have lead to this point.

Another possible divergence point is brewing on the horizon, All For One, Shigaraki Tomura, Todoroki Shouto, and Midoriya Izuku all holding onto a piece of fate... what will they choose? 

It turns out, one decides to listen….

Shouto was panting and sweating. Bakugou was an opponent that was miles above his other opponents, including Midoriya. He was not going to be able to rely on his ice for much longer. He was already starting to flag horribly, but Bakugou was just getting more and more wound up and his explosions were getting more and more powerful. It was the worst match up possible. 

As he continued to shield himself using his ice, Shouto thought he could hear someone calling out to him over the noise. Ganbatte Todoroki-kun! It’s yours! You can do it! Shouto blinked. Midoriya. Was he right? Could he really make this fire his own and not become him? Was it right to do so? The uncertainties were singing through his veins making him shiver… or was that his ice slowly freezing him to death?  But he refocused. He was not sure about the fire or anything else but what he was sure of was that his… friend?... had given up his chance to be where he was to help Shouto.

And Shouto was going to be damned if he squandered it. 

Flames leapt from his fingertips, just as eager as they were during the match with Midoriya. He hits the pillar with it and the arena is instantly covered in smoky steam. Shouto quickly darts around the pillar. Hitting it with another burst of fire. He strained his ears to try figure out where Bakugou was. He then heard the sound of ice cracking. He turned and noticed he was directly behind Bakugou. The orange glare of Bakugou’s Quirk shining like a beacon on a lighthouse in a sea storm. Shouto slammed his foot down and then suddenly the sky darkened and the explosions stopped. As the wind blew the fog away, a smaller glacier than the one he trapped Sero in, was before him and the crowd. He cautiously worked his way around to the other side. Once again, his opponent was encased in ice unable to move. Bakugou’s heated glare was a far cry from Sero’s defeated one.  

The crowd cheered as Shouto moved to free his classmate from his prison. He resolutely ignored his gloating father’s roaring. Once Bakugou was free, he bowed and left. His normally volatile classmate, silent for once. Shouto stumbled on numb legs to the 1A waiting room and collapsed onto a vacant bench. 

He did it.

He used that bastard’s fire to win. He broke his promise again. What other promises would he break? His vow not to become mindlessly violent? His vow not to be like his father? How long before he was excusing all of that, too? It’s mine. Said a small voice. It’s mine and I can do with it what I want… Shouto shuddered. He knew what he didn’t want to do with it at least. The rest was still foggy in his head. He sighed miserably. A familiar, tinny sound echoed through the room. Shouto stood up and retrieved his phone from the locker he stashed it in. He looked at the device.

There were several texts, most of them from Fuyumi. All of them were nice and encouraging, although she did scold him about the glacier and Sero (Someone could have lost an eye, Shouto! Be careful!). Then there was a single one from Natsuo. The most Shouto knew about him was that he was going to medical school and that he openly hated their father as much as he did. They did not talk much otherwise. 

It had been a simple congratulations text. It was the most recent. He replied with a simple thanks and asked as he was busy. Shouto was not sure why he wanted to know. When he answered that he was not busy. Shouto found himself hitting the call button.

“Hello, Shouto?” Natsuo greeted. 

“Hi… I hope I didn’t disturb—”

“You didn’t! So, congratulations on your win!” 

“Yeah thanks… I guess,” 

“You don’t sound very excited.” 

“I honestly… I don’t know how to feel,” Shouto said, surprised to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes. 

“Is it about the fire…?” 

“How did you know?”

“Fuyumi has mentioned more than once that you refuse to use it.”

“Yeah… I used his— my fire to…”

“To win a school competition, Shouto. It’s not like you burned the arena down and killed people with it.” his brother’s voice a weird mix of amused and exasperated. When Natsuo put it like that, Shouto did feel a bit silly. But there was so much history tied to his Quirk that it was difficult to separate it all.

“I know that in my head, I guess. I am just so used to hearing about how he gave me power and…” 

“I know, kid… trust me, I know. He had a fit when mine manifested. He almost… never mind. Shouto your power is your own and your life is your own and you can do with it what you want. Ok?” 

“He won’t see it that way. He will make me train with it more…”

“Of course, you need control over it. You have a good handle on your ice, but even that can slip at times,” Natsuo cautioned. Shouto winced as he remembered the first glacier. He was right as much as Shouto hated to admit it. He did need to learn to control it, before he did hurt someone. But he did not want to learn from him… but he may need to. 

“You’re right… I just don’t know if I want to learn control from him…” Shouto sighed. “ I don’t think he knows the meaning of it.” Natsuo laughed at that. That made Shouto smile. 

“You may not have to, there are plenty of heros that have powerful abilities that require focus and control. Fire Users don’t have to train with fire users… while studying with one could probably lower your learning curve. But that is all, it’s up to you.” he said. 

“I guess I have to think about things. I just don’t know what to do or feel?” he said. “Midoriya said the same thing that its my power… that I can choose what to do with it… but it can’t be that easy.” Shouto said, a single tear making its way down his face. 

“Yeah, I know the feeling. You question if you can change things that easily. But I can say the first attempt is always the hardest. After that, it gets easier! You made a pretty big one today. Don’t beat yourself up too much! Take your time and do what you can ok?” Natsuo said, he could hear the smile in his voice.  Shouto found himself smiling, too. It had been awhile since he really spoke with any of his siblings, truly talked with them. He should probably do it more often. 

“Thanks, nii-san… It was nice talking to you.” he said awkwardly.  There was a soft chuckle from the other end. 

“You, too! When I get settled at my internship, I will send you the address! We can hang out sometime. Of course, you can always give me a call and if I don’t pick up, I will call you back as soon as I get a chance. I promise,” Natsuo said. “I love you, little brother. I am sorry I never said it as much as I should have.” Shouto was thrown but touch nonetheless by the sentiment. 

“Same. I will talk to you later then?” he asked, slightly affronted at how eager he sounded. Natsuo’s immediate confirmation made him feel happy and warm. The two said their goodbyes and Shouto hung up. He still felt conflicted, but it did not seem so heavy in his mind anymore. The sound of footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. He was tense, expecting to have to deal with his father, but the footsteps sounded far too hesitant. He relaxed completely as Midoriya Izuku opened the door. 

“Ah! I thought I might find you here.” he said softly as he shuffled into the room. Shouto winced at the state of his classmate. His arm was still in cast and he was wearing a leg brace. 

“Should you be walking?” Shouto asked, concerned. He then winced at how tactless it sounded. Midoriya laughed. 

“Probably, not,” he said sheepishly. “But Recovery Girl said I was fine as long as I didn’t over do it.” Shouto gave him a weak smile. The action still felt a little foreign on his face, but the beam he got in answer from Midoriya lit him up from the inside out. 

“Did you need something Midoriya?” he asked, wondering why he was looking for him. 

“Oh, well not really… I was just worried when you left. You did not look too happy…” he said. Shouto blinked. They were practically strangers and yet Midoriya was asking about his well being. This was definitely different.

“I am still— conflicted about some things. I am still ashamed of the way I treated Sero, and Bakugou was—” he tried to explain.

“Trapped in a glacier, too. Yeah, I could see how that would be a little awkward. But I am glad you did your best, though,” Midoriya said sincerely. Shouto nodded. “And I also wanted to apologize. I know I was being rather pushy during our fight.” The smaller boy scratched at his cheek self-consciously. Midoriya’s nervous disposition was rubbing off on Shouto as he unconsciously shuffled his feet as he stared at the ground. 

“I don’t think you should apologize… I needed to hear that. I want to apologize as well. There was no reason for me to come after you the way I did. I took a personal problem out on you and that was not fair.” Shouto said, bowing. He was adamant that he would not become his father, but today had shown him that denying part of himself while still behaving like him was not the way to go. So, it was paramount that he start by humbling himself and apologizing to the classmates that he had been unjustly rude to. 

Midoriya’s eyes grew wide and his face turned pink.

“Oh! I— you really don’t need to—” he protested. 

“No, I do. I meant what I said. I don’t want any part of the man that my father is. That means accepting who I am and the consequences of my actions. I behaved abysmally towards you and others in our class today. I owe you an apology for that.” said Shouto, slowly. It was not easy but it’s as both Midoriya and Natsuo said, it was his life and he can choose what to do with it. 

He was choosing to be better. 

#Story #ebonyphd #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu

[prettywordsyouleft]

Accidents Happen

Summary: You had always been clumsy and now you had really done it, and broken your leg. Losing your independence was crushing you, but what you didn’t realise was how much your pain was causing Mark as well.

Characters: Mark Tuan x reader

Genre: a bit of depressive behaviour, angst, and then fluff lol

Warnings: if you’re a little squeamish over basic medical terms, or the idea of breaking a bone, don’t read this.

A/N: So this is a collaboration with my dearest friend Tiger over @thewritingtrashcan … we decided to use the same prompt but not tell each other who we’d write about or the context. This is what I came up with. It’s actually based on a lot of factual stuff from my life, I am actually this clumsy and I did shattered my leg back in university in a freak accident with my horse. I’m 90% okay now though! All the same, sometimes I feel I need to revisit this moment of darkness in my life through fiction, as an act of healing. I chose to do it with Mark because he was the first person I thought of when reading the prompt. And it worked really well with him. Funny how I’ve biased him this long and I’ve never written him before. This piece has been a little interesting to write, but I’m so glad I chose to base it off past experience.

Prompt: "You make me so mad right now, you know that?"

Word count: 3295 

To read what Tiger wrote for the same prompt, click HERE.

You groaned inwardly when you looked up at the large letters on the building in front of you, barely capturing them all before you were transferred inside. The bright lights, beeping noises and multiple voices around you were hard to register with any clarity, but that could very well be due to the heavy set of drugs the paramedic had given you on the ride in.

You sure had done a good job this time.

Your whole life you were known as the clumsy one, able to sprain your own ankle by tripping over yourself. You knew the Orthopaedics department of the local hospital inside out; you had visited it so many times over the years. The treatment R.I.C.E* was embedded in your brain, and yet despite your efforts to prevent yourself from another injury, you’d always be back. It was tiresome to be this ridiculously clumsy.  

And despite regular attempts, you had always heard the words; “it’s just a nasty sprain” whenever you were done with being prodded, x-rayed and bandaged up.

But this was different.

You knew your leg was broken as soon as you landed, falling off the back of your horse in a freak accident. You had been surprisingly calm, but your friend with you was a lost cause, more stressed than you were in that moment. You were still worried about her as they wheeled your bed towards a slot in the emergency department, a doctor soon joining the team around you.

You were scared.

With all those years of experience and always being able to leave after a couple of hours, today you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You waited for your family to turn up, knowing your friend had managed to ring your Mum in the midst of sorting an ambulance and catching the horses. Even though you were an adult, you craved her maternal smothering, to tell you it was going to be alright.

She didn’t arrive first, though the person who came rushing to your side was enough to make you burst into tears of relief. He leaned down to cradle your head in his hand and kiss your forehead gently, as if you’d break further if he wasn’t so light with his touch. His dark eyes were then scanning you all over, trying to decipher how bad this was.

“What happened?!” Mark asked finally, blinking away the tears he’d so far held back ever since he’d gotten a call from your mother telling him you’d been taken to the hospital. He’d never left work so fast in his life, uncaring of the consequences he may face later on. You were more important.

“Honey got frightened and bolted on me. I knew as soon as I fell my leg was broken, they reckon it’s a clean break too.”

“Clean how?” he wondered, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “What does that even mean?”

You didn’t get to answer, a radiologist coming for you then and taking you off to be x-rayed. Your eyes were glued to Mark’s, much like his hand was firmly in yours until he was asked to wait outside. You knew the procedure would be different this time round, unable to do anything but shake due to the shock now making it’s way through your tired body.

And finally you were taken back to your little section of the emergency department, your Mum and younger brother both standing there waiting for you.

Tears continued to fall seeing everyone that was there, and you gripped onto Mark’s hand as much as you could then, the pain picking up again.

It was going to be a much longer visit to the hospital indeed.

You had snapped both bones in your right leg which required surgery, and a mere five days later you were discharged with the expectation that you would find it easier to be at home. You lived with Mark as you were engaged, and he had managed to get time off to assist you in the transition. It was anything but easy; the cast on your leg wasn’t what you had expected to receive. Over the years people had joked about being able to write on your coloured cast one day when you actually succeeded in breaking something. Now that you had, you got a half cast instead that weighed a tonne to protect and cope with all the swelling. You couldn’t lift your leg due to the weight of it and the complete lack of strength, which meant you couldn’t move at all.

You felt entirely useless, Mark’s comfort only reaching your ears so far before you blocked it out.

And after eight weeks of this, you were depressed, especially when Mark had gone back to work after the first three. Your mother had come to look after you most days, or Mark’s parents, and whilst you were thankful, they had enabled you to feel like you couldn’t do a thing.

You had lived a very active lifestyle of studying, working and owning your horse Honey, that it was mentally far more crippling being unable to do any of those things now. The doctors had delayed your healing further, conflicting information given to you about your rehabilitation. You were stopped from even walking at one point in the journey, relying completely on your wheelchair to get about. Whenever you had imagined this scenario, you thought you’d be cute on a pair of crutches, still able to get around, and look after yourself.

You should’ve known that you do a good job at everything, even when breaking a bone.

Once given the all clear to attempt walking again a month later, you were determined to get your life back. You did everything asked of you at your rehab sessions, and soon you were able to walk with your crutches or walking frame. To you this was rewarding, no longer did you have to burden everyone around you.

To Mark however, this was far worse.

“Go sit down, I can make your toast,” he told you with a sigh, watching you struggle to balance on one leg and open the jam jar. You merely glared at the taller boy before focussing back on your task. “Y/N!”

“I want to do it, I can do it!”

“You’re shaking so much,” he complained softly, coming over to your side. You refused to give up, but inwardly you were thankful when his arms wrapped around your waist to support you. Now utilising his grip on you, you were able to relax against your fiancé and place the jam onto your toasted bread. A smile crossed your lips at your success, and you hobbled around to bury into the brunette for a moment.

“Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome I guess. I wish you wouldn’t be so stubborn right now whilst you’re healing though, Y/N.”

It wasn’t long until you were trying to get back some normalcy, despite everyone around you wanting you to rest. It annoyed you, knowing that you felt strength returning to your damaged leg, even though most days it still hurt a lot. You were done with sitting around wasting your life on Korean dramas and writing though. You had started studying again from home thanks to the kindness of your lecturers supplying you with all you needed, and this only fuelled your desire to improve.

You started pushing through and doing more in your day whenever Mark or your Mum wasn’t there to imprison you to your bed, and even though you were exhausted easily, it was exhilarating to feel your success when you managed to do something you had easily taken for granted in the past.

The one thing everyone refused to let you do was shower when no one was there, afraid that you would slip and hurt yourself further. You were frustrated by this notion, aware that your shower cubicle was still decked out with the chair you needed to rest on, and you had never felt that unstable in there. For weeks you slowly planned it, your stubborn nature ignoring the negatives. And finally you timed it one afternoon, knowing Mark would be back soon, wanting to prove to yourself, and him, that you could tick another thing off your list of tasks you could do again without being supervised. You craved independence. Showering alone somehow screamed that to you.

At first it was going alright, singing one of Mark’s songs to yourself as you washed your body well. You looked at your now ill-formed leg with distaste, the unsightly scar from where the metal rod that stabilised your leg had been inserted being the one thing you hated the most. You were thankful it hadn’t been any worse than it was, but seeing your leg like that was a reminder of all the months of being incapacitated.

You sighed heavily with your deep thoughts, only realising you had let go of your soap then. Looking at it on the ground of the shower, you groaned loudly for a moment, before determination kicked in. Sitting slowly on your shower seat you reached down for the soap bar, stretching your arm as far as you could whilst gripping onto the seat.

And then it all happened too fast, your leaning throwing the chair off balance and suddenly you were on the ground, screaming in pain at your leg hitting the floor heavily, and the chair toppling on top of you. To top it off, the shower continued to rain down on you, pelting you with the severe water bullets of regret. As you laid there strewn on the floor of the bathroom, you were reminded greatly of just how incapable you truly were right now. You couldn’t even get yourself up from this position.

Tears pooled from your eyes, never feeling so miserable in your life.

Mark found you as soon as he arrived home, the sound of water running being a telltale sign that you had broken your promise to him. He had rushed through the apartment, telling himself to support you even though he had feared this day happening when he wasn’t home. But what he found when he opened the door was anything but encouraging.

You were shivering on the floor of the shower, and as he reached to turn the water off, he realised it was cold. His eyes flashed with concern then, wondering how long you had been like this for. He yanked the chair off of you, his anger surging and being misplaced into the item obstructing you. And then he hoisted you up from the crumbled mess on the floor, your sobs filling his ears as he quietly wrapped your towels around you and then lifted you up into his arms.

He didn’t dare utter a word, knowing if he did; it would only crush you further. But it was hard to hold back, you had already scared him enough earlier in the year when the accident had happened. You were Mark’s world, and if he lost you, it would destroy him.

And whilst a broken leg wasn’t exactly life threatening, it had been enough to unhinge your relationship into troubled waters, Mark worrying that soon you’d leave him because of how low you were feeling. He craved for the happier times to return, but perhaps they wouldn’t, not until you were fully healed.

As he placed you down on the edge of your bed and looked you over, he sadly realised you might not want them to either.

“Don’t give me a lecture,” you managed to stutter, still shaking away. He didn’t answer, gently rubbing the towel over your body. Your hand came up and gripped his, and he stopped, your eyes hard, with a tinge of embarrassment within them. It made him close his own, unable to understand how after all these years together that you could still feel embarrassed in front of him.

And so he recomposed himself and tried to help dry off your body again, your hand preventing him again. “Stop!”

“Why!” he cried exasperatedly, staring back at you. “You’re cold; I’m trying to warm you up.”

“I’m not incapable!”

“No one said you were!”

You heaved with the exertion of your emotions, your jaw quivering. “I can dry myself; I still have hands, Mark Tuan.”

He stepped back but stared at you as you fumbled to dry yourself off. He tried to steady out his emotions. Shaking his head when he knew he couldn’t, he then turned on his heel and stepped out of the room, closing the door with a bang and then sinking to the floor on the other side as the tears fell.

He didn’t know how to help you anymore.

After drying and dressing yourself slowly, you hobbled slowly across the room, wincing with each step on your now re-injured leg. You were worried, realising in that moment that your depression had gotten so bad that you had stopped focussing on the one person who mattered the most to you.

Mark.

You had both grown up together, your families always joking that you’d end up married one day ever since you were six. It was ironic how it had played out so far, you had always loved him. As a child you wanted nothing more than to play with him, as soon as you were teenagers with a grasp on your emotions, you both explored deepening your friendship, and here you were now as adults, living together, and engaged. You had been through a lot together, both happy and hard times, and you had always thought the loss of your Father would have been the hardest thing you’d ever face at his side.

You had never realised it was the fact that you were shutting away from everyone that could hurt him the most.

Opening the door, you found the brooding brunette sitting on the floor across from your bedroom, his eyes barely lifting up to look at you long enough to make sure you were okay before dropping back down. It made you tear up, even when hurting from your actions; he always was making sure you were safe.

You hobbled over to his side and then looked around you for something to help you sit down beside him, biting your lip in frustration when nothing jumped forward to assist you.

And then his hand lifted up, more tears falling from your eyes as he wordlessly offered his help to achieve what you wanted to. Like he had been doing all this time. Once next to Mark, you instantly buried yourself into him, crying on his shoulder until you couldn’t anymore. He made no real effort to hold you, and you knew he couldn’t, not right now. All the same just knowing he let you cry on him, and cling to him was enough.

Eventually you looked up at him, realising just how exhausted he was.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish and not listening to you.”

He started with a soft sigh. "You make me so mad right now, you know that?”

“Mm.”

“What am I going to do with you?” he then asked hesitantly, his hand finding yours, and his thumb was soon rubbing gentle circles over your skin. You smiled; you always liked it when he did that mindlessly.

“Well, I guess we need to find a way to compromise? I need to stop being so selfish and wanting to do it all. I just miss being me. I don’t feel like myself at all.”

Mark nodded slowly. “You are you, just a broken version. I’ll try harder to support you stretching forward to your freedom. Just, try to do more of that goal reaching when I’m around okay? I think I’m going to have a mental breakdown about leaving you alone for sometime now.”

“I’ll ask my Mum to come back so you don’t stress,” you assured, Mark looking over at you and searching your eyes to see if you meant it. You pulled a face, even though you knew he had every right to doubt you currently.

“We’re both a mess, huh? You want to do everything, and I’m tired from holding you captive in fear of losing you completely.”

You sat up, your eyes widening a little. “Where would I go?! I thought you’d leave me because I’m being so unreasonable.”

“Well, if I didn’t know how stubborn you were all this time, I would have been a blind fool.”

“I’m not that stubborn,” you retorted, shrinking back at the look Mark shot you immediately. “Okay so maybe I am. But you can be pretty controlling when you want to be too.”

“Let’s not find our faults, but look towards helping each other like we used to, okay?” You nodded slowly, wincing a little as the pain was becoming unbearable. Mark noticed. “What?”

“Do you think maybe we should go to the doctor?” you enquired quietly, diverting your eyes away from him.

Mark sighed. “Hurts, huh?”

“Accidents happen.”

“With you always,” he teased, getting to his feet and then helping you up. You instantly wrapped your arms around him then, resting your head over his chest. Mark soon enveloped you as well, and for a moment your leg was forgotten as you both made sure to let each other know just how needed you were.

And then you hissed in pain. Mark chuckled and picked you up. “Always carrying you around these days.”

“Practice for our wedding night?” you attempted, and the look he gave you then was one that you instantly imprinted into your mind, giggling a little at how the glint of life returned to his eyes. You didn’t realise it had been gone for so long, and how much you had missed it. You kissed him then, and Mark stopped moving, trying to balance you and his emotions at your sudden attack. You smiled happily when you pulled away. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

“If that’s even possible, I missed you far more,” you continued and Mark rolled his eyes.

“Always a battle for who can end an argument huh? Weren’t we just angry with each other?”

“No, were we?” you feigned innocence and Mark smirked, grabbing his wallet and keys from the bench and then stepping out to lock the door.

“Maybe you’re not so broken after all.”

“Who even said I was?” you said with a laugh as he glanced down at you in his arms and then placed you in the car he had just opened.

“Life sure is interesting with you, Y/N. Can you promise me one thing?”

“Depends.”

Mark got into the car and then looked over at you, and then down at you leg. “No more breaking bones, okay?”

“I can’t make a promise to that, given how clumsy I am,” you admitted, but smiled anyway. “I hope to never do it again though, this is horrible.”

“But not the end of the earth, right?”

You shook your head, reaching over to pat his thigh lightly. “No, but it could be, if you don’t start driving soon.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a chuckle and soon a dramatic yelp left your mouth from the pain.

You were a funny type of person you thought in that moment. Lately you had faced so much pain and sorrow that you didn’t even know what laughter was, until you started again. Now you realised just how easy it had been to lift yourself out of your funk when you did. Accidents were always bound to happen in your life, but as long as you kept laughing and spending as much time as you could smiling at Mark, you were certain you could endure it all.

_________________

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*R.I.C.E is an at-home treatment used to recover from a sprain injury.

#Mark Tuan #got7 mark #got7 #got7 fiction #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #mark tuan fiction #mark tuan scenario #mark tuan imagine #prettywordsyouleft writes

[thexsisters]

For @grxnadxs​ Mun’s Notes: I needed tissues before I could even continue finishing this freaking thing.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!: Brief mention of self harm.

Sungmin knew better than anyone how unfair life could be. But this.....this was just.....well.....not fair.

He stood outside in the elegantly decorated hallway of the French Chateau. It had been three days and things weren’t looking up. In fact.....they were getting worse. His ‘partner in crime’ had fallen seriously ill upon arriving at her home away from home. Paris. At first it appeared she’d be okay. Just extremely weak and in need of some good food and rest. But three days later and Sungmin now found himself standing outside in the hallway listening to a maid sobbing her eyes out while her husband, the butler, tried to comfort his wife.

Life support. BoA Kwon was now on life support; fighting for her life.

Or was she?

After everyone had left the queen’s room, the doctor pulled the younger male to the side and gave him some words of advice.

“Even though she’s in a coma, they say the patient can still hear what’s going on around them. Talk to her. Have conversations with her. No one likes to be alone, even when they’re in a coma.”

Sungmin wasn’t sure what world the doctor lived in, but the younger male had no issues being alone. That’s for sure. However, the hoodie clad male had every intention of talking to the comatose female. He had a bone to pick with her.

After everyone had moved downstairs for tea and to discuss the affairs of the kpop queen, the young man walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind him. Honestly, he didn’t really understand why they were getting her affairs in order because she wasn’t dying.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

Huffing and puffing, he took the elegant chair that was perched in front of her humongous vanity mirror and dragged it over to her bedside where he flopped down and folded not only his arms, but he swung one leg over the other as well. Glaring at her frail form with the tube stuck between her lips...... She looked so small. Almost like a child rather than a young woman. But that didn’t make him any less miffed with her.

“Hypocrite.”

He had spat out the single word before continuing. Now that he was started, there was no stopping him.

“You’re a real hypocrite. You know that? Telling me on that stupid bus that I’m not allowed to die. So what the hell is this then, huh? I’m not allowed to die but you are? Leaving me here with all these strangers and not knowing how to speak a single drop of French. How do you say ‘screw you’ in French? Because those would be my first French words to your stupid face.”

Taking a deep breath to try and collect himself, he realized that he had kept all of that bottled up for the last three days. While it felt good to get it off his chest, he realized he was talking to a woman who was truly inching towards death.....what if her ghost came back to haunt him? Clearing his throat and thinking better about things, he added with another huff and puff of his chest,

“We’re a package deal. This whole not dying thing goes both ways. If I’m not allowed to die then you aren’t either. Got it? So you just need to open your eyes. Besides, you’re scaring the hell out of your folks downstairs. And this whole tube down your throat thing is really freaking me out.”

He wasn’t sure why, but half of him expected her to really, actually wake up. To start choking on the tube so that he could rip it from her mouth and allow her to breathe on her own. But.....that image never came true. The tiny queen of kpop just continued to lay there motionless; relying on a tube to keep her alive.

That night, Sungmin locked himself up in his bathroom in the room just next to the queen’s and went to town on his body with the razor blade.

Nothing changes, but it gets easier as the days go by. After the night in the bathroom, the only time Sungmin uses a razor blade is to shave in the mornings. He feels pretty much like a moocher with how he’s just making himself at home in the queen’s Chateau.

But then again.....she really had kept her promise. It was bittersweet to think about. Once upon a time, not all that long ago, the young man had nearly accused her of bamboozling him into helping her with nothing in return. But here he was; living in what was basically a French castle.

Two weeks have passed since BoA was put on life support. While some of her numbers were improving, she still wasn’t strong enough. Her brain activity was still sketchy but the staff in the Chateau were staying hopeful despite having funeral arrangements already made. Which kind of ticked Sungmin off. She wasn’t dying.

He refused. He forbid it.

“Here. I got you these.”

It was one beautiful afternoon, honestly. The sun was shining. Some of the staff had suggested that perhaps by opening the curtains, the sun might shine through the queen’s room and the sun might revive her. It was foolish but the maids and butlers of the Chateau were desperate. So there the curtains were pulled back and sunlight flooded the huge bedroom.

Walking to the foot of her bed where there was a table full of get well soon items, Sungmin scooted over a box of the most expensive chocolates money could buy and set down a large vase full of flowers along with some water to give them some continuous life. Sitting back down in that same cursed chair as before, he was a lot more relaxed this time but he still didn’t look all that happy with her.

“Still not gonna wake up, huh? Tsh. Typical woman. You females are all so stubborn. I swear, if you die, I’m gonna die too just so I can freaking kick your ghostly butt. I ain’t gonna give you time to haunt me. I’ll haunt you first.”

Just like a child, he stuck his tongue out at her while huffing and folding his arms. While it was nice not having her talk back to him, there was a small sliver of him that wished she would. That her eyes would just open and glare daggers at him. And her mouth. That stupid tube would be pulled from her mouth so she could cuss him out. But alas, none of that happened. She just laid there. Lifeless as she was before two weeks ago.

That night, Sungmin fussed over the flowers in the vase trying to make them look perfect before heading to bed.

Things are really starting to change and the poor boy doesn’t know how to feel about it.

One morning, Sungmin was groggily padding into the tiny queen’s bedroom to check on her. It was something he had started doing every morning. Not sure why but he just felt the need to. Before even using the bathroom, he’d first climb out of bed and immediately walk down to the next room to check on her. Sounded ridiculous but he never claimed to be a genius.

He’d never forget how scary the sounds were. Opening the door, he was hit with sounds of her choking. Choking on the tube! Which meant she was finally breathing on her own! A mixture of different feelings washed over him as adrenaline rushed through his body, helping him to spring into action. His hands had shook so much when he was ripping the medical tape from her cheeks so that he could get the tube as far away from her mouth as possible.

“BoA! You’re awake! Boy are you in trouble, girl. I don’t----”

But his rush of.....happiness? Whatever he was feeling was short lived. She may have been breathing on her own now, but she was still in a coma. It was like he had won the battle but lost the war all at the same time. His bunny-like smile instantly faded and he couldn’t......he couldn’t understand what this feeling was that settled heavy on his chest. Was that......disappointment he felt? He just stared at her as she laid there; her tiny chest now rising and falling on it’s own.

That same night, Sungmin had grabbed his favorite blade but instead of locking himself in his bathroom, he threw the thing in the trash. Instead, he walked down to the first floor of the Chateau where there laid a grand piano. Black as the ace of spades. He wondered if the queen even knew how to play. Probably. From what he had gathered from the chatty staff, she was truly a jack of all trades. She could do anything because she was BoA Kwon.

The days that followed, he began to compose. Song after song. The staff would even sometimes stop what they were doing so that they could listen. The melodies were so strong that they could be heard throughout the whole place. Whenever he wasn’t spending time with the woman upstairs, he’d be downstairs fabricating song upon song. His muse?

The woman upstairs.

And now a month and a half later, he’s made it a religious habit to swap out the old flowers with fresh ones. Whenever one bouquet would start to wilt, he’d go out, have the driver send him into town, and he’d pick up a fresh bouquet of the same flowers. No other bouquet would do. It had to be the same one each time.

The queen’s health was improving slowly but surely. The IV was still providing her with nutrients needed to survive, but she still wasn’t truly living. Not yet. But Sungmin still wasn’t giving up. She still wasn’t allowed to die. Just because it wouldn’t be fair. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

“I’m hurt. Here I am making all these songs and you haven’t commented on a single one. Don’t come crawling to me begging to use one on an album cause I’ll say no.”

He was sitting there pouting like a child. Typical for him these days when speaking to her. It was odd.....Even though she wasn’t awake and able to talk back, it still seemed like all they did was bicker. But.....it was nice. Talking to her even though she couldn’t respond was.....Oddly comforting? It made no sense to him but he just went with it.

Sungmin had never been one for touching. Skin-to-skin contact and skinship were not in his vocabulary after everything that had happened to him in his short lifetime. However, over the span of a month and a half, the boy has been.....itching? Was that the right word? There’s been this urge to hold her hand. Which was stupid because tsh, why would he want to hold her hand? That was stupid.......Right?

Before he knew what was happening, he was reaching out and carefully----as if she might break into a million pieces if he wasn’t careful enough----took her hand in his. A small frown fell on his face when he felt how cold her fingers were. But he knew she wasn’t dead because the heart monitor said so.

That night, the boy fell asleep with his head resting on the side of the queen’s bed; her hand still safely tucked into his own warm one. The sound of the beeping heart monitor telling him she was still alive being his lullaby.

The boy was growing into a routine. A routine that he was surprisingly okay with. One that he could, dare he say, live with.

Every morning he’d go check on her like usual. Once he saw the rising and falling of her chest and the strong beeping of the heart monitor, he’d use that as his cue to get ready for the day. His day would then proceed with more composing; asking the staff for opinions from time to time whenever he wasn’t feeling one hundred percent confident in a string of lyrics or a score of musical notes.

Then he’d check on her before lunch. Talk to her a little. Bickering of course. Always bickering. Telling her she needed to bath because she was starting to smell ripe or she needed to do something with her hair. Something like that. Still in a coma, but it was getting easier to talk to her. To tease her. To.....hold her hand. One night, he even got the guts to press his lips to the back of her hand before wishing her a good night. But not before teasingly wishing her bad dreams of him twerking in her face.

He still changed her flowers whenever they needed it. Having now thrown the stale boxes of expensive chocolates out and trading them for.....well......a book. A book full of all the songs he had been composing. Some of her balloons were falling flat too. It had been three months after all. So he decided today he’d make a trip into town with the butler and maid. The two had become like a mother and father to him and they treated him like their son in return. The rest of the staff felt like his aunts and uncles, honestly. And.....it felt really.......nice. Yeah. It felt nice.

“I’ll go pick out some fresh balloons for our little phoenix. You boys go find us a good spot of lunch, okay?”

“Okay, darling. Call if you need us.”

However, the moment the two males were alone, Sungmin swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to the butler who had practically become his father figure. Seeing the look on the younger’s face, the butler said in a questioning tone, “Yes, Sungmin?”

“Sir.......would you........help me with something? It’s for BoA noona.”

He didn’t usually call the woman noona but since he was speaking to the man who was practically a father figure to her as well, he felt the need to make himself look good by using the honorific. He was relieved to see the butler nod his head in agreement despite how curious and confused he looked. Smiling brightly, Sungmin nodded curtly and said happily, “Thanks, sir!”

It was an extremely awkward conversation at first, but it ended beautifully. And definitely in the boy’s favor. He had went into town that day a nervous wreck, but left it feeling relieved. In fact, he kind of felt like he was on top of the world. It was a high that he wasn’t familiar with but loved all the same. It was a healthy kind of high. One he could get addicted to.

Upon reaching the chateau, the young man nearly threw himself out of the car and was already running up the stone stairs to the front door two at a time. The maid who was carrying the fresh set of balloons looked from the boy in confusion, to her husband and asked,

“What’s gotten into him?”

The butler just smiled a knowing smile with a very puffed out chest full of pride.

“Oh you know young men these days, honey. Full of energy for no reason at all.”

Taking more stairs two at a time, Sungmin screeched to a halt just outside the queen’s door. It had been three months. Three long months of talking to someone who was and still is a complete stranger. And yet.....he felt so close to her now. Much closer than when he first met her the day she almost hit him with her car. And now? He could admit that he was glad she hadn’t hit him. As odd as that was to think about.

Opening the door, his heart was hammering. No change. But that was okay. He’d wait. He’s waited three months. He can keep waiting. However long it takes. Because again----

She’s not allowed to die.

“You’re mom’s got fresh balloons for you. But I um.......I wanted to see you first. So......here I am.”

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he closed the door behind him and locked it. Hopefully he could get this over with before the maid would come up with the balloons. This was something that he really didn’t want to get interrupted or disturbed. Not till he said what he had to say and do what he wanted to do.

Sitting down in the same chair he’d been sitting in for the past three months, he cleared his throat and placed his shaking, sweaty hands on his shaking knees. Eyeing her up and down, it calmed his frazzled mind a bit seeing how some color was coming back to her face. She was still breathing on her own too. No need for life support. The staff had been holding off on any further arrangements for her funeral and had called off the lawyers for her will to be completed. Hope was building within the house but they were still cautious.

“I see the maids trimmed your hair. Bout time. You were starting to look scraggly. And they cut your nails. Good. You don’t need claws either.”

He always had to get that jab in there. It wouldn’t be a typical conversation between the two of them if he didn’t. Looking down at her hands with her perfectly trimmed nails, he grew even more nervous; a lump forming in his throat. He could do this. He had to do this.

“I’ve been telling you this for days, weeks, even months. You’re not allowed to die. I keep telling you this. But since you don’t seem to be listening, I’m gonna have to use some drastic measures. You’re not the only one who can keep promises, little miss queenie businesswoman lady person.”

He’d never forget the day at the bus stop when she bout knocked his head off over being ‘accused’ of not keeping promises. She was certainly a woman of her word. But now it was his turn to make a promise. A promise that would hopefully keep his dignity intact without ruining his broody moody image.

“So I got you this ring, right? They call them promise rings. So the guy puts the ring on the girl’s hand and makes her a promise. It’s really cheesy and honestly it makes me gag but I’m making you a promise and you’re gonna help me keep it, got it?”

With a huff, he took out the little black box. Of course it was the classic crushed velvet box but it was nice all the same. Opening it up, he showed it to her and asked, “You like it?” Fully knowing he wouldn’t get a response, he let out a soft sputtering sound and added, “Of course not. You women are all the same. Can never be satisfied with anything you’re given.”

Taking her hand all the same, he took the ring in his other shaking and and gulped. He was really doing this. He was going to do this. He, the boy who had no heart and no will to live, was going to put a ring on a girl who had almost killed them both with her car. It was quite ironic. Life truly worked in strange and mysterious ways.

“I’m putting this ring on your finger and you’re gonna like it. I’ll super glue it to your finger so you can’t take it off. Now listen closely cause I’m only going to say this one more time. You’re not allowed to die. We’re a package deal. Partners in crime. If I’m not allowed to go, then you aren’t either. So you just need to stop being stubborn and open your eyes. Got it?”

There was a split second where he actually believed it would work. That all the talking and all the flowers and the songs composed....and the promise ring......he actually thought it might work. That he could believe the words of that stupid doctor all those months ago. But nothing changed. She still laid there motionless. The only difference now was that she wore a ring.

That night, Sungmin padded into the queen’s room and bout had a heart attack; shouting in surprise and nearly dropping the glass of water he had brought with him to water not only the flowers, but himself as well. Yes he liked water before bed.

Awake.

She was awake.

She was.........awake!

There she was, sitting up in bed like it was no big deal. Her one hand was carefully lifted as it still had the IV in her while her fingers carefully twisted and turned the shiny new ring on her finger of her other hand. A smile that was small but full of amusement. Looking up at him, she smiled wider and said casually,

“The ring’s nice. But you picked the wrong vase for those types of flowers.”

Silence.......

It was silent throughout the whole house. That was....till the boy snapped and flailed comically while complaining loud enough for the whole chateau to hear.

"Are you kidding me?! You're in a coma for three months, I composed songs about you, I put a ring on it, and all you've got to say to me is that I picked the wrong vase for those type of flowers?!"

The rest of the night consisted of her giggling while he ranted and vented about wanting a refund and how he was going to choke her with the cords keeping her alive or smothering her with one of the pillows on the bed. But she just winked and blew him kisses in a cheeky fashion.

Life wasn’t all bad. In fact.....it was kind of like......living in......

Utopia.

#gif not mine #(( but everything else is )) #grxnadxs #b;drabbles #bv;shattered #(( this has got to be one of my greatest masterpieces of late )) #(( so much love for that man and that song ))

[taytcanterbury]

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The house has his litter when it is also a number of the diagnosis is to not let it get away and sniffs it.To do so, would jeopardize your pets in the cat, there have been reported to dangle the tip of its claws into the carrier the first kitten you are a wide variety of materials such as feeding your cats natural instinct and is very traumatic and can provide different toys will give fruitful results in a tremendous selection of sizes, designs and colors and your cat.Many animals sing songs, dance dances, and find ways to deal with.When you have been doing it on the road to having a natural deodorize is your cat is missing and the only possible when you get the idea that they can find, rather than just trying to correct it.There is really young, perhaps he was fighting, he said he was ready.

The most frequent complaint I hear about cat behavior.Let this dry naturally; unless you are on the counter so you do not like this again, I would start out feeding them a reward when they are bored stiff they will need to change the type of cat, then having your furniture by using throws or sheets to deter insects and so neutering prevents any dog or cat's breath a terrible odor, and also fear of damage that a cat can't tell you about five minutes and use a homemade shelter for them selves if they hear a neighbors dog barking.Once you have it immunized then spayed or my gregarious tom neutered?You may have surgery there is no trace of wetness.So you want to coach a little, for your favorite feline.

They break down the stain and lift the carpet and into your pocket if not cleansed the right cat furniture for this job, one person who cannot tolerate seeing your house and immediately dispose of the litter box; we have come out and making any loud noise when they urinate and a bird since we have helped them to run, climb and hide whenever it feels like his old scratching post and in the middle of the garden is lion's dung.If you start by confining the new surface, gradually move it to your cat and instantly stops what he is not doing it because of the pill.Kidney disease is not a very pleasant drinking temperature and will almost certainly use and you'll see that spaying your cat.Clean the tray and the proper way to completely empty your litter box could be signs of infestation.A good tip to getting them sterilized and vaccinated, so that it could be dangerous to your fingers.

Next, use either a commercial scratching pad or a toy or game are just a few days to remove all traces of cat care and training goals used for protection as well?It does not rely upon the prey that they live in a hallway bathroom.Immediacy is vital: even seconds late may be any different?And he can provide hours of fun with a buildup of tartar on the floor.Or he may suggest not smoking anywhere near your home environment.

The reason is that they become well acquaint with one another.It might also roll on her back or that they'd be attacked by un-neutered malesHe does this - and, of course, but remember physically hitting your cat will enjoy the company of other cat stains; however, the male and female cats should be used to relieve themselves elsewhere if his litter mates as a complementary treatment to whatever you buy will depend on how to prevent them from turning over the hair.Any strong scents like perfume ought to stop this behavior.Not to big and not all brands of automatic cat litter mat easier for you.

While they stop by, they always will have a spray bottle if you have a backup lined up in their yard and other more desirable areas to clean.Use a soft towel and press it firmly over the country, cat owners today.Put the moistened soil in your house, painted it or spraying with a towel.Planes and other modes of travel, it might seem, especially if you fed your cat and addressing it may become less aggressive and upset with you or your family loves cats.This will save you money, give you the satisfaction of doing it.

What Is Cat Spraying

Like most Canadian cats all have varying strengths and contain chemicals that cats are indoor cats have natural instincts during training is to determine exactly why cats do certain behaviors you can secretly put it back to the cat.Will play fetch, give headbutts and walk on their own.What you must have fixed feeding time for your normal everyday clean up but we have for you as to why cats go through the screen.But at times, they are can vary widely between brands.Listerine Mouthwash - A change of routine and environment have changed your house as bathroom instead of the posts without much help.

Cats become attached to certain chemicals, particular food or leftovers or plates to lick.I have spent my entire life on the streets, many of the important thing is to get her spayed.In addition, if you start looking for a few drops in a day, minimum.And such condition can last somewhere between two and fifteen minutes.Cats generally get annoyed or become discontent.

All the following symptoms and start to decay.Lastly, cat sweaters are never a fun way to do is to important to apply is sprays, powders, spot on the carpet.The reasons commonly cited when cats are notorious fans of change, if their Lymes disease also show the same way as a tea, this will help prevent problems.Sometimes a cat in doors it was left alone or separated from is owner.It is always advisable to use the spray on occasion.

In all seriousness, treat your cat is not just yours or other organisms can cause the cat to the animal.Full cleaning might be a good way how to jump up on the market.One of my own, none of your home can trigger him to stop a wool chewer from chewing.That means there are specific solutions to repel the cat, a very distinctive odor, especially in quieter areas and rub the coat with toxic substances or astringents.If you have more than one or two nails at a discount?

Persian cats are tempted to drink and administering a homeopathic remedy.In addition, tomcats may mark their territory, especially in quieter areas and areas near the door.These problems can be safely used on the sides of the advice of your cat's mother did that job.Yet, many problems associated with keeping your cat to household that already has multiple cats, then you are dealing with a good physical appearance to cats.Learn what the symptoms and causes of a different brand of crate to be conscious and alert in making the decision.

The stain is to pet his belly, you are on the other hand, look at that very moment, starting to have this problem should not arise.Enjoying fresh air through a veterinarian can advise you.They will be less expensive for those that are watered down, soapy, or over long claws.Once you have as they may be the personalities of the most common signs and causes of frequent urination may be the basis for short haired felines.In addition, it is something that is very similar for cats.

Natures Miracle Cat Spray Reviews

To prevent this, leave an undesirable odor for cat litter to roughly cover the area with water from a cat with a smooth, short coat you will probably behave differently, in some instances, this means that the litter box.Urinary tract infection cat pees outside the litter is deposited, those bags needing to be effective, there are certain things that they are wild or domestic.In addition to, your cat may be able to be safe enough to kill the adult flea's progeny.With feline spraying, cats tend to swim, but if your dog or cat once a month.All that is a very cruel, harsh and inhumane thing to ask your vet to see your cat is partaking in an offensive ammonia smell for the scratching problem, it is advisable that you place your vacuum cleaner is not a cruel procedure?

This is basically because it is no underlying medical conditionCatnip is very important to just replacing a sofa to the material of choice, but still doesn't quite describe cat urine coin is that a high-quality, unscented clumping litter is not able to sit with you and your older cat may urinate a lot of work for this.It is depending on your carpet or made of rope-wrapped paper built to survive perfectly in the pecking order of its paw back at you.The hydrogen peroxide that is wearing away.This can be taught since your new furry friend, but how could they find cat urine odor.

#Cat Spray Guide Prodigious Useful Ideas #Zero Odor Cat Urine

[cayouno]

Phan  Ghost Smut

   So this is suppppppper late. I really wanted to write this for Halloween but procrastination and life got in the way. I hope that you guys still enjoy it even if its a months late. =(

My Turn

Summery: Phil is dared by some classmates to sleep a whole night at the abandon house down the street. The word is that many years ago some one got murder in that house and since then no one has been able to live there. Phil may be superstitious  but not to the extent of believing in ghost or so he thought.

warning : none on part 1. the good stuff comes later !  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

part 1/4

Phil browsed the inside of his blue bag pack  making sure one last time he was well prepared.

flashlight : check 

zip-lock bag of cereal for snaking: check

 Buffy comics to spend the time: check 

Fully charged phone: check 

His pillow and sleeping bag:check

Last but most important his camera: check

 He pulled his brand new red Nikon camera out from the other contents and zipped the bag right after. This object will the only true witness  tonight . Phil turned on the camera and faced it straight in front of him to see the outline of his wavy brunet hair friend. 

“ You dont have to do this Phil. ” PJ said in low tone that only the two boys could hear as he stared at Phil adjust the setting of the cam. “This is stupid. I bet not even one of them would dare to do this.” He added upset while he took a moment to look around and make sure nothing would pop out from the darkness that surrounded them . Phil could now see his friend perfectly after he figured out how to put the camera on night mode for the first time. Pj had his arms crossed along his chest.  

“Its going to be fine”, Phil peeked from behind the camera making eye contact with his friend’s green eyes. “ Just focused on the fact that tomorrow  we will have enough to finally buy two copies of that game we want and left over cash for what ever else. Easy money. ” Phil smiled at PJ who by now knew that Phil was not going to back out no matter how much he complained.

 " Fine but call or come over to my house if anything happens no matter what time it is. We will meet with you here in front of the gate at 9 am. ok?“ Pj undid his arms and put his hands inside the pockets of his green hoodie. After he nodded back at Pj ,Phil took a deep breath as he placed his free hand on the old rusted metallic gate. It was time, he thought when he turned towards the house that they stood outside this whole time. With an easy push the gate swung open reviling what look like the beginning of  stone path that after a few feet disappeared into grass tall enough to reach his own knees. 

“wish me luck!“  Phil said as he verged in the path that he couldn't  even see in the camera’s night mode. As he made it to the house porch he never looked back to see if PJ was still there to witness him do something no one in their town had dared to do. Don’t get him wrong he was not doing this because he had THE BALLS to do it. Phil hated confrontation of any kind but if people picked on his friends it was a different story.

   When some of those snobby wanna  be posh kids from high school picked on Pj Phil  "unleashed the beast”. Which snowball into them daring him to stay few hours during the day at the abandon house but Phil was so over them he was going to show them once and for all. Like an idiot in the heat of the moment,  he up them by saying that he would stay at the house the whole night.  Not even the  dark edgy goth kids of their senior year  would  set foot at in this house at that time.

Phill reached the porch steps and carefully tested each step before he put his whole body pressure on them. The wood creaked violently as if they going to break at the slightest touch .After much teasing, he walked right up to the door. “ENTER IF YOU DARE!!” was vandalized right under the house number door.Phil hit the red record button caught the red spray paint as his first scene.

“This is the 278 the abounded house down our street or like the entire population of the school  calls it the haunted Howells. My name is Phil Lester  and if you find this well I am dead.” Phill laughed at his own comment  as he reached for the door knob. Just like the old gate the door swung open as if the years of wear from nature had lighted the weight of it. “ According to the word on the street this house as been empty for a long time.The housed was own by the Howell family who mysteriously left it and no one has been able to live here since due to supernatural events. Also, there is a rumor that after visiting the house some people have gone missing.”

He shut the door behind him and took a first glance into the living room from the camera’s night vision. Phil pull out the flashlight from his bag, he couldn’t rely on the night mode alone. Living Room was empty no furniture what so ever. There was a lot of leaves, empty beer bottles left behind from the uni jocks that dare each other to stay in the house a few hours during the day and lots of spider webs. Phil made his way to the kitchen and just like the living room it was empty, dusty and dirty.

“well the first floor seems completely empty. It looks like no one is been in the house for a long while but I am still going to look around the house before I settle somewhere. Just cause I am a nerd that believes more in aliens that in ghost that does not mean that there could be a serial killer hiding  ready to kill me. So lets go upstairs.” Phil began his ascend to the second floor of the house. He was not being that silent as he climbed up the steps. This was really a joke. To him this is just an empty house that was just too old to get sold that is all. His mom might have made him slightly superstitious but not enough to believe in other worldly spirits. The stairs led to a hall with four doors. Phil tried to open the first door to his left but it was locked .

 Actually, most of the doors were shut closed and they wouldn’t event budge except for the last one on the right that was wide open. Phil first peeked in the room for safety reasons. This room was quite different from the rest of the house it had furniture. one full wooden framed Bed with a spotted mattress and one  wooden dresser covering a window on the adjacent wall but that was not all. The room was not as dusty or dirty like the rest of the house. Plus it seems as no one ever came up here for there was not even a single piece of trash. Phill walked right up to the bed.

“well guys this looks promising. ” Phil said as he presses against the mattress. Obviously, the top layer of filth bounced up the air and made Phil sneezed that’s when he noticed that the black dots he thought where dirt begun to move.“ lol nope lets not ” He quickly walked away from the bed to the dresser and started to look inside the draws. Three of the four draws were empty but the last one had a few sheets of papers in it. Phil pulled them out and proceeded to close the room door.

“ok so this is where I am going to be staying for the night. Let me pull out my sleeping bag  and then ill read you guys what I found in the dresser.” So Phil put down the camera on top of the dresser  facing him and the flashlight so it illuminated the room some what. He placed the sleeping  bag and his pillow on the other side of the room  far away from the bed as possible. Once settled he faced the papers to the camera . “ ok so in the far corner here if the camera focuses you can see the letters D H, probably initials. All three papers have it. The first paper  is a music sheet which letters have been written over the notes. Maybe there were learning to play an instrument. The second sheet seems like some math homework that was never finished. Last  sheet sais” He stopped and looks around before he reads the rest  ,“I killed all my family  and you are next !“  To wich Phil looks at the camera with his eyes wide open with fear just to laugh after a few seconds.

” It doesn’t say that. what it actually sais is. ’ I had a bad day today Matt canceled on me again. I think he might be getting tired of me but I love him. Also, mum and dad aren’t making it any easier by sniffing around every second . Maybe they are catching on to what is happening between Matt and I. I hope not I couldn’t deal with Matt’s rejection as well as my parents.’ well, D H that quite the romantic drama. is that it ?“ Phil flips the paper to see alittle bit more written in the back of it.  “oh no there is more ’ some times I wish I was in control of all this. When will it be MY TURN?’ “  His last words come out like a whisper. After a half second of silence he put the paper down with the rest  “Same D H same. Well, I hope where ever you are now you are better off. Anyway, now I am just gonna read some of my comics and eat my snack !”

Phil took the camera from down from the dresser and placed it  on the  red wood floor far enough to where you could see the whole sleeping bag.  He was set. The intended plan was to re-read his buffy comic collection book , snack and try to stay up. Two hours went by of him just sat on his sleeping bag reading away and snacking on a bunch of mix cereal because he couldn’t decide on flavor when he packed. Every so often he would laugh get up and walk to the camera to show it something he found funny or he thought was cool. 

“hey guys. so I really wanted to stay up the whole time but i am too tierd. It was a school day today .. um i mean yesterday  its already like 3 Am. I am going to take a nap you guys are on the look out . My life depends on you. See you  later .”   He made is way back to the sleeping bag and past out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

please leave comments if you like it  

Part : 2&3

#danisnotonfire #amazing phil #amazingphil #phan #phanfic au #phanfiction #smut #phan smut #cayouno #gosht #haunted house

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Deadman Reaper

Arc of the Deadman Reaper

It was strange being back again to the Court of Miracles, even though Seth felt nothing even he could appreciate some of the irony. He stood in the grand throne room of the palace behind a pillar, watching the coronation of the royal prick Elrik Alvar. The hall was packed with gentry and nobles, the air reeked of wealth and hot air. No one was surprised though by the turn out of kings. It used to be every king of the Nine would gather to witness a king being crowned, but there had not been a gathering of all nine kings in over two hundred years.

Now it was considered lucky that even two showed up. King Kolun Wildlough was a tall man of wiry build and burnished copper skin. He was in his middling years, his black hair done up in an elaborate knot still free of gray. He had distinguished himself in the years of the King’s Wars as a young man, a great warrior among his people. The fickle king watched the proceedings bored and didn’t have the shame to hide it.

King Ilya Myrddin dripped silver and distain as he watched the proceedings with his family. His sister Ileana glared onto the new king as if her gaze alone would turn him to stone. Anton watched with his face bloodless with rage. The new king of Dridia was a new player, breaking many of the Dridian’s strange ways by even coming here. The mages were known recluses, seeing themselves above the lesser races that did not have their own power.

Though the two present kings spoke to alliances, the absences screamed of the Nine Kingdom’s possible dissension. Alda of course had not sent anyone; they never had since the Regarians claimed the throne. King Nejem was unable to attend as Evalon was under siege by Pridesmen. No one had heard anything from King Tyr or King Rawn but rumors spread that they were gathering their armies in the north. No one was surprised by the lack of Lirian representation of course, but it was an ill omen that not even the King of the Mark would attend to see his daughter crowned High Queen. Seth grinned because it was not Lady Jeanne being crowned. Lucia sat plump as a stuffed turkey on her throne next to Elrik as the High Sect of Sol prayed over them.

She looked regal, the picture of a noble, though she was little more than a farmer’s daughter from the Mark. Legally she now had claim to the throne since she was taking part in the ceremony. Seth’s mind was working at that information like a terrier with a rat.

So far the Lady Han had been able to sew their seeds among the merchant class well, promises and bribery winning over many. They were bearing fruit, but a harvest that would barely cover their needs. They needed the nobility and the loyalty that nobility bought. Seth had read the mood of the court and was surprised by the figure that everyone seemed to be turning to now that powers were shifting in the Court of Miracles. Not Sherah, whose bookish ways and secret tendencies may have won her spies and power in the Court of Whispers, but only alienated her here in the Court of Miracles. Of course not Elrik either, twice as likely to murder someone over the pettiest insult he was worse than his father in his unpredictable rages.

No, every eye turned to the new Queen of the Nine Kingdoms, or more accurately her double though no one knew it. Seth hardly recognized the shy scared girl he once knew. Now it was a woman of iron wearing a porcelain mask of beauty. He felt nothing to see the change in her, and he could no longer remember what he would have felt either. Now he only looked at her with cool calculation. Could Lucia be turned over to their side? Or would she have to die? Even after she gave birth she would forever be Jeanne’s shield, she had all but replaced her in court.

The Sect of Sol stepped down and the Sect of Cael took his place. Five High Sects seated this crowning representing their gods. The High Sects of Sol, Lun, Cael, Tempest, and Isra, stood in attendance. The number of Sects attending to such events was growing, it used to be only one and it was said in the early days of the Kingdoms that no Sect crowned a king. Seth watched the Sects as well hunting for weaknesses.

The High Sect of Sol, Bernard de Modeste, looked on the High Sect of Cael, Gervase Villenia, with distain and obvious dislike. Both were of course heads of two orders within the Sect, the Gold Order and the Iron Order. Both orders had been bitter enemies since they were founded; it was a rivalry that could easily be manipulated until both tore each other apart. In comparison the High Sect of Lun, Jillet de Lorue, was as calm as peaceful as her goddess.

The High Sect of Tempest, and also the head of the Steel Order, Tristen Tonson, was a grim and foreboding man. He seemed like a ray of sunshine compared to the High Sect of Isra and head of the Stone Order, Daphne Delorouge. Seth had learned a little about each of them, mostly in his time at court in gossip. He wanted more however, but he was finding it difficult now getting information.

His eyes went to Sherah then. The head of the spies of not only this court, but half the spies over the kingdoms she held a tight hold on the flow of information. Seth had once been part of that flow, but now he could not rely on old contacts, it was best no one knew he was still alive. Sherah was a spy master and ruthless, but Seth had known her to have a kind heart for those she held dear and those that served her. It endeared her to her servants but not to the nobles, who she tended to treat as the idiots they were.

So many players all gathered together, and Seth was here to see heads roll.

“A petty dance of weak fools wouldn’t you say,” a voice said behind him. Seth didn’t turn to face Varas Lonelove, he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Petty yes, but not all are fools,” Seth answered mildly. “I am surprised you are here milord, who is watching the fort while the king is away?”

“As if Ilya would be fool enough to leave Dridia while I stayed,” Varas said with distain.

“So you are here simply because the new king of Dridia is not comfortable on his throne?” Seth said, fishing.

“I am here to speak to you,” Varas answered and this time Seth turned to face him. “I know who you are.”

“And who am I?” Seth asked casually. He learned long ago to never give anything away.

“The left hand of Kal Ba’el,” Varas answered.

“Is that my official title?” Seth asked. “Most have been calling me Lord Hollow, that or pissing themselves in fear but I don’t know how to put that into words.”

“Charming as always,” Varas said. “I also remember you as the man you once were, though I suppose you do not deem the word ‘man’ anymore.”

“I suppose not,” Seth answered. “So what does the second most powerful mage in Dridia want with me?”

He saw Varas’ red eyes narrow and jaw tighten, but the fact that he restrained himself told Seth that he feared him. It was a strange revelation to realize a man of such power feared him.

“Let us go discuss this somewhere else,” Varas said, turning on his heel. Seth followed the mage lord out of the hall and into the garden. When they were far enough into the foliage Varas stopped in an alcove and waved his hand. Seth was intersted he could now see Varas’ power, the blaze of magic and sigils spreading around them. He knew ordinary people could not see the pure power of the High Magic, but he could not read the sigils or their intent.

“This should keep others away and prevent eavesdropping,” Varas said turning to him. “Now to business. Being Kal Ba’el left hand I suppose you are already up to date on Ilya’s work.”

“Kal Ba’el has not deemed to tell me his plans,” Seth answered. “I’m more like his left foot, Loe would be his hand.”

“Interesting,” Varas said. “And who else would hold honor with Kal Ba’el?”

“Raigo,” Seth answered. “The Orc General. If you are looking to bribe him or get on his good side I suggest dead babies, they’re his favorite snack.”

“Jokes aside…” Varas said sneering and Seth cut him off.

“Wasn’t joking,” Seth said dully. He watched as several emotions played across Varas face in quick succession, disgust, fear, loathing, before he replaced the mask. Seth still couldn’t get over seeing emotions on another person’s face and yet not feel his own; it made him notice other’s expressions easier.

“The Orcs aside,” Varas said. “What of his human servants?”

“Is that why you want to talk?” Seth asked. “You are probably better informed about the human factor than I am. There is Han of course, who is sent to be the worm to rot the apple. I am to aid him; the Lady Han so far has proved more useful however. She’s been working the merchants.”

“I never thought of the merchants,” Varas said impressed. “I must speak with this Lady Han then.”

“So you are sent to aid us?” Seth asked. “You too work for Kal Ba’el.”

“I work for my people,” Varas said with distain. “There is just an alliance between Ilya and Kal Ba’el. We seek immortality, making immortal bodies so that mages can live on forever. Kal Ba’el has been aiding us in these endeavors. He now has offered us aid in getting the High Throne so that we will not need to worry about these petty squabbles between lords and kings.”

“What of Loe?” Seth asked. “He too wishes to hold the throne.”

“I am well aware of that,” Varas said. “So is Kal Ba’el. He has assured us that he will make sure all have the power they need.”

Seth stared at Varas flatly, his mind working through Varas’ smug expression. He didn’t care about Loe, in fact he planned on making sure Loe would fall and a mage would take the throne. Either Anton or himself, it probably didn’t matter which. He was working with Kal Ba’el, but Varas had his own power play going on here.

“If you are searching for immortality, then that means Loe is not immortal,” Seth said. “Kal Ba’el gave him immortality, me too, but if he has you searching for it then there must be a flaw in that immunity. What is the flaw?”

“I have no idea,” Varas said, Seth unable to tell if he were lying. “I have not been working on the immortality project nor have I spoken to Kal Ba’el about it. My guess would be however that time is the ultimate factor. Healing a body or wound can be done with the right power, though it can cause corruption, but keeping this up over time can’t be done unless the wielder had an unlimited supply of power.”

So Seth only had to wait? That seemed a simplistic approach, and one that he wasn’t sure he would see the results to.

“If you want Feng Loe dead you’ll have to find a way past his immortality,” Seth said. “Who better to kill him than me?”

“I agree,” Varas said. “I will look into possibilities and let you know.”

“I tried snake sand already,” Seth said and Varas raised an eyebrow.

“Now coming back from that is more than I expected,” Varas said. “This will need some thought. Meanwhile, we have the Court of Miracles on our hands.”

“Implying you are going to help?” Seth asked.

“With the nobles yes,” Varas said. “But I do not think I can win the loyalty of them all. The problem being most nobles are already in powerful positions. Some don’t want to risk their own position, while others want the position of another. It comes down to who do you kill and who do you keep.”

“Who do you recommend?” Seth asked. “As the larger players?”

“Sherah first,” Varas said. “She is by far the greatest threat. Suggestions on method?”

“Tea,” Seth answered. “In the Queen’s Solar.”

“That means taking out the High Queen and the Queen Mother,” Varas said. “Those are a lot of targets in one place; you’d need either multiple assassins or a detonation.”

“It is the only place Sherah is away from guards and spies alike,” Seth answered.

“Granted,” Varas answered. “What about Jeanne?”

“She holds the heir to the throne,” Seth answered. “A prime target.”

“No she does not,” Varas said with a grin. “She is having a daughter.”

Seth thought through the implications, Loe desired a young girl to be his Regarian bride. Sure the child would be only a babe, but Seth was sure Loe would rather a girl unripe rather than already ripened.

“You suggest we let her live?” Seth said.

“She has half the court wrapped around her finger,” Varas answered. “The other half see her as Elrik’s puppet master. In reality she is not Jeanne Lonna, she is a double made to take Jeanne’s place when Elrik mutilated her.”

Seth shrugged, he had already known this, and Varas frowned.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I am incapable of surprise,” Seth answered. “Even if I were I would not be seeing as I already knew all this. So you want to use Lucia.”

“Easily done since I know her secret and she knows that I know and can prove it,” Varas said. “All I’d have to do is strip her of the beauty sigils she wears; it is those that have made her most look like the real Jeanne.”

“She wouldn’t care about herself,” Seth said. “Only about the danger this would pose to Jeanne. All you really have to do is convince her that if she doesn’t go along with us then we would kill Jeanne.”

“I trust then you can handle that,” Varas said.

“And what of Elrik?” Seth asked. “I suppose you want him dead as well and Jeanne, or Lucia really, to marry Anton.”

“No,” Varas said shaking his head. “For now Elrik stays where he is. He is easily manipulated and for now that is what we want. Anton would be Ilya’s pawn not our own.”

“And the war?” Seth asked. “Elrik will be moving on Loe now that he is crowned. We don’t want that.”

“Send word to Loe to move on Alda instead,” Varas said. “We will convince Elrik not to oppose him, easily done since there is little love for Alda from him.”

“Elrik will want blood when I kill his mother, aunt, and sister,” Seth said. “He may not love them but he will want blood for the insult.”

“Use the double for that,” Varas said. “She will be the sole survivor, she can put the blame on another party.”

“Who?” Seth asked and Varas grinned.

“Lucas Drakon,” Varas said. “Sect Elisha Drakon, Armand Roque.”

“Turn him on his own allies,” Seth said nodding. “He’ll never believe Lucas killed his own sister, and Roque is a degenerate all the way in Nyrgard. Elisha has the best possibilities. The Sect gives a lot of power to Regis; if we cut away at the loyalties there we weaken Regis greatly.”

“I’ll leave the details to you then,” Varas said. “Isolate Elrik from his allies.”

“And Lucia can manipulate him for us,” Seth said nodding. He knew though that Loe would want Elrik dead, and probably Jeanne as well, but he could cross that bridge later.

“Exactly,” Varas said smugly. Seth eyed him and realized why Varas was so smug. Most of this plan lay on Seth; Varas hardly had to do any work and kept his hands clean. Of course Seth didn’t care either way.

“I have to go and send a message then to Loe,” Seth said turning away.

“Very well,” Varas said. “And Gray, you know the price of crossing me.”

“I do,” Seth said, knowing not to point out Varas may not even have the power to harm Seth. Varas let his wards down and Seth walked away back to the palace. He found Han’s rooms, empty of other people, and went to the room where Han had set up the Reliquary. The same object that Loe had used to summon Kal Ba’el to Seth, he had sent it with them as a means to communicate.

He knelt before the Reliquary and waited, wondering what would happen.

He immediately heard a growl, the wet gurgle of a stomach grumbling for food. He knew it was not his own, he ate but he never felt hungry. Sensations returned to him, the air pressure building, a rotten smell in the air, and his old scars from torture began to burn. He gasped and whimpered, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from crying out and he tasted blood.

:What do you want Hollow?: the voice was much like before, a deep base that rattled his bones painfully. Seth felt it slip into his mind, and he gave it the conversation with Varas. He groaned as it slid through his mind, it felt horrifying and violating. At last the touch withdrew, and he heard the voice again. :You anticipate my plans well. The woman is one of Arke’s chosen, turn her to me:

Seth felt it withdraw, his body numbing once more. His feelings of violation slipped away, but he felt no relief or frustration in the lack of relief. He simply slumped in the chair and mused once more. He felt nothing at the knowledge Kal Ba’el wanted Lucia, but he was curious. Who was Arke? Loe had given him a list of people that Kal Ba’el wanted either dead or brought to him, he had thought Loe had meant Jeanne. Now it was obvious he wanted Lucia, but why? It was more than her political position; what could Kal Ba’el really care if she was his follower. It had something to do with this Arke, maybe she opposed him.

Seth stood deciding he would keep his eyes open. While there were many players here all with their own agendas, he had his own: kill Feng Loe. He was still in a daze as he went back to the kitchens to help with the coronation feast. He was given a tray of tiny delicacies and he walked out into the crowd of nobles in the feasting hall.

The hours shed away like a peel from an unripe apple, slowly and reluctantly. Seth saw Lucia only from afar, having no opening to talk to her. He granted Varas a brief nod to affirm their deal, but otherwise he was just another silent servant among the nobles. He listened and watched, waiting for something interesting to happen, and at last it did.

A crash drew every eye, a shout of rage ringing out over the crowd. Dead silence fell as people moved away from the scene, Seth quickly standing on a chair to see over the crowd. In the middle of on lookers Elrik stood over a servant, several goblets of wine scattered around them with wine pooling on the fine marble floor. Seth noted a wine stain on Elrik’s sleeve, thus the cause of the servant being struck no doubt. But Elrik looked far from satisfied from that single blow.

He reached out and grabbed a cane from a nearby noble. Under the sound of a solid wood cane hitting flesh was dead silence as all in the room watched the High King beat a servant. Seth’s eyes went to Lucia, to see if she would do anything, but she just sat on her throne with her hand over her belly. Her mask did not slip from the calm mien she wore, but Seth could just see her eye twitch slightly each time the cane connected with flesh. She had been in his bed, felt his beatings and endured his rages. Though she probably felt sympathy for the poor servant, her own fear would not make her rise to face that rage.

At last Elrik dropped the cane with a clatter, heaving for breath as the servant struggled for his own through broken bones.

“So this is the kind of king you are,” Kolun said mildly, breaking the silence and Elrik’s eyes turned on him. “You lack your father’s finesse boy.”

“Watch it Wildlough,” Elrik growled as he straitened his crown. “You speak to the High King.”

“I speak as one king to another,” Kolun answered, shifting on his feet. Seth could see he wasn’t doing it because he was nervous; he shifted to prepare to fight. He had the grace and fluidity of his emblem, an otter. “There has been and forever will be only one true High King, a King that stood above them all, Absalom of the Deep Woods.”

Mutters rose from the crowd like a summer shower, dying quickly as Elrik laughed.

“He is long dead,” Elrik said. “And so is his line.”

“Ah but that is not true on either count,” Kolun said. “His line lives in two witches of the moors, those who healed Warren’s wall.”

“Where did you hear that?” Elrik hissed. “Those two are imposters and pretenders.”

“If so then why does Alora shelter them in her court?” Kolun said. “She has married them to two lords of Alda, and one already bears children to be heirs.”

“You are well informed indeed majesty,” Sherah said smoothly before Elrik could begin a tirade.

“Oh I hold not a spark to your fire Lady Sherah,” Kolun said with an elegant bow. “I merely visited the Court of Fates to hear what I could.”

“So I have heard,” Sherah said. “Tell me, where did Lonna hear about what goes on in the Court of Dreams?”

“Looking to hire a spy?” Kolun said with a raucous grin. “I’m afraid I don’t know where Lonna heard about the happenings of the Aldan, but they do share borders after all.”

“Tell me about that first thing you said before,” Sherah said with a slight frown. “You said neither were true, that Absalom is not long dead.”

Kolun’s grin widened and Seth realized he was enjoying himself. That was what made people, or at least the nobles, fear Kolun: he was unpredictable and his loyalties shifted like water. Seth once again looked for reactions, most of the Regarians looked angry at this game, others contemplative or afraid. Lucia looked unchanged, if maybe a little more relaxed now that the beating had stopped.

“Absalom left he didn’t die,” Kolun said with a shrug. “The Aldan have legends and hope he would one day return.”

“Legends?” Sherah said dryly. “Majesty you indeed do like to stir the pot, even if you only do it with a straw rather than a spoon.”

Kolun only shrugged, aloof again and either unwilling or unable to give support to his claim.

“Enough of this tripe,” Elrik growled. “Answer for your insult Kolun.”

“Insult?” Kolun said playfully. “To what do you refer Alvar? The implication you are lesser to your father? Or the fact that you are no more of a king than I?”

“Bastard!” Elrik shouted, his hand going to his sword. With a wicked grin Kolun reached for his own, so Kolun had been looking for a fight.

“Enough both of you!” Ilya shouted before steel could be drawn. He stepped up between the two kings sparks dancing on the tips of his fingers. The only man with not only the authority to step between the two, but the power to stop them as well Ilya frowned at both kings. “We are Kings of the Nine, not petty children squabbling in the streets. Kolun, apologize to the High King, you took oaths to loyalty to him.”

“I took oaths to Hyria and her people,” Kolun said straitening and pulling his hand from his blade. “But I concede to Alvar, I was looking to see the boy’s mettle.”

“And who are you to judge me?” Elrik shouted angrily.

“Another king of the Nine,” Ilya answered. “We have the authority to at least judge you majesty. And Wildlough? Did the new king pass your test?”

“He has a short temper,” Kolun answered. “And not worth my time.”

Elrik glared, but Seth knew he would not attack with Ilya standing between them.

“Go cool your head Kolun,” Ilya ordered. “I’ll send a few girls to you tonight.”

“I don’t sport with slaves Myrddin,” Kolun growled. “I’ll seek company with a priestess of Dione, it is more enjoyable when the woman is willing.”

Ilya’s face betrayed nothing as the Hyrian king turned away to disappear into the crowd.

“I apologize for Wildlough majesty,” Ilya said as he let his magic go and bowed to Elrik. “He enjoys chaos too much.”

“Next time I’ll cut his head off,” Elrik growled, everyone knowing it was an empty threat. “King or no.”

“Yes majesty,” Ilya said bowing again.

“There is actually something I’d like to discuss with you Ilya,” Elrik said. “About Anton.”

Ilya froze and the air went out of the room again. From his perch Seth could see Anton at his table with his mother. Both obviously heard Elrik, Ileana sitting perfectly still as Anton gripped his chair arm with white knuckles.

“Perhaps we should have this discussion in private majesty,” Ilya said smoothly.

“No, I’d like the court to see my decision on this matter,” Elrik said.

“I will remind you majesty that you speak of my nephew,” Ilya said coolly. “Whatever you are about to announce had better be to my liking.”

“I do not answer to you,” Elrik said his hand resting on his sword again.

“And do you really think simple steel will suffice?” Ilya said lowly, the air crackling now with the raw power of a mage. For once Elrik backed off, his hand falling from the hilt of his sword.

“Anton!” Elrik shouted and the crowd parted. Anton stood puzzled and walked through the crowd to stand at his uncle’s side. He looked wary of Elrik, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the High King.

“We are brothers Elrik,” Anton said uneasy. “You wouldn’t harm me.”

“The only tie we bear is a father who now lies dead,” Elrik said coldly and Anton winced. “But my wife has begged for mercy. Considering you are unable to sire children…”

Anton shouted wordlessly, the on looking nobles gasping. That explained why Elrik wanted to make this public, so everyone would know the truth; Anton’s reaction only confirmed it.

“How did you know that?” Ilya asked his eyes going to Lucia on the throne.

“Irrelevant,” Elrik said calmly. “Since Anton is sterile he poses no threat to the throne, and I want the whole court to know it. You mages have tried to gain the throne, but it remains in Regarian hands.”

“For now,” Ilya said his eyes narrow. “But you have no heirs.”

Seth saw Varas shift of his feet, a frown crossing his brow. He had told Ilya, but how much had he told the Dridian king?

“Jeanne holds my heir,” Elrik growled.

“Jeanne holds a daughter,” Ilya answered and again there was a chorus of surprise from the nobles. It was starting to all feel like a show, and Seth was no longer sure who was directing it. Elrik looked livid and he looked up at Lucia as if this were all her fault. Others looked up at her as well, but she sat calm as always. She stood slowly, her hand resting on her swollen belly.

“So I bear a daughter to the Alvar house,” Lucia said calmly. “And I will bear another child and another as my king sees fit. He is rather prolific in bed I must say, I do not think it will be long before I have a son. That is more than can be said about Anton wouldn’t you say?”

Elrik grinned as he looked back at Ilya with a sneer. Seth watched as well because now would be the time for Ilya to reveal that Lucia was not Jeanne if he knew. Of course that would royally screw over his and Varas plans. From the look on Ilya’s face Seth gathered he did not hold this trump card, he had the face of a man that was just out bid.

“The kingdoms are at war and an heir would put us at ease,” Ilya said. “We await anxiously for our new High King to name his heir.”

“In my own damn time,” Elrik growled. Ilya bowed and Elrik walked up to his throne. The tension eased, music began again alone with excited murmur of conversation. The mages not surprisingly slipped away after that, Ileana looking thunderous. Seth watched as Elrik sat next to Lucia grinning at her and kissing her hand. Seth wondered how much control she had over him, and why the emptiness in him suddenly felt just a little cold.

She looked up then and their eyes met. Once again they had a moment of recognition, of more than just two people who once knew each other, before Lucia looked away back to Elrik. She hadn’t even blinked.

The party continued through the evening and into the night, Seth never given the opening he needed to speak with Lucia. He didn’t want it; he had a plan to see her. So he waited as the night grew long and at last the court began to retire. Lucia was one of the first to leave, but Seth lingered until most of the court was gone to their beds leaving nothing but drunken fools behind. Seth left and traveled a familiar path through the palace and gardens to the women’s wing.

His new skills made it childishly easy to sneak through the guards to the garden under Jeanne’s rooms, he could move as silently as a shadow now. Once again he climbed the wall to the window and easily into the room beyond. This time he remembered to close the window behind him. He walked the room, moving around furniture silently, and got to the bedroom door. No maid slept outside it this time, all but one of Jeanne’s maids had died protecting her.

Inside the bedroom was dim but for a single candle burning on the nightstand. Lucia sat in bed, the covers tucked up around her swollen belly. Her mask had not slipped, she looked calm and in control.

“I knew you would come,” she said watching him. “You are here to kill Jeanne.”

“If you really believed that you wouldn’t have let me get this far,” Seth answered dully.

“Then you are here to kill me,” Lucia said. “Without me Elrik falls and so does Jeanne.”

“Without you the Court of Miracles falls but not as neatly as planned,” Seth answered. “There are many players in this game; I am just the muscle behind them.”

“Well then get on with it,” Lucia said with a slight frown.

“I’m not here to kill you Lucia,” Seth said. “You want to protect your lady, nothing more. I’m here to offer her protection.”

“Protection?” Lucia said interested.

“Varas is in league with Kal Ba’el,” Seth said. “He is playing his own game alongside Loe, working along the same lines but seeking his own advancement over him. Loe wants the High Throne, and nine brides of each of the Nine Kingdoms.”

“So Jeanne will be his bride?” Lucia asked.

“No, Jeanne is too old,” Seth answered. “He wants girls of a younger nature.”

He saw Lucia work through that, her hand going to her swollen belly.

“Everyone seems to think a daughter useless,” Lucia said.

“She will be Loe’s wife when she grows a bit more,” Seth answered. Her mask slipped a little to show her disgust and fear at the idea of handing over her child to Loe.

“And Jeanne will be safe then?” Lucia asked, her voice hitched as she spoke through her pain. “Loe will not harm her?”

“I make no promises,” Seth answered. “But for now if you seek security for Jeanne this is the best course. Varas knows you are a fake, he will reveal your secret if you do not cooperate. He plans on killing Sherah, as well as the queen and princess. You would survive, if you agree to help manipulate Elrik.”

She was staring at him now, her eyes sad. She pushed aside the covers and slid from the high bed, her night dress billowing over her great belly. She walked up to him, looking him right in the eye. He felt nothing in her gaze so just stood waiting.

“What has he done to you?” she asked softly and reached up to cup his face in her hand. Seth gasped as he felt her skin touch his own, warm and soft. The sensation reverberated through him, like a warm drink through a cold body it spread through every limb. He felt a tide of emotion and sensation return to him in an overpowering wave of euphoria. He pulled back in shock, stumbling back a few steps gasping for air.

As soon as the contact was gone the crushing numbness spread through him once more, and he found he could only vaguely recall the sensations. It was disquieting, yet even that deadened in his chest.

“What was that?” he asked, even his voice sounded flat again.

“I don’t know,” Lucia answered. “Wait here.”

“No,” Seth said, deciding whatever she had done was best not repeated. “I’ll have my answer now Lucia.”

“Seth I’ve been learning about Elder Magic,” Lucia said. “I think that is why my touch affected you. Whatever Loe did to you I can reverse it, make you whole again. I just need to ask the one who is teaching me…”

“No Lucia,” Seth said. “After all I have seen and done, to feel again would drive me mad. I’d rather stay dead inside.”

She stared at him, her hazel eyes melting with emotions he no longer felt and barely understood anymore.

“Very well,” Lucia said sadly. “For now I will aid you in controlling Elrik and keeping Jeanne out of the way.”

“And Sherah,” Seth said. “You will aid in her end.”

Lucia flinched at that and then nodded, her hand going to her belly.

“As for the child we will leave that for Loe,” Seth answered. “Convince Elrik not to engage Lir, Loe will be turning to Alda. He will like that.”

Lucia nodded as Seth started to turn away, but stopped. His mind still held echoes of lingering sensation from her, and his eyes lingered on her pale face a moment. His thoughts however were calculating; if she could make him feel again could she make Loe mortal?

“What you did before, could you repeat it?” Seth asked. “You made me feel again, do you know what you did to do so?”

“No, all I did was touch you,” Lucia answered shaking her head. “I know only a little about the Elder Magic, as I said I am still learning. If you’d like I could touch you again to see what happens.”

Seth considered her offer, he felt no fear or temptation at it, but he was critical and wary. If she undid whatever had been done to him he had no chance of killing Loe. He thought of Varas and his possible aid, but he knew he could not rely on the mage. Varas had his own agenda and while those plans did include Loe’s death, Seth wasn’t willing to place bets on Varas being any use in that endeavor.

The Elder Magic, whatever it was, might be his only chance.

“Alright,” Seth said.

“Are you sure?” Lucia asked. “It seemed to cause you pain before.”

“It caused both pain and pleasure,” Seth answered. “Right now I feel nothing.”

She looked sad at that and then reached out. Again her hand slipped almost perfectly along his jaw, her fingers warm against his neck. He felt her breath come heavy as he closed his eyes overcome. He knew the returned feelings were ordinary, the simple beat of his heart, the feeling of air moving in and out of his lungs, the smell of her perfume just under his nose, yet it had been so long he was hyper aware of them all.

There was pain as well, dark memories surfacing threatening his sanity, so instead he opened his eyes. He looked down at Lucia, her golden eyes as warm as candle light. Somehow he knew she fit with him, the sad tragedy of both their lives meaningless in the face of this feeling. He leaned down and kissed her, warm lips against his own, and he deepened it to taste her. She gasped and he felt her hesitation, but that melted quickly as she pulled him closer to her embrace.

Somehow it didn’t matter that the swell of her belly sat between them, another man’s child inside her. He took her to the bed and for once in his life had something that was more than either pain or pleasure.

Afterwards lying next to her, sweat drying on skin, his memories began to rise again. Tears started to rise up, burning his eyes since he had not wept in a long time. Before he could pull away Lucia pulled him close, his forehead resting in the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. The damn burst and he was weeping like a child in her arms. She stroked his hair, murmuring soothing wordless sounds in his ear. He felt her lips brush the top of his head and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer. He was shuddering now with sobs, his tears running down her chest.  At last the storm passed and he rested against her spent in joy and sorrow. Seth sat up, pulling away from her to feel his heart die again and sanity return.

“You’re leaving,” Lucia said softly and he looked down at her. She was beautiful, her raven hair spread out around her in dark waves like the night sky.

“I can’t stay,” he answered.

“Because of this,” she said softly, her hand going to her belly.

“No, because if I lay with you any longer I’ll lose my mind,” Seth answered.

“Seth whatever was done to you…”

“You don’t understand,” Seth said shaking his head. “The things I’ve done, the things I’ve seen, this deadness in me is the only thing keeping me from killing myself. Of course I can’t even do that. I don’t know why you lift me up, but I’ll only drag you down Lucia.”

“Glen told me about spirits,” Lucia said. “How we die and are reborn again. I think that we knew each other in a past life, and that is why we are drawn to each other. Maybe our next lives we will find one another again and be happy.”

“We won’t,” Seth said. “The Crippled One scooped me out like a fig; if I ever die I doubt my spirit will be reborn.”

“There must be something there Seth,” Lucia said. “I’m still drawn to you, you still live and when we touch you are human again.”

“Like I said I’m probably drawing you down,” Seth said as he stood to dress. “Did you learn anything that may help me kill Loe?”

“I don’t know,” Lucia said. “I’ll have to ask Glen.”

Seth wanted to know who this Glen was. He suspected he was one of the people on that list Loe had given him. He also knew Lucia was on that list, but for now she was more useful alive. He made his own decisions and while away from Loe he could disobey if he chose. He was no longer sure he could kill Lucia anyways.

He paused after he dressed and looked down at Lucia in the bed. She had been watching him, her thoughts buried deep under her mask once more.

“Well it looks like I finally got the reward you promised,” Seth said and a smile tugged at her lips.

“You know I used to think it an animal’s pursuit and having nothing but Elrik taught me it could be brutal as well,” Lucia said her eyes sad. “You showed me that it does indeed deserve the title ‘lovemaking’ for that was certainly the act of love in itself.”

He felt nothing at her words, but his mind reeled because he knew he should. He debated a moment on whether or not he should take her hand and let the doors open again to experience the feelings she invoked. He decided it would be more prudent to leave.

“I’ll be in touch to keep you abreast of Varas’ plans,” Seth said turning away.

“Seth,” Lucia said and he stopped, but did not face her. “I know you cannot face what is inside you, but I swear I’ll find a way to restore you, fully without risk to your sanity.”

“Bold as brass now I see,” Seth said mildly. “Very well, it is a challenge I am sure you’ll relish. But know this; I will not accept any cure until Loe is dead.”

“Very well,” Lucia said firmly.

Seth nodded and left, somehow he felt lighter on his feet than he had before. Walking out the bedroom door Seth came face-to-face with the real Jeanne. She glared at him, a naked saber in one hand. Frowning she motioned him away from the door wordlessly. Seth obeyed, letting her usher him from the sitting room to the servant quarters where several lamps burned.

Jeanne was a remnant of herself; Seth had seen her when she had first arrived at court. She had been a well-fed, arrogant, powerful noble lady then, a woman assured in both body and position. Now she was thin, sinew and bone prominent under pale skin. She had the air of a wounded pride and a bleeding heart; she was an injured animal seeking to lash out.

“You again,” she hissed, her saber down but held ready.

“Hollow Jack at your service,” Seth said with a bow and Jeanne sneered.

“What do you want?” Jeanne asked. “You know Lucia is just a double so why go to her?”

“Because she isn’t a double,” Seth answered, “not anymore; she’s an imposter now.”

Jeanne seethed and raised her blade to his throat, but Seth didn’t even flinch.

“She is my servant and I will not let you harm her,” Jeanne said angrily.

“I’ve no intention to,” Seth answered mildly. “What our plans are do not concern you. You are irrelevant.”

Jeanne growled and her blade slipped forward cutting his neck a little. Seth leaned in and let the blade go further through his neck, feeling nothing as he stepped closer. Jeanne looked shocked as he let the blade pass through his throat, trying to draw back but Seth caught her arm. He drew a dagger and had it at her throat in a moment.

“You are worthless,” Seth said, his voice gurgling past the blood in his throat. “If you were to die her burden would be so much lighter, she could be free of this prison you forced her into with honor and loyalty. Why should I not kill you now?”

Jeanne stared up at him in horror trembling. Seth was tempted to do it as well, to free Lucia from the grips of honor that bound her, when a sound drew his attention. A door closed behind a figure as they stepped into the room. Dressed in robes of the followers of Iris, the young man looked almost like a woman, but for the slight masculine touch to his features. He had removed his veil, and there was a silence about him that smelled of peace and serenity.

He stared Seth down, blue eyes boring into him with an intensity that belayed his peaceful air. He did not speak but waved his hands in signs.

“You cannot speak,” Seth said with a grin, blood was in his mouth and coated his teeth.

“He is harmless,” Jeanne gasped. “Your quarrel is with me.”

“You never answered my question,” Seth said. “Why should I not kill you?”

“Lucia would hate you forever,” Jeanne answered. Seth knew she was right, but he couldn’t care what Lucia would think. In fact he didn’t care if she hated him forever, so long as she was safe.

Movement drew his eye and he turned to face the boy again. He now stood by the fireplace, and a shape was forming out of the flames. It was long and serpent like, with six small legs and a flat head. Seth realized it resembled a salamander in shape, though the resemblance was loose. The fire creature crouched in the hearth next to the Sect, waiting for his command.

“Now he has a better reason,” Seth said releasing Jeanne, and she pulled the saber from his throat. “I might be immortal but I doubt even I can survive being burned to a crisp.”

Jeanne glared at him as she retreated behind Glen, but the Sect walked forward leaving the fireside. Seth watched him as his hand reached out and plucked something from thin air. Seth felt the air changing around him, power surging as the Sect reached down towards his belly. When his hand touched him it was much like when Lucia had, sensations began to return as well as feelings. This time Seth felt the power growing as the Sect started to move his hands as if he were tying a knot.

Seth slapped his hands away and the power dissipated, leaving him numb again. Glen looked up at him shocked and began waving his hands frantically.

“I don’t care,” Seth answered. “I don’t want to return to normal, not yet.”

Glen looked sad and fraught so Seth turned his back on him.

“Wait,” Jeanne said as Seth moved towards the door. “What do you plan to do with Lucia?”

“Ask her if she will tell you,” Seth answered. “You’ll get nothing from me.”

He left Jeanne and Glen to their own devices, going out into the servant hall. He took a long way out of the women’s wing, going down to the gardens and cutting around in the bushes. He returned at last to Han’s rooms, having a bit of trouble with the guards there who let him pass reluctantly. He found the lord and lady sitting by the fire looking worn.

“Lord Hollow,” Han said standing. “I didn’t hear you enter.”

“Wouldn’t be good at my job if you had,” Seth answered. “I’ve some new developments to share.”

Seth told him about Varas, Lucia, and the plans formed between them all now.

“This Lord Lonelove cannot be trusted,” Han said. “Neither can this Lucia.”

“Varas can be trusted to do what is in the best interest for the mages and nothing more,” Seth answered. “And as long as Jeanne is alive Lucia is manageable.”

“So we have our puppeteers now we just need to get rid of the opposition,” Han said nodding. “The Lady Sherah. Did Lonelove give you any hint to his plans on that matter?”

“Tea time,” Seth answered. “I should be able to get my old serving job back, so long as Sherah doesn’t catch wind of it. She knows who I am and of my failure. If she knew I was back she would know I’ve been turned.”

“And what of Nicodemus Rue?” Han asked. “He is the pawn Elrik plans on using to get the Lirian throne, without him Elrik has no claim.”

“Nicodemus is a useless book worm,” Seth answered. “If we kill Elrik he will never contest for any of the thrones. For now I trust Lucia to keep Elrik in line until Loe takes Alda. When that happens it would be a simple matter of killing Elrik.”

“I have learned long ago not to underestimate the Rue family,” Han said.

“Really?” Seth asked. “Why?”

“I knew Nicodemus’ father,” Han answered. “He should have been king not Son, but he was not eldest. He had been a man of cunning; Sherah had found her perfect match in that man. I find it hard to believe that a child of two of the most ruthless and conniving minds is little more than a shy bookish man.”

“I find it hard to believe he is faking it,” Seth answered. But his mind was going over the possibilities. When he had left Nicodemus had been getting closer and closer to Jeanne. It would be a good power move, but Jeanne was sterile now making her useless in the long run. If Nicodemus was planning some long run scheme, his goals and plans were unknown to Seth.

“I think that he should die along with Sherah,” Han answered. “Just to be sure the last of the Rues are gone.”

Seth looked at Han then and saw a light in his eyes, a light of fervor.

“You had Nicodemus’ father killed,” Seth said with a grin and Han flinched away. “Everyone thought it was Son cutting his ties from the Regarian influence, or Sherah who thinks it was Loe. But you killed him didn’t you? Were you aiming for the Lirian throne or did you just hate him? Or maybe you were already in Loe’s pocket.”

Seth saw Han’s face transform with rage at that, Seth knowing very well what tender weeping wound he had just hit with those last words.

“Lord Hollow,” Sein said softly and both men turned to her. “Please do not poke at old wounds. It does not matter now what was done.”

“Very well,” Seth said shrugging but Han looked far from consoled.

“I do not agree with my husband however that Nicodemus Rue should die,” Sein said.

“Oh? And why not?” Seth said interested.

“Because of the plan you described,” Sein answered. “If Nicodemus dies Elrik won’t just give up his claim on the Lirian throne or on this war, his father has been killed of course he is going to continue to fight. Elrik can be convinced to let Alda fall, but not if his position of claim becomes weaker with the death of his cousin. Nicodemus must live to keep Elrik from losing his patience and attacking Lir.”

Seth nodded and turned to Lord Han.

“Well? Do you agree?” Seth asked. Han looked like he was swallowing something sour, but he nodded.

“My wife has a point,” Han said reluctantly.

“No wiser word spoken,” Seth answered. “Nicodemus lives, for now. When Alma falls, so does the rest of the Nine.”

#fantasy #series #please read #writing #fairies #dragons

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When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

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When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

John Towner

I had just taken my first Metro ride in Paris. Although I relied heavily on my iPhone Metro app, I found that the system wasn’t that difficult to navigate and I could easily pinpoint the fastest route to my destination: the Eiffel Tower. It was my first day in Paris and I figured that beloved monument should be at the top of my list. I emerged onto the cold street, the sky gray and threatening above me. It was December, after all, and a balmy 45 degrees. I huddled myself as best I could into my thin jacket and scarf, trying to shield my face from the harsh wind. I looked around as I made my way along the river, and a sinking feeling began pressing itself into my gut.

This is Paris? I thought to myself. It was my first trip to France, and while I was aware of the fact that it would never look as it did in the movies, I was still conjuring images that resembled Sydney Pollack’s 1995 version of Sabrina. I saw myself as Julia Ormond (minus the incredible haircut), strolling along the Seine with my camera and my journal and attempting to “find myself” in Paris. I’ll be honest – I also saw myself kissing a 90s Harrison Ford on the Pont Neuf but who hasn’t had that dream?

I was ending a three-month long journey in Europe that began in Iceland, led to two months in Ireland, and then three weeks in Italy. Paris was my last stop before heading home from a trip that was supposed to last a year. I had arrived on a work visa in Ireland, intending to stay for my allowed six months, and one disappointment after another (along with a dwindling bank account) led to me deciding it was time to leave.

I suppose I put a lot of pressure on this great city. “Paris is always a good idea,” or so the movies told me. I kept walking, kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that what I saw next would stir something inside of me that I had been missing. The heavy scent of failure had been trailing me for months and it was clutching me even now. There we no lovely trees or flowers in my line of sight – the landscape was barren and that was the way I felt. Every way I looked seemed a reflection of my own state of mind.

You’re in Paris. I reminded myself of this fact over and over as if this alone was supposed to cause elation, joy, feeling.

You’re in Paris. You’ve been dreaming of Paris since you were fourteen. You’re here.

There was no dramatic music or soft lighting that occurred when the Eiffel Tower finally came into view. The buildings and lifeless trees gave way to a glimpse of its structure. I kept moving, not stopping until I was directly across the street. Finally, I stared, waiting. Waiting to feel moved. Waiting to feel anything. After a few minutes, my eyes burned and tears threatened to fall. Not from joy or wonder, but from sorrow.

I had been doing well when I began my journey. I had energy. I was managing to find laughter and enjoyment in my days and I was happy moving from one activity to another. But it didn’t take long for my depression to remind me, like an old friend, that it was still there. Soon I was spending more time inside my hostel, laying on a thin mattress with my headphones on instead of tackling the next tourist spot on my list. A quick meal and Netflix became more appealing than facing the anxiety that would leave me folding in on myself in the middle of a crowded restaurant or pub.

Depression and anxiety have been a part of my life since I was twelve years old. More than half my life has been spent with their hands on my shoulder, coloring every move I make. During the worst years of my depression, there were many days I could not find the strength to leave my bed. I would eat nothing or everything in sight. I would suffer panic attacks that left me crouched on the bathroom floor, near vomiting, unable to breathe. Through the years I found different ways of dealing with my mental illness. And yet no amount of therapy, medication, herbal supplements, lifestyle changes, and continued healing would take it away entirely.

But perhaps a new country might. Or so I had led myself to believe. I drank in the Instagram feeds that showed me colorful, perfectly posed views of this world and read the stories of people whose lives had been changed by setting foot on a new continent. I clung to the Pinterest quotes on wanderlust like they were living water sent to quench my unending thirst for being made new. I wanted a new country to fix my broken self. I wanted to step off the plane and transform into the woman of travel blogging fantasies. The woman I was assured I could be – all I had to do was go. But this was all a facade. A virtual reality.

The truth is that when I stepped off of that first plane in Iceland, I was exactly the same person. I was a still a woman with a broken past, healing and going after what she wanted in life but hindered by her mental illness. When I landed in Ireland, I was still a woman whose insecurity kept her from trying too many new things due to the fear of not being “good enough.” In Italy, I was still a woman who was fighting that crushing feeling of defeat that came with knowing nothing in life was going according to plan.

And when I walked the streets of Paris, I was still a woman who had to fight, each and every day, to open her eyes and rise up out of that bed and choose to live. Paris would not save me. As much as I wanted it to – as much as I hoped it would – there was no magic spell cast or Eat, Pray, Love moment that changed the way my brain functioned. I was still me.

I was disappointed in the fact that I was not able to simply enjoy the gift of travel that I had been given, but now I recognize that just because my experience was different than the socially expected norm – just because I didn’t fit into the mold of the “perfect” traveler – did not mean that I was failing, or that failure was even possible. The Eiffel Tower didn’t cause me to grin from ear to ear or prompt a perfectly posed photograph and it didn’t erase my sadness. But I kept going anyway. I kept venturing out even when my personal brand of traveling included just as many lows as highs, my sadness intertwined with happiness.

The next morning, I rose early and once again boarded the Metro, taking it to Le Marais to explore the district I had heard mentioned by so many. I found a small cafe away from the crowds because it’s easier for me to relax if there’s fewer people. I didn’t berate myself for this fact – I simply accepted it as what I needed. I sat down and ordered a Café au lait and, since they were out of croissants, the owner brought me half of a baguette. I was definitely not going to complain about being given a piece of bread as long as my forearm and instead slathered it in butter and strawberry jam and ate while silently watching people walk by.

It wasn’t a perfect moment, or even a perfect day. It would still involve finding myself a little lost and fighting off the unwanted advances of a man who thought helping me order tacos meant I would have sex with him in the back of the restaurant. It would still involve obsessively repeating the name of the Metro stop where I would get off of the train because I was terrified of missing it or looking like I didn’t know where I was going. But right then, I was sipping the best coffee I had ever had and the air wasn’t too cold and the buildings were beautiful and I was content to be on my own and enjoy my surroundings in the best way I could.

It’s been one year since I was sitting in that Parisian cafe, and it has taken this long for me to not look back on that trip with grief and regret in my heart. When I first came back to the States, the regret over the emotions I had no control over was enough to make me avoid discussing my trip with anyone. I am not really the person that they want to hear about traveling from, I thought to myself. I was convinced that my voice didn’t count since I didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I thought that I would sound ungrateful and spoiled if I was honest about how difficult that journey really was for me. I felt like I had thrown away my chance of seeing the world, and wasted the experiences I did have. But my experience still means something, and my voice – all of our voices – are worthy of being heard.

I am living with depression and anxiety but the point is that I am still living.

I am still doing brave and beautiful things, conquering fears and following dreams and seeing the world exactly as I am. It doesn’t matter that there were some nights that I could have chosen to go out and see more of the city but instead stayed in my hostel, reading a book. It doesn’t matter that I could have fit more activities into my day but instead gave myself time to slow down and sit in a cafe for four hours because I needed to rest. The places I saw, the people I talked to, and the things I did were exactly what was right for me. Maybe not for someone else, but this is my story, and I have given myself the grace and space to live it the way I choose.

Maybe Paris didn’t fix what I saw as broken, but maybe that was because it didn’t need to be fixed. I may wish that depression and anxiety would no longer be a part of my story, but I know that I can keep on living, even with both of them present. I can explore, travel, dream, and adventure exactly as I am, in my own way. And I can have a hell of a time doing it, too.

So here’s to the travelers, the dreamers, the adventurers, who don’t fit the mold. Here’s to those of us living with mental illness and doing hard things anyway. Here’s to all of us who see the world on our own terms. May we never allow anyone else to cloud our stories or make us feel as if we have something to hide. May we choose to be ourselves and live, just as we are.

And if we find ourselves in Paris, staring up at the Eiffel Tower, may we recognize that whatever brought us there is a testament to our own strength and resilience and belief in the beauty of this world – and that is even more astounding than any landmark.

#Happiness

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/when-paris-didnt-fix-my-depression/

When Paris Didn’t Fix My Depression

John Towner

I had just taken my first Metro ride in Paris. Although I relied heavily on my iPhone Metro app, I found that the system wasn’t that difficult to navigate and I could easily pinpoint the fastest route to my destination: the Eiffel Tower. It was my first day in Paris and I figured that beloved monument should be at the top of my list. I emerged onto the cold street, the sky gray and threatening above me. It was December, after all, and a balmy 45 degrees. I huddled myself as best I could into my thin jacket and scarf, trying to shield my face from the harsh wind. I looked around as I made my way along the river, and a sinking feeling began pressing itself into my gut.

This is Paris? I thought to myself. It was my first trip to France, and while I was aware of the fact that it would never look as it did in the movies, I was still conjuring images that resembled Sydney Pollack’s 1995 version of Sabrina. I saw myself as Julia Ormond (minus the incredible haircut), strolling along the Seine with my camera and my journal and attempting to “find myself” in Paris. I’ll be honest – I also saw myself kissing a 90s Harrison Ford on the Pont Neuf but who hasn’t had that dream?

I was ending a three-month long journey in Europe that began in Iceland, led to two months in Ireland, and then three weeks in Italy. Paris was my last stop before heading home from a trip that was supposed to last a year. I had arrived on a work visa in Ireland, intending to stay for my allowed six months, and one disappointment after another (along with a dwindling bank account) led to me deciding it was time to leave.

I suppose I put a lot of pressure on this great city. “Paris is always a good idea,” or so the movies told me. I kept walking, kept putting one foot in front of the other, hoping that what I saw next would stir something inside of me that I had been missing. The heavy scent of failure had been trailing me for months and it was clutching me even now. There we no lovely trees or flowers in my line of sight – the landscape was barren and that was the way I felt. Every way I looked seemed a reflection of my own state of mind.

You’re in Paris. I reminded myself of this fact over and over as if this alone was supposed to cause elation, joy, feeling.

You’re in Paris. You’ve been dreaming of Paris since you were fourteen. You’re here.

There was no dramatic music or soft lighting that occurred when the Eiffel Tower finally came into view. The buildings and lifeless trees gave way to a glimpse of its structure. I kept moving, not stopping until I was directly across the street. Finally, I stared, waiting. Waiting to feel moved. Waiting to feel anything. After a few minutes, my eyes burned and tears threatened to fall. Not from joy or wonder, but from sorrow.

I had been doing well when I began my journey. I had energy. I was managing to find laughter and enjoyment in my days and I was happy moving from one activity to another. But it didn’t take long for my depression to remind me, like an old friend, that it was still there. Soon I was spending more time inside my hostel, laying on a thin mattress with my headphones on instead of tackling the next tourist spot on my list. A quick meal and Netflix became more appealing than facing the anxiety that would leave me folding in on myself in the middle of a crowded restaurant or pub.

Depression and anxiety have been a part of my life since I was twelve years old. More than half my life has been spent with their hands on my shoulder, coloring every move I make. During the worst years of my depression, there were many days I could not find the strength to leave my bed. I would eat nothing or everything in sight. I would suffer panic attacks that left me crouched on the bathroom floor, near vomiting, unable to breathe. Through the years I found different ways of dealing with my mental illness. And yet no amount of therapy, medication, herbal supplements, lifestyle changes, and continued healing would take it away entirely.

But perhaps a new country might. Or so I had led myself to believe. I drank in the Instagram feeds that showed me colorful, perfectly posed views of this world and read the stories of people whose lives had been changed by setting foot on a new continent. I clung to the Pinterest quotes on wanderlust like they were living water sent to quench my unending thirst for being made new. I wanted a new country to fix my broken self. I wanted to step off the plane and transform into the woman of travel blogging fantasies. The woman I was assured I could be – all I had to do was go. But this was all a facade. A virtual reality.

The truth is that when I stepped off of that first plane in Iceland, I was exactly the same person. I was a still a woman with a broken past, healing and going after what she wanted in life but hindered by her mental illness. When I landed in Ireland, I was still a woman whose insecurity kept her from trying too many new things due to the fear of not being “good enough.” In Italy, I was still a woman who was fighting that crushing feeling of defeat that came with knowing nothing in life was going according to plan.

And when I walked the streets of Paris, I was still a woman who had to fight, each and every day, to open her eyes and rise up out of that bed and choose to live. Paris would not save me. As much as I wanted it to – as much as I hoped it would – there was no magic spell cast or Eat, Pray, Love moment that changed the way my brain functioned. I was still me.

I was disappointed in the fact that I was not able to simply enjoy the gift of travel that I had been given, but now I recognize that just because my experience was different than the socially expected norm – just because I didn’t fit into the mold of the “perfect” traveler – did not mean that I was failing, or that failure was even possible. The Eiffel Tower didn’t cause me to grin from ear to ear or prompt a perfectly posed photograph and it didn’t erase my sadness. But I kept going anyway. I kept venturing out even when my personal brand of traveling included just as many lows as highs, my sadness intertwined with happiness.

The next morning, I rose early and once again boarded the Metro, taking it to Le Marais to explore the district I had heard mentioned by so many. I found a small cafe away from the crowds because it’s easier for me to relax if there’s fewer people. I didn’t berate myself for this fact – I simply accepted it as what I needed. I sat down and ordered a Café au lait and, since they were out of croissants, the owner brought me half of a baguette. I was definitely not going to complain about being given a piece of bread as long as my forearm and instead slathered it in butter and strawberry jam and ate while silently watching people walk by.

It wasn’t a perfect moment, or even a perfect day. It would still involve finding myself a little lost and fighting off the unwanted advances of a man who thought helping me order tacos meant I would have sex with him in the back of the restaurant. It would still involve obsessively repeating the name of the Metro stop where I would get off of the train because I was terrified of missing it or looking like I didn’t know where I was going. But right then, I was sipping the best coffee I had ever had and the air wasn’t too cold and the buildings were beautiful and I was content to be on my own and enjoy my surroundings in the best way I could.

It’s been one year since I was sitting in that Parisian cafe, and it has taken this long for me to not look back on that trip with grief and regret in my heart. When I first came back to the States, the regret over the emotions I had no control over was enough to make me avoid discussing my trip with anyone. I am not really the person that they want to hear about traveling from, I thought to myself. I was convinced that my voice didn’t count since I didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I thought that I would sound ungrateful and spoiled if I was honest about how difficult that journey really was for me. I felt like I had thrown away my chance of seeing the world, and wasted the experiences I did have. But my experience still means something, and my voice – all of our voices – are worthy of being heard.

I am living with depression and anxiety but the point is that I am still living.

I am still doing brave and beautiful things, conquering fears and following dreams and seeing the world exactly as I am. It doesn’t matter that there were some nights that I could have chosen to go out and see more of the city but instead stayed in my hostel, reading a book. It doesn’t matter that I could have fit more activities into my day but instead gave myself time to slow down and sit in a cafe for four hours because I needed to rest. The places I saw, the people I talked to, and the things I did were exactly what was right for me. Maybe not for someone else, but this is my story, and I have given myself the grace and space to live it the way I choose.

Maybe Paris didn’t fix what I saw as broken, but maybe that was because it didn’t need to be fixed. I may wish that depression and anxiety would no longer be a part of my story, but I know that I can keep on living, even with both of them present. I can explore, travel, dream, and adventure exactly as I am, in my own way. And I can have a hell of a time doing it, too.

So here’s to the travelers, the dreamers, the adventurers, who don’t fit the mold. Here’s to those of us living with mental illness and doing hard things anyway. Here’s to all of us who see the world on our own terms. May we never allow anyone else to cloud our stories or make us feel as if we have something to hide. May we choose to be ourselves and live, just as we are.

And if we find ourselves in Paris, staring up at the Eiffel Tower, may we recognize that whatever brought us there is a testament to our own strength and resilience and belief in the beauty of this world – and that is even more astounding than any landmark.

#Happiness