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trippinsorrows · 21 days

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with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.”

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.”

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.”

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?”

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.”

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful.

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband.

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious.

You were most definitely pregnant.

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you.

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way.

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother.

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit.

“Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down.

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time.

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island.

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand.

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her.

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme.

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset.

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text.

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response.

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends.

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other.

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position.

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?”

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment.

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself.

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl.

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around.

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session.

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic.

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it..

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing.

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far.

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

When hell freezes over.

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.”

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.”

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess.

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his.

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby.

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear.

So many things are going through his head right now.

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be.

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral.

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind.

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking.

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years.

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him.

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough.

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram.

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid?

His kid.

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?”

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest.

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for.

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have.

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.”

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take.

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete.

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems.

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.”

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what? “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened?

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #black writers #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge.

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date.

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection.

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door.

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket.

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room.

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work.

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend.

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses.

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger.

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #caitsy and ash productions #CherryValentinesFic

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soda-pop-kandy-krush · 3 years

Text

so this is a tiiiny bit longer than the drabble i set out for it to be... clearly i have no chill and get carried away far too easily. also, i wrote most of this whilst incredibly hormonal/sleep-deprived, so please excuse any mistakes. i will probably go through and proof-read it at a later date. maybe. in the meantime, enjoy! <33

(Prompt Post)

12: Come cuddle!

17: I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life...

Knock, knock.

“Vee? Are you in there?”

Virgil’s brow furrowed a little, but he didn’t look up from his switch screen as he fiddled with the buttons to reorganise his inventory. “Who is it?”

“Your favourite dad!”

A tiny smirk pinched at the corners of his mouth. He wriggled into a more comfortable position on his beanbag, lifting the console closer to his face. “You can come in, Pat.”

Patton pushed the door open, scanning the room for his son. A beaming grin appeared on his face when he found him, and he made an immediate beeline towards the pile of cushions on the floor.

“Hey, kiddo!” He flopped down right next to Virgil, pulling him into his chest so that he could wrap him in a bear hug.

Virgil grunted in surprise, dropping his switch in his lap as Patton squished his arms to his sides. He squirmed a little, trying to sit up, but Patton only held him tighter, smushing his cheek against Virgil’s soft, purple hair. “Can I help you, Pops?”

He could feel the excited hum of his words vibrating through his scalp. “Come cuddle!”

Virgil squinted. “... Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

Patton giggled. “No, silly! I meant in my room! I’ll bake cookies, and I’ll build us a pillow fort- oh!” He bounced on his knees. “And I’ll even let you choose what movie we watch! As long as it’s not the scary one from last week, with all of the monsters in it.” Virgil rolled his eyes fondly as Patton shuddered.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas isn’t scary, Pat.” He wriggled one arm free and used it to pick up his switch, going back to his game. “Why don’t you ask Princey? I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Oh, come on, kiddo. You can put down the video games for a couple of hours to spend some quality time with your old man, can’t you? Plus…” Patton leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “We both know how much you love your cuddles.”

A choked scoff escaped before Virgil could stop it, his ears turning pink. “I- you- I do not-”

Patton giggled, blowing warm air on the back of his neck. “Yes, you do!~”

“No, I don’t!”

“Don’t lie, Vee. I’ve seen you in action. You’re really not as slick as you think you are, cuddlebug.”

Virgil’s face was so red he thought he was about to burst into flames. He didn’t realise the others actually noticed the way he slowly migrated towards whoever was sat on the other end of the couch during their movie nights, curling his legs up on the cushions so that he could worm his way under their arms and bury his face in their chest. Or how he would drag his beanbag into the common room and plop it in front of anybody in there, sinking down and not-so-subtly leaning back to rest his head against their knees so that they would play with his hair and let him drift asleep. Patton had caught him out, and he’d never been more embarrassed in his life.

In his final attempt to hold onto the last, tattered shreds of his dignity, he turned to the only sensible option left: sulking like a child. He folded his arms with a petulant huff, glaring at the ground. Patton couldn’t help but laugh.

“Awww, what’s wrong, kiddo?” He teased, wiggling a finger under his chin. “Where did that little smile go?”

Virgil’s scowl immediately flattened out, the corners of his mouth twitching as he scrunched his shoulders. Intrigued, Patton repeated the action, grinning delightedly when Virgil made an ‘mmph’ noise, his hand coming up to push him away.

“Wait a second... Is somebody ticklish?”

He pulled Virgil into his lap and tweaked the curve of his waist, earning a loud squeak as the dark side lurched away from the attacking hand, struggling to hide what was unmistakably the beginnings of a flustered smile.

“Oh my goodness,” He gasped, spidering his fingers up and down Virgil’s sides. “This is the most adorable thing in the whole entire universe!”

Virgil whined, premature giggles already beginning to bubble up as he batted at Patton with one hand, burying his burning face in the other. “Shut uuuup!”

Patton chuckled. “Oh-ho, I would watch what I said if I were in your position, Mister.” There was a devious lilt to his voice that wasn’t there before. Virgil’s stomach dropped. “The tickle monster really doesn’t take kindly to that sort of language.”

He would deny the way that he shrieked when Patton reached down to poke his belly until the day he died. Virgil’s hands immediately shot down from his face to protect himself- but unfortunately, that was exactly what Patton was betting on.

“Uh oh! We’d better get those-” He caught both of Virgil’s wrists, pinning them against his chest so that he was effectively trapped in Patton’s embrace. “-out of the way. There we go!”

Virgil whimpered, nervous giggles spilling out as he tugged uselessly at his arms. “No! Pat, plehease!”

“Please what, Vee?” Patton grinned mischievously. “Pleeease… Give you all of the tickles?”

“No!”

“Yeah?”

“Nohoho!”

“Aw, kiddo! All you had to do was ask!”

Ten wiggly fingers suddenly dug into the spaces between Virgil’s ribs. Combined with the teasing and his current helplessness, it tipped him over the edge just far enough that he couldn’t hold back the bright, child-like laughter that spilled from his lips. It was the sweetest sound that Patton had ever heard- and it was coming from Virgil!

Oh, yeah. He was never letting this go.

“I can’t believe that you kept this a secret from us!” He moved to pinch Virgil’s lower ribs, chasing the cluster of sweet spots towards his back that had him squealing and arching away. “Oooo, that was a good spot, huh?” Patton chuckled, reaching over to his other side and repeating the action.

“Ahahaha- Pat! I cahahaha-!” Virgil collapsed against the moral side, his laughter tinged with hysteria as Patton’s fingers started poking his all of ribs randomly, making him squirm so much that he was now practically laying flat in his lap.

“What was that? You can’t believe how much fun you’re having?” Patton cooed, grazing his midriff using his fingertips. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest! And don’t you worry- we’ve got plenty of other places to explore before we’re anywhere near finished~”

Virgil groaned as Patton lifted his wrists above his head, allowing him to catch his breath. He screwed his eyes shut, preparing for another attack, only to jump when he felt Patton’s hand cup his cheek, gently stroking the soft skin with his thumb. He blinked and looked up to see the moral side smiling back down at him.

“You okay there, kiddo?” He chuckled.

Virgil flushed, leftover giggles spilling out as he panted. He was giving him a chance to escape. Asking him if he wanted to continue. Making sure that he was actually enjoying himself.

He knew that he liked it... And he was okay with it?

Swallowing, Virgil nodded. His timid smile morphed back into a wide grin within seconds as Patton’s fingers scribbled their way down his neck, his collarbones; looping over his shoulders before they wormed their way into his armpits, scratching at the taut skin and causing Virgil to fall right back into loud laughter.

“Ehehehe- gehehet out of there!” He cried, pulling at his arms. Patton laughed along with him, still reeling from his wonderful discovery. The sight of a happy, squeaky, ticklish Virgil was a million times cuter than he could ever have imagined.

“Huh? You mean here?” He wiggled a single finger right in the centre. “Okay, sure!” Patton switched to the other side, vibrating his fingers deep into the hollows.

Virgil squawked, promptly falling into uncontrollable cackling. By this point, he was so weak with laughter that he could barely even fight back. Not that that was such a terrible position to be in, but he’d be damned if the others ever figured out that he liked this, as well. Having the resident goofball know was bad enough, but he’d never hear the end of it if word spread around the rest of the mind palace.

However, Virgil didn’t have much time to sit on it, as all comprehensive thoughts evaporated from his head as soon as Patton started to graze his fingernails up and down the underside of his left bicep.

“Nonono-nohoho!” He pleaded, curling his arms around his head, not unlike a baby hedgehog. “Pat! Pahahat! Lemme gohoho!”

Patton laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for you now, stormcloud. I’ve got you trapped, and you’re mine forever!~” He booped his nose gently before moving to the other arm, his lips curling up into a playful smirk. “Plus, I couldn’t possibly let you go before finding your worst spot.” His fingers slowed to a halt. Virgil felt a shiver run down his spine.

“And I’ve got a feeling I know exactly where it is…”

Virgil immediately broke down into nervous babbling, wriggling and giggling desperately as Patton trailed his fingers down the length of his body- stopping whenever he found a particularly ticklish spot to give it some attention- before he arrived at his middle. Slowly, dragging out the process as much as he could, he lifted Virgil’s shirt, the soft material brushing against his skin and lighting up every nerve in his torso, sending the poor dark side into fits of anxious giggles.

Patton tittered amusedly. “Well then, it looks like I guessed right, huh, Vee?” And with that, he used all five fingers of his free hand to form a claw, spidering across the sensitive skin of his stomach.

Virgil shrieked, bursting into loud laughter and kicking his legs out. Drained of his strength and hopelessly giddy, there was nothing left to do except lay there and take it as Patton’s tickly fingers crawled all over his belly, pinching and squeezing and scribbling every tiny, hidden spot until Virgil was sure he’d go insane. It was completely unbearable, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Gitchy-gitchy-goo! Tickle-tickle-tickle!” He cooed, scribbling at the skin beneath his bellybutton. “Gee, kiddo, I think you’ve got to be the most ticklish person on the planet!”

Virgil’s laughter dialled up even further, blushing so hard he could feel it in his ears. Oh, God, not the teasing! He was pretty sure whatever was left of his brain had now melted entirely, leaving him a loopy, flustered mess.

He scrambled around to try and pull together a suitably snarky comeback, when Patton began to scratch at the sides of his stomach and he finally, finally lost it.

“Nahahaha! Stop! Stohohahap!”

Patton gradually slowed down, eventually stopping and pressing the palm of his hand firmly into Virgil’s abdomen, rubbing away the phantom touches that lingered on his sensitive skin. His head lolled to the side, resting against Patton’s hip as he gulped down air, hiccupy laughter bubbling up in between each breath.

Patton chuckled. “You alright there, giggles?” He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, mussed up from all of his wriggling.

Virgil, with the remains of a dazed grin still stuck on his face, nodded, nuzzling against the soothing touch. He let his eyes slip shut, the occasional, solitary giggle escaping. The moral side smiled warmly.

“I’m glad. You definitely needed that laugh.”

Leaning forward, Patton switched off his gaming console from where it had been abandoned on the floor, before carefully scooping him up into his arms to carry him back to his room for the snuggles he was promised. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, a quiet voice interrupted him.

“Thank you…” Mumbled Virgil, sleepily.

Patton chuckled. “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

#gahhhh i hope people like this #my writing #prompt writing #tickle #tickling #ts tickle #ts fanfiction #ts fanfic #ticklish!virgil #lee!virgil #ler!patton #moxiety #tss tickle

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Text

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 1

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Set Up: You are an outcast at the Imperial Academy, which means your only options for friends are the tall and stoic Chiss Mitth'raw'nuruodo and his translator from Wild Space Eli Vanto. The three of you get along, for the most part... Thrawn is obsessed with acing all the exams, Eli is desperate to show up his classmates, and you... well, you just want to feel like you belong somewhere. And hiding beneath it all are your unspoken feelings, longing to be realized, but fearful of ruining the balance of your trio's friendship....

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 1: The Problem

Pairing: None yet, just a nice friendship trio

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

You wound down the hallways of the building with a scowl on your face. You would never grow used to this ridiculously long walk, from your first class of the day to the next, so conveniently located on complete opposite sides of the facility. Whoever had designed your schedule this year was either an utter imbecile or had done so on purpose, just to tick you off. At this point in your education here at the Imperial Academy, you knew either scenario was equally likely. You weren't exactly liked by the staff or your peers, and there were plenty of idiots to go around.

The one saving grace of your journey was that you would eventually cross paths with the only two friends you had managed to make in this elitist hell-hole: Eli Vanto and Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

Eli would be the first, his class letting out just a few corridors away from yours. He was leaning against an alcove in the wall just out of the way of passing traffic, his usual spot. When you rounded the corner, he pushed off and fell into step beside you.

"What happened?" you asked, having noticed he was scowling as well. His resting face usually made him look like a sad puppy, so for him to have such a prominent frown this early in the morning, something really upsetting must have happened.

"Lost the debate," he grumbled.

Ah, you'd forgotten he had that today. You and Thrawn had helped him practice for weeks, covering every possible argument and rebuttal from his opponent on the assigned topic. He had it in the bag, or so you'd all thought.

"What? How? Don't tell me you got stage-fright."

He glared over at you. "No, I wasn't nervous or anything. I did everything perfect. But all Arden had to do was throw in a few snide remarks about my accent and that got the whole class turned in his favor."

Eli started biting down on one of his nails in frustration. You frowned along with him. That was a variable none of you had accounted for while practicing.

"Is Arden the pimply-faced guy?"

"Yeah."

"Hate him," you muttered.

"Yeah."

The two of you paused at the doors of a lift, waiting for the previous occupants to exit before filing in yourselves and punching the button for the next level up. Eli was still chewing on his nails.

"Stop," you exclaimed, swatting his hand away from his mouth. "I told you that's a bad habit."

"Oh yeah, what's this then?" He grabbed one of your hands and twisted it around so you could see the splotches of chipped polish on your nails.

You jerked your hand away and held it defensively against your chest. "There's only so much I can do with this insane caseload, okay? I haven't had time to think about my nails."

"Then why'd you paint 'em in the first place?" he said with a bit of a laugh. Well, at least his mood was improving, even if it was at your expense.

You swatted at him just as the lift doors opened. "Maybe I want to try feeling pretty sometimes, not like some zombie student."

You both were keenly aware that the cadets waiting to board the lift had backed up significantly as you passed, despite not having been in your way at all. They were all whispering too, and by the tone, it was probably not about very nice things. It was always like that, wherever you went. Even if they didn't know your reputations of being from wild, "backwater" planets, they need only hear one of you speak to know you were different. And in these Core worlds, different was inferior.

"You know you don't have to follow our course map, right?" Eli spoke up again, once you'd put some distance between the lift of sneering cadets. "Me, I don't have a choice. Thrawn's determined to graduate in as little time as possible, and I'm the sorry sucker who has to follow 'im. I'd run far away from the guy if I were you. Enjoy your freedom."

Eli complained about the last member of your trio, Thrawn, at least six times a day. And half of those complaints ended with him telling you to make a break for it. You knew he didn't mean any of it; the two of you had spent the last holiday break at a bar, and in his drunkenness, Eli had confessed to being secretly grateful for having met the Chiss. He only complained to cope with the stress.

And you... well, you weren't really sure why they let you hang around. They'd both easily become your closest friends, but you weren't always sure where you stood with them. Maybe they did like your company. Or maybe they just felt sorry for you. They were both friendly enough, allowing you to join them on Thrawn's "fast track" out of the Academy. But you had a feeling that as soon as you all graduated, they'd leave you behind and move on to whatever mission the Emperor had planned for Thrawn in the Navy.

You tried not to think about it too much.

Speaking of your friend, Mitth'raw'nuruodo emerged from a classroom doorway just a few paces ahead. Right on time, as always. His specialized "tactical statistics" class ended several minutes ago, but he had learned to carefully time your path so he wouldn't have to stand awkwardly in the hall waiting. It was for the best; you and Eli may sometimes draw unwanted attention, but poor Thrawn always stood out like a very big, very blue sore thumb.

"We have a problem," he stated, coming up on your other side. You never had to ask Thrawn what was wrong; if he had a problem worth sharing, you would hear about it.

"Hallway problem or 'fresher problem?" asked Eli.

You'd all agreed long ago there were some topics of conversation best had out of earshot from any passerby. And since most scurried out of the refresher whenever Thrawn went in, that became the only suitable place for such conversations, if it couldn't wait until your dorms at the end of the day.

"Refresher," Thrawn said. He looked down at you. "You'll be late for your class."

You shrugged. "If it's important...."

"It is."

You trusted him; he wasn't the type to make up drama or blow things out of proportion. The three of you picked up the pace, turning right instead of the usual left, and slipping into the men's bathroom. Thankfully it was already empty. Eli turned the lock just in case.

Thrawn wasted no time diving into the particulars. "I have come to learn our flight instructor, Commander Burdick, intends to sabotage my simulation tests next month. He is acquainted with Admissions Supervisor Aberdeen and understands that a failing mark will require a remedial course before being allowed back into the program. This would set my graduation back several months."

That was a problem. The flight course was one of the longer ones, and mandatory, and you were all so close to finally being through with it. Just one more round of simulation tests and then an actual flight around Coruscant.

Eli was groaning by the door. "You've gotta be kidding."

"I am not," said Thrawn in a measured voice. He knew it was just an expression, but you knew it was one of his pet peeves.

Eli wasn't listening, instead kicking at the tiled floor and mumbling about how this was so typical and why can't we just be left alone.

You turned to Thrawn. "Just you?"

"The ill will seems to be mostly directed toward me. Supervisor Aberdeen does not appreciate the special provisions that have been afforded me on behalf of the Emperor, and has coerced Commander Burdick to indulge in his spitefulness. However, I would not put it past them to also have plans for either of you, as well. They are aware of our... connection."

You were certain he was about to say friendship but changed his mind. Did he not know the word for it? Was he too embarrassed to admit it? Or did he truly not see you or Eli as anything more than connections?

"Okay, but..." Eli was still processing things. "How? What's their plan?"

"I purposefully said the Commander intended to sabotage the tests. He does not yet have a plan."

"So... we stop 'im," said Eli.

"Or," you countered, a mischievous smirk playing about your lips. "We don't."

Eli merely blinked at you, but Thrawn was very interested. "Go on," he encouraged.

"If we learn what the plan is, or maybe even give him a plan of our own, then we can let it play out and ensure he gets in trouble for it."

Thrawn rubbed his chin as he considered. You knew he'd soon slip into his usual routine of pacing and muttering in unknown languages, which could take a while and make you even later for your class. You cleared your throat, drawing his two red eyes back to yours.

"Surely a Commanding Officer wouldn't dare do anything to sabotage you directly," you offered. "He'll either look for some help or pin it on someone else, in case there's an investigation."

Thrawn rubbed his chin again. "You think we should influence the Commander on who to pick to be his... what do you call it, ensipki?"

"Scapegoat," Eli said quickly. It was becoming second nature for him to translate what was left of the holes in Thrawn's understanding of Basic.

"Right, and then we can expose the deception just before the tests," you said. "Before there's time to come up with another plan."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed in thought. "A decent idea, but it would require the education of one of our fellow cadets to be jeopardized. It should not be our first plan."

"But if he's going to use one of them anyway..." you started to protest.

"Then we should seek to expose his connection to that person as well. This is an instructor who is not serving the best interest of several of his students. He should be the only one blamed."

You weren't going to let his logic win this time. As far as you could tell, this was a perfect opportunity to get revenge on your obnoxious classmates. "It's going to be a lot easier to take issue up with the Board against a student than an instructor. We can try to expose both people, but if we can't, then at least we can nail one of them. It's called a scapegoat for a reason."

Eli spoke up before Thrawn could respond, throwing you a meaningful look. "Arden's in his class. Different time, same instructor."

"Who is this Arden?" asked Thrawn.

"The racist asshole who unfairly stole Eli's grade on the debate today," you said. You'd picked your words deliberately, and it did the trick.

"Very well. We have our scapegoat," said Thrawn.

You winked at Eli and he hid a smile.

"So," Thrawn continued, fully invested now. "We will need to push Arden toward the Commander as a viable accomplice. We will need to gain insight into the details of their plan. And then we will need to ensure those details are brought to light at the right moment."

The three of you looked among each other. This was probably the tenth plan this year alone that you'd all devised to take care of some kind of "problem." Just last week Thrawn had discovered misinformation in one of your textbooks that took the three of you on a field trip to the lower levels of Coruscant to find a con-artist who'd sold a quarter-hundred counterfeit materials to the Academy library. You'd only had the weekend to catch up on all the rest of your homework, and here you all were again, ready to jump into another scheme.

You had suggested the idea, so you were already grinning and ready to go. Thrawn had just put together a to-do list, and you could almost see the gears in his head continuing to spin as he determined more points to the plan.

The deciding vote was Eli. Though he often complained about not having a choice, you and Thrawn rarely forced him to do anything and were always respectful if he had a differing opinion. This time, you had a feeling he'd be on board.

He set his hands on his hips and smirked. "Disgracing a shitty classmate and a shitty teacher in order to save our grades? Let's do it."

Next Chapter: The Plan >

#star wars #thrawn #eli vanto #thrawn x reader #eli vanto x reader #choose your own adventure #friendship #romance #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

Southern Nights (3/4)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: a little angst, but mostly fluff🤷‍♀️

Summary: After a situation with the BMoL, Dean finds himself running towards the person he fears for the most besides his brother. But even when he finds her safe and alive, he can see that something isnt right.

A/n: So remember when I said it was gonna be two parts and then I switched it to three? Well now its gonna be four. . .Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

There is a split second after the words leave your lips that Dean thinks your joking, but then as he looks at you he can see you are dead serious. You don't make eye contact- instead you focus on the orange tabby still swatting at fireflies.

For as long as Dean and his brother had known you, you had loved hunting. You loved saving people. There was a method to your madness when it came to you constantly being on your feet and finding new cases. Keeping people safe, making the world better. That was what made you happy.

And Dean loved the hell out of you for it.

The older Winchester watched you with a concerned expression, your eyes still having yet to meet his. The glassy look in your pupils was the first thing he noticed though, even as you tried to avert your eyes.

You had been quiet because you were finding it hard to find the right words. The words that would help the person you loved so dearly understand. “You know-” You began, swallowing thickly. “I was supposed to leave her four weeks ago. Four. I was supposed to pack myself into my car and head off on a vetala hunt in Montana. I had my bags packed up and everything.” Taking a deep breath, you looked down at your hands, taking in the callouses and scars a lifetime of hunting had left behind. “And there I was- standing on the front steps, keys in my hand and bags at my feet. . .and I couldn't get myself to go. I knew I should, there was a job that needed to be done.” You shrugged. “But I couldn't do it Dean. I called a hunter friend, informed them of the case and went back inside. I guessed I had hoped the feeling would pass, that I just needed another day. But it didn't.”

Dean wasn’t sure which part broke his heart more, your next words and how your shoulders sagged as you said them or how your voice wavered and the tears finally raced down your face. Maybe it was both- either way it felt like a hot poker had been twisted into his gut.

“I'm crazy tired, Dean. . .and I think I have been for a long time.” Your voice cracked, eyes looking up from your hands and back to the front yard. “I think I’ve been running so hard and so fast for so long that I- that I didn’t realize how tired I was until I was burning on fumes. As much as I love hunting, I think I need to stop.” Your voice cracking once more before falling silent.

oh, Y/N.

“but if you guys need help with this men of letters stuff, I am one hundred percent there-” You quickly added, finally turning to look at him.

“woah, woah, woah hey pump the breaks-” he quickly shook his head as he rose from his spot next to you, only to move and squat down in front of you, his hands on your knees. “Don’t. Sam and I have got that all under control.” Sliding his hand into your own, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“But its not fair.”

Deans eyebrows drew together in confusion as he looked up at you. “Whats not fair?”

You inhaled another shaky breath, trying to find some sort of serenity in those jade irises. “I-”

“Take your time. I’m right here.”

For a moment you remained stagnant, gripping Deans hand tightly as if it were a life line. “That I decided to stop while you and Sam are still out there.” You paused when you saw the still clear confusion on his face. “ Dean, I know you're tired too. You even admitted it last night when I brought it up. Its not right that I should get the option to stop when you're in a similar boat. Its not fair.”

Dean couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth. It was almost like you had stunned him into silence. “Are you saying you feel guilty for putting down your gun?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t be. Don’t.” He repeated, shaking his head again. “Sure I get worn out every once and awhile, sometimes worse than others- but I'm okay.” He gave you one of his soft reassuring smiles before placing a kiss in the center of you palm. “Sam and I can handle the monsters.”

“But-”

“No buts okay?” Slowly rising back to his feet, he extends a hand before pulling you up with him. Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulder before you could stop him, the hunter pulling you in close. Despite the still heavy feeling in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of being pressed against him. You sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. “you deserve everything good in this life, Y/N.”

“So do you.” You mumbled, yawning half way through the words.

You're not sure, but you think you can feel Dean smiling against your hairline. Luckily you're correct, your words managing to make something in Dean crack wide open. He lets himself drown for another moment in the complete bliss that is having you in his arm before he prepares himself to pull away, the constant voice in his head reminding him : Arms length away.

Either time had frozen since he pulled you into that hug or you were much more tired than he initially realized, because as he shifted he could feel you sink further into his arms, cheek resting against his chest.

“You falling asleep on me?”

The only response from you was a sleepy mumble, earning a soft chuckle from the older Winchester as he bent slightly to hook an arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up into his arms.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, Sweetheart.” He mumbled softly against your forehead, placing one last soft kiss there before resting his cheek on your hairline. Using his foot to wedge open the screen door, he slipped inside before softly shutting it behind him. Sam was already passed out on the couch when he passed by, the hunter eventually making it across the living room and into your bedroom before laying you down on the bed.

Dean gifts himself one last look at you before turning to head out the door. He can sleep on the other couch, you deserve to have your bed to yourself even if you rarely sleep in it, plus once again the little voice tells him to not get any closer. Its already hard enough to pull away as it is whenever hes around you.

“Don’t even think about going to sleep on that couch.” You suddenly mumble, face pressed into your pillow, hair already across your face. “Its half the size of you.”

“I thought you were asleep?”

“Nah. I just wanted you to carry me in here.”

That earns a slight chuckle from him, along with a shake of his head. “You sure you want me as a bunk mate? I’ve been told I’m a cuddler.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” You mumbled, slightly confused as to who Dean had been cuddling. You pressed your face further into the pillow.

“. . . my pillow.” Dean huffed as he toed off his boots and against all his better judgment he allows himself to fall into bed besides you. “But it hasn't complained.”

“Mmm, I wonder why.”

You could feel Deans soft chuckle rumble in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, allowing you to snuggle into his embrace. You should have pulled way, kept some sort of distance between you . . .but you didn't. After a moment you could feel his fingers brushing through your hair, his attempt no doubt at trying to lull you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry this life has worn so much out of you, Y/N. I really hope you find some peace here.” He spoke softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“You could too, you know. Find peace here. . . With me.” You tried, twisting your fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt. It was another moment in which you shouldn't have said anything but you couldn't help it. Staying here with Dean? Now that would be heaven on earth.

“Oh could you imagine that? Me, not doing anything related to hunting? I might go insane.”

“Maybe you could do what Bobby did, give other hunters advice ya know?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You couldn’t see it, but Dean had a faint smile on his lips as he rested his cheek against your head. He had to admit, that did sound nice. A calm life. . . And with you? That was a picture of paradise if he ever imagined one.

“I mean, you already got the grumpy old man part down.” You joked, smiling when you heard Dean suck in air through his teeth.

“Oh, not gonna lie. That one stung a bit.” He grinned.

“I’m just kidding, you know that right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. Now go to sleep.”

carding your fingers through his short hair, you give him one last sleepy smile through the dark. “Good night Mo Ghraidh.”

Dean hums under your touch, unable to stop himself from smiling when you speak. For all he knows you could be calling him some rude name as a long running joke with yourself, (Because lets be real, that is something you would totally do just to drive him mad.) But then again he wouldn't care if you were because the way the words roll off your tongue brings a sense of calm. Its something reserved just for him, whatever it means.

And he loves it.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs @mila-dans @mrsmaybankhere @malindacath

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #SPN #spn x reader #dean winchester imagine #bi-danvers writing

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years

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Evanescence: “Guitarists need to be honest. Use your voice. We don’t need fake – we need humanity and real people”

Jen Majura and Troy McLawhorn wax lyrical on the high-octane gear, influences and themes behind the band's upcoming fifth album, The Bitter Truth

The Bitter Truth, the fifth full-length from Evanescence set for release in March 2021, will be their first album of new material in a decade. The American arena group led by singer/keyboardist Amy Lee had already released three singles, though the record’s completion was stalled by the virus pandemic that dominated headlines for much of the year.

The first sessions took place at the beginning of 2020 with rock super producer Nick Raskulinecz [Foo Fighters, Rush, Alice In Chains] in his Nashville studio, spawning the tracks we’ve heard so far – Wasted On You, The Game Is Over and Use My Voice. Then, of course, came Covid, putting an end to safe travel and forcing virtually all plans to change.

For the members in America, it was incredibly problematic. For German guitarist Jen Majura, who joined in 2015, it was an absolute nightmare. Nevertheless, the group kept chiseling away and fleshing out their parts for album number five.

When Guitar World tracks down Majura and co-guitarist Troy McLawhorn towards the end of 2020, things are still very much in the process of being finalized...

Looking back now, that session in Nashville must feel like a very long time ago!

Majura: “Definitely! What hit me so hard was that we’d recorded that first chunk of songs and waved goodbye at the airport, thinking we’d be back in a couple of weeks. And then suddenly this pandemic hit, airports were all shut!

“I had never felt more apart from my friends in the States than since this all started. It’s so unnatural for me not to be there! I’m very old-school – I like my tube amp and 4x12 cabinet. I like to sit in the studio with the humans I’m working with and creating in the moment.

“Being away from Amy and the boys while working on material has felt so unnatural to me, but that’s the we have to do it and we have to make the best out of it. The time we spent with Nick in Nashville was the happiest ever.

“It felt amazing to see these songs coming to life – you have this idea but when you are all in a room creating, things change and become better, you end up trying out different ways. It’s such a vibrant and beautiful way of working. But I get it, there’s this thing called corona, so you know…”

This will be your first album working together on new material. How do you go about splitting guitar parts?

McLawhorn: “Whenever we’re jamming, if someone comes up with up something cool, they play it. There’s no set thing. So far I’ve probably played the majority of the lead guitar – if Jen comes up with something she is always welcome to play whatever it is. It’s a good working relationship. The first batch of songs, the first three that came out, were done in one session before the coronavirus hit. We were all together for those ones.

“But then Jen flew home back to Germany and we were supposed to tour in Europe, but it all got cancelled. Everything we’ve done since then has been without Jen with us, we’ve been kinda flying sessions back and forth. I probably played a lot of the guitar on the album, but she’s been coming up with cool ideas and putting her stamp on it too.”

The Game Is Over definitely feels like the heavier side of Evanescence…

McLawhorn: “There’s a lot of good stuff like that on this one, stuff that people will be surprised by maybe. There’s a fair amount of that aggressive type of music, but it’s a good mixture. So far everyone’s heard the lighter side of the album, like Use My Voice and Wasted On You… but then there’s The Game Is Over. It was a lot of fun to play and there’s more heavy stuff on there too!”

Majura: “That bridge is so heavy, I love it! It’s going back to the real rock roots and having lots of fun. When you have a low-tuned guitar you have to be a bit careful – you can’t just smash your strings but they will warp a bit.

“I remember forcing myself, especially during the bridge, to play gentle even though it had this badass attitude. It took me a couple of takes… the first ones were completely out of tune [laughs]!”

Jen, it must have been a rollercoaster five years for you. How did you end up getting the gig?

Majura: “What happened was that I was playing bass in another band, not really being happy as I’m a guitar player. We happened to play two festivals, one in Germany and one in the Czech Republic. And it turns out Testament were playing the same days as us.

“I’m a huge Alex Skolnick fan, so we ended up talking and keeping in touch. A couple of days later, I got this very mysterious email from him saying, ‘Jen! Some friends of mine are going to contact you and I can’t reveal too much but I think it’s something you should say yes to!’ I was wondering what the hell he was talking about…

“And then a day later, I got this email from Evanescence’s management asking if I would be interested in… and I didn’t even finish reading the email. I just immediately replied ‘Yes!’ and sent it. That was a total no-brainer.

“So this was around July 2015 and the next evening I was on the phone with Amy talking. She invited me to come visit her in New York and hang out. I thought, ‘Okay… cool!’ and three days later I was on a plane flying to fuckin’ New York wondering if this was really happening. It was insane.”

Did you bring your guitar?

Majura: “I didn’t! I asked her if I needed to bring one and she said, ‘Nah, I know you can play, I’ve seen plenty of videos – let’s just hang out!’ And that’s exactly what we did for the next three days. Hanging out, long walks and talks, going out for dinner or to a concert. Becoming friends and getting to know each other on a more human relationship kind of base.

“I realize now that’s the biggest deal when you have to replace a member. A band is a family. I’d like to quote Rob Zombie on that, because he said it in the movie Hired Gun!

“Finding a good player is the easy part – the world is full of virtuosos. You also need someone who can commit to touring, being on the road and that whole lifestyle. The third and last thing, also the toughest, is that you need people you can stand hanging out with 24/7.

“Concerts are only 90 minutes – what about all the other hours in the day? You need to all fit together. Within those first few days with Amy, I realized we both had a strong work ethic and know exactly what we want, which is beautiful.

“She’s a very strong character. I appreciate her musicality and personality too, she quickly became one of my best friends because we laughed about the same things and then figured out we both love Sex and the City [laugh]! I am so grateful and thankful to have experienced everything I have with her and the boys.”

Troy, you’ve been a member of Seether and filled in for Sevendust on some tours, but you’ve been an on/off member of Evanescence for over a decade now…

McLawhorn: “Yeah, to be honest, I never really left Evanescence. We have big breaks between albums. When I did my first tour with the band, Amy told me she was taking a long break, probably around four or five years. I just went out to find something to do in the meantime and ended up playing in Seether for a few years…

“When it was time for me to leave, it coincided with Amy being ready to do another album. And it was a huge coincidence. I ended up in New York and went to Amy’s house. I was having trouble in Seether and wasn’t happy there, and she said she’d love me to come work on the new album. That’s how it all went down.

“There seems to be some pretty long breaks in between albums with this band but I think that’s part of Amy’s creative process. She likes to take her time when she’s writing the lyrics. The final product always turns out really nice that way, so why mess with it?”

What can you tell us about the gear responsible for the guitar sounds on this album?

Majura: “I signed up with Synergy Amps in November last year. When I joined, I think Steve Vai was the only big name working with them, but I figured if it’s Steve Vai it’s gotta be fucking great. So I went over to check their amp out and I was very skeptical. It looks like a tube amp but with all these holes and parts missing!

“But I plugged in, hit one chord and realized it was actually phenomenal. They’ve sent all the different modules to me, like the Diezel, and the perfect solution for me was the Friedman HBE. It has the perfect rock and roll sound for my solos but it also has the mighty depth of high-gain stuff too – which are all frequencies you need for Evanescence.

“I was originally expecting I’d go with the Diezel one, but the Friedman felt more right for me. I’m very open-minded when it comes to technology. You have two modules, each with two channels, so you get a four-channel amp made out of your favorites.

“For example, I could combine a Vox AC30 Brian May sound with a Diezel VH4. It’s phenomenal what they’ve managed to open up for us musicians in terms of sound options. It’s been my tour rig and studio rig ever since.”

McLawhorn: “I used a combination of different things on this album. On The Game Is Over, it was basically my live setup which is an Orange Rockerverb 100, with an analog pedalboard.

“A big part of the tone I get from the amp comes down to a 10-band EQ I use to boost the mids on the lead channel. That’s about it – I don’t really use overdrive pedals or anything like that and probably use less gain than most modern guitarists. I almost use EQ to find a modern sound, instead of more gain.

“I also have a Fractal Axe-Fx III, which I’ve used here and there on the album, especially for clean parts – it’s really good for that. I’ve done some overdubs with the II as well, stuff that has a lot of effects or sounds really wet – Axe-Fx is great for that, too. I also have a 1969 Marshall Superbass 100 which we split with a Bogner Ecstasy or Uberschall, and used for the rhythm tracks on a couple of songs.”

And how about for guitars?

Majura: “I’ve been with Ibanez for many years now and I’m very happy. They deliver the most perfect instruments. You pick up an instrument and either like it or not. Some of them seem to instantly merge with your system – you become one – and that is true of most Ibanez guitars, at least for me.

“Of course I’ve played Les Pauls and other things, but they’re really not my style. I have so many Ibanez guitars now. I think the AZ series was such a smart move – the family is even bigger and better now… Look at players like Tim Henson, who is just amazing. He makes me feel so old. He’ll be nailing it and I’m at home just playing along to AC/DC or something!

“For pedals, I stick with the Line 6 Helix pedalboard because I remember at my first rehearsal in 2015, they would tell me certain parts would need a chorus or flanger or this or that. At the end of the rehearsal I had a battery of pedals in front of me and realized I couldn’t do it. I’ve never been a pedal dancer. I went to Line 6 asking for a solution and they were just about to come out with the Helix… it was perfect.”

McLawhorn: “I was using a baritone PRS SE. I changed the pickups out, but that’s it – I love the guitar and how it plays. I tried a few different sets, most by Seymour Duncan. One of my seven-strings has a Seymour that my tech put in on the road and I don’t know which one it is! He just found it in my guitar coffin and asked if we should throw it in. It stayed for the rest of the tour – it was probably a JB, who knows!

“But the one on the record is the Distortion (SH-6). I really like how they sound. At first, they were a little hot for what I like – I tend to prefer somewhere in between modern metal and classic rock. It felt like really high gain, way too much, especially when switching from my other guitars. But he really lowered the pickup down and that fixed everything, making everything super-tight and adding some nice mids.”

Use My Voice has a really powerful message behind it…

Majura: “Yes! Another thing that connects me and Amy very strongly is that we both went through moments in our careers where males would tell us, ‘You’re just a girl – what do you know?’ It’s time for strong women – in rock or wherever – to stand up and say being good at a craft has nothing to do with gender. It’s been happening for way too long.

“That feeling of our voices being suppressed needs to change, because every voice matters. We’re all the same. It does not matter if you are male or female or transgender… humans are humans. I think we should spend more time understanding why we’re the same. Use My Voice is an important message for women to stand up and be heard.”

Where do you think your influences differ as guitar players?

Majura: “The first guitar hero I had at around 10 or 11 was Steve Vai. He was so revolutionary in terms of what he’s done for the guitar world, both sound-wise and crafts-wise. Electric guitar wouldn’t be what it is today without Steve Vai.

“I respect him so much for how he feels and talks through his instrument. He’s influenced my thinking about a lot of things. He’s an amazing person, not just an amazing musician.

“Then I got into Nuno Bettencourt, who plays for the sake of the song instead of showing off. Which is what I tried to do on my first solo album, Inzenity, everyone expected a shred album and it wasn’t. I played for the song. If it didn’t require a guitar solo then fine, I’d just leave it. I didn’t need to prove to the world how good I was.

“Nuno also has the percussive style of playing, which brings this tone that I really like. And finally, Angus Young. I’ve been playing in an AC/DC tribute band for four years and I love his playing.”

McLawhorn: “A lot of them for me were the classic players while I was growing up. So Ace Frehley for sure… KISS were like Slipknot for us who grew up in the '70s [laughs]! Then there’s Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix. Tony Iommi as well, he was a massive influence on me as a kid.

“Eddie Van Halen was a huge influence on me, too – it was very sad that we lost him so early and so young. When Van Halen came out, I started taking guitar very seriously. The bluesy side of his playing always appealed to me but he also had all that technical prowess, too. A very inspiring guitar player for so many people.”

What advice can you offer anyone out there hoping to become a good session player?

McLawhorn: “You need to know how to communicate with people. I’ve done sessions with some Nashville guys that have this shorthand way of writing music. Reading music and knowing theory is always important… I wish I knew more myself.

“It puts you at ease walking into a session knowing you read and play anything back. I can’t really do that – I just really really listen and learn things by memory. I can read some music but that’s going back to trumpet at high school [laughs]. So I rely on communication always!”

Majura: “I think guitar players need to be honest. Use your voice. Be real. Be pure. We don’t need fake, we need humanity and real people. What I love about people like Mattias IA Eklundh is he’s just himself. He’s pure and innovative in a really interesting way.

“I’ve gotten to know guys like him, Guthrie Govan, Richie Kotzen and Jeff Waters – they’re all awesome and very honest players. I think one should never think one has seen it all and learned it all.

“We need to keep in mind we’re all on a journey in search of becoming better. In terms of advice, I always have to say being open to different styles is so important. There’s something to learn every day. You should never stop trying to improve to make the world a better place. You should never stop learning… that’s what makes you human.”

#Jen Majura #troy mclawhorn #Evanescence #2021 interviews

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firepiplup · 3 years

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How do i say no to people

You know that analogy about people with adhd having spoons for energy management or whatever? My spoons are on backorder from like 2 months ago and more got on that list now

The problem is that all of the things I'm being asked to do are Very Important Things

I have to feed my diabetic cat. This in itself is not a problem, however she's needs to eat at a specific time (12 hour spacing) and my current sleeping situation along with work do not allow this to happen consistently. Currently trying for 7:30, we'll see how it goes

My apartment has bedbugs, and there's no way in fucking hell I'm sleeping on my living room floor until my scumlord landlord actually gets the guy to come back to spray because he did spray but I'm still seeing adults and i "need to give the spray time to work" it's been fucking 2 weeks i don't know how is supposed to work but i feel like after 2 weeks whatever spray you did isn't going to get any stronger i just want to sleep in my own bed it's been like this since fucking March

With that part explained, I'm sleeping at my mom's house on the other side of town. This in itself isn't much of a problem, however as "payment" i have to take care of her dog in the morning, to practice because she's going on a week long vacation in October and none of her dogs can just be taken care of like normal dogs. He needs to wear a diaper to leave the room while i pick up his shit and soiled weewee pad and mop the floor, give him some time to be out of his room, and then feed him his special food mix. The other dog has allergies and probably will get into something he shouldn't, then not use the bathroom outside even though he literally has a doggy door that has constant access to the backyard. Neither dog get along with each other, which is why they are separated. Thank fuck the cat is just normal, this is why i prefer them

Now with THAT explained, it's difficult to take care of my own cat on time in the morning. But as the legendary Billy Mays says: But wait, there's more!

I just got rehired at my job working in a local understaffed pizzeria. My friend, ego also works there, is on vacation (good for her, she deserves it, absolutely no negativity towards her) so i have acquired her hours. So i now work 6 days a week, kinda sorta clopen but i guess it's more of opelose. Or a combination of both? Idk. The point here is, I'm then dealing with essentially running half a restaurant alone 6 days a week, with it not being 7 purely because the owner himself ALSO has the same work schedule as far as I'm aware, and wanted to give himself a day off, and since we are so understaffed it would be impossible unless we literally closed. My tasks include answering the phone, washing dishes, making sandwiches, making dinners, folding pizza boxes, and cleaning the tables/equipment on that side of the restaurant. So essentially everything except making pizzas, cleaning the pizza area, mopping in general, and driving. We generally close at 9, 10 on Friday and Saturday. Guess who was explicitly rehired to close those days? Guess how that's going to work with me having to be home around 7:30 to take care of my own cat? I have no idea either. It's only for about 3 weeks, but my mom, whom i have not asked for any additional help with anything, won't feed the cat while i have work, even though there isn't a guarantee that i can leave on time to THEN RETURN to close, because again I'm the only one on that side of the building. I understand the fear of the bedbugs, so that's probably it, but it still fucking sucks because the kitchen is on the other side of the apartment from the bedroom and there is literally no reason to go there to feed her. But i get it

Did we get to where i can do my own ADLs? Of course not. My neighbor is in the hospital, and her husband is blind. This is a new development that was only discovered an hour before starting this post (about 3:30 am for me). She's ok, it's for mental health reasons, and that's her own business about that. Her husband being blind is not a new development however. And he needs help taking care of the pets, specifically the birds. Which is fine, they just also need to eat on their own schedule. 8am, around lunchtime, and 8pm. Guess who's still at work? One of the birds is special needs because her beak got injured and needs to be essentially spoon fed. Which the blind husband can't do at all. Fairly simple task, but just adding to my obligations that are Very Important because they involve making sure things don't starve to death while my neighbor is in Crisis

Ok let's see, that's 4 Very Important Tasks/Obligations, and only one was originally my own voluntary one. Still not at taking care of myself yet, but i have my shelter, i have my job ("part time" minimum wage, hurray. Part time because even with me being there 6 fucking days a week open to close it still isn't technically enough hours for the state to recognize it as full time), and I'm taking care of *counting* about 8 pets for the next week. Will unemployment give me my money that I've been claiming since March? No? Will they let me claim with my new working hours that makes that while process even harder? Technically but it'll take over an hour for it to process and it doesn't even do that in the end? Well fuck, guess i have to wait to get paid on the books in cash and beg for a hand written paystub and have my hours worked written down. Glad i earned $100 this week, i hope now that my hours have increased i get some more

Next on the list, appointments. Because I'm a dumbass who can't remember shit if it isn't consistently recurring, i overbooked myself for next week. My much needed therapy appointment with my therapist that I've only met once and is the replacement for my much better therapist that i actually had a relationship with is supposed to have a session with me on Tuesday. Will i remember to do it this time? Possibly since i actually remembered it's on Tuesday. Will she send me the reminder text with the zoom link? Probably not. Wednesday, my one day off, thank fuck for that, is the main problem with the scheduling. My med appointment is for 11:30. Cool, can do. Driving lesson at 12. Oh, that's a little close, but i can manage that probably. I only average 1 lesson per year and a half, so it's fine, it's "healthy" to be nervous about operating a death machine powered by explosions. Have to go to social services to pick up, or attempt to, a new food stamps card. They probably close at 5, and add a Non Driver, i need to rely on someone to take me. The sooner the better, but it can't be during the lesson. Don't forget to take care of the creatures before and during all of this.

Ok. Great. There's an hour before work. Time to shower, because it's so fucking hot I'll be sweating like crazy by the time i get around the corner to the pizzeria, with me literally getting out and dressed and then walking out the door. Glad i finally did still to take care of myself. Eating? I might have something i can heat up quickly while the cat eats and so i can take my own meds. Dishes? Those are going to have to wait, i hope the heat wave doesn't get too bad, but it's been like this for a while, still slowly chipping away at them. Sleep? Severe insomnia. I partially blame the bed, my mattress is so comfortable, i hope the bedbugs like it because i can't fucking use it right now. I'd be sleeping so fucking soundly if i were in my own bed, and yet here i am. Maybe i should take the Trazodone now. I just hope I'll wake up on time. Oh look I'm exhausted, can't afford to buy comparatively better prepared coffee from Dunkin, so i guess my shitty at home coffee is going to have to do. Black because i don't have any creamer or milk or lactose free milk in my house. Just the way i hate it. Gonna have to deal with that i guess, maybe I'll learn to like it

The coffee pot lives in my fridge now. I'm worried to put it with the other dishes because if it sits there, not being washed like everything else, then i won't even have the option of coffee. It's just water and ground up beans, I'm sure it's fine

Maybe i can find some kind of coping skill/hobby to help me through my limited me time. Let's see.... I like to crochet, and that helps me get through the dishes by letting me alternate between them and a row/round on one of my many started projects. What? It's in a giant garbage bag with a bedbug treatment stick because of the damn ass bedbugs? Can't open it for at least another week and even then there isn't a place to put the yarn safely? Well fuck. I found that really helpful with keeping me grounded. Umm, well looking online, i should *checks notes* buy new yarn in the meantime and keep it somewhere safe. Uh, well, i can't afford more yarn now and i have nowhere to put it. Videogames it is maybe? Oh fuck now I've hyper focused too long on pokemon, rhythm heaven, and whatever daily games i do, i think i have 5 of those of varying lengths of time spent on them

Did i remember to brush my teeth? No. Do i remember that i should and then when i get out of the shower so i forget to actually execute? Yes. Have i gone insane? Probably

How many spoons is a person supposed to have per day? It takes more for me just to get through the day in general. Why does everyone need me to do their Very Important Tasks? Why is there never anyone else? Can my neighbor just not buy more birds when she gets home from Crisis?

I just want to have good mental health, why is this so hard

#adhd #autistic adult #bedbugs #pizza #cats #birds #diabetes #anxiety #rant #exhaustion #dogs #work #spoons

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florencefallons · 4 years

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Life and Stuff

August 10, 2020. The the first day of the most insane month of my life. Of course it would happen in 2020. I hope you’ll forgive me for using this platform as a means to get the thoughts jumbled around in my head out into a more organized form. I rarely ever even use this platform anymore. When I do, it’s to reblog pictures of Carol Burnett or Barbara Stanwyck. The occasional Emma Thompson photo. Never to sit down and spill out everything on my mind into what, very likely, will become a novella on its own.

I’m not a prolific speaker. I trip over my words. I say “um,” and “uh” a lot. My brain is moving at twice the speed of my mouth and my poor mouth can’t keep up. Therefore when I have things on my mind, like I do today, I can’t just talk about them. A) Who would I talk about it to? and B) Even if I had a place to talk about these thoughts, it would come out all jumbled up and I’d end up sounding totally ridiculous and having said nothing I wanted to actually say.

When it comes to expression, writing is where I’ve always excelled. Excelled is a strong word, but when you compare it to other forms of self expression, it’s the only form I am able to use proficiently. I don’t have a vlog or a youtube channel. I don’t have a blog that reaches people. I have no voice. No influence in this world. But I have this platform and it allows for posts like this, and for once, I’m going to use it.

As I said, August 10, 2020 was the first day of the most insane month of my life. More has happened to me in this one month span than has happened to me at any other time in my life...and you’re hearing from a person who was injured on the job and has had a fractured spine and 13 surgeries. I’ve been through some stuff. Nothing with the intensity and frequency this month has thrown it at me though. This month has resulted in seven major events that have deeply impacted my life in some way. Nobody is being forced to read this. In fact I expect most will see its length and scroll past it faster than a fundraising ad for Donald Trump. I do hope SOME of you will take the time to read it though. I’m mainly writing it for posterity. To have a place where this month is recorded, so I can come back someday and remember it. So, with that being said, here are the things that have happened (or are soon to happen) in this 1 month span. Listed in chronological order.

1) August 10, 2020. I was in my 2nd week of work at the new clinic our hospital opened. Working for the largest hospital and clinic system in the state, sometimes our clinics outgrow our ability to contain them. My job was in the neurology clinic. I worked as the nurse who took care of all the multiple sclerosis doctors and nurse practitioners, while answering all the patient questions, emails, and voicemails. We’re looking at about 2,500 patients on the generous side of the estimate. Needless to say, I was busy. It was said many times by coworkers, by the doctors I worked with, and--admittedly--by me, that the job was a two-person job. It was too much for one person to handle. I was drowning fast in a mountain of paperwork that needed to be filled out, messages that needed to be answered, phone calls that needed to be returned. I’d accomplish finishing, say 25% of the work, and 50% more work would come in. I was at the end of my rope.

--Let me interject here by saying that, over the course of the 16 months I worked this job, I had to start seeing a psychiatrist, I had to start psychological therapy with a licensed therapist, and I was started on no less than 5 new psychiatric medications. Once the correct balance was found, I was reduced down to only 2, but regardless, I think this fact alone proves the point that the stress of the job was getting to me.--

I finally looked at the mountain of work in front of me and I broke. I set up a meeting with my boss, the director of nursing for all of the neuroscience service line (that covers 6 clinics). We met, and I told her “You told me to be open and honest, and to come to you whenever I have an issue.” She agreed. I went on to tell her that I was losing my mind. The workload was entirely too much to hold over one person and needed help. Desperately. I was constantly being interrupted by people needing help with this or that, which was fine. I don’t mind helping anyone, I love it...but it took away from the time I had to do my already overwhelming job. I may have cried some, I don’t remember.

Her solution was probably the worst idea ever put forth, but I was so devastated and down and overwhelmed, I didn’t really even hear anything she said after I spoke my piece. Her suggestion was that, if our clinic was too hectic for me, I needed to transfer to the new clinic. It was an epilepsy clinic but we had 2 multiple sclerosis providers there too, so I could go there and be the MS nurse there. At that moment, that sounded like a great idea. Fewer people=less stress. Yeah, no. Once she sent me over there, she decided with me being there, they had no need to keep our patient care tech there. So she took her away and made her work at the main campus, where they have tons of patient care techs. That left me and another nurse who, due to a bad knee, did very little that tinvolved getting up off his ass and helping out with goings on in the clinic. He much preferred to sit in his fancy chair and delegate duties to me from there. I was younger, I was newer, and he was--in his mind--the charge nurse.

So, thus began the saga of my doing at the new clinic, the job that THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE did at the main clinic. I was forced to triage (get into a patient room and go over everything to make sure it was up to date) every patient, draw labs on every patient, all while trying to do the job I was ACTUALLY hired for, which was answering phone calls and returning messages. Which was a full time job on its own. Needless to say, my “new’ duties took all that time away and all my stuff went unanswered. I kept getting harassed by patients and managers that stuff had been sitting waiting too long to be done.

Mr. Charge nurse, from his chair he never left, didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “It’s not that bad here” he’d say. Sure, if you never have to get up and do anything, but for me, it’s very hard. I have to do all the job of a PCT (getting paid nurses’ wages by the way) along with a job just as busy as the one you’re having to do. I’m expected to do as much if not more in the computer as you do, yet I never have time to touch it because I’m always triaging patients (half of which are YOURS) and drawing all the labs. Well of course he disagreed and said he helped and I was overreacting. By that he means he maybe got up once or twice a day because someone needed attention and I was still busy in another patient’s room. My boss would berate me, asking why my inbox was sitting there so full and nothing was being done.

“WHEN DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THESE THINGS *Insert her name here*??? I spend my entire day, I mean my ENTIRE day, doing the job of a PCT and you’re paying me to do the job of an RN. “Well, *insert his name* says he helps you.” That’s a damn lie and he knows it. He thinks that he’s the charge nurse, he’s older, and he has a bum knee (mind you I have my entire lower half of my spine fused so don’t give me that��“I have hardware in my knee” bullshit. I’m full of titanium too. Fight me.) Well, help was refused, the other nurse was just told to try and help more and that he was not the charge nurse, that our clinic didn’t HAVE a charge nurse since there were only 2 of us. Well, he got so butthurt over that, he interviewed for a new job in the same building as our main clinic. He was offered the job. He was getting ready to give his notice and I was literally at the end of my sanity. So I turned in my notice to my manager on August 10, 2020. I told her I couldn’t keep doing the job of 3 people by myself and it was too much I was through. My doctors begged me to stay. She asked if I was sure that’s what I wanted. I said it wasn’t what I WANTED, but I can’t keep working like this. So I really don’t have a choice. “Well we don’t have the staff or money allocated to give you a tech if you’re over here.” So I shrugged, said I was giving her 4 weeks notice and I’d have to leave.

This was a Monday. On Wednesday, she came back and not only gave our tech back, she gave (*insert his name here*) everything he wanted, because she’d caught wind he was getting ready to leave too and she’d have no nurses at the clinic. I told her I’d retract my resignation if she would let us keep our patient care tech, because with her, I have time to actually do my job. She all but said “OK” and to give her a definite answer on Monday. So I did. Monday I told her I’d stay since we had adequate help. Well apparently she discussed thsi with her boss and came back at me with “Sorry, but all we can accommodate is an as needed position or you can extend your leave date and stay on full time until your replacement is hired and you can train them to make the transition easier.”

Are you freaking serious, bruh? “As needed” meaning “free reign to fire you with no consequences when we don’t want you anymore, plus all my benefits would be taken away.” Or, I could “stay and help train my replacement.” Are you out of your mind? Then what? Fuck off into the sunset, your job here is finished? I think I’ll take a hard pass on both those options. My last day will be September 4.

So, while going through all this I was being tested and was diagnosed with not one, but two life-altering disorders.

2) First, I was diagnosed with severe attention deficit disorder. I was told I’d actually had it my whole life based on testing and had never been evaluated or treated. This would have been the 1990s when this started, and I found out my parents were approached about the possibility I had ADD. I made excellent grades, but had major problems with impulse control and talking too much and paying attention. My parents dismissed this suggestion. They did not--and to this day still did not--believe ADD was a real diagnosis. They said ti was nothing more than kids who needed their asses beat and they’d learn to behave. I could not possibly be one of those hyperactive kids who suck in school and just all-around do poorly. I did too well in school. I was told to pay attention more and stop goofing off. I was threatened with spankings if I messed up. So I worked really hard to stop my impulses from taking over. And I did, some, but not always. I got punished quite a bit for things I did in school. Not on purpose, but it’s how I was. And now, as an adult, I was still struggling with impusle control and with paying attention. I still struggled in prioritizing tasks and organizing things. I could never figure out why my brain wouldn’t let me do those things. My PCP said I had ADD--he KNEW it--but I had to be diagnosed by a licensed psychotherapist. So I went and was diagnosed. And it changed my world. It was a lot to process, knowing what I went through as a kid and knowing the punishment I went through for something that was not my fault. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t mistreated. If I’d been treated for ADD as a child though, I might not have just done well in school, I might have kicked ass. I might have been valedictorian rather than 6th in class to graduate. That was hard to swallow. Yet a relief at the same time.

3) Went to the sleep clinic and got a take-home sleep apnea study kit. It came back positive for sleep apnea. My oxygen was dropping to 70% at night, which is basically hypoxic, and the reason I’m probably so sleepy all the damn time. As soon as I get home from work and get settled, I fall asleep for at least an hour, maybe 2. I haven’t always done that. I used to have trouble sleeping to the point I needed Lunesta for help (although the taste was so bad I rarely took it).Sure enough, I need CPAP when I sleep to help keep my oxygen over 92%. They told me I’d feel better almost instantly. So I’m hoping to go see them next week about getting my machine.

4) My friend’s little 4-year-old niece died. She was a special, miracle child who touched so many lives it’s insane. She was a beautiful soul. I never met her but her death affected me profoundly because her aunt posted so many photos and videos online. I felt like I lost one of my godchildren or something. It hurt. I can’t imagine what they are going through.

5) My uncle Jerry died. The day after the little girl I just mentioned. I can’t even attend HIS funeral due to COVID and the risk of contamination. My mom is on a chemo drug for an autoimmune disease that destroys her immune system. So we’re trapped away from everyone (if I want to see my mom that is).

6) My last day of my job was today, September 4, 2020. It finally came, my time there is done. 16 months of hard work down the toilet. Because of poor management, shitty leadership, lack of care or respect for employees, etc. I offered to stay, but my offer was rejected as it was given. It just served to remind me I made the right decision, even if it was a bit rash. Several others have quit or gotten fired so staffing will be interesting. My old “charge nurse” is about to learn what getting off your broad butt and helping is all about now. They aren’t sending him ANY nurses to help him next week. I’ll be honest, I hope the whole thing blows up in (insert name here)’s (my director’s) face. she is trying to run the neuro clinic like she runs her other clinic--which is TOTALLY DIFFERENT. I thought she’d be good for the clinic, turns out she wants to get rikd of EVREYONE who has FMLA-Anyone who has permission to be off work without fear of repercussions. She wants a bunch of “as needed” staff so she doesn’t have to hire full time people, she doesn’t have to pay anyone benefits, and she can get rid of them whenever she likes “your as needed position is no longer needed,” without going through all the bullcrap red tape the state puts you through to fire anyone. Anyway, bottom line, today was my last day at a job that--the job itself--I loved. The patients I loved, the doctors and nurses I loved, and my coworkers I loved. I have never left a job I loved. It was 100% management. My main doctor, the medical director of the service line, did not want me to leave and keeps asking me to say. I had to explain to him I tried, but they refused. Broke my heart. He’d take me back in a minute though, if the situation at the clinic ever changes. I hope it does. He was the most brilliant, kind, generous, respectful, patient, and dedicated man I’ve ever met. He taught me a lot. I’ll take a lot of what I learned from him with me wherever I go.

7) The final thing has not happened just yet, but it will be very soon and I’m already dealing with it. So September 7 is the 1 year anniversary of the death of my best friend. I still miss her like it was yesterday. Time has, as they say, healed some of the wound, but not all. Every now and then I get slammed with the realization she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. Talk to her. Hug her. Laugh with her. Ever. Again. And I cry and suffer with it all over again. That is happening less frequently, but it has picked up again now that 1 year is approaching. I can’t believe it. My best friend has been dead for 1 year. The 1 year anniversary of the last time we spoke was August 20. It hurts so much. But slowly, over this year, I’ve started dreading getting up in the morning a little less, I can breathe again, a little. I can laugh again without feeling guilty about it. I’ve finally hit all the 1 year milestones with her death (well, as of 9/7). I’m going to her grave this weekend to place some special things I purchased in honor of her 1 year anniversary since her passing. Damn I miss her so much.

So, this month--this whole year technically--has been a lot to process. A lot to find out, a lot to digest, and a lot to grieve through. I keep thinking “it can’t possibly get any worse, maybe things will get better now” and it always does. That trend for 2020 doesn’t bode well with the election coming up. That makes me so nervous I feel sick. But I refuse to get political here. If you’ve stayed with it this far, you have tremendous stamina and I salute you. It’s taken me hours and several breaks to write thanks to my ADD and just being sleepy and falling asleep in the middle of typing. But that’s it, my month inside the year straight out of hell.

#2020 #August #September #Year from Hell #I can't deal with much more #hell month #loss of job #loss of family member #loss of child #quit job #loss of best friend #1 year death anniversary #please end soon 2020 #let life improve PLEASE!

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heartfeltheart · 4 years

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Alchemy: Tiny Steps

Chapters: 20/45 Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist/Harry Potter Rating: T Relationships: Edward/Winry, Lan Fan/Ling, and May/Alphonse. Primary Characters: Edward Elric, Severus Snape Additional Tags: Crossover, Teacher!Edward, BrOtp Edward/Severus. Sassy beyond measure. Pro!Snape Series: Part 2 of 9. Summary: Part two of the Alchemy Series. Politics. Either you love it, hate it or you live it. For Alchemy Teacher Edward Elric, he lives it, hates it and loves it when he gets the upper hand. Here is to another year of hell… D/C: I do not own Harry Potter or Fullmetal Alchemist. Discord: La Red(Mesh Mash of… stuff.): https://discord.gg/KYjmVAb Alchemy Series: https://discord.gg/DejEYNJ

"45 passing." Edward mused at the list of students that passed the bar to be accepted into his class. As the time goes by, that number will be cut, kicked or leave on their own accord. He already placed his original twelve students in their own class and scattered them around to the other classes to have them help the other students. Friday will be a free day, having that day free for anyone to just come and ask him questions or go further on whatever. Classes will take place after lunch every weekday. Weekends are his free days. "What do you think?"

"To many for my taste. I saw how you tested them. You went easy on them." Alphonse scanned through the sheet his brother used to determine the pass or fail for the test. "Far too easy."

"This is my second-year teaching, I have to set the bar lower. You've seen how they all are taught and raised, I had to start somewhere." Edward grumbled, he pulled out a bind notebook and started to write his schedule. After looking at everyone's schedule and seeing where he should set his class, by the looks of it, after lunch every weekday. If it conflicts with other extra-curricular activities, then Friday will act as a make-up day. By no means this gives them a chance to slack off, it just giving them a chance to do other things instead of studying all day. "Plus, the students that show potential, are still years behind of doing actually anything! Even so, I am terrified how this place will do to my students. There will be ones that will turn down the wrong road. Ones that will force them to teach them what they are not supposed to know. My biggest fear for them, are them being manipulated by their own thirst of knowledge."

Alphonse stood still in his spot, standing next to his brother's desk with papers still in hand. His voice did not waver or show any sort of sympathy. "We could only guide them and show them every possible outcome in our disposal. We have to be vigilant, we have to teach them what is right and what is wrong. Do whatever we can to lead them on the right path. Even so, there is nothing we can do for those that decide to take that path of insanity. We just have to beat the hell out of them for them to see sense of their stupidity. Or have Truth deal with them."

"…Since when did you become so…this?" Edward motioned at his brother with a look of disbelief. "You are the go-lucky, happy and…NOT THIS!"

"...Try having to put up with all your bullshit, having people continuously trying to kill you just to gain an edge or for whatever other reason, running low on caffeine, and my short time being in the same location as Truth."

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"I was recuperating physically while you had to do so mentally. The both of us already had too much in our hands… Don't worry about it. Long as I have my caffeine, I am A-Okay."

"...Have you told Mei?"

"…She suspects."

Edward let out a sigh, he dropped everything he had on the table and leaned back into his chair. He looked up at the ceiling pensively. "You have been avoiding sleeping, haven't you? I have a valid excuse. You don't."

"I actually have a valid excuse… Did you know I have a fan-club?"

"...You too?"

-.-

"Brilliant this is! We all have the same class on Monday!"

Fred and George, they swung their arms around each other's shoulders as they examined their new schedules. Triple Alchemy by the looks of it. Monday, Fifth hour for the both of them. Tuesday, Fifth hour for Fred and Wednesday Fifth Hour for George. Friday is optional for everyone by the looks of it.

"Let's go find the others."

"Terrence is most likely going to be in the library."

"Knowing him, Rachel is most likely with him. Want to find one, locate the other."

"Well said, brother!"

-.-

Nathaniel Praxley, Elfrida Hopkirk, and Rachel McWilliams sat around the Ravenclaw table, exchanging their new schedules that now involved an Alchemy Course. The three Ravenclaw's had just received their schedules for them to see how they will be placed this year for the course. The three had taken Mr. Elric's class with varying results.

Nathaniel Praxley, a Fifth year Ravenclaw Pure-Blood, has straight shoulder length black hair, dark brown eyes that was hidden by a pair of thick glasses. His uniform untidy and loose in some places, and is nervously pulling at it while looking at his schedule. When he decided to take the Alchemy Entrance Exam, Nathaniel would have never thought he'd make it this far. Seeing that he'd made it this far let alone retaking the exam to get back into the class, and making it back in, did lift his spirits. Being in a House that had to do with intelligence, wit and so on, it made Nathaniel double guess himself on why he was even in this house. Everyone else in his house, did not have to study three times as hard, they all made it seem so easy and they make it a point whenever he is around. Taking Alchemy helped deal with his self-esteem and Mr. Elric understood he needed a longer time to comprehend his studies. Take as much he needed to understand what was being told to him.

Elfrida Hopkirk, Third year Ravenclaw Half-Blood, has a chin length chestnut brown hair, honey colored eyes and heavy bags under her eyes. She sleepily looked at her schedule, wondering if she would have time to have time to get a small nap between lunch and her Alchemy Class. By the looks of it, that won't be happening. She ran a hand through her short hair, wondering what she was going to do. Throughout her life, she had to deal with a severe case of insomnia and the Ravenclaw needs a sleeping drought to even get an ounce of sleep. Normally this would not be a but issue, the issue everyone seemed to have with her is her extreme case of procrastination. For those that have to pace themselves, take hours, days, or weeks to fully finished their work, it takes Elfrida far less time and get's everything spot on. It had gotten so bad that her Housemates refuse to have her part of any study groups or interact with her when it comes to schoolwork. The only ones that openly interact with her are the ones that are also taking Alchemy. The only class she has to be on the constant move to do everything in a timely manner, leave everything at the last minute and she'll have no one to help her comprehend the subject in hand. To the disbelief of many, instead of using her time accordingly, she spends her time procrastinating and do all of her work in the last minute. Even if her work is always on point, but her way of procrastinating everything in her life will cause her problems all over.

The last one, Rachel McWilliams is chatting up her friends and fellow Alchemist trainees to no end. She paid more attention to paper she had in her hand than her breakfast. Her friends had to forcibly change the subject to get her to eat something, but that seemed to be an impossible task at that moment of time. Rachel is far more entranced by the fact she now has Alchemy three times a week. The opportunities!

"We know… now eat your food!"

"Bu-"

"Stop. Talking. For once, stop trying to grab everyone's attention."

"I…"

"My eyebrows are growing back wrong after you pulled my sleeve in my experiment…"

"I wasn't able to hear Mr. Elric when he gave out instructions for the final report…because you kept trying to distract me."

"One of the things Mr. Elric taught us is patience and know when to keep your mouth shut-"

"But Mr. Elric never knows when to keep his mouth shut. Have you seen how interacts with public officials? Let's not get started with General Mustang or even with the Headmaster? Patience? Mr. Elric? Is this about that project he had us do for our final? That was easy, all we had to do…"

Everyone around her at this point only shook their heads at seeing Rachel started to talk about everything and anything. Nathaniel sympathized with her, understanding even. Everytime he attempts to help her, it just gets turned around against him. "Rachel… Rachel… Rachel… RACHEL!"

"… You didn't have to be loud, I was listening. Look, like I was saying…"

-.-

Cedric looked at his new schedule, his hands shaking excessively. He got in. He got into Alchemy. Many emotions ran through him, he made it into Alchemy. Having to study, breakdown, mentally preparing himself time and time again to retake the exam…

"I GOT IN!" Cedric yelled out, surprising everyone around him. He jumped up from his seat, waving his hands around in excitement. "I GOT INTO ALCHEMY!"

"One of us… One of us… One of us…"

"Fred! George! Don't scare him off!"

"Come on Terrence! Let us have some fun!"

"Your definition of fun is not the same as ours!"

"Party pooper!"

Cedric had stopped celebrating, his hands in the air awkwardly. He slowly brought them down and sat back in his spot at the table with his head down. His friends patted him on the back in acknowledgment. When he put his head down, the Hufflepuff didn't see the Alchemy Teacher raise his glass up towards his direction.

-.-

Terrance Higgs sat back on his seat with a huff, always having to deal with Fred and George's antics always takes a lot out of him. He looked around the table and quickly realized his new schedule is missing. "Has anyone se-"

"I'm comparing it to mine."

Terrance looked at his friend and newest pupil to Alchemy, Adrian Pucey. A fellow Slytherin and Fourth year. He saw that Adrian comparing both their schedules, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Do you think we'll have time for Quidditch?"

"We will. Mr. Elric will work for you if you work with him about it." Terrance explained with nod, remembering how Mr. Elric would allow a small extension in some of his work whenever practice or a game would come around. He is still not going easy on him and all the others by any means, he understands that they have other priorities as well. "Don't worry, I'll put in a good word in for you. It miiiight work."

"...Tch. Whatever." Adrian snorted and handed Terrance his schedule. "It looks like we won't be taking the class together. Unless you want to go together on Fridays?"

"Of course."

"Could I join you two?"

Adrian and Terrance looked across of them to see Edmond Mortin, a Second year, looking at them expectantly. His auburn hair in its usual side part and not a single crinkle in his uniform in sight. It's a first of many times to hear him speak, and everytime they hear his voice it astounds them. For a 12-year-old, he has a very deep voice. "Sure."

Edmond Mortin stared at the older Slytherins with unblinking eyes. "Thanks."

"I will never get used to that voice of yours, I swear." Timothy Jerkins stated with a chuckle, his smile seemed never changing. A prefect badge shining on his chest, his entire uniform is in pristine condition that only reflected his career driven attitude. Despite his charming smile and charismatic appearance, there is something that hides behind. There lays a person that is willing to use every advantage he has to stay ahead of everyone, even if it means to destroy everyone in his path. Everyone in Alchemy knows that Mr. Elric will take every chance he has to take him down a peg or two… several. It is heavily noted that he used to be worse. "Are you sure you are not sick?"

"He's not, his voice just reached puberty faster than the rest of his body is all."

"…Let's go with that."

-.-

"Are you going to join me today or are you going to continue with your rounds?" Edward asked his brother as they headed off towards grounds of the school.

Alphonse pulled out a clipboard that contained several lists and other random documents. "Today I have scheduled a meeting with… the groundskeeper?"

"Oh, Hagrid?" Edward head perked up at the mention of the groundskeeper. He occasionally had crossed paths with the half-giant, all good praises from the Alchemy Teacher. If anything, Hagrid is highly amused at how Fang would glomp on him whenever the giant dog would see him. "Good man, can't a hold a secret to even save his life."

"…What did you do to him?" Alphonse deadpanned, sensing that something occurred.

"N-" Before Edward could even continue on speaking, a giant shadow fell over him and a sense of dread filled within him. All hear heard before he entered a world of complete darkness is Hagrid apologizing for his canine's actions… then nothing.

#Alchemy Series #Tiny Steps #HP #FMA #FMAB #HP/FMA #HP/FMAB #Crossover #AU #Fanfic #Pro!Snape

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heartsywritesthethings · 5 years

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Urgent (-ish)

Heartsy’s Input: Babe. This is so wonderful. Holy Shit. This is Babe’s amazing Part 2 to Urgent she wrote a bit ago. Lemme tell you. I’m blushing about as much as Ed. Give it a read and let her know what you think!

Submitted by Babe!Anon

~~~~~

He could leave. The option was always there. Edward Elric could just jump on the next train to Central and not have to be here anymore. He was always working, always hot, always sweating, and always…on the look out.

After reading that letter, he had bolted out of that tent as fast as his legs could carry. Dust had picked up behind him and so many Ishvalans had stared at him as if he had three heads. He made his own transmuted tent on the opposite side of the camp and hid from everyone for what seemed like weeks, months, even years.

It was only twenty minutes.

Eventually, someone knocked on the wall and Ed made a small peephole that he could peek out of. It was an Ishvalan soldier. Ed considered the threat and let himself out, brushed himself off, and tried to get rid of the blush on his cheeks.

“Uh, are you the Fullmetal Alchemist?” the man asked, towering over the boy and covered in grime and sweat. He looked as if he were expecting someone a little…taller to say the least.

“Yeah,” Ed snapped and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “What do you want?”

The man looked taken aback for a moment before he cleared his throat and shrugged a little. Weirder things have happened he supposed.

“You are needed in the captain’s tent.” He said, gesturing towards where Edward had just run from. Edward tensed and his blush returned full force. He looked away quickly from the man.

“Ah, those guys? They’ll find me if they need me! I’ll just-just-uh…make some buildings! Yeah, rebuilding, right?” Ed said, plastering a smile on his face and heading rigidly in a completely different direction.

“But you–sir?” the man stammered, not knowing what to make of this. He had been told that the matter was urgent. Ed just waved without looking back at the man.

“I’m sure they’ll be okay!” He called out, looking around for something–anything–to keep him busy.

~~~~

There is only so much you can do in the middle of the dessert. Edward had been making buildings left and right as soon as he had the general ideas or blueprints from fellow Ishvalans. Most people around him thought the spirit came from the fact that he was so young, but Ed knew that those two captains wouldn’t attack while he was working, so he kept busy.

It was Miles who had gotten the first point.

Ed had made the mistake of walking back to his little tent alone at night. After a long day of work, everyone had retreated back to their own beds and cots. With how tired he had been, he hadn’t noticed his old friend following close behind him.

“You’ve been doing a lot of work lately, full metal.” Mile’s voice said and a heavy hand landed on Ed’s shoulder. The small alchemist froze and a shiver ran up his spine.

“Y-yeah, just doing my job.” Ed replied, trying to move away but the hand on his shoulder tightened. Slowly, Ed turned his head to look up at Miles. There was a smile on the man’s face. That smile that meant that he was in for a heap of trouble. Miles took a step forward, closer to his old friend and just went in for the kill.

Before Ed could react, Miles had yanked the boy’s arm over his head with one hand and started tickling wildly with the other. His fingers danced over Ed’s sides and ribs. Ed didn’t have time to even protest before giggles escaped his lips. He crumpled in Miles’ grip, trying to pull his arm away. When the captain began pinching at his sides, Ed went wild and started flailing like a fish on a hook.

“WAAHAHAHAHAHAHAIT!” Ed wailed, looking around frantically. Someone would definitely hear him if he kept laughing like this, but he was too tired to fight back.

“Say Uncle,” Miles said, smirking a little bit. This had been a fantastic plan of his. Ed was definitely a wiggly runt, but his laughter made it all worth it. He could see why Mustang had sent him that letter. He shifted his grip a little and set his hand to clawing ticklishly at Ed’s stomach.

Edward went crazy, trying to slap his hands together and transmute at least something to get out of this mess. He was kicking up dust and dirt, and his laughter was very quickly going hoarse.

“MILES! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Ed wailed, his face scrunching up as he laughed more and more. He started to see lights come on around him. His heart caught in his throat.

“UNCLE! UN-cle” Ed said, but before he could repeat himself, Miles had already dropped his arm. Ed flopped down onto the ground with an ungraceful thud.

“Keep up the good work, full metal,” Miles said with a smirk on his face. Ed lay on the ground, twitching a little. That damn Mustang.

~~~~~

Scar was a little more subtle.

“Wake up.” the previous convict said, standing over the smaller alchemist in his tent. It had been quite easy to infiltrate, almost like Ed was challenging them. Ed’s eyes flew open and he sat up quickly.

Well, he tried to anyways. That son of a bitch had tied him up. Ed’s heart almost stopped.

“Uh, Scar?” He said, shifting a little on the ground uncomfortably.

“I don’t quite understand what the message was for, but I cannot afford to lose,” Scar said with a very serious expression on his face. There was a moment of silence.

“Are you kidding me?” Ed yelled, looking at Scar as if he were absolutely crazy. Scar just nodded solemnly.

“I was informed last night that I was behind a point.” Scar said and looked him over.

“Mustang is just pulling a st-stupid prank on you two! This is insane! Let me go!” Ed said.

“Fullmetal, we have been enemies longer than we have been companions.” Scar said, casually cracking his knuckles. “But I have been doing this far longer.”

Deadly Ishvalan fingers descended upon the boy’s body with merciless fury. Scar’s fingers danced upon Ed’s body, making the boy twist and writhe underneath the touch.

“SCAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAR!” He squealed, his fists clenching and unclenching. This wasn’t like the night before. Ed was absolutely helpless here. Surprisingly, the Ishvalan stopped. Ed took a few deep breaths.

“Do you like to be tickled, Fullmetal?” Scar asked, looking over at the boy. Edward turned red. Beet red.

“What? Are you kidding me? No!” Ed squeaked, his voice jumping up about an octave. Scar shifted down a little bit…towards….

“Wait! What are you doing? Scar, come on!” Ed protested, but it was too late. The shoe was already off. Ed squeezed his eyes shut, ready for another onslaught of intense ticklish feelings.

“What I have learned in war…” Scar started, slowly dragging a finger up the length of Edward’s good foot. Ed squeaked and he tried to jerk his foot back.

“Is that if you want information from someone…” He continued, gently tickling the bottom of the boy’s foot. Ed giggled like crazy, wiggling on the ground and shaking his head. Scar allowed a small knowing smirk to pull at his lips.

“You have to start out slow.” He said, his voice low. His fingers found a spot right underneath Ed’s big toe–the same place that used to drive his brother wild–and found the same result.

“AHAHA Scahahahar! No! NO! Ihihihihit–stahahahap.” Ed said, his laughter jumping up and down as the fingers danced over his foot. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the intense tickling from the night before or this gentle tickling with the addition of Scar’s emotionless teasing.

“Do you like to be tickled?” Scar asked, pausing so that Edward could respond. The alchemist only breathed heavily and shook his head. Scar shrugged and moved up, pushing Edward’s shirt up to expose his stomach. Edward’s eyes bulged and he shook his head frantically.

The gentle tickles from Scar were probably the most maddening thing that Ed had ever experienced in his life. The coarseness of his callused fingers drove Ed wild. They danced ever so gently on Ed’s stomach, slowly making their way to Edward’s bellybutton.

“Excuse me? Is Captain Scar and Fullmetal inside?” a voice asked from outside, a gentle knocking on the transmuted rock wall. Scar paused and gave Edward a look.

“Yes. We are discussing blueprint plans, what can we do?” Scar asked.

“Captain Miles requests both of you at the tent immediately. There’s a meeting about the new church to be built today.” The man said. Scar nodded and started to untie Edward. Ed pulled his shirt down frantically and scrambled to pull his shoe back on. Scar used his tattooed arm to blow out a wall and he stepped out, looking at the man.

“Sounds urgent.” Scar said, not even bothering to look at the disheveled boy behind him.

#fma #fmab #tickle fic #edward elric #scar #fma scar #major miles #ticklish!ed #ticklish!edward #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #babe this is so fucking good #babe!anon #submission

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cyberlifefortune · 4 years

Text

Users Manual

Use Search Function and Key Words to skip portions and find what you’re looking for.

Interaction Generalizations.

Just be nice. The meaner and more impatient you are, the less inclined I am to interact. It’s how to push me far, far, FAR away from you; I’m anxious, tired, old af and just here to relax. Please don’t hesitate to DM or Inbox me, the WORST thing that could happen is I say no thank you right? Unless you’re being a dick and then the worst thing is I ignore and block. But I mean if you’re coming in prolapse first, I’m probably not going to give the time of day. So.... Be nice!

I cut my lengths, usually by approx 2-4 posts depending how short/long our responses are.

Responses/One Liners/ParaRP

Please don’t hesitate to write as much as you feel appropriate. If you write a para novella response, I will do my best to give back what I have been given, but please don’t treat it like a high school essay (Don’t double space, HEADERize everything and then add a lot of cushioning words, or repeat yourself unnecessarily. I want to be able to respond to you too!). If you seem disinterested, please don’t suffer through a thread, I am happy to finish a thread if you feel that it is done and spent or have no muse for it. We can start another or plot or even just leave it there until we have the muse for their interactions again.

I personally prefer Para, or longer, but sometimes my time constraints only allow for so much and I will understand for yours as well. Don’t feel bad if I slam you with a paratellenovella in a six part series and you only put out a few paragraphs; sometimes it’s a lot of establishing and internalizing for characters that I enjoy exploring too! Don’t feel that you have to match letter counts or length. You write what you want and if we don’t feel it then there is no hard feelings.

Starters.

If they’re tagged as an open thread, please feel free. If it’s open to mutuals only, please respect it. If you want to interact and you want something along that plot; Message me. You’ll be much better received this way than you will be if you insert yourself into threads not meant for you. Closed starters are strictly meant for those my partner(s) and I have tagged. If we bring some one else in, it is not an invitation to slide in like a Stop Light Bar.

Ask threads/Separated Open Starters

If it’s a thread that you are continuing with me, please don’t hesitate to start a separate thread with it! I’ll appreciate it, and believe me, so will you; no dealing with other threads that might stem from it, no dealing with the likes of acknowledgement from the rest of the rp community, and a much neater, easier to use posting format.

Are you posting an open starter? ahhh.... I might... have to message you. I’m quite anxious that people are overwhelmed with threads so I will likely message you regarding it first. If you are overwhelmed, tell me. I do not take offense. We can plot when you have time and if you feel it. I promise I’m not ignoring your starters; I’m just very anxious. If there is something that you would like to plot please just tag me randomly or DM me! I will do my best to reciprocate this as well! I just need time; I’m anxious and sometimes it counterbalances my meds and I’m more ‘FLEE’ than I am ‘BREATHE’.

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS/READ MORES

Triggers; I have none. I really dislike slamming a random thing into an established thread, but I’m not against it in most aspects. What do I mean by this? Please don’t have a cute thread going with me and then BAM CHAR A IS NOW RAGING ANGRY THAT CHAR B IS DOING THIS THING WE NEVER ESTABLISHED HAPPEN. Now if Char A is angry because Char B said something offensive (meant or not) and Char A lands a punch on B; then, Yes. I do not mind this. If you leave an action open, I will use my discretion whether or not it lands (Keep in mind I do love seeing how androids in distress will behave on any/given terms). If I leave an action open to your discretion of being hit or dodging, please do not JUST dodge it every time. I’m trying to give you the option of progressing a fight, not feed you pudding through a straw. As far as violence, gore, etc; I do not mind it. If it gets too gory, we will use RMs or fade it. If it’s too kinky then I will tag and possibly read more it. It all depends on it’s severity and the warning.

Warnings for me are often forgotten; it’s not out of disrespect but because I DO forget. I have lots of things I need to study and RP wise, recalling a hundred and eighty four details is not exactly a priority. It’s not that you’re not important as a partner; it’s that I can fix it if you bring it up with me and we’re adults. I will do my best but please, understand, sometimes I need reminding.

Read mores I forget more often than not, if I use them at all. xkit has a blacklist function. Please use it as it’s more reliable than I am if sex/etc offends you (though if it does I’m not sure what is compelling you this far into my blog). If my partner uses/requests them, I can often remember since they will likely be using them as well, but if I’m using them for a sole reason of this trigger then I’ll likely forget.

Late replies/Slow Replies/Ignored Replies

As a general rule I will do my best to respond to threads as often as my time constraints give me, but that also relies on how me or Connor responds to the thread/the topic/muse. Late replies will likely happen as I’m quite slow at times. If I respond to thread A three or four more times before I respond to thread B, it’s just because I feel thread A more. It doesn’t mean that I dislike our thread, it’s just based on what Connor is willing to do as a muse at that moment. If it feels like I’m ignoring your reply; has it been a few days? You can prod me if I’m responding regularly and come off like I’ve gotten through most of my threads, but if it’s been a week or two please prod me. I might not have seen it, or have forgotten about it. Do not, however, ask me why I respond to Thread C more than that thread, guilt me, try to manipulate me or get short with me. I’m here to have fun, not as a compulsive demand. I am a human just like you and sometimes life just happens to overwhelm me more often than you or the next person. Thank you for understanding, though!

Magic Anons/Topic Suggestions/Anon

MA will be accepted most days, but please give me a time frame for it or I will assume it as three days MY time, or if it is something that I don’t see taking a significant amount of time X amount of hours that I’ll choose myself. IE MA!Connors a real boy. No time? I’ll select for you. Connor as a real boy would be lovely, so I would likely suggest three days. MA!Connor is stuck in his suit for a week! A week? That’s insanely long, I will take liberty and shorten the time to a few days, or I’ll just override it/ignore it. Topic suggestions are adorable and sometimes quite interactive and fun! You get content you like, I get a topic to try with my partner(s) and every one wins! Maybe a few people don’t but that, again, is what xkit is for. Anons will be interacted with as Civilians or generic Androids. Regularly visiting Anons will be named and respectively tagged to the best of my ability. Any anon hate, call out anons, gate keeper anons, fussing anons will be just ignored. No skin off my back, none off of Connors, and even less off of the rest of my follower base. If Anons are inboxing for critique or an opinion asked for- then I’m happy to respond or even read them, I may post them, I might not. It is all up to me. It’s my blog, my Connor and if you dislike him, why is you here? It’s not meant to sound rude, but there are many of us out there, find some one that makes you happy.

Discord/IMs

Strictly for Mutuals or for those I would like to interact more with! If I’m actively giving it to you- I’m excited, please feel free to take it or don’t. If You want it, ask, but understand that I might decline or I may accept it. Please don’t pressure me. I would never pressure you.

Duplicates

Hello other Connors and RK800s alike! You’re welcome here. I’m not here to compete and monopolize; you will each have your own universe with CyberLifeFortune, unless you state with me otherwise. Your worlds will not cross with other RK800/Connors unless we establish. I welcome each of you!

Cross Overs

Please yes! But please, lets figure it out first! Who has the master realm? Are we smashing them together? Making a whole new world? What are we doing, friendo? Lets talk!

OCS

Hello! It’s a hit or miss with me! I prefer fleshed out characters with their own sets of flaws, ups, downs, perfections and quirks. Things that will quickly turn me off of a character, please respect that this is only personal preferences, are inserts, selfserts, Sues, confusing characters, drama/tragic types (IE whole family dead. Became a ninja, almost died of abuse, saved by a four legged fox with 72 tails that died shortly after training. Turns out they were kami status legend and this char is taking their place but no one believes in them so they are dying and doki doki club literature inspired their life). Fun parody characters are well received too! Hi there Sumo Rpers, Super minor cameo androids and/or Officer Wilson (Sweet Cop saved on the rooftop in Mission one)

Shipping

I do not do autoships unless we discuss it. I refuse to continue a thread in which some one is forcing a relationship or has inserted themselves into Connors life. He does not have children, he doesn’t have ‘file’ children (Like the child Cortana makes in Halo), Connor doesn’t have adopted children he doesn’t know about. If you want to autoship please talk to me. If you want it enough you’ll prod me! Think of it this way; we can scream about it together and yell about it as long as we want and then we totally get to do it if we’re both in agreement!

I have no real preference to who/what Connor does. Likely if they exist in the game I’m down to ship them (this includes Rk900s, Gavins, Hanks, etc). I’m purely curious to see what this muse clicks with. I have every right to say no as much as you do. Keep in mind that unless we establish it I play him with his genitalia but he will not be a Traci type. He is and always will be RK800 model.

If you would like to write the raunchy; yes. If you’d like to fade to black; yes. Do you want them to be suggestive? Sure. Kinks? Name it- I’ll try it. I refuse scat and vomit. Like. Hard nopes. Both make my skin crawl and I just get squeamish in those regards. You do you, but I would appreciate not those two please and thank you; much appreciated.

#Model; RK800CLF User Manual

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unforgetabelle · 5 years

Text

A place to land

(4932 w)

ao3 fanfiction

Alya stared up at the flashing screen, her eyes repeatedly skipping between two different departures as the board scrolled through the day’s flights. One to St. Petersburg, the other to Vienna. Both left in thirty minutes, one headed where she should go and one where she wanted to go.

Resigning herself to the option she knew would win out in the end, she walked to sit in her terminal, took out her phone and texted Nino. Pausing only momentarily to gaze at the lock screen, a sunny picture of them both in Barcelona taken months before, she quickly opened up the messenger app and started typing.

How much longer are you in Vienna?

My gig is for another two weeks. His reply took no more than a minute to come through and Alya smiled, leaning back into her seat. They were in the same time zone for once, but it was nearly 10 in the morning. There was only one reason Nino would be awake at that time on a Saturday, and it was because he was stalking her flight progress. Three years of a long distance relationship, each of them jetting off to often-times far flung places, and Nino still insisted on having detailed flight numbers and schedules of her travels. Without fail, he would track her progress until she reached her destination and called to check in. Her parents often joked that they never needed to worry about her travels because she had an ever present vigilante in Nino.

Her boyfriend wore the label with pride, and while she rolled her eyes at times, Nino was always quick to remind her of when she got stranded on a layover in southern India during monsoon season. Without cell service, and the wifi down, Alya had been sure she would be stuck in the country indefinitely, certainly missing Marinette’s line debut two days later. Nino, having tracked her progress, wasted no time in booking her a train north to an area where flights were not grounded and got her a one-way ticket to Paris. When a member of the airport staff had called for her and then proceeded to hand her a print out of the messengered tickets they received from Nino, Alya had never before been so grateful for Nino’s quirk.

With anyone else, his behaviour might seen crazy, but with Alya flying across the world constantly, to far off and sometimes to unfriendly regions, she knew it was his little way of looking out for her from afar. Besides, crazy was normal for them. And without Nino, Alya would have missed her best friend’s debut as a fashion designer. Without him, Alya would be traveling the word listlessly. She may not have an apartment as home base, but she had a Nino. He was her place to land, always. Her home, and she hadn’t been home in months.

The Austria flight was looking more and more appealing by the second.

Why? Nino texted again. She knew his schedule, so he (correctly) assumed there was an ulterior motive to her questioning.

How would you like an unexpected guest?

Alya held her breath, watching as his typing bubbles appeared on screen.

Depends. Is she a redhead? I have a soft spot for redheads ;)

Alya smiled at the comment. She’d known Nino for over a decade. He didn’t have a soft spot for redheads. He had a soft spot for her.

She’s currently veering dangerously towards a copper-head, she typed back with a grimace. Too much time in that Moroccan sun.

Alya grabbed a wayward curl, pulling it taut and nearly doubling its length. Morocco had been surprisingly humid during her time there and extremely sunny. Her mother would scold her SPF usage to see how dark her complexion had turned, and her hair, usually a subtle auburn, had lightened considerably. While she usually passed as brunette in most lights, there was no denying the decidedly orange turn her hair had taken.

A little more foxy than normal?

His reply came and Alya snorted out loud, drawing a bemused glance from those sitting near her. The word “foxy” took on an entirely new meaning between the two of them and Alya couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the reference. One halloween when they’d both happened to be in the US for work, she‘d thought it’d be funny to dress up and partake in the holiday. Finding a cute little fox onesie, she bought a box of temporary hair dye to match the orange color scheme. The hair dye, as it happened, was not temporary. Nor was Nino’s memory of the incident. Still, remembering him coming home to their apartment and finding her snuggled in the pajamas, with a matching turtle pair for him, was one she cherished. They leaned into the American tradition, watching zombie movies and handing out candy to the never-ending stream of trick-or-treaters that knocked on their door. Better to reminisce on the night itself than on the true horror that came days later when, her hair still orange, a bemused Nino fished the dye box out of the trash and read out her fate.

Choosing to ignore his bait, she responded.

Nothing a nice dose of Viennese winter won’t cure

Nah ;), his text came through with a wink. I’ll pass. Wouldn’t want to make my girlfriend jealous

Alya felt her face drop into a deadpan expression as she responded.

I think she’d be okay with it

I think she has an assignment in St. Petersburg for the next month, Nino shot back. If my calculations are correct, she’s on her way there right now.

Not if she changes course to Vienna

Alya

Nino

You are on your way to St. Petersburg, right?

She pursed her lips, looking up that the monitor that proudly displayed a departing flight to Russia, already starting to board, but felt her eyes wander to the terminal across the way. How hard would a ticket transfer really be? Would it hurt to at least check and see if there were seats available?

Yes, she finally texted back, resigned. But I could be on my way to Vienna. I’m in Prague. It’s a short flight from here!

Alya, don’t, his response came almost instantaneously and Alya felt a pout start to form on her face. Her boarding group was called and she reluctantly shouldered her bag and stood in line. Just to rub salt in the wound, she ended up directly behind a couple, arms wrapped around each other as they giggled at something on the girl’s phone. Alya’s own side felt dramatically cold watching them, but she tried not to be too bitter. How many times had she stood with Nino exactly the same way? Gushing over some comments on her articles or listening along to a new mix he’d pieced together? She’d inevitably laugh at something he said, triggering a chain of events so reliable she could set her watch by it.

His hand would squeeze her side. She’d look up with a smile. He’d place a kiss on the tip of her nose. She’d crinkle it in response and then frown until he gave her a proper kiss.

Someone else might call it predictable, but Alya called it tradition. They’re own little ritual. It had been over a year since she’d been in Paris and seen her family, almost a year since she’d seen Marinette, and four months since she’d seen Nino. She’d been so far from any semblance of home for so long. For someone many would consider rootless, Alya craved her traditions, especially with Nino.

We haven’t been this close in forever. Alya knew her whine would be easily detected through text, but she didn’t care. She rarely whined. Not a needy person in general, the sentiment carried over to how she was in a relationship. It was a big part of the reason why she and Nino could be apart for long periods without either of them going insane. They found contentment in each other no matter the distance. Even the months they lived side by side, neither was attached at the hip, easily sharing their time while still remaining independent people over all. He was her complement in every way. They both valued their space just as much as their intimacy.

And when they were apart, even in the moments she missed him like crazy, she had very much a ‘keep calm and carry on’ attitude. They were solid, and he was only a phone call away. Their separations were always temporary, and as far flung as they traveled, home was always a call, or a plane, away.

Still, even the calm and collected Alya Cesaire gave in and whined every once in a while when she missed her boyfriend. Balance was the key to any relationship, after all.

Don’t you miss me? She asked, trying to suppress her smile as his response came immediately.

That’s a ridiculous question, the green dialogue bubble popped up, followed aggressively by two more. I haven’t seen you in months, the second read before being pushed up by a third. I missed you as soon as you stepped on the plane in August.

Then it’s decided. I’ll see you in Vienna!

Alya, no. You have to go to St. Petersburg. Nino’s messaged pinged as she handed her passport to the smiling flight attendant.You already accepted the contract. Isn’t this the story for that anthropology magazine you’re trying to work for?

Yes…

And you’re just going to, what? Not do it? Nino’s messages started coming in with a fury, but Alya was having far too much fun to break the news that she was already on the plane.

Alya Charlot Cesaire, he spelled her full name deliberately. Are you running AWAY from a story?

No. She typed back insistently, annoyance at his accusation pricking even as she knew he was baiting her. I’d be running TOWARDS my boyfriend

What happened?

Why does something have to have happened? She asked as she walked onto the already crowded plane, making her way slowly towards the budget seats in the back. A seat was a seat, and for a two hour flight, she was not paying a 150% markup for the promise of 2 centimeters more legroom.

Because Alya Charlot Cesaire does not run from her responsibilities, and she never breaks a commitment once made. Nino wrote back. How do you think I convinced her to stick with this travel weary DJ?

1.Stop referring to me by my full name, you weirdo. I feel like my mother is scolding me. Alya rolled her eyes, typing in her second to the list before stowing her bag in the overhead and falling into her seat with a plop. 2.Let me live my life

The last of her row to arrive, Alya sunk into her aisle seat and buckled up. Sharing a polite smile with her row mates to be civil, she quickly turned back to her phone to protect herself from opening up the floor for any airplane-small-talk--arguably, the worst incarnation of the discourse.

And you’re stuck with ME, she added after Nino hadn’t responded in a few minutes. Which is why I’ll see you in Vienna in a few hours. BYE!

Alya, his answer came instantly, but she didn’t respond.

ALYA, he tried again. DO NOT GO TO VIENNA

Why :(, she shot back. I’ve never been to Vienna! It’ll be educational!

She saw his typing bubbles pop up, but didn’t give him the chance to interject.

I can even make a few blog posts about it, she wrote.Come on. Show me around your home of the last few months!

His typing progress appeared and disappeared a few times before his answer came through.

Alya, no, he finally responded, just when Alya started to worry she had actually managed to convince him. Nino appeared to be soft spoken to most people, but Alya knew he was as stubborn as she was once he made up his mind. For her entertainment value that morning, she was counting on it.

Please?

Nino :(

Pleeeaaassseee??? She added the letters to draw out her whine, and smiled when she saw his response hesitate.

...No?

Alya chuckled, mentally amending her earlier evaluation of Nino’s resolve. He was stubborn...until it came to her.

:D That was practically a maybe

That was my will weakening as I imagined your damn pleading eyes, he responded, And that stupidly cute dimple you get in your left cheek when you pout. Alya could practically see him now, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

God dammit, Alya!

Admit it, she texted back, smile on her face in full force now. You miss me

I have admitted it, he wrote back. In this very conversation, no less

She felt a soft smile come to her face, as she leaned back into the seat. The flight attendants were saying something over the loudspeaker now, but she was only paying attention to Nino.

Doesn’t mean I think you should come to Vienna

But, Niiinnnnoooooo

Stop. You have a job to do, his response came through, and Alya knew instantly she was dealing with serious Nino now. One after another, the statements popped up in her messenger.

You have contacts waiting for you

People you’ve been emailing for months in preparation for this

People who trust you

People whose story you promised to tell

Are you really going to up and desert them?

:( Alya texted back with a sigh, and though Nino had ended her fun, her heart warmed. He got it. He understood why it mattered; understood the compulsion she felt to explore the world, telling people’s stories. He understood her, even in the moments she really wished she could be the type of person to throw responsibility to the wind and go see her love.

Just two more months, he wrote, instantly consoling. We’re going to spend all of February together in Reykjavik. 28 whole days. You’ll be sick of me by the end.

Impossible, she wrote back. I will never get sick of you. Of that, I am positive.

Her neighbor opened the visor on the window, and a flash of gold on her finger urged her to add, And I have a ring on my finger to prove it

You have my class ring--which you stole--on your finger, his response came, and Alya imagined Nino rolling his eyes on the other end.

Same thing

Absolutely NOT the same thing, Nino wrote, taking her bait as he always did.(And when I offer you the real thing, you better act excited, and not like we’ve been engaged since uni)

It was an open joke with their friends and families about when the two would ‘settle down’. To Alya, it really didn’t matter. Nino was her other half, and everyone who was important knew that. She didn’t need a slip of paper or a party to announce that to the world. Nino, on the other hand, took the topic of their marriage very seriously. While he hadn’t proposed to her in so many words, Alya never doubted the inevitability of their marriage. The official commitment in the act was important to Nino, so whatever her personal feelings about the redundancy of it, it was important to her by proxy.

Nino, you’ve been stuck with me since lycee, she reminded him gently. Ring or no ring.

But , she added with a smile. I’m a fantastic actress and I promise I’ll give you your movie-magic proposal moment

Remind me how I ended up with you again? His response came, reading in a fondly exasperated tone.

Sheer luck and a bizarre zoo incarceration :)

Nino sent a smiling face back before changing back to the topic at hand.

How much time until you leave for PIE?

A few minutes, she admitted. I’ve been on the plane for a while

I figured

I still miss you. Next time, I’ll actually be getting on the other plane

If you had set your mind to come, there would be no stopping you. I wouldn’t bother to even try

Alya smiled at her phone,

Good, as long as we’re clear

Call me when you get there

Yes, sir

I love you

I love you, too, she typed.Even though you refuse to let me come tell you so in person.

Nino sent an annoyed face, but she wasn’t done.

I’m just so unwanted :(

Believe me, his response appeared. Nothing could be farther from the truth

Oh? Do tell ;)

His typing bubbled hesitated, before a wink emoji appeared teasingly on the screen.

Spoilsport, she responded, her eyes catching the flight attendant as she started to make her way down the aisle, no doubt beginning to instruct them to turn their phones to airplane mode.

It’s a good thing you’re so cute, she continued in a hurry. Otherwise I’d have tired of your antics long ago

Yes. Thank god for my devilishly good looks and charm

Who said anything about charm? She asked, blinking innocently at her phone as if he could see her facial expression through it.

My girlfriend. Do you know her? He wrote.Tall. Red hair. Loves to mock me?

Great ass? She typed back, just as the attendant passed and gave her the stink eye for not heeding her ‘shut off and store’ warning.

The best

You lucky boy, she risked one last message, catching his response just as she went to switch off her service and the plane began to move.

Don’t I know it ;)

~*~

Nino looked at the monitor to confirm the flight one more time before finding somewhere to sit and wait. He let an exhausted sigh release from his body as he settled into the cool metal bench and let the familiar sounds of travelers calm him even as his fidgeted with the small ring circling his pinky.

Airports had always been a comfort to him. Even in his earliest memories, they were a constant. What started as multiple trips a year to visit family abroad had evolved into his roaming lifestyle, and throughout it all, airports were a constant. No matter where you were, whichever culture and whatever language, airports all felt the same. There was a familiar logic and atmosphere to the transit hubs, and Nino had always felt at home on these cusps between worlds.

In the last few years, airports had taken on even more meaning to him. They represented the worst and best moments in his life. So many times, in the stark fluorescent light and gleam of over-polished tile, he’d watched her walk away from him. His only consolation was knowing that months later, he and airports would once again be on good terms, because as many times as he’d watched her walk away from him, Alya would always walk towards him once more. Nino never had any doubt that she’d be back. Alya always came back to him, and he to her. No matter how long they were apart, or how far they traveled, they anchored each other.

People often viewed the depth of their relationship with incredulity. How could people who were apart so often truly have anything lasting and stable? Even his best friend looked at them with confusion at times. While Adrien was the last person to question their dedication to each other, he often wondered how Nino could stand being away from her so long. His dude was on edge after only a week away from his home and his wife. Nino and Alya’s far-flung relationship was probably Adrien’s nightmare, and a part of Nino understood where he was coming from.

He’d be lying if he said he preferred the long absences of his other half, but it didn’t throw him into anxiety like it did Adrien. Alya had a passion just like he did, both of them chasing dreams and music and stories wherever they called. It was such a large part of what made them who they were as individuals, sacrificing it for the sake of being in the same geographical location had always seemed frivolous.

And while they both had plans to settle one day--or at least, to control their careers enough to be vagabonds together--even if it stayed like this forever, Nino wouldn’t trade it for a stationary life with anyone else. A week by Alya’s side was worth an eternity with anyone else, and despite her teasing, he knew she felt the exact same way. Nino may not always know what city he would live in next, or when the music would call him, but if there was one thing he was forever sure of, it was her. Alya was his home. Wherever he traveled, he knew she held half his heart, a beacon guiding him to wherever she was should he ever find himself too weary of his roaming.

Which, currently, happened to land him in St. Petersburg.

When the owner of a franchise of clubs had approached him about a month-long gig in Russia the week before, Nino wasted no time jumping at the opportunity. His current location had certainly given him exposure over his months there, but he had tired of living his life with the constant possibility of being dropped from the schedule. They contracted him weekly, which wasn’t unheard of in the industry, but after being a regular for two months, Nino had expected some confidence to be reflected in an actual contract. It wasn’t. While he was prepared to finish out the three month engagement they had agreed on verbally, when he was offered the opportunity to move along two weeks prematurely, he felt no remorse about informing the club about his change of plans. He’d appreciated his run, and had secured multiple invitations from talent hunters of other cities while there, but the owners had never felt the need to formally bind him to stay the length, and therefore put their money where their mouth was. Which made it all the easier for Nino to jump at the opportunity that would take him to where he truly wanted to be. And to whom he truly wanted to be with.

A week later he was in St. Petersburg.

A gush of air announced the opening of the automatic doors leading out from the international baggage terminal, and Nino was instantly on his feet. The St. Petersburg airport wasn’t busy in the early afternoon on a Saturday, but Nino would have found her had she been one in a crowd of thousands. Hair knotted in a long braid that fell in an escaping tangle over her shoulder and rucksack secured to her back, Alya walked through the doors in a huddle of other passengers, nose already pointed at her notebook as she prepared for her next piece. As convincing as her promises to drop it all and come find him in Vienna would have been to anyone else, Nino knew better. Nothing could keep her from a story for long, especially not one she’d been preparing for over six months. A decade of growing up by her side, and nothing had changed that.

Which Nino was grateful for, otherwise her impulse earlier would have turned his carefully planned surprise into a unfortunate missed connection.

Nino smiled as he tried to catch up, watching her artfully weave her way around other travelers, eyes never once leaving her notes as she made her way towards the exit. Alya only stopped when the sliding doors opened and a rush of winter air reminded her she certainly wasn’t in Tangier anymore. Tucking her book under her arm, she reached to pull gloves out of her pocket, one falling behind her, directly where his feet had just come to rest. He snapped down to get it and was waiting as she turned to look for the lost article.

Eyes scanning the floor first, Nino tried not to laugh at the comical nature in which her gaze froze as they reached his boots--the same ones she’d bought him for Christmas last year--before shooting to his face. He didn’t even had the chance to speak her name before Alya was in his arms. He buried his nose in her hair as she wedged her face against his neck and Nino took his first easy breath in a month. Yes, they had no qualms about living apart, but that didn’t negate the fact that the shape of her pressed against him was something his body mourned like a missing limb when she was gone. She wasn’t necessary, but his life was better when she was in it. Only in her presence, did he feel truly whole.

Just as he closed his eyes, savoring her nearness at last, the love of his life and other half of his heart pulled away and deftly punched him in the arm.

“Don’t, Alya,” she glared at him, her voice deepening in the approximation of a man’s. “You need to go to St. Petersburg, Alya.”

“Is that supposed to be me,” he grimaced, adjusting his glasses but not avoiding her gaze. Even annoyed, he didn’t want to miss a second of her.

“You’re a little shit, you know that? I can’t come to Vienna, but you can drop everything and come to St. Petersburg?”

Alya planted her hands on her hips, but didn’t move away when he stepped forward, grabbing her one bare hand and beginning to slip her dropped glove over her fingers. Her nails, green the last he’d seen her, were now a muted orange. Still chipped at the edges. Always chipped at the edges.

“We both know, had you really intended to come to Vienna, I would have had an Alya on my doorstep, not one texting me what ifs,” he started, slipping her fingers one by one into the glove even as she pouted. “Besides, I was already here when you texted. You were about to ruin the surprise.”

“Because I love surprises,” she grumbled, but he gave her a pointed look. “Okay, fine. I like you surprises.”

He smirked, finally having the the glove securely on her left hand, Alya still completely unsuspecting.

“How about one more Me surprise?” Nino asked, lowering to one knee before her and watching as Alya’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wha--Nino--”

“Alya Charlot Cesaire,” he began, trying not to laugh at the way her eyebrows shot up in surprise and eyes started to dart around the now-empty arrivals gate.

“Now?” She squeaked and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Now,” he confirmed. “I’ve spent too long waiting for the perfect moment, wanting to give you all the magic you deserve, but every moment with you is miraculous. Good, bad, near or far, you are the home I come back to time and time again. You make my life indescribably brighter, simply by existing. Would you do me the honor of calling me your husband?”

Alya’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

“Dammit, Nino,” she whispered, a single tear tracking down her face as her lips tipped upwards. “I’m supposed to be the level-headed one in this relationship, and here you are turning me into a complete sap.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Of course, that’s a yes, you goof,” she rolled her eyes with a laugh, her hands grasping his collar and pulling him back up to standing. “Now are you going to kiss me, or--”

Nino wasted no time, cradling her head in his hands. His lips seeking hers through their pair of ridiculous smiles, and just barely managing some approximation of a kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he tried to grumble even as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Will you stop smiling? I’m trying to kiss my fiancé, here.”

“Oooo, fiancé?” Alya wiggled her eyebrows but held up her left hand. “Such a fancy title, and yet...I don’t see the hardware to back it up.”

Nino lifted an eyebrow, and, with a swift tug, deftly dislodged the very glove he’d put on her hand minutes before.

“Oh, no?”

Alya looked at her hand and gasped, her face dissolving into true shock now as she took in the diamond and topaz ring sitting in place of his old class ring. The same ring Alya had admired over a decade ago at the first family gathering he’d brought her to. The same ring his grandmother had given him when he turned eighteen...and reminded him to use yearly.

“You sneaky bastard,” she cursed, shaking her head with a smile. “You really did it.”

“Gave you a movie-magic proposal?”

“Made me fall even more in love with you,” she replied instead. “And people think I’m the overachiever.”

“I’m only an overachiever when it comes to you,” he grabbed her hand, still suspended in shock between them, and placed a kiss to her palm. “My fiancé is a hell of a woman. It takes a lot to keep her on her toes.”

“So what you’re saying is,”she walked her fingers up his chest as he stepped forward. “I now officially get an eternity of Nino surprises?”

“If you think you’d be okay with that,” he shot back.

“Okay with it?” Alya smirked, her hands having reached his chin to angle his face closer to hers. Her lips caught his in a searing kiss that shot through his body like molten lava, his knees slackening as her arms encircled his neck before she pulled away, breathless.

“I can’t wait.”

#miraculous ladybug #DJWifi #Alya #Nino #fanfiction #au #unforgetabelle

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bythexdreadwolf · 6 years

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SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS || AO3 LINK

CREMISIUS “KREM” ACLASSI/INQUISITOR EVANNA TREVELYAN WORD COUNT: 2,052

She’s been to every corner of Thedas, sometimes dragging him along, most times not. She always comes back, covered in dust or blood or ichor or all three, her eyes lighting up as soon as she reenters Skyhold’s gates. He wants to do something for her, to show her how much she means to him. She’s always trudging around, doing things for everyone but herself, and he wants to give her the break he knows she needs, to take her somewhere as special as she is. She’s more than just a quick fuck in an unoccupied hallway. She always has been.

But Maker-help him, he’s got no sodding clue how to do it. Each time he’s tried to broach the subject with her, he’s gone chicken shit, and ended up back in his little corner by the door to nurse his pride and a bottle of wine, or she’s being carted off to some other part of the country for weeks. It shouldn’t be this bloody hard to court a pretty girl. He certainly doesn’t ever remember it being this hard.

The Chief just gives him a knowing, pitying look accompanied by a shit-eating grin that’s no help at all.

“You’ve got it bad, Krem de la Creme,” he tells him, clapping a massive hand on Krem’s shoulder. Years of conditioning his legs and knees for the blow are the only reason they don’t buckle from the force.

“It’s so cute, though,” Dalish grins at him. “Look at him, he’s blushing.”

“Oh, piss off, the lot of you,” he snaps. He doesn’t even have a smart-ass comeback either, because he knows they’re all right. All it does is earn him a hearty guffaw from Bull and Rocky as he slides onto the bench across from Dalish and Skinner.

“If you want real advice,” Dalish continues, leaning forward across the table at him, her tankard clutched in both hands. “Here’s mine: you’re reading too much into it. Evanna is just a girl. Forget, for a moment, that she’s the Herald of fucking Andraste or whatever else it is that they’re calling her these days. She’s just a normal girl. Just do something she likes, you lovesick idiot. You’re handsome and charming, and if I’m not mistaken, you’ve already swept her off her feet, if the pining looks she gives you from across the tavern are anything to go by. And don’t think we’ve not noticed you two sneaking off whenever you think no-one’s looking. Take her someplace nice, though. Somewhere she likes. The rest will sort itself out.”

“Yeah, Krem, you won’t know until you try,” the Chief tells him. He groans and buries his head in his arms. “And if all else fails — you’ve always got Rocky as a rebound.”

“Very funny,” he grouses, voice muffled against his vambraces.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night, his mind running rampant with ideas of what they can do and where they can go. His first thought is Orlais, but he remembers the way her nose crinkled in distaste when she’d gotten back from Val Royeaux the first time and the way she’d groused about it to him after. She likes those little frilly cakes well enough, but as far as Orlais itself goes, he knows she hates it.

Not Orlais, then.

He wants to take her to places like Nevarra, Rivain, Antiva, let her taste the food, watch those grey eyes drink in the vibrant beauty of their cultures, kiss her as they watch the sunset. But he’s not exactly rich, even with the decent pay the Inquisition is giving the Chargers. And he doubts whether Thedas can afford for her to be away for so long. Then there’s the matter of the Antivan Crows, the fact that someone could put out a bounty on her head. She’s more than capable of protecting herself, and if he’s with her, she’s at even less of a risk, but he doesn’t really want to be the one who comes back with the news that he got the beloved Herald of Andraste killed.

Andraste’s tits, he’s overthinking this.

He rolls over and punches his pillow in irritation. She’s a noblewoman from birth and he’s just a poor mercenary. She deserves the world and he can’t give it to her.

And that’s when he comes up with a plan. But he’s going to need help. And a lot of it. And it’s going to take time. The Chief is never going to let him live this down. It’ll be worth all of the teasing, though, to see her smile.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair over and over again, mussing it up from where he’d so meticulously styled it not even an hour before. She’s going to hate it. He’s going to get tongue-tied and put his foot in his mouth. He’s going to trip down the stairs and literally wind up with his foot in his mouth.

Why did he think this was a good idea, again?

He’s hovering just outside of the door to her bedchamber, pacing back and forth, trying to bring himself to knock. Stop fucking around, Aclassi.

His hand is poised to knock, but before he can manage to do so, she flings back the door and he just stands there, frozen, the wind completely knocked out of him as he drinks her in.

Fucking hell, she’s beautiful.

He’s never seen her with her hair down; she always wears it in a complicated series of plaits and twists when she’s out in the field, and he’s never fully appreciated just how long it is. It brushes that delicious dip at the base of her spine just above her ass, and he’s seized with the insane urge to tangle his hands in it and kiss her until she’s as breathless as he is. Pulled back, she’s the picture of Andraste’s chosen, but with it down, she looks younger, more vulnerable. More like the Evanna he’s come to know and less like the figurehead everyone makes her out to be. It makes his heart skip a beat. She’s dressed simply, in a grey tunic and supple black leather trousers as opposed to her Circle robes, but it suits her. He swallows.

“Ah, er—Good evening. Your Worship. You—you look nice.” His hand is still balled in a fist as though to knock and he lets his arm fall to his side, heat creeping up his cheeks. She bites her lip in a futile attempt to keep the smile tugging at the corners of her lips contained.

“You can relax, Lieutenant. No-one here but me.”

That’s exactly why I’m so on edge, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Her small, pale hand takes his much larger one and he swallows again, ignoring the swooping sensation such a simple gesture causes in the pit of his stomach.

She gives his fingers a light squeeze and settles into her place at his side, seeming completely at ease. He feels as if he’s on fire, his anxiety making him feel uncertain and awkward. He can face down an army of Venatori, take on a horde of demons without blinking. But this…this is uncharted territory. Sure, he’s been with women before. But he’s never felt the way she makes him feel.

“So,” she nudges him with her elbow, and he’s suddenly very aware of just how silent he’s been the entire time they’ve been making their way through the bowels of Skyhold. “What is it that you want to show me? I swear on Maferath’s beard that Cassandra was practically swooning when I told her you’d asked me to dinner.”

“R-really?” His throat feels dry.

“Mm,” she hums, wrapping her arms around his arm and leaning into him as they wander through the castle. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s supposed to be leading them, and he’s glad that his feet seem to have remembered, because he may have left his brain back on the threshold of her bedchamber. He can feel the heat of her through his doublet — Bull had coerced Dorian into finding one for him (he doesn't want to think about what that had involved) — and it’s all he can do to convince himself to keep leading her to the Herald’s Rest when all he wants to do is run his fingers through that hair of hers and make her moan his name.

They’ve had their fair share of stolen kisses. Physicality — sex — was easy, all things considered. Sex was primal, instinctive, easy to navigate. And, as he’s been told in the past, he’s very good with his tongue. But courting her is something completely foreign to him, and she’s the first person who’s made him actually want to try. He wants so badly for this to go right.

He nearly trips over his own feet and down the stairs out of the keep when the realization that he might be falling in love with her hits him like a war-hammer. If he wasn’t nervous before, he certainly is now, and he hasn’t said a single fucking thing in a solid five minutes, and Maker — he’s already buggered it, he knows it, and they’re not even through the door to the Rest and —

She lets go of his arm on the threshold, and her hands fly to cover her mouth in what he hopes is awe. Her grey eyes are wide as she drinks it in, the lengths he’s gone to to make something special just for her. They’ve draped the entire first level of the tavern in Rivaini silks. Two bottles of Antivan wine sit on a table he’s set for just the two of them, laden with foods from every part of Thedas, including the little pink frosted cakes she’s so fond of from Orlais. It’s definitely too much for the two of them to eat, but he’d wanted options in case there was something she didn’t like. Various other trinkets from different countries — rugs, lamps, little statues, procured with the help of Sister Nightingale, Lady Montilyet, Cassandra, and, of all people, Varric — are scattered around the room, transforming it into a sort of bazaar where they can sit and pretend they are anywhere they wish. It’s the best he can do. (The real miracle, he thinks, is that Bull’s managed to make good on his word to make sure the tavern is cleared, and he makes a mental note to buy that brilliant, beautiful asshole the biggest cask of Chasind sack mead he can afford). It actually…looks pretty good, he thinks, smirking a bit as he gauges her reaction.

“Maker’s breath,” she exhales, her eyes unable to stop flitting from the Nevarran lamps to the silks to the food and, finally, up at him. “You did all this?”

He shrugs, the smirk turning full-on smug grin. He can’t believe he could ever have been so nervous before. Dalish was right. Not that he will ever tell her that. “I had a bit of help, but yeah. Wanted to take you to Rivain or Nevarra or Antiva myself, but, circumstances being what they are, I figured I’d bring a little bit of them to you.”

There’s barely a heartbeat that passes before she flings her arms around his neck and she’s kissing him like she’s drowning and he’s the only thing that can save her. He grins against her plush lips, his own arms snaking around her waist and lifting her off of her feet. It’s brief, but it’s enough to leave them both panting. She runs a hand through his hair and rests her forehead against his as she pulls away, pink high on her cheeks. He nuzzles her nose with his own, that unknown feeling washing over him again as he holds her.

“You know you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Nah, but I wanted to. If I could give you the world, I would,” the confession is quiet, barely above a breath, but she hears it nonetheless and places a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t need the world, you silly sod,” she snorts. “I’ve seen enough of it to know what I want, and what I want, Cremisius Aclassi, is you.”

#krem/inquisitor #cremisius aclassi/inquisitor #krem x inquisitor #krem x trevelyan #krem #cremisius aclassi #char: krem #char: evanna #:story time with k

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elenajohansenauthor · 6 years

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Fictober18, Day 29: “At least it can’t get any worse.”

OCs: Shannon and Marlene [that’s her mom, she finally has a name!]

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18/NaNoWriMo, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: none

Word Count: 1,304

About: Coffee date with dear old mom. [Note: remember this is a rough draft. I’ve finally got some notes-to-self in here instead of actual words or names. It was bound to happen eventually.]

On Sunday morning, I met with my mother at an upscale cafe in [Fancy Rich Part of Town]. She had a flight to catch later that day for a two-week business trip to France, because even when it's not Fashion Week in Paris, there's always still fashion business going on there. She spent the first half of our get-together telling me about what a hassle it was going to be, then interrupted herself with a sip of her iced hibiscus latte and remembered the reason why we'd met up in the first place.

Other than habit, anyway.

I sipped my cinnamon-infused black tea and watched her pull a sheaf of loose papers from her sleek, portfolio-style purse. The dress sketches!

My cousin's wedding seemed years, even light-years away at this point, but in truth it was only about six months from now. Plenty of time for my mother to create something fabulous for me, but with her insane schedule, that would only be true if we started immediately. Though getting all dressed up was the least of my concerns or desires at the moment, I gave myself a mental pep talk to get engaged with it and stay that way.

My mother was usually quick to pick up on signs of boredom or distress, and though the sunlight starting to peek through the cafe windows was calling to me, I could spare my real, regular, family life another half hour to see my mother happy before she left.

Everything was so gorgeous I hardly knew where to start, but I went through the ritual I'd developed over the years. First, lay all the options out with as little overlap as the space on the table allowed—which was hard, this time around. Look at all of them as a whole, and choose the ones that stand out to an unfocused gaze. Pick them out—usually three or four, but sometimes as many as seven if my mother did her usual dozen sketches—and start comparing them, two at a time. Which neckline do I like better? Which hem? Which color? What details?

Choose another two, and repeat.

When I was very young, and I didn't like to get dressed up or even wear dresses at all, little tomboy Shannon had tried just picking one design right away, after only looking for a minute. My mother hadn't cared for that at all. She wanted her work to be appreciated, even when she wasn't a famous designer yet. And I wouldn't realize for years that the effort she put into her designs was one of the ways she showed her love for me.

I went through my four standouts twice, narrowing it to one. But that left eight designs I'd hardly even glanced at, so it was time to consider those. I held each one up in turn next to my temporary favorite. What hadn't I liked about it? What was good, what could be incorporated to the favorite design if possible? Had I been wrong at first, was it better upon consideration?

The whole process took ten solid, silent minutes, during which my mother drank her latte and did something on her phone, probably dealing with email. But she glanced up from it often, perhaps checking in on my progress or my expression.

Finally, I handed her my choice, but this time, with a secondary sketch in hand. “I love nearly everything about this one,” I explained, indicating the first one, “except I think the dove gray might be too close to white. I'd hate for [cousin's name I forgot] to think I'm trying to upstage her. So could we do it in this color instead?” I showed her the second design, a shade of orange-pink that I would call nectarine, but who knew what it was in my mother's deep well of color vocabulary.

She held the two side by side and chewed lightly on her bottom lip as she pondered. “I'm not sure the beading would be as evident on the brighter color, if we stayed with the silver beads...” She was speaking slowly in a low voice, almost to herself. “But what if—could that work? Yes, yes.” She looked up at me. “I've been thinking of next summer's line, and I wanted to emphasize bold color contrasts. Would you mind being a guinea pig for that? I'll use this coral for the base color, and redo the bead work in, say, flame orange, or magenta. Or both! It's a wedding, so we should be both beautiful and opulent. And I can coordinate mine with yours, make the fabric the same darker color the bead work is, then do the details in gold, that'll work with either.”

I nodded along, trying to picture it. What I imagined was beautiful, but whatever my mother was picturing would be gorgeous beyond description.

It always was.

I took the sketches from her and held them at arm's length, trying to picture a synthesis of the two. The quiet bustle of the shop's morning business faded to a background chattering, and much to my surprise, a woman sitting at the corner booth, just inside my line of sight, lit up with a soft glow.

Why had that happened? I wasn't trying to sense magic...

I bit my lip on a laugh as I realized what I'd done, and what it meant. My mother, without a single drop of magic in her, had somehow managed to teach me to scry without meaning to. The process was surprisingly similar—when I'd begun to practice, I must have intuitively followed the same mental pattern.

“What's with the sudden cheer?” My mother was watching me above the edge of the papers.

“We're going to look amazing,” I told her. “We might be in danger of upstaging the bride anyway.”

She tsked at me, but she was fighting a grin. “If only [cousin] had taken me up on my offer to design her dress as well. But [aunt] insisted that [cousin] wear her old dress—she sets too much store in antiques, poor thing.” She sighed. “I would have done it, too, I know my sister thinks the offer wasn't genuine, but it was.”

“I know.”

She glanced at her phone again and seemed to deflate a little. “Ah! There's already a problem with the venue, and I'm not even there yet. Dealing with international arrangements is such a hassle. But whenever something goes wrong at the start, I tell myself, at least it can't get any worse. Though somehow it usually does anyway. I need to get going. Help me gather everything up, would you?”

It didn't take long, and after a brief kiss on my cheek, my mother was out the door to meet her car at the curb, ready to whisk her to the airport for a week of stress and glamour in beautiful France.

Travel had never been a high priority for me, but I let myself imagine, for a few minutes while I finished my drink, what it would be like to go with her, or even what it would be like to travel to far-off places on my own...

But when I tried to picture myself looking up at the Eiffel Tower, or scaling some remote mountain path to a tea house in China, in my imagination I would turn to share my joy, and Noah was there beside me, smiling right back at me. Did he long to travel? Where did he want to go, what did he want to see?

If I wanted to make that a reality, someday, I had things to do, things that didn't involve sitting in a cafe daydreaming. I tossed our garbage into a bin—in my haste, my mother had left her cup on the table—and strode out into the sunshine.

#writeblr #fictober18 #original fiction #spookyromancenovel #amwriting #spookyromancenovel excerpt

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goddamnitaisha · 6 years

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Hey dear @asreoninfusion,

remember a time before you were a popular blog Sefikura BDSM Kink Queen?

When you were too afraid to make a blog? And were too afraid to message me because you worried you would annoy me? Before we met in real life.

Hahaha you sent me anon messages in a time I received multiple anons a day. I had to give you a nickname because I wanted you to sign your posts. I gave you name options, you chose the name anon-sundown. I wanted you to continue talking to me, because you were cute enough to be adopted. You suggested writing about your funny life experiences.

Now, I kept all these messages for years. READ THEM BOTTOM TO TOP. You might want to copy them and put them on your own blog.

Love,

your friend Aisha

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago You couldn't actually see the driver; all that was visible were two hands sticking out through this massive bunch of bananas, clutching the handlebars with a white-knuckled grip, and a little face peering round the edge.

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago But the favourite two-wheeler incident was the banana man. People would often cart around huge amounts of food or stock for the local shops they owned; this man was transporting bananas. A /lot/ of bananas. To this day I have no idea how he managed to balance them all on there, but it is safe to say there was significantly more banana than man.

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago We used to see all sorts of insane things on two-wheelers. Across the road from the Croc Bank there lived a man who would regularly drive a fully grown goat around on his bike, with the animal casually draped over the back. One time we saw two men driving along with an eight foot length of PVC pipe... lengthways. They were holding it /across/ the bike, taking up almost the entire road and forcing everyone to swerve all over the place to avoid them! (Fairly standard driving for India, then.)

anon-sundown asked you: 10 hours ago Let's have a non-animal related story for a change. In India they were big on their motorbikes - or two-wheelers, as they call them. They tend to be a lot cheaper and more accessible for most people, so they made up about 40% of the traffic. And the amount of stuff people would cram onto those things! It wasn't at all uncommon to see a family of four or five squashed onto the one bike.

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago One other thing the macaques used to do - and I have no idea where they learnt to do this, if it was instictive or they had learnt it from someone - was floss their teeth. The zookeeper would pull out a strand of their hair and hand it to the monkeys, and they'd start flossing! That soon became an integral part of the feeding show, getting them to clean their teeth afterwards for the visitors to see. We were often the ones doing that, so it's a good thing both my mum and I have very thick hair!

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago Even if they weren't playing with the hose, most of the monkeys would still stop and stare while you cleaned, then try to imitate what you were doing. My mum once brought in a little toy broom to give to them while she was sweeping, see if she could get them to copy her and do some of the work! (They weren't buying it.)

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago In the complete opposite of the spider monkeys, the macaques loved water. The cleaning always took twice as long as it should have, as the monkeys would come and play in the spray when you were trying to hose down the floor and rocks. On more than one occasion a zookeeper (usually my mum) was caught playing skipping rope with the monkeys and a stream of water.

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago Cleaning their enclosure was always a two person job; one to do the cleaning, and the other would stand there with a hose, keeping the monkeys at bay. Fortunately, the macaques monkeys were much friendlier. You had to make sure not to get too near to any of the babies - the mothers were very protective of their young - but other than that they were quite happy to have company in their enclosure.

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago Most of the time the spider monkeys would grudgingly accept an intrusion at feeding time. They weren't pleased that someone was in their space, but they knew that they got food out of it. Even so, they could be vicious buggers, so the zookeeper would always carry a water pistol in with them. If the spider monkeys got too close or too aggressive, you just squirted them with the water pistol and they would back off!

anon-sundown asked you: 12 hours ago At the Hunter Valley Zoo in Australia there were also monkeys, although these were part of the zoo rather than the local wildlife! We had two species; macaques and spider monkeys. The macaques were a big friendly group, playful and generally very nice. The spider monkeys, on the other hand, were not. Their enclosure was /their/ territory, and hoo boy, they did not like their territory invaded. Oddly enough, the only thing they liked less than having someone in their territory was... water.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago Fortunately, he missed the food. But he did knock over a bottle of milk belonging my little sister (who was very little then). Somehow he managed to set it spinning right around, squirting milk out in every direction at everyone while we dove for cover. Having very successfully got our attention, the goat then hopped back down and made for his balcony, only to run straight into the closed glass door. We let him out there just to get some peace!

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago He's obviously gone for my apple cores, sticking his head into the bin to get at them... but then his horns had got caught, and he couldn't get himself back out past the swing lid. So he just pulled the whole thing off. and then, flailing around like a mad thing trying to dislodge the lid, charged upstairs and jumped right up onto the dinner table.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago One final piece of background information; I like eating apples. I used to sit at the computer in the front room downstairs, happily munching away, and throw the cores into a little bin with a swing lid just by the desk. This is relevant. So, the goat sneaks into the house. The family is all sat down for dinner, minding our own business, and the first we know of it is hearing a huge ka-clop, ka-clop, ka-clop as the goat comes absolutely flying up the stairs with a bin lid stuck around his neck.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago As it turned out, we needn't have worried. The goat's reaction to the big scary dogs was to headbutt them, full in the face. The German Shepherd was the one scared of the goat! After the goat had grown a bit and become too big for the balcony, he was relocated to a nice little shed outside. But he still believed the balcony was /his/ balcony and his home, and thus would regularly sneak into the house and charge upstairs to try to get back there.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago When the goat was just a little thing, it used to live out on the balcony on the second floor of our house. This was because we also had two dogs, an Australian Cattle dog and a fully grown German Shepherd. The former was about twice the size of the goat, and the latter three or four times bigger. We introduced them regularly, but didn't want them to share the same living space until the goat was a bit more grown up and less likely to be intimidated by the big scary dogs.

anon-sundown answered you: a day ago rp-sephiroth asked:

Hahahahaha, I loved the story of the goat. It made me really happy on a less than happy day! xD You're so full of good things, I can't imagine why you still hide. Over the past few weeks you've come across as a pretty rad friend. xD <3 Yes, you make me happy!

Ahhh, thank you! I’m so happy I can make you happy. ^_^ I have another tale of the goat for today’s silly story.

anon-sundown asked rp-writer-aisha: 2 days ago Oh! And just out of curiosity, how are you making the keyblade? I cosplayed Aqua one time and made Stormfall for her. It came out... okay, I guess, but a bit fragile. Someone leant on it and snapped it. orz So anyway, I'm interested to see what method/materials you're going to use. :)

anon-sundown asked rp-writer-aisha: 2 days ago I know what you mean about the self-acceptance thing. v_v And for me it never seemed reasonable or fair to expect anyone else to like you when you don't even like yourself. (This thinking is a significant part of why I'm always so terrified to talk to anyone new; it just seems so rude to impose my shitty self on them. orz) But I like you, and I'm sure the other people you mentioned who send you messages like and accept you too! It's probably not worth much, but there's that at least. ^^'

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago Then the goat came trotting along, looking pleased as punch with himself, with three or four cigarettes hanging out of his mouth. Ah, of course. The builder took off after the goat to try and get them back, but alas, it was too late for the cigarettes. They were chewed to pieces and covered in goat slobber. And the poor builder never did get to have a smoke that day.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago The goat was also around. And goats, as you may know, will eat just about anything. On this particular day, 'anything' was the builder's entire packet of cigarettes that he had left out. He came asking us if we knew where his cigarettes had gone, and for a good while we were all searching around the area he'd misplaced them, scratching our heads.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago Originally, Avoca Drive was bought as a plot of land, and my mum and stepdad had a house built on it. We moved in as soon as we could, with just a few finishing touches like carpets to go down and a concrete path to lay outside the front door (the latter of which meant we had to climb out a ground floor window to get out the house for a day or two while the concrete set, that was fun). So there were a few builders around, just finishing up whatever they needed to do.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 days ago While we were in the same house as the wombat incident (henceforth to be known as Avoca Drive, if I need to reference it again) we also owned a goat. And this goat-- oh Goddess, this goat. It was a donation from another family; they had won the goat in a charity auction, raising money for African villages and 'Give a Goat' sort of projects (hence why they were auctioning a goat, I suppose). But they discovered after the fact they didn't have the time/space to look after a goat, so it came to us.

I perched on the back of the sofa (up out of reach of marauding wombats; I wasn't taking on that thing either) and laughed at everyone. Eventually my brother joined me up on the sofa, and the wombat was led away to its overnight bunk in the cupboard under the house, where it the proceeded to keep everyone up all night trying to dig through the foundations.

anon-sundown asked you: 2 minutes ago He tried to shake the wombat off, changing direction and speeding up. The wombat only sped up after him. They ended up running round the room in panicked circles with my brother shouting for mummy. Mum swept in for a rescue attempt, but was not very successful. They /both/ ended up running round the room being chased by the wombat.

anon-sundown asked you: 3 minutes ago Now, this wombat had been trained at Taronga Zoo to follow people around, so the zoo keepers could easily get it to go where they wanted. So when we let it out to have a wander in the front room it began to follow around my brother. He was only ten at the time, and not terribly pleased by the large hairy creature tailing him at a distance far to close for comfort.

anon-sundown asked you: 5 minutes ago Okay, so back when we lived in Australia (as my stepdad is Australian; everything is always his fault), he and my mum owned a zoo in the Hunter Valley, several hours drive north of Sydney. We had acquired a wombat, a transfer from Taronga Zoo. Since our house was directly along and right in the middle of the route between Taronga in Sydney and the Hunter Valley, it was decided the wombat would stay a night at home to break up the journey.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago We eventually got the noodles back after my mum went and yelled at the monkeys, though it wasn't terribly effective until the monkeys hissed back and scared my little sister. Then my mum actually got angry with them, and she is rather scary when angry. The monkeys dropped the jar and ran off, and thus victory was ours.

anon-sundown asked you: a day ago One time the door to the house was left open and two monkeys broke in. One stood guard at the door while other darted into the kitchen, jumped up on to the counter and proceeded to raid the cupboard. They made off with a jar of pot noodles and took to a nearby tree to try and prise the thing open (without much succes).

#hahahahaha #asreoninfusion

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