#you dont even understand when i say it was bloody brilliant

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Veritaserum Prompt Part 2

(Alrighty, friends! Here's part two of the Veritaserum prompt ficlet! I hope you enjoy.)

Harry had no idea what he was doing.

And to be fair, this was not an uncommon occurrence in his life. After everything that he'd done, everything that he'd been through, you'd think that he would be used to flying by the seat of his pants by now.

But this, Harry thought to himself as he stared at Draco Malfoy devouring a salad with chicken and fresh strawberries across from him at the island in the kitchen, was really not the plan.

The plan had been to find out where they were keeping Malfoy. The plan had been to find out how he was being treated and document it. The plan had been to put together a report demanding his release, demanding that Draco Malfoy be pardoned.

One look at him in that blasted cage and Harry's resolve to go through the correct channels was obliterated.

Hermione was going to kill him.

"I'm having trouble believing this is real," Malfoy confessed and frankly, Harry could sympathize. "I'm not sure if the way you're staring at me like you can't believe this is real either is helping or making it worse."

"This was not the plan," Harry finally said.

"Sorry?"

"I think I've made things worse," Harry confessed.

(Read more below the cut)

"Trust me, Potter, this is definitely not worse."

Harry winced, "In the short term, I agree with you," he said. "I agree completely. In the long term," he rubbed his hands over his face, "There was a plan. With lawyers and trials, with an actual fair trial, with you being tried as a minor because you were. A plan with a demand for your pardon and release."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Malfoy said, glancing longingly at the salad bowl.

"Please have more if you're hungry," Harry said, nudging the bowl toward him and wasn't this all a bit surreal. "What do you mean it wouldn't have made a difference?"

Malfoy huffed as he scooped more salad onto his plate. "They never would have let me go."

"But Hermione says-"

"Yes," he interrupted, "Granger is brilliant, the brightest witch of our generation, but she also is on the side that won. You lot can have hope because what you wanted happened."

"So what you wanted didn't?"

Malfoy shook his head, "I mean obviously I wanted you to defeat Voldemort. What kind of idiot would I have to be to want him to stay in power? Even the people who followed him were miserable. But I was never under any delusions that my life would turn out fine."

"But we won," Harry said, "You shouldn't be punished unjustly."

"What do you think a just punishment would be?" Malfoy asked, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

"Community service," Harry replied readily, he'd thought this through already. "Maybe a few years of probation with wand monitoring."

"People died because of me, Potter," Malfoy said incredulously.

"You didn't kill them," he said.

"Semantics," Malfoy said, waving his hand.

"You didn't want anyone to get hurt. Dumbledore said-"

"Dumbledore was a fool!" he exploded. "Of course I didn't want to hurt anyone! Of course I didn't want to get the bloody dark mark! But I had to or he would have killed me and my mother. And I know you think the right choice would have been to sacrifice myself, to sacrifice my mother-"

"I didn't say that!" Harry protested.

Malfoy shook his head, "You don't have to because you lived it. You literally died, Potter."

"I mean, fine," Harry conceded. "If you're asking me to die myself, fine. It's literally what I was raised to do, it's literally the point of me. But if you'd asked me to sacrifice a single person I love," he shook his head. "I don't know what I would have done to save myself the pain of loss, to save my friends and family from the pain of that loss."

The other man stared at him for a long moment, "There is so much to unpack in that statement that I honestly don't know where to start." He shook his head, "Look, I'm grateful. Really. I didn't think I'd ever see the sun again, or taste fresh fruit, or drink clean water-"

Something clenched in Harry's stomach, "It's not fair."

Malfoy laughed, it wasn't mean or judgmental, but it was sad, "Potter, when has life ever been fair to you?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by that statement.

Before he could find the words to reply, "I'm just trying to say thank you for bringing me here. And to say I'll understand when you tell me I have to go back."

"It's not happening," Harry said fiercely.

"You've made yourself a criminal, Potter. You can't go back until you give me back to them."

"We'll clear your name," he said stubbornly.

Malfoy gave him a pitying glance, then seemingly decided to give it up. "Can I go outside?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, "Of course. There's a ward set up around the property, but it's about half a mile in any direction. It won't let anyone in or out," he added.

"I won't go far," Malfoy promised.

"Oh, one more thing," Harry said, "One second." He ran back to his bedroom and fetched Malfoy's wand. "Here," he said, thrusting it out to the other man.

Malfoy stared at him, "You're giving me my wand?" he asked as though Harry was doing something inconceivable.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah, of course I am."

"I could kill you in your sleep."

Harry cocked his head at him, "But why would you?"

"You're not very good at having enemies," Malfoy responded.

"You're not very good at being my enemy," Harry replied. "And honestly? I'm tired of having enemies, so if you want to off me just," he shrugged, "Do it."

Malfoy cautiously reached out and accepted his wand, tension draining from his shoulders the moment he touched it, "Circe, that feels good," he murmured. "I won't," he added, looking up at Harry then. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," Harry replied as he stepped back and headed over to start cleaning up the table.

"You're stranger than I remember."

Harry snorted, "Having an extra soul removed from your body will do that to you."

Malfoy was quiet for a long moment, probably trying to process that weird little tidbit that Harry didn't even always understand. "Do you want help cleaning up?" he finally asked.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and glancing up at the other man, "Go outside. Enjoy the sun."

Malfoy stared at him for another moment like he couldn't believe this was actually happening before turning and heading out into the sand. Harry watched through the window as Malfoy spread his arms and tilted his head back to the sunlight, a smile on his face. It made him want to cry.

After another moment, he turned and made his way to the writing desk to pen a letter to send to Hermione that she could deliver to Kingsley.

Dear Kingsley, The conditions in which I found Draco Malfoy were so appallingly unacceptable that I deemed it necessary to remove him immediately. I'm sending along my findings on his living conditions in an official report with this letter along with any of the records that I managed to obtain from the unspeakables regarding the illegal activities, bordering on torture, that were performed. I will not be returning him to the unspeakables under any circumstances. Draco Malfoy will remain in my custody until he is granted an official Ministry Pardon. His time served in inhumane living conditions ought to make up for any lack of official punishment. I will also be remaining off the grid until Draco Malfoy has been granted the Ministry's Pardon. We both know that fundraiser season is approaching, so I hope you are able to sort this out as soon as possible so I can return to my work. Helping charitable organizations to function and serve those still suffering is important to me. You may send any correspondence to me via Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Sincerely, Harry Potter

Harry read through the letter once more, making sure he'd been clear enough. Then he attached the letter to the official reports he'd written up and attached it to Mel's leg. She was a lovely parrot and they assured him that she would do just as well as any owl could. "Off you go," he murmured. "Take these to Hermione but be sure to rest on the way, yes?"

She nibbled his finger and he gave her a treat before she flew off.

He glanced out the window at Malfoy who was laying in the sand, soaking up the sun, and hoped that Kingsley would get back to him with a pardon before Malfoy realized that he was just as much a prisoner here as he was in the Department of Mysteries.

---------

Veritaserum Part 1 | Veritaserum Part 3 | Veritaserum Part 4 | Veritaserum Part 5 |

Are you guys interested in reading another part of this fic? Drop me a comment or send me an ask, if you'd like to read more. (or if you'd like to be tagged in the next part.)

I'm tagging anyone who said they wanted to read a part two below!

@gaygirldrarryblog, @londonthunderr, @tardis-221b, @nv-md, @chinike, @somevelvetmorniing, @drarrywritar, @rheya1864

@ellietheslytherin, @wistfulwonders, @textrovert-01, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @april-thelightfury115, @ottersmallpaws, @kittycargo @wheezykat, @missdrarrydawn, @dewitty1, @flightytemptress27, @wunderseltsam, @malicioussheep, @curlyy-hair-dont-care, @moonstruckwitch, @buttered-baguette

#drarry #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #sort of part of the 100 drabbles #drarry ficlet #veritaserum part 2 #drarry drabble #Are you interested in reading another part of this fic? #developing friendship #Veritaserum prompt fic

[trashcanfills]

Hero Killer Stain | Akaguro Chizome Relationship Headcanons

Yes I’m here to deliver.

The kind of person to only have very few friends. This guy ain’t the socialising type. I mean look at him he practically oozes lone wolf vibes. Not a people person for sure. He’s definitely socially awkward as fuck though thanks to his poker face that part of him isn’t obvious.

If you do manage to be friends with him though, oh boi where do I even begin?

He is an independent guy so expect like long ass periods of non-contact. He would occasionally check in on you to make sure that you are alive and doing well, sometimes with a text saying hes coming over. If you are lucky he might hang around for a while but apart from that he’s not gon do much (totally not because he’s socially awkward cough cough).

Really thoughtful as hecc. He’s not such an asshole to make any demands for you and your time. With how disillusioned he is with the current state of society, he’s going to cherish all the shit you have done for him, especially when you are one of the only ones who stayed with him despite the bloody path he has chosen.

Mention offhandedly about needing or wanting something? So long as he can afford it, it’s definitely going to appear on your table the next day without a trace of him left in your house. The kind to help around the house when he possibly can. Even if you try to deny his aid he’s not gonna budge at all cus he is one stubborn ass motherfucker. After some time you just give up and let him do what he wants. Though it is kinda funny to see the Hero Killer doing domestic stuff around your house.

However he can be a bit of an insensitive jerk at times. He judges a bit too hastily and makes wrongful assumptions. He also tends to believe that the fault lies within the person themselves whenever theres a problem, and will point it out if you asked for it.

This can result in arguments when you make mistakes or anything cus he will unintentionally make a comment that directly attacks you and your character. I can see that eventually you would reach a breaking point where you cry and/or scream at him about these hurtful comments. Yelling would of course devolve into an argument until you explain your feelings and situation to him such that he understands. Crying would just really hit in the realisation on how shitty his actions were and he would rectify that immediately by comforting you.

Hangouts typically consist of you guys sitting there in silence doing your own thing or watching a movie, or both of you engaging in philosophical discussion about today’s society. Yes because this is Stain we are talking about, expect the topic of False Heroes to come about. Once that happens, you would end up listening through his entire rant on False Heroes and their Unworthiness for the Hero title.

You definitely have engaged in debates with him on dealing with false heroes. He would be respectful of your views so long as they are well supported AND well-rounded arguments. Being one-sided esp towards the heroes would make him dismiss your views since it’s the same opinions adopted by the masses. Acknowledging and accepting that his views and ideals are valid would be a big deal for him, even if you disagree.

Sadly I’m not really sure if it would change much on his hero killing ways. To him, it’s the only solution he feels he could implement to best deal with false heroes, and it’s a necessary evil. Plus, he’s more of the take action guy. He can’t really just sit around, wait and think on what to do when there’s so much at stake. I find that it would be good for him to have a partner to hold him back and properly think through some stuff because of this, if he were to get into a romantic relationship. And speaking of that…

If you are in a romantic relationship with him, it’s just the above friendship qualities multiplied by 10 plus the couple things.

He WILL be a mother hen for his s/o. Regarding his friends, he tends to trust their ability to take care of themselves, only stepping in when needed to. Regarding his partner? He takes responsibility for their wellbeing. If their condition is less than perfect, he’s going to do something about it.

Accidentally cut yourself? He’s already grabbing the first aid kit. Sees you aren’t getting enough sleep? Prepared to be whooshed away and dumped on your bed. Stressed and anxious? He asks you to confide in him about your worries, and if you can’t, at least tell him how he can make you feel better.

God forbid someone lay a hand on you intending harm cus if Stain knows about it, he will straight up gut them. He will interrogate you if he sees an injury on you that’s unlikely to be an accident. He’s not going to budge until you tell him who did it to you, and even if you don’t, he WILL find out on his own. He might end up hurting someone innocent so it’s best if you tell him who did it to save him the trouble. And if they mysteriously disappear from your life, that’s only for the two of you to know :^)

He’s definitely not used to physical affection being the loner he is, so if you initiate and like give him a hug or a kiss he will get flustered and blue screen for a short while. He would also be tense when cuddling for the first few times, then relaxing a little bit afterwards. Uh don’t surprise tackle him out of nowhere unless you want to get slashed or chucked at a wall. As much as he loves to indulge in your affections, he still needs to keep his instincts honed for fighting. You never know when someone might decide to attack the both of you. (You tried to surprise hug him once. It ended up with you getting injured and him attending to your injuries while lecturing you a little about doing that AROUND A SERIAL KILLER WHO KILL HEROES for a LIVING)

But otherwise he doesn’t mind physical affection. He would grow to love it, and would gradually take initiative to touch you at any opportunity if you tell him you are open to it. This does become funny with his brilliant poker face, when you guys are doing your own thing and all of sudden he gets close to you to hug, smooch or cuddle. He gives absolutely no warning whatsoever. It never gets old. Your reactions to him doing this amuses him a lot.

Expect occasional heartfelt speeches on how much he loves you or how much you mean to him. Might not realise this himself but gOd he can be a sMOOTH motherfucker. He is good with words, and gENUINE about what he says about. He will pull off the how I saw the world as a dark ugly place until you came along speech shtick and there will be this Moment of you guys beholding each others presence. THATS how good he is. (I mean you heard him monologing while fighting Izuku, Tenya and Shouto like daamn)

He’s a very practical person and isn’t one to be sentimental. He can’t afford to be sentimental if it can jeopardise him and his loved ones in any way. He’s adamant on not keeping anything of his around in your house cus he doesn’t want you implicated or associated with his murders at all.

Somehow, if you both are really really deep into the relationship, I can see him letting both of you carrying rings from each other. Not worn around the ring finger of course cus that can attract unwanted attention, but rather it being attached to a chain necklace that both of you would have at all times.

It’s kind of a promise and dedication to you, in the sense that, if he could or if he had the chance to, he would have formally proposed to you. He hopes that he can if somehow he fulfils his personal mission, and if both of you can find somewhere peaceful and safe together.

Edit: Realised I forgot to add some stuff in lol, so dont mind that I add more points to this already long ass post. Im on mobile so apologies if formatting is weird.

#hero killer stain #stain x reader #akaguro chizome x reader #akaguro chizome #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hnnnnnngh fuck can u tell how much I love this man

[str4wb3rrycr3p3c00k13]

Allow me to spend the next few minutes rambling about why yall are stupid for hating Ice Juggler Cookie just because they're "rude"

Also since idk Ice Juggler's gender I'll be using they/them pronouns for them.

So the major complaint ive seen people have against Ice Juggler is the fact that they're very passive-aggressive and rude towards people. Not rude as in like Devil Cookie rude but like Karen-level sort of rude

I can understand why, some people just don't like rude cookies, some prefer more mellow cookies like Herb Cookie or depressed cookies like Sea Fairy Cookie

My issue however is that people are unjustifiably hating Ice Juggler for being rude without seeing WHY they are so rude.

And I'm here to insert that knowledge into your skulls with 2 simple bullet points

1. Their job in the circus

Jobs aren't always fun, the very definition of a job isn't to be fun. While people can have fun or are content with their job, some people don't exactly like it for various reasons; Too stressful, bad work enviromemt, low pay, etc.

Some people could argue that working in a circus, specifically as a clown, would be a very fun job. Other's however could argue that its bloody hell. While I can't say this for anyone, I can see why that other side would say that.

Picture yourself as Ice Juggler, you're suppose to go around on stage, rolling a ball around beneath your feet while you juggly at ice cream scoops while people laugh at you. You're struggling to try and keep the ball rolling, keep yourself juggling, and make sure you don't crash into anyone or anything, coupled by having to jump from ball to ball. One slip up, and people will either laugh at you or boo in disappointment, and if you get the latter, your boss won't take kindly to that. But if you get the former, you're probably still gonna be a bit pissed because people are laughing at you getting seriously hurt. I know the intent of clowns are to be comically injured, but Ice Juggler isnt a cartoon, theyre a living breathing cookie who can get hurt. And while it may not be so bad the first time, having it happen to you over and over again could probably chip away at your sanity.

And before you ask "Well, Ice Juggler can just get a different job if they don't like it!" You're still just be assuming shit simply by force glance. The circus could probably give them decent pay and they seem to be capable of doing their job right, so they may WANT to leave their job but they may NEED to keep it, either because Ice Juggling's the only good thing they're good at (duh its in the name) or because theyre need to money.

2. How they're treated at their work place

Even if they do passionately love juggling and rolling on balls, the way their boss, Choco Cup Cookie, treats them is just atrocious

(Credit to Royal Mike on youtube for the screenshots)

An example being how Choco Cup Cookie tells Ice Juggler Cookie to shut up after judging an audition of someone, later saying "someone might hear you"

Publicity is one thing but the welfare and the freedom of your employee's speech is another, and this is clear evidence that Choco Cup neither cares or is ignorant about how Ice Juggler feels about shit.

Now some people may assume that Ice Juggler is being way too mean about the cookie's audition, but we dont exactly see what the cookie's audition was. It could have been atrocious, it could have been brilliant, we're never told this. We just know that Ice Juggler found it awful and Choco Cup found it "not so bad", which may hint at it actually being as awful as Ice Juggler implies but for now, again, its just speculation.

The point here is that Choco Cup isn't allowing Ice Juggler to voice their opinion/criticism, especially when theyre doing a task THAT GIVES THEM THAT OPTION. The cookie auditioning asked to be judged by Ice Juggler and Choco Cup, and Ice Juggler gave them their judgement, to which Choco Cup tried to shut them up for.

Aaand to make matters worse, Choco Cup's literally telling Ice Juggler that they're not allowed to express their emotions, which Choco Cup's clearly aware of, since it'll damage the circus' reputation.

Dunno about that but clearly that is a sign of some major fucking mental manipulation.

If you have to say that one's emotions will ruin your company, then honey, your company is already running straight towards hell

Especially when you have to physically shut them up. (For context for those who weren't around during this event (like me), its Banana Cookie's turn to audition and its implied that Choco Cup covered Ice Juggler's mouth giving the *URMPH*)

And before you assume that Ice Juggler is being a douche solely for being a douche

Bitch

Literally saying that Banana Cookie's performance wasn't all that bad. Wasn't great, but wasn't horrid either.

EVEN BANANA HERSELF SEEMS AWARE ABOUT ICE JUGGLER'S CRITICALNESS AND WANTS SOME OF THEIR CRITICISM

AND WHAT DID GUD OLD CHOCO CUP COOKIE DO?

Put words in their fucking mouth

Am i making my point clear?

Can you see why ice juggler is so pissed? Because their boss is literally prevent them from being anything more than an ICE JUGGLER

Literally go to hell choco cup

Sorry that this one was alot longer than part 1 but i felt like i had to expand a bit more on this cuz theres a lot to unpack here. Theres some more atrocities Choco Cupfuck has done but this is prob enough to show a good reason why Ice Juggler is rude af

Anyway i hope yall like this post and while youre valid for disliking Ice Juggler, i hope you at least understand why they have one of the reasons you potentially dislike them for. Feel free to add your optinions or anything i missed, reblog, whatever

#cookie run #ice juggler cookie #ranting #rambling #literally wrote this post after talking about banana x ice juggler with toto

[aquariusshadow]

Live!Blogging Legacies s4x4

TRIBRID HOPE TRIBRID HOPE TRIBRID HOPE

Aight yall i have my toast....less dooo diiiiiiiis

--

*GoT fans ptsd rn*

well hello necromancer

its been a while

or ted

ted works

idc

kaleb that smile is making me nervous

its so

eeeeeee

fr tho imagine opening the door and seeing kaleb and ethan smiling bright at you

or in this case

mali!kaleb and mali!ethan

"its about the big M"

"Mormon"

ew ethan no wtf no

ooooooooo leader!mg this is gonna be cool

....are we getting landon flashbacks?

yaaaaaaaaay cleo/landon reunion/meeting

man my heart really breaks for hope rn

oh christ

i forgot

also im getting some elena flashbacks when she got trapped in that house thing in transition

mali!landon she's gonna feed we still have a whole season left and a potential season 5

im getting some zombie apocalypse vibes

"please don't hurt him"

lizzie yes you do care but you dont understand

mg cares about him

HSLDKJFALSDF

CHRIST

"hey partner!"

stoooooooooop

"he's mine"

IM NOT PREPARED FOR METHAN ANGST

*side-eyes heroxvillain trope*

cleo you smart beautiful clever person

ok daaaaaaang kaleb

dragon!kaleb?

mali!dragon!kaleb?

ok thats genuinely creepy

leo howard can do a great evil laugh

thank you lizzie

uhhhhhh what do you mean ethans not breathing???

oooooooo his voice is slightly lower now that malivore took control over kaleb

its such a subtle difference

but the pitch is lower compared to earlier in the scene

uh

why is dark josie back

so i just watched buffy for the first time

all of buffy

yea i can't ignore the copy and paste from dark willow now

hope

drink

now

mali!Landon's bout to come out

god poor hope

uhhhhhhhhh why is the sky all bloody and scary

i like the atmosphere

TRIBRID HOPE TRIBRID HOPE TRIBRID HOPE

daaaaaaaaaaang

vampire suits her

my heart literally skipped a beat

shes so pretty

yesssssssssss witch powers

oh god

no

omg i love how mg still mainly cares about ethan

hes not even saying for sure how he feels about lizzie other than vague terms

also ethan looking only at mg when he woke up mhhhhhhhhmmmmm

"do people seriously call you dark josie" thank you finch

wtf

"lassie"

that sounded so odd

ok i love finch

shes so badass

she brought josie back

awwwwwww

WEREWOLF HOPE WEREWOLF HOPE

is she

turning her blood into

yep ok blood!sword

oh god no

i just want landon and cleo to escape

.................

uh

oh for fucks sake

handon reunion!

haha fuck you mali!landon

go cleo you brilliant smart gorgeous person

im honestly surprised josie just didnt syphon wade, jed, and finch from the beginning

i really thought that's what was gonna happen earlier in the episode when she called then up there

my heart :(

wait

no

UH

EXCUSE ME

OH THANK GOD

i was so scared cleo was gonna die

.........i wonder

did hope turn off her switch

super squad group hug with cleo <3

maybe ethan will realize how much mg loves and cares about him and return his feelings

.................

THANK YOU

ETHAN

OH MY GOD THANK YOU

ethans gonna be a student ethans gonna be a student!!!!

i still dunno how i feel about kalebxcleo but im definitely gonna give it a chance :D

awwww a prayer for landon my heart

alaric how bout you explain specifically why turning the switch off is bad

ooooooo it was a subconscious flip

im not surprised her switch flipped

nor am i mad about it

i wonder if people aren't happy with this tho....

--

So...honestly? I’m not mad Hope’s switch flipped. For someone who has so much unresolved trauma and an overflowing amount of grief, having to kill her boyfriend after spending so much time trying to get him back/save the people she loves? Yea, that switch was gonna flip at some point. All those emotions...

Now...switch!flipped Elena in TVD was...well...I personally didn’t enjoy it that much? There were aspects I did like objectively but...I really hope they handle switch!flipped Hope in a better way that purposefully addresses all the trauma, which is probably why Rebekah’s coming back.

I’m curious to see how this is gonna go!

#legacies #live!blogging legacies #legacies s4x4 #handon #finsie #methan #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #finch tarrayo #josie saltzman #mg #milton greasley #ethan machado #cleo sowande #kaleb hawkins #tribrid hope #oh boy oh boy oh boy #oh also mali!landon is in limbo with ted? #hmmm

[heyjude19-writing]

Im the list anon again and boy do I have more for you but this time I also have some questions as well if your time allows and you are willing to answer of course. First with the other things I loved:

1) the fact that Ron warmed up to Draco so quickly! I genuinely think thats so much in character. Ron is not a distrustful person and as a middle child as they come is very easygoing and would for sure make stupid jokes at Draco

2) The patronus. My god the Patronus. I seriously put the phone down and made a small slow clap during that chapter. At first I was like hmmmm *insert unsure kombucha girl face* because almost all fanfics have him with a dragon patronus and leave it at that (and lets be honest at this point my expectations of you were quite high dont blame me blame your bloody brilliant writing) but then, and I dont know if you did this on purpose or not (I have a feeling you did) but the fact that the dragon was the same (pale white) wounded but still feral dragon that Hermione FREEED (!) from a bank (£££) dungeon, malnourished and used for its nature, surrounded by darkness, wealth and misery!! And it was Hermione who broke its chains!!!!! Is just *chefs fucking kiss* slow clap*

3) the way you describe sex scenes are so natural! Ive never read a fanfic or book that doesnt make me gag a little bit (I am not a fan of smut at all but ill go with it because of a good story) until I read yours. Its so simple but yet intricate and you make the entire act so intriguing and normal and intimate. Bravo.

4) I LOVE SASHA. I love that Theo fell for her head over heels and the way you portrayd her reminded me of a friend of mine who works as a sous-chef in London so I always pictured her when reading it!

5) Dracos inner voice is ON POINT. Like I genuinely think you shoud own the rights to that character now.

6) Ill say it again. I love Ginny. You should also own the rights to her character too.

7) my interest for Quiddich (even when reading the books/wathcing the movies) was on par, if not lower than Hermiones. You managed to get me interested in that too so yes another slow clap to you

7.1) Also such a clever career for Draco!! Made si much sense!

Now to some questions

A) What was the deal with Malfoy referring to Ginny as Weasly and refusing to aknowledge her Potter surname. And why did everyone kept correcting him? It was hilarious granted but I wanted to know whether the reason you included this time and time again had to do wih something deeper? Or was this included as just a funny recurring joke?

B) Why did you choose for Draco to have a “fantasy” to produce a patronus and not for example for him to have had to do that after theyd exchanged “i love yous”. Very interesting angle and i liked that it was sort of a loophole to all the ‘death eaters cant have patronuses’ but quite curious on the thought process

C) Why did you opt for Draco to remove his mark? Do you think that stands as reward for him more or for Hermione? Very smart solution by the way

D) if you have the time- Could you please elaborate a tad more on what the soul-bonding means? Why was it so taboo? At furst hand it seems like a very romantic/amazing thing to do with your partner right?

Lastly- Do you ever itch to make a second part to this? And in the most acceptable case that you dont, I always wondered what you had in mind for them in the future- because of the soul bonding thing, you mentioned that the generational curses will be erased, which means I guess that the Malfoys can have more than one child now, and girls as well. (I cannot believe im asking for this as I am the one to avoid any pregnancy fanfics but) do you imagine them with children and if yes, how many? How do they integrate muggle devices(I know youd agree wit me that Hermione would definitively bring some muggle stuff over!) and which devices would Draco really secretly like?

Pleasewriteasecondpartwhereyouelaborateyourthoughtsonthisthankyou.

Ok rant done. :D

List anon! You’re back with another amazing ask. I’ll do my best!

1.) I like to think Ron matured a lot post-war (not enough to stop making terrible jokes, though.)

2.) Regarding your beautiful analysis of my specific dragon breed for Draco’s patronus: How many points would you like for your Hogwarts house of choice? I will add that according to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the Ironbelly’s scales are normally a metallic grey. I will also add that I subscribe more to book canon than movie canon. In the book version of events of the Gringotts escape, Harry breaks the chains and Hermione (with eventual help once the boys catch on) destroys the ceiling so it can have a way out. The partially blind dragon does the rest of the work on its own.

3.) Thank you, that’s very flattering.

4.) Does your friend also get you into fancy restaurants and can they make salted caramel bread pudding???

5.) Thank you, it was one of my favorite aspects of writing this story.

6.) Thank you, she’s so fun to write and flesh out from her book portrayal.

7.) Haha, I felt so validated by that line of dialogue in Cursed Child when Draco tells Harry he wanted to play quidditch professionally, but wasn’t good enough.

Now to some answers:

A.) It’s definitely a recurring joke. It’s up to the reader to interpret Draco’s actions here: is he doing it to be a massive troll? Or is he genuinely not retaining the information of her married name because he considers this fact so unimportant that he does not bother to keep it in his brain? Troll, snob, or both, you can decide!

B.) I’ll address the second part of this first, because it was not intended as a loophole. I 1000% do not understand the “death eaters can’t have patronuses” thing. It makes absolutely no sense. Snape has a Patronus. But beyond that… Umbridge has a Patronus (a cat). If we’re letting that woman have a Patronus, then yeah, I think Draco can cast one. As for the vision that Draco used to conjure it… up to you whether that’s a fantasy or a glimpse of a certain ritual actually working. Draco’s thoughts on the matter: “An image of such striking tangibility that he might have already lived it, or perhaps experienced time in such a way that he lived it now.”

C.) I wanted Draco to have a choice, obviously a recurring theme for him in RN. For my characterization of him, that symbol on his arm causes him nothing but shame and self-loathing (see the end of chapter 36 during his heart-to-heart with Hermione). He’d already exercised almost every known avenue to rid himself of it before Hermione entered his life (he lists these in chapter 44). Hermione already loved him (and has told him so) by the time she’s figured out how to remove it: “I love the man you are today and I will love that man tomorrow, bare forearm or not. I simply wanted you, for once, to have the choice. It’s your body.”

D.) Ooh anon, you are tempting me here. I really hate to be coy, but you might see some future writing on this very topic.

I can at least answer the taboo part: I think soul magic in general (horcruxes, the use of unicorn blood) is quite taboo in the HP universe. As no one knows what happens after death (not even ghosts, Nearly Headless Nick says as much when Harry asks him point-blank in OoTP) I think most magical folk would think the intense ritual (blending magical cores) an unnecessary thing anyway. As Draco explains in chapter 48, since no one actually knows the effects or if it works, it’s considered a bit over-the-top since it’s probably futile anyway. It is also not a Vow with a death component; Narcissa is obviously alive in this story even though Lucius is already dead. I wrote the generational curse protection theory in as a dig at Cursed Child for the way they handled Astoria’s character.

The idea of it I think is romantic, but I will stress it is very dependent upon the intent of the two participants. To quote Draco in chapter 48 again: “To twine one’s soul to another showed a willingness to not only physically tether one’s self during your time here on earth, but to commit to a blending of your magical cores, putting faith in your magic to recognize its bonded counterpart in another life. Should other lives even exist.”

If you re-read Draco’s experience during the bonding ceremony in chapter 51 (starting from this bit: “The cognizance of his own powers never felt sharper, more familiar, but suddenly another power pulsed within to join with his.”) you might find it bears a resemblance to the trajectory of their relationship.

Lastly- I’ve left Draco and Hermione to their wedded bliss. I’ve got nothing planned for them beyond where they are in the final lines of chapter 51. I don’t have that itch to write more into their future because it would feel forced. Draco laid out his two envisioned futures with Hermione in chapter 48 when they discuss having or not having children. They are happy and content in the life they chose together. That’s all I ever wanted for them.

You will see more from this story though. I have an entire series of one-shots and outtakes from the published Remain Nameless timeline that I’ll start posting soon.

Thank you so much list anon! These were fun to answer!

#remain nameless #dramione #list anon #asked and answered

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Snakes and Scandals (Pt.1)

-------------------------

Virgil Blanche hated a lot of things, that was a given. He was, after all, an extremely poor twenty-two year old man living in the slums of a high-end empire city. Every day he would sit through nearly ten hours of abuse from costumers who were raised to think they were better than everyone else, and even the ones who weren't born rich were corrupted very quickly.

"Excuse me? Is this still eligible for a return? I tried at another store and they rejected me but I only bought it a few days ago," Virgil merely sighed at the hat and scarf clad man in front of him.

"If you bought it less than two months ago its eligible for return, if someone told you it wasn't you can file a complaint," Virgil never spoke very clearly, but he appreciated the man at least pretending to understand what he was saying.

"Thank you," it was at this point Virgil seemed to register that the man was speaking with a slight russian accent.

"Have a nice day," Virgil said in a monotone voice.

The day continued as all days working in customer service usually did, of course, had Virgil checked his calendar, maybe he would've realized that it was National Frame a Retailer For Flirting With You day. He didn't have much time to react, whoever the girl who'd used him as a cheating scapegoat was, she was very quiet, and her boyfriend was very fast.

"You tryna make her look dumb? Huh? Is that what you want?" Virgil tried to protest but ended up with a faceful of knuckles instead.

He should've known it wouldn't end well for him, at least he wasnt dead, but now he had a bloody face and was sitting in the managers office, waiting to hear his fate.

"So you punched him?" Virgil's boss was very stereotypical, blonde, bob-cut, light brown eyes, and Virgil knew she hated him. She always acted excited about his new piercings or tattoos, and of course she congratulated him when she found out he'd finally managed to afford top surgery after saving up since age fourteen. But he could tell it was all fake. He wasn't social enough for customer service, after all.

"In self defense, only after he broke my nose," Virgil responded. His manager pursed her lips together, glaring slightly from behind her glasses.

"And you are aware they intended to sue, yes?" Virgil gritted his teeth,of course they were, after all, why attack a store employee if you didn't want to sue them, or, at least, if you didn't want free starbucks every time you showed up.

"No, I wasn't, because they attacked me first," Virgil said calmly.

"I'm sorry Virgil but I'm going to have to fire you," there was no hiding the look of pure glee on the managers face as she delivered the news.

Virgil merely set his name tag on the table and left, all the while clutching his face. It burned, badly, some people needed to go to the gym less.

"You alright dude?" Virgil moved his hand to look at the man in front of him. Tall, skinny, with a mustache on his face and a white streak in his hair. The man had a worried look on his face, though his eyes conveyed a vague crazed look.

"Yeah, sure," Virgil said. He was about to walk away when the taller man grabbed his arm.

"Come with me, I'll help clean you up," Virgil was honestly to tired to argue, so instead he merely followed.

"Roman! I think I found you a new model! A little bruised up but I think he'll be ok soon enough!" Virgil had stopped listening after 'model'.

"Wait wait wait wait wait- I am definitely not a model-" Virgil tried to shrink in on himself.

"Well of course you arent yet! Oh Remus you life saver look at him! He's brilliant!" A boy who looked similar to the one with the mustache rushed out from behind a pillar, planting a kiss on the receptionists cheek as he ran.

Remus smiled, "I'll go get some ice packs and bandages, you two can talk," he said, running off.

"Roman Prince-Duke, head of Rome Fashion Company," Roman said, holding a hand out.

"Virgil Blanche, head of confused and worried emotions company," Virgil said, Roman let out a laugh.

"So what happened? If you're comfortable sharing that is," Roman said, gesturing to Virgil's face.

"Girl got her boyfriend to attack me at work for the sake of coupons," Virgil said, shrugging.

"Oh dear. . ." Roman said, his face falling slightly.

A few minutes later Virgil was sitting on a bench with ice pressed against his face and Roman listening intently as the receptionist told him what he should do.

"Gods Lolo you're so cute when you're being smart," Roman said, smiling and leaning his elbow on his knee, head pressed against his hand. The receptionist's face flushed with color.

Virgil honestly wasn't sure how calling him a model wasn't a joke, yet here he was sitting in the lobby waiting for Roman.

"Alright Virgil! Let's get you ready for your first shoot shall we?" Roman brought Virgil up by the hand, spinning him slightly before guiding him to another room.

"Lucky for you we have plenty of outfits in your size," Roman said.

"Mention my height and the fabric scissors might find their way up your nose," Virgil growled. Being 4'8 never exactly helped his case, he didn't normally get aggressive easily but it was a bit touchy for him.

"Oh dont worry, I learned my lesson with Lo on our first date," Roman said.

An hour or so later Virgil was dressed in a purple sleeveless top with black lace along the neckline, a black corset, ruffled black skirts, and black boots with heels. It felt, nice, and Virgil wasnt sure why. Normally he hated the way he looked in everything, but for once in his life he felt like royalty.

"Remy! I've got a new model for you!" Roman said as they entered another room with all manner of different sets and cameras set up.

A man with a leather jacket and sunglasses popped out from behind one, jaw dropping slightly "Roman you SAINT! Where'd you find him?!" Remy said, circling Virgil and looking him up and down.

"That credit goes to Remus, speaking of which, I've got business to attend to, you boys have fun," Roman said, turning on his heel to leave, the nearly floor length skirt of his outfit sweeping behind him.

"Alright babes you look like you're about to pass out right now so let's take a little break m'kay?" Remy walked with Virgil to a room that seemed primarily composed of bean bags.

They sat there for a while, Remy asking him questions and telling him his own stories. Before suddenly he got up and held a hand out for him. Virgil took it and allowed himself to be lead to a set covered in giant mushrooms and flowers. Remy spent a few minutes posting him, bringing out a few props for him to prop his arms on.

"Now just relax and give me a smile, you look like you're good at subtle, let's try some of those first," said Remy from behind the camera.

Virgil started out the shoot wishing it would be over already, but by the end he couldnt seem to stop looking at his own reflection in the camera lens.

"Oh Jan's going to lose it when he sees these!" Roman said, looking through the pictures from his phone.

"Who's Jan?-" Virgil said, tilting his head slightly.

"Oh you probably know him as Dimitri, he's a rival of mine," Roman handed Virgil a magazine, one scan of the front cover and Virgil recognized the man from a week ago, he was wearing the same hat and scarf as before. He read the caption above it. "Dimitri Gabriel to release new line inspired by endangered reptile species, all proceeds to go to preservation funding, no real scales used," he handed the article back to Roman.

"I've seen that guy, he was returning something the day I got fired," Virgil said.

"Oh even better! He'll recognize you!" Said Roman.

"Wait where are these even going?" Virgil said.

"My stylegram, you dont seem like the type who likes runways, so Remus and I have decided you'll be a social media model," Roman said.

"Well- guess I better make my own account then," Virgil said, pulling out his own phone.

It was only a few minutes before the comments flooded in, he recognized Janus' face, though his handle still conveyed his name as Dimitri. His face flushed red at the compliments. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but the feeling that Janus was impressed by his looks gave him an intense sensation of joy.

----------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@nerosdayinhell

@official-lucifers-child

@meowthefluffy

@spooky-scary-virgil

@misunderstoodshadowling

@youtuberswithalex

#snakes and scandals au #romantic anxceit #anxceit #mosleep #romantic mosleep #intrumile #romantic intrumile #imagimile #romantic imagimile #romantic logince #logince #violence tw #tw violence #violence mention #violence #tw blood #blood tw #blood

[cross-d-a]

I want to know ALL about Wu Xie embarrassing time traveler!Li Cu!!! ✨✨ I'm also v intrigued by Nie Huisang death death death

(Also, Cross you have so many wips; I read in awe. And to think I thought I had a lot of star wars fix-it ideas! I only have anything at all written down for two of them!)

(this refers to the WIP tag game I completed a few days ago!)

Wu Xie being EMBARRASSING & Li Cu Time Travel: 

I’ve got a series of interconnected oneshots planned where Li Cu just- accidentally hops back in time to every drama/book and helps out the Iron Triangle. and it’s more like LI CU embarrassing WU XIE haha

I thought it’d be HILARIOUS if Li Cu got to see how Wu Xie (UR MY DAD BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE) is so YOUNG and STUPID and EMBARRASSING when he’s young!! Wu Xie making (ACTUALLY) innocent doe eyes at an emo Xiao Ge?? GROSS. Wu Xie accidentally (DELIBERATELY?) setting off multiple traps in a tomb?? Li Cu is 10000/10 going to RECORD THIS on his phone and bring it BACK to the future and make fun of Wu Xie FOREVER. Also!!! There are SO MANY SNAKES in Ultimate Note!! And?? Conveniently?? Li Cu has a lil’ snake buddy?? MAYBE HE COULD HELP??? 

I basically want Li Cu being the Actual Competent One and the baby Iron Triangle floundering. Mostly Wu Xie. I want Wu Xie floundering. I also want Wu Xie SO EMBARRASSED when Li Cu hops back to his own time. 

li cu: DAD UR AN IDIOT 

wu xie: i DONT WANT TO RELIVE IT PLS AND THANK 

li cu: nO!! U ARE GOING TO SUFFER!! UR SO STUPID u set off FIVE TRAPS

wu xie: i hate you 

li cu: no u don’t u just told me u loved and appreciated me for saving ur life like ten minutes ago. there were tears in your eyes. actually they were streaming down ur face. u might have been hugging my leg and sobbing

wu xie: tHAT WAS SIXTEEN YEARS AGO FOR ME OK i am an OLD MAN

Nie Huaisang death death death:

I think it’s hilarious that you picked out one of the resurrective immortality fics considering we were JUST talking about the old guard hahaha. This one I actually have a good chunk written so far, so here is a long snippet near the beginning. Context is that Nie Huaisang’s mother is VERY pregnant and she’s riding through the mountains to visit her family before she gives birth. WARNINGS for gore (kinda??) and child death and just- DEATH in general:

There are beasts in the mountains. Ravenous, born of fury and blood, more ragged spirit than flesh. Their claws are jagged and broken and their maws drip with sizzling saliva. They have roamed the mountains for years and years, and have only grown more enraged, voracious.

The Nie Clan have always harnessed the butchery of their past. Binding rage and ruin to themselves, channeling it through their hearts and into their swords until they are one and the same. Until it feeds upon their flesh and their spirit, gnawing on their bones, carving out a little space for itself between brittle ribs. Until, one bloody piece at a time, it consumes them whole.

The Nie Clan’s power is also the source of their doom, and these beasts who roam and know only hate hate hate are Nie-furen’s doom, as well.

They descend upon the Nie in the dead of night, a roiling mass of snapping teeth and furious howls. There is blood, screaming, desperate flashes of Dao magic and heavy blades. But there are too many and it is not enough.

But the mighty Phoenix of the West has always been filled with unmatched fury and she is full of new life and about to burst. She will not let her child die here today. Not before he can breathe sweet fresh air and keen that first high cry. Not before his father can cradle him in his arms and his older brother can plant a kiss on his forehead.

That rage within her swells. It devours her spirit and bleeds out her eyes as she screams screams screams- a raging beacon of power and brutality and every ancestor’s grief.

She slaughters everything in her path.

When she comes to, she is soaked in blood and there is pain in her belly and an ache behind her eyes and in every breath- but she is alive. She lies amidst the ruins of her people and the lingering darkness of vanquished spirits and Shan Xifeng—

She goes into labour.

It is long and hard, lasting through the night into the bloody dawn and beyond. She manages to crawl to the edge of their encampment but no further. She twists into a curl of agony and cries into the clouded sky.

Her son is born on the cusp of evening, just as the sun slides behind dark, ragged peaks. He is born soft and warm and silent.

Shan Xifeng cradles him in quaking hands. Cups his cheek to her breast. His tiny head is blood-streaked like his mother. Blood-streaked like her friends and family around her.

It is an irony that on one of the most important days of her life, she is surrounded by her loved ones and yet they are all dead.

“Little one,” she murmurs, and tilts his limp head. “Little one, please.”

But he is silent as the dead around her and that grief swells again in her breast. It gnaws on her ribs and scrabbles at her throat and she is shaking shaking shaking.

“No,” she spits. “No! He has done nothing wrong! Nothing! Does he not deserve his first breath? His first cry? Does he not deserve the family that awaits him?!”

She screams into the sky and tastes blood between her teeth. “Take me instead! I beg of you! Please let him live! I would give my life! Every single one of them, so that he may live!”

Her sword quakes along with that dark raging thing within her and she clutches her dead son close.

Then—

The faint, elegant curve of a fan in the corner of her eye. The shift of cloth, the echo of a breath. The glimmering of ethereal gold and silver, like someone has spun the stars and sun above into delicate thread.

Summoned, like a beast to blood.

“All of them?”

Shan Xifeng knows better than to face an unknowable thing and so she bows as low as her broken body will allow. She stares into the bloodied dirt and breathes in dust and rasps, “Yes.”

“Hm.” A flicker of a stretching smile, coy, with a hint of sharp teeth. She does not see the fathomless dark behind those stark white teeth, a gaping void of ravenous benevolence. It is hidden behind the flare of the fan. “Do you understand what you ask for?”

“I do,” she says without hesitation.

The grin widens, lips scarlet and dark against bone-white skin. “Then I shall grant your wish.”

A shift of cloth, then a cool hand cups Nie-furen’s cheek, guiding her up. Her eyes flicker open and she sees what no mortal has ever seen, and then that fan whispers against her cheek and blood-red lips press against hers and the last thing she feels is her golden core trembling spasming dying as life is pulled from her breath- all the lives she has ever lived, the one she lives now, and every life she could have ever lived.

Shan Xifeng falls into the bloodied dirt beneath, still clutching her dead son to her breast. And then there is no one left living in that small clearing.

Pale, bony fingers trace a delicate line through the blood that lingers upon her cheek. It is still wet and useful. Stained fingers press against scarlet lips and the life held between stark white teeth is breathed anew into that blood.

Carefully, bone-thin fingers trace a deliberate character upon the newborn child’s left cheek. The blood shines, brilliant and devastating, before fading back into a gruesome name across pale skin. Slowly, the child begins to twitch, brows wrinkling in displeasure, before a high keening wail escapes tiny lips as the child take its first breath.

“Your mother does not know what she’s doomed you to.”

A day later, travelers upon the road hear a faint keening noise not far from their wagon. When they find the clearing, they gag and retch. When they find the weak, whining child clutched in his dead mother’s arms, they shake their heads and then stare at the crest emblazoned upon the woman’s clothes.

Two days after that, the child is delivered to Nie-zongzhu’s disbelieving arms.

“No,” he says, violent spirit quaking deep within him. “No. It- it is not true.”

The traveler ducks his head and clasps his hands in a bow. “I’m sorry, Zongzhu. We were not able to take the bodies with us. You’ll have to send someone to check, but…it was the crest of your house. And…” he hesitates, then nods to his companion who stumbles up and offers a sword.

Not just any sword. A dao.

Shan Xifeng’s dao.

Feng.

“No,” Nie-zongzhu cries, falling to his knees.

“I-I’m so sorry,” the traveler stutters. “I am so, so sorry, Nie-zongzhu.”

Nie-zongzhu sobs, clutching his newborn child to his chest. “Little one,” he weeps. “Oh, little one. At least life is kind enough to have spared you.”

“Yong,” the traveler blurts.

Nie-zongzhu stares uncomprehendingly, tears running hot down his cheeks.

“It- it was written upon his cheek in- in blood. I- I think that is what his mother named him. She must have done it with her dying breath. She must have wanted you to know. He did not enter this world nameless.”

“Yong,” Nie-zongzhu echoes, trembling. “It- it is a good name, for my brave little boy.” He cups his son’s cheek and sobs. “Brave like- like his mother,” he murmurs, voice thin and quaking. “She named you well.”

And perhaps it is bravery that made Shan Xifeng give up the chance to ever be reborn. Perhaps it is bravery that saved her son’s life.

But it was all a mother’s wretched love, and Shan Xifeng did not write the character for brave upon her son’s cheek.

No, it was not Yong for bravery, but Yong for eternal.

And it is not his mother who wrote it.

Perhaps it is bravery that saved her son, but is the curse of eternity really a kindness?

No, no Shan Xifeng did not truly understand what she asked for.

But Nie Yong soon would.

The next section starts with:

The second time Nie Yong dies, he doesn’t even realize it.

He is four years old.

and the third section starts with:

The third time Nie Yong dies, his Adie kills him.

He is nine years old.

It’s basically an Angst Fest with a happy ending bc...I just need a happy ending Always. I just REALLY love resurrective immortality and I love making my favourite characters Suffer :)

I hope these were fun and satisfying to read!! 

♪(ﾟ▽^*)ﾉ⌒☆

(also omg NO it’s a CURSE!!! I WISH I could just finish SOMETHING!! ANYTHING!! OMG!!! I am so envious you’ve managed to restrain yourself to a few!! Also!! I am SUPER excited to find out more about your fix-its!!! :D)

#tag game #my fic #cross talks #wip tag game #ask game

[pieswhump]

Whumptober- Enemy to Caretaker

Warnings- Violence, gore (maybe?), blood, they dont directly mention it but they dance around the topic of sexual assault

Nico shook, collapsing to the ground the instant he was released from his bonds. He didn’t even try to run, but Reed came over and pulled his arms behind his back, reattaching the leather cuffs he had arrived in. He didn’t try to resist, despite his mind screaming to fight back. 

The past hour had been hell. Jac just took it silently, until Reed slapped him and demanded he make noise. It was unsettling, how still he was. Like a living statue.

Reed tousled Nico’s hair, and Nico growled. Reed’s neutral, almost sad expression transformed into a grin like a switch had been flipped. “You’re not broken after all! I was scared you were gonna break after just today, but you’re still kicking.” Nico glared. “I’m not a fucking toy.” Reed just smiled in a condescending way, not responding. He looked up at the camera. “Alright, so that was my birthday stream and Nico’s great debut! Have a wonderful day folks, and thanks for tuning in! Again, this is the Bourdell Family Stream, and I don’t need to tell you how to get onto here because if you’re here, you already figured it out.” Reed laughed, making a finger gun at the camera with a brilliant smile, and there was the click of the camera being shut off.

Reed visibly relaxed, and he left Nico sitting on the floor to go to Jac. He turned and looked at the guards, glaring. “I would like to take them to my room now. Clean up the blood.” Nico felt his heart beat faster and faster. To his room? That couldn’t mean anything good…

Reed picked up Jac with ease, bending down to pick up the chain connected to Nico’s cuffs. He walked out of the room, Nico stumbling. 

They went up the seemingly endless staircase until they arrived at what Nico had dubbed the halfway door. Reed pushed it open with his hip, Jac’s food hitting the door. Reed murmured a quiet apology, hardly more than a whisper.

The energy was much different… This felt unstable, like it could shake apart at any moment.

The trio arrived at a door that was painted black, matching the rest of the house’s decor. Reed gently shoved it open, bringing Jac and Nico inside.

The walls were white, a collection of photos pinned onto a white door. A closet, Nico assumed. There was a white desk, with a computer and empty coffee cups strewn about. There was a plush red rug, and a bed with a matching red comforter. There was a black bookshelf, half-filled with books Nico didn't recognize aside from A Wrinkle In Time.

Reed set Jac down on the bed, and he murmured something quietly. Jac nodded slightly, and Reed turned to Nico.

“Where… where is the pain worst?” Nico blinked. “Huh?” “Where is the pain worst? Has your bleeding stopped?”

 He growled. “Why do you care? You’re the one that did it to me!”

Reed sighed. “Please… just tell me. I understand if you don’t trust me, but you won’t get medical help otherwise.” Nico hesitated. “The carving… I think it’s still bleeding…” Reed nodded and took Nico’s right arm. He gently patted Nico’s shoulder, his blue shirt matted with blood. Nico winced, tensing. Reed quietly apologized, and he pushed the shirt up.

There was a bloody gash into the top of Nico’s shoulder. It wasn’t too deep to cut muscle or bone, but it was bleeding profusely. It hurt more than anything Nico could have ever imagined. 

Reed winced. “Sorry…” Nico glared, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were just doing your fucking job, don’t be sorry.” 

Reed sighed, leaving Nico standing there with blood dripping onto the carpet. He opened his closet door, grabbing a white box from the top shelf. He shut the door, moving back to Nico.

Nico narrowed his eyes. “Why should I trust you? You did this to me.” There was a quiet voice. “He’s… not so bad. And he’s the only one who will give you medical help…” Nico turned to look at Jac, who was shrunken in on himself and fidgeting. Nico growled. “Fucking fine. Whatever. I don’t trust you.” Reed nodded. “I don’t expect you to.” He opened the box, pulling out a roll of gauze. He gently wound it around his arm, the blood clinging to the gauze. He used the whole roll, Nico begrudgingly letting him help.

When he was done, he tied it off and let go. “Anything else?” Nico thought for a second, shaking his head. “Everything else is just bruising, I think… I don’t really know what the fuck you did to me. But I could use an advil.”

Reed nodded, and pulled one out of the first aid kit, handing it to Nico. He swallowed it dry, thanking him quietly. Reed turned to Jac. Jac shook his head. “I’m alright… You went easy on me tonight…” Reed half-smiled. “Yeah... I didn’t want to patch up the two of you, especially on Nico’s first day…” Reed sat in his chair. “So… um… I don’t want to do these things…”

Nico raised an eyebrow. 

“I… Jac was given to me for my eighteenth birthday, and I was expected to pick up the family business. The first stream I did… I puked my guts out for an hour, ashamed of what I had done. But I’ll be disowned if I say that I don’t want to do this… it’s a lose/lose situation… The only thing I can really do is take care of your wounds. I’m sorry.” Nico snarled. “I don’t care about your sob story.” “I know you don’t. But it matters to me that I tell you… You can sleep, if you’d like. You must be exhausted.” Nico fidgeted. “Fine. But only because there’s nothing else to fucking do.” Jac hesitated before jumping off the bed, going to Reed’s side. Reed smiled a little, holding his arms out for Jac. Jac hugged him and let go, looking at Nico. “I’ll stay awake… I can make sure he wouldn’t do anything, if you’re nervous about that.” Reed chimed in. “And I won’t. Scouts honor.” Nico snorted without realizing it, and Jac smiled a little. Nico sat on the bed, hesitating. “This is like… rich people shit. Is it okay that I’m on your bed?” “It’s the comfiest thing in this room, and you need to heal.” “You could just say yes, like damn.”

Reed smiled at Nico, and Nico returned the look with a glare. Nico went to take off his shoes before remembering that he was barefoot- his shoes had been taken once they started filming. Something about aesthetics. Nico laid down properly, and between the rapidly-dulling pain of his shoulder, and the exhaustion harbored in his brain, he slowly fell asleep.

#whumptober2020 #no.7 #enemy to caretaker #fic #oc #Nico Dowey: Defiant #Jac Krane #Reed Bourdell: Perfect Son

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

To get back what you’ve lost, even if its by force/Lets bring hell to their damn doorstep boys.

a little dark side au story not directly being a sequel to my other angst story for this au~

This is Roceit with some hints at previous Demus and Princexiety and some soft hints at platonic Loceit, and it also includes a few of my own headcanoned dark sides( that im going to try to make more content for!)

Things had been...ok for the light sides once Deciet got full settled into his new role. ‘ Self preservation’ Logan had referred to him with a calm understanding and a welcoming title. And though some things hurt for Deceit to leave behind, he began to embrace this new style of living slowly but surely with the others, especially one certain musical prince whose smile made him admittedly swoon. 

Yes Deceit would admit to himself that Roman Sanders had captured his affections, though sometimes he almost couldnt let himself believe it. Just as he almost couldnt believe the new golden and purple room he woke up in each day or the new clothes Patton and Roman had excitedly provided him.

“ It’ll look great on you Dee! I designed them myself!”

“ Its definitely a very stylin new look kiddo! And besides, you deserve some welcoming presents!” He had offered a small smile and taken the clothes with a nod, slipping back into his new room to continue settling it and redecorating it to his preference. 

Though during the next video he hesitantly appeared, relaxing when he was greeted warmly by everyone. Roman had excitedly showed off his new updated outfit and Deceit took a deep breath.

“ I well...I also had a small idea to ‘change things up’ but, you guys wouldnt like it...” His tongue flickered out briefly.

“ Aw cmon Dee dont say that! You know no matter what it is we’ll like it!”

“ But, if it makes you more comfortable, we will not push you to share.” He looked at Thomas who smiled encouragingly and let down another wall, revealing the outfit he’d put together to officially start his new life here. 

After that they had gotten closer, much closer as time went on. Deceit could almost, almost forget what and who he had left in the shadowy halls he once called home. But not completely, never completely...

He jumped when Roman placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him look up into loving crimson eyes. The taller side leaned down and kisses his scaled cheek as he invited Deceit to join him and the others into the living room for a movie marathon, and as their hands interlocked he couldnt have been happier...

“ aaaaaaaaaargh!!!!” 

Elsewhere there was a thud and a clatter as a glass shattered against the dark wall. The one whose head it broke mere inches from didnt flinch, even as one of the shards left a bloody cut in his cheek, bright pink eyes bored. 

“ Virgil if you keep breaking silverware we wont have any left.” He spoke in a  annoyed, uncaring voice as he wiped the blood from his skin. Virgil snarled at him in response, his eyes glowing purple and green and glowing strings tightly scattered all over the room like an intricate spiderweb. They all pulsed with a livid light, and illuminated the living room in a eerie purple cast. The others in the room had decidedly kept quiet for the time being, none of them willing to approach their furious leader having a meltdown. Though one scoffed and rolled his bright orange eyes sneering.

“ Could you throw any worse of a fucking tantrum Virgy?” Angry eyes narrowed in on him so fast with a disturbing head snap that he stiffened, feeling more strings lace around him.

“ What. did. you. say. Wrath.” The words were low and hissed, balancing into demonic sounding and he smartly shut up, backing down with a muttered “ Nothing Anxiety....Nothing at all....” Virgil growled and went back to his seethed pacing, his hood making it so only his glowing eyes were visible above his mouth. Neither Wrath nor Arrogance dared move closer, watching him pace in the middle of his web. Remus was nowhere in sight, having locked himself in his room for the past few weeks now to brood. Arrogance sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose irritated. Remus and him had been moody and snappish ever since Deceit had chosen the light sides, chosen Roman and the others over them weeks ago. And Arrogance, Aaron for short, was getting rather pissy himself about needing to walking on fucking eggshells every time he left his room. Wrath was getting angry too, no surprise there, but this was utter bullshit to him. And to Wrath, there was a simple solution. 

At least he considered it simple as his gaze drifted to the dolls tangled in the air in strings. His eyes snagged on the light blue coded Patton doll before he looked towards the other ones, like Logan’s and Roman’s trapped toys. Now however there was another in the center of his lines, a peculiar doll with a carefully, intricately designed scaled side of his face and a small velvet cape wrapped in purple. 

Finally he couldnt take it anymore and stood up from his seat, ignoring the way he himself began to get tangled. 

“ Oh for fucks sake Virgil youre getting on my nerves with this! If youre so pissy that he’s over there then just fucking bring him back already and quit your damn hissy fit!” There was silence as the two stared each other down.

“ Just...take him back huh?” 

All eyes turned towards the doorway where Remus stood, twitchy and eyes glowing. Admittedly it made Jacob nervous, Remus sounded calm and collected...something that didnt bode well with his twitching demeanor and intense stare. 

“ Can we just do that...bring Dee back home?” Virgil looked down and began pacing again, though his posture was no longer hunched and aggressive. Instead now it was straight backed and more composed. He let out a hum and they all watched him quietly as he went around, his hand reaching out and grasping the Roman doll and holding it in his grip, in an almost caring and tender way. Memories fluttered across his mind and disappeared once more, filled with visions of the new couple’s happiness...

Take him back...

“ Yes...why didnt I think of that sooner? Oh Wrath...no, Des youre brilliant when youre not mindlessly aggravated...” A twisted smile curled upon Anxiety’s lips as he gazed at the doll then looked at Deceit’s, reaching his other hand out to graze his fingers along the yellow coded doll’s cheek. 

“ I know exactly what will tempt them onward...and then I will bring him back...no, we’ll bring him back.” He looked over his shoulder at Remus, locking eyes with him as a wide crazed grin grew on Remus’s face, his pupils seeming to dilate dangerously. “ Wont we Remus?” 

“ Oh fuck yes I cant wait!!!” He tightened his grip on the doll in his hand and looked down at it with a betrayed, angry sneer.

“ Lets bring some chaos and hell to their little doors shall we boys?” 

Deceit shuddered as he got a sudden chill, making him glance around his room as he sat up. Something felt wrong to him, something he couldnt place. But nothing was wrong. The dark sides had been quiet for a few weeks now, and Thomas had only had small controlled bouts of anxiety that was easy to soothe and he had been happy and even a little more carefree than normal. Things were fine between himself and the other sides, great even when it came to his relationship with Roman. Roman...

Deceit couldn’t help the soft, dopey smile that crossed his face at the thought of the creative side. He had been nothing but kinda and affectionate since they began dating, and every day he saw him was another day Deceit felt he was on cloud 9. But he shook his head and refocused on the problem at hand, pulling on his beanie and jacket as he stepped out of his room. Nothing seemed off or even out of place. 

“ Maybe...I’m just imaging things...” He shook his head again and pulled his jacket closer to him to warm up. He decided to head for the living room, that maybe being around the others would get rid of this feeling. So he made his way, furrowing his brows at how...dim the lights seemed now. Had he been in his room longer than he thought? ‘ No...no I couldnt have been...Patton would have called me down for dinner and he hasnt yet...’ His pace quickened as he spotted the stairs and the light glowing from the bottom of them. Deceit’s body relaxed a little at the warm glow and a smile reappeared on his face.

And it quickly dropped into a worried frown as he went down the stairs and found himself back at the end of the hallway. 

He stopped and looked around confused, his surroundings not clicking in his mind. He should’ve been in the living room now. But he gazed at the hallway dotted with their bedroom doors and the stairs at the very end, warm cheerful glow still coming from the bottom. So he simply walked the hallway and hurried down the stairs again...

...only to end up back at the start of the hallway, again. 

“ What the hell...” He looked around again, this time with a pit of dread forming in his stomach. Something wasnt right. 

Why couldnt he leave the damn hallway?

He tried taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts, a tip Logan had given him in the case he ever got too upset to focus. Once he was calmer he walked slower towards the stairs. Not many sides could do something like this, and it definitely wouldnt be some kind of pranks the others would pull on him...

“ Remus I swear to god if youre doing this please cut it out!” He called into the hallway, eyes searching for any hints of the wild side. Deceit knew he loved edgier pranks, and scaring him with a prank of a ever repeating hallway in isolation felt just up his alley of thinking. He couldnt help but let out an exasperated sigh, anger fading. He couldnt stay that mad at the Remus if he was pulling a cruel prank. Honestly any reestablished contact with the other wouldve been...nice.

Deceit missed his friend, and maybe this would be his chance to heal the wounds he mightve caused by leaving and rekindle the friendship. He chuckled to himself as he stopped at the stairs.

“ Jeez....I guess Pat’s soft side is rubbing off on my more than I thought...” With that he headed down the stairs and shook his head at the beginning of the hallway.

“ Cmon Rem! I know youre probably pissy at me...and you know what? I dont blame you.” He started walking again, looking around him with a pleading look. “ But please, just come out and lets try talking again ok? Like we used to? We can spread out in my room and hell, I’ll even give you the bed spot you always fight for. Just...lets cut out the game now ok?” He got nothing but silence as an answer, and he paused.

Silence was something that was not Remus’s style, prank or not. And now his guard was up faster than a gunshot.

“....Remus? Are you there?” He looked around again, getting more and more uneasy at the silence and started walking again.

“ Arrogance if this is your idea of a joke it isnt funny! Cut your shit.” No response and once again he was back where he started. Now he was getting angry, and even a little afraid. 

It wasnt Remus, because Remus couldnt handle this kind of silence for this long even for a joke, especially when he was called out.

Arrogance wasnt one to pass up taunting his inability to escape, and on top of that he wasnt really one for pranks either. When Remus called him a stick in the mud...he wasnt exactly wrong. 

And Wrath didn’t have the patience for this kind of thing. 

His walk this time was slower and more cautious, this time when he glanced around his eyes darted to dark corners too. The pit in his stomach grew and worsened as he made it to the stairs again and looked down them. He could even see the damn landing, washed in light. He hurried down again and almost yelled in frustration as he ended up at the beginning again. It took everything in him not to freak out.

“ Patton!?” No answer.

“ Logan??! Can you hear me??” No response.

“ R-roman!!!!” Nothing. 

No he was starting to panic, but he forced himself not to let it consume him. That feeling felt too familiar and he ran down the hallway.

“ Virgil if this is you’re doing stop it!! This isnt funny!!” Still no response and he repeated the loop a few more times. He opeed his bedroom door and saw it was just as he left it, but simply staying in there now almost felt...bad, like he’d been cornering himself. And trying the others doors did nothing, because either they were uncommonly locked or simply wouldnt budge. His breath hitched and hissed through his teeth faster as he run down again, this time tripping and hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud. 

“ owwwowowowowwww....” He pushed himself onto his knees, eyes squinting in pain and a little dazed. For a moment he thought he saw a tall figure blocking the stair’s light and he shot up to his feet, groaning in absolute frustration when no one was there. He took a few steps and stopped, looking down at the floor when his foot stepped on something. One the floor was Roman’s crimson sash, and with gentle hands he picked it up and held it tenderly. The soft scent that drifted off it relaxed him, and made him smile as he looked down at it, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. Looking at it he finally took another deep breath and tried thinking more clearly, his eyes shutting briefly. 

But because his eyes were shut he didnt notice purple glowing strings drip from the corners and behind him, silently creeping closer and surrounding him. When he finally opened his eyes and noticed the glow his eyes went wide in fear and the sound of footsteps on the stairs made him whip around. Though he only had time to partially shout as strings wrapped around him firmly and entangled him to the point he could barely fight back, strings around his through silencing his voice. He looked up at the hooded figure gripping and manipulating the strings like a puppet player, a cruel evil smirk on his face as his eyes glowed. 

“Well well now Deceit. You really shouldve know better...” The world began to darken and he felt Roman’s sash slip out of his fingers vaguely noticing his beanie fall off his head when he was moved closer to Virgil. Virgil’s eyes narrowed and his smirk widened as Deceit’s eyes began to fell shut, nothing but purple in his fading vision.

“ You really shouldn’t have tried to leave.” 

There was nothing but silence upstairs as Patton, dusting off his polo in a small huff from dealing with Arrogance and Remus making a chaotic mess in the living room before leaving as suddenly as they appeared, walked to the stairs landing and looked up to the dark hallway.

“ Dee! Kiddo dinner is ready! Come on down we dont want to start without you!” His head tilted and his brows furrowed in concern when he got no answer, his voice drifting and echoing around the hallway.

“ Kiddo? Can you hear me up there? You ok?” He put his foot on the first step as his voice echoed again.

“ Deceit?”

And echoed right over the old red silk sash and dark grey beanie that lay in the middle of the carpet, not a person nor side in sight.

Tadaa! Thats the end(for now) I hope you guys like it!!

Taglist

@phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @leesacrakon @amazable01

@sugarglider9603 im tagging you in this so you could maybe ready it! I hope you like it and the angst!

#my writing #sander sides #sander sides au #dark sides au #ts dark sides #light side deceit #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #deceit sanders #ts deceit #remus sanders #ts remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #dark side virgil #sander sides angst #wrath sanders #arrogance sanders #oc sides #sander sides fic #sander sides fanfiction #unsympathetic virgil

[mummabearsmusings]

ALL MY OTHER POSTS AND A BIG UPDATE.

My ex got residency three years ago and I got contact supervised by my family, or a few named agreed friends.

This was due to ongoing concerns from.my ex and members of his family, concerns they echoed for months, but never shared them with me, or my doctor, just with the nursery my cub was at.

These allegations, I still don't know what they were, but they were serious enough for social services to visit, once and decided that I had made mistakes because I was unwell, and that whatever those were they were completely unintentional (absent minded human errors, nothing serious, but got reported as safeguarding concerns)

Supervision lasted for 18 months, because it was up to him to decide when my time increased and my supervision decreased. That meant my mum had to sleep on my sofa almost every weekend for a year, my mum who has diabetes type 2, fibromyalgia and asthma which he knew about and when she didn’t my sister did. My sister who has two children of her own, both with additional needs, which he also knew about but we weren't allowed there..we weren't allowed to stay out anywhere besides my dads unless he gave permission, said so on the order. Wasn't allowed to take him on a playdate without it either, because there was four people named additionally on our order that were allowed to "supervise" me. It wasn't fun but I didn’t have a choice because his barrister had worded the court order so beautifully for the resident parent. I reapplied to court after 13 months of that order being in place, requesting supervision is gone and we have shared care and that the judge will give me permission to take him abroad and give me access to his passport that I applied and paid for..but they could only send to resident parent unless they had something from them in writing it could he sent to another address. He initially said he was too young, he may panic, he may get lost, someone may knock me over/out and snatch him, he may get sick, it might hurt his ears. He remembered and put in his statements that on our last holiday abroad that my nieces and little cousins got up to dance and no adult followed.I was 30 weeks pregnant.. so our child wasn't even born yet. I offered once he confirmed i could be unsupervised and finally have him over midweek sometimes meaning I could finally take him to school on my own that I would be happy to have him all three late shifts he worked each week but he had it covered almost always because of the fact he moved back to the family home and his mums a childminder so he had childcare sorted when he was working and it wasn’t my time. I originally got him one afternoon a week until 6, three weekends out of four Friday from 3 til sunday at 6 and half of all hols. That one afternoon was up to him because I wasn't working and he worked shifts on a rota so flexibility was key.   But meant it wasn’t often the same afternoon each week to begin with..then it mostly became thursdays which meant football training 6 til 7, so again I offered and asked if he could just stay here after and instead I was to drop him off after training (usually about half 7) After he confirmed I could be unsupervised and have alternate contact on his weekends he also allowed 6 to be extended to 7. Before he confirmed I could have him alternate time, every month for over a year it meant I had no contact with him for up to 9 days at a time Last year due to the way his annual leave went I didn't see him from last week of summer hols until his first morning back at school. That was 12 days of no contact. It took another 13 months to get a first hearing. In that time I chose to do three parenting courses, a first aid refresher, two Surrey adult learning courses and a second round of CBT. In that time I also volunteered as a parent helper at his school and joined the PTA and was heavily involved. I began training (studying/volunteering in another primary school as a teaching assistant) and I qualified last year. I am not back volunteering at either school because no non  paid members of staff can be on the premises. I fought back.I will always fight back I will always fight for what I think is right..and fair..and i will fight to be that boys mum. My mh was no concern to any medical professionals. Never had been but never got to exhibit that to the judge the first time. This time I did,plus added all my course certificates etc. In March I was given 50/50 joint residency, so every week since (bar the last four weeks of summer) I have had him from thursday to sunday. Some weeks I will have him weds to saturday. It’s his dad’s weekend off, normally he is working because the weekend he books off is our sons birthday, for the first time since he moved out he has also had his own birthday off work Our son is now 8. Despite all our clashes etc we have spent every birthday with him, just us three, the previous two years we even managed to throw birthday parties together..and we have spent every Christmas morning together too, because it makes the kid happy and both of us don't want to miss out, so we choose to share..he then gets family time still..we're not a family anymore but we're his. He pointed that out to me when he was 5 and it's always stuck in my mind All I want is the kid to be happy so if spending time with my ex makes him happy then crack on. Our son hero worships him and he is a brilliant attentive loving dad. They adore each other. Just like our son loves me loads as well. He's such a great kid Smart. Kind. Funny. Sassy. Very loving. His happiness will always come first..when he's older no doubt his wishes and feelings will change..but for now if the kid wants us both birthday and Christmas morning he's got us both. Here. I have to just deal with the current situation by letting him "win"  But the reason I am doing the Freedom Programme again is because I need to learn how to have boundaries, set them and stick to them. I am very much the fawn response.   I need help with the boundary thing.  As I mentioned above we have always shared our son’s birthday, plus christmas eve and morning, this time he didnt even ask if he could stay at mine He’s just invited himself round. It was the status quo before because the first year I still had to be supervised and that night it could only have been by him. I have 0 issue with him coming here first thing nor coming over christmas morning til half12 if that's what our son wants to keep happening. I would rather we share than either of us miss out but he didn’t even ask me if he was okay to stay, I'm more than happy for our son to see us both on his birthday and to have him here for a while but I don't want him staying here anymore. It sets my anxiety rocketing but I'm never going to let either of them know that or you know it's going to go against me My family don't think he should set foot in here at night time ever saying I can't trust him not to go through my stuff, to start taking pics, to take or hide other stuff, or to try and pull something else to mess with my head.  I'm well aware he doesn't love me. I'm not in love with him any more. I'm not ready to meet anyone or hook up with anyone else yet it’s having a boundary knowing it can backfire I dont want to miss any of his birthday either. But if he had his own place I'd have happily gone over in the morning, hell I'd have even bought bloody bacon sandwiches over ykno I've done fp twice prior to the 50/50 I want it because I need to figure out how to set those boundaries. Grey rock isn’t an option for me. Because my respectful amicable texts are what the solicitor said are like my trump card when I applied to vary. Done three parenting courses. My problem is I will fake it for our son’s sake, there has been nothing I haven't agreed to if it makes him happy. I can have my own life and make my own choices when he is bigger but now that smile is worth all the discomfort and to be honest with you when its just the three of us it's so easy going and it feels real. I see a genuine smile when our son and I are playing.. or a genuine one from me when they are. Like true co-parenting. There isn't a former. I met him when he was 21. I am the only person he ever bought home. The first and only girlfriend. I just feel like I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't but I will do anything for that boy regardless of other people's opinions, including my own So do I just need to suck it up? Am I wrong? People say to me you meet someone they won't tolerate you spending time with your ex..well I'm sorry but if our son wants to spend some time with his mum and dad then I will do it for him and if the person I meet doesn’t understand that then they don’t understand me, or how much I love my child. I feel awful sometimes for complaining because he has never raised his hand to me.   I feel like I am not worthy. But I totally know emotional and psychological abuse is just as horrendous and that my experience is as valid as everyone else's if you get what I mean.   I actually have a few good friends now and a few weekends ago my son was invited to a friends to play out, their mums were all having a laugh and including me and even shared some Prosecco with me. I still feel like I'm being spied on. And I actually don't think I am any more. I need to stop panicking and just enjoy being a mum without second guessing myself. I have voiced my concerns about the status quo remaining and as per all of my feelings are invalidated by him I am trying to put a boundary in and set it down but he is refusing to acknowledge my opinion. Same thing, different day. Will it ever end? I have fought to be the best mum I can be, the best role model to my cub. I have a more structured schedule to establish a real routine with him and it means I can now make plans, try and have a life. I spent all that time grieving a living loss, all my time and energy were on fighting this, now I have I want to grieve my relationship that ended almost four years ago, by granny. I want to move on with my life, I want to like myself and eventually love myself again, I want to establish an identity again as opposed to a label. I want to move on, to try and be happy in myself, in my life. I want to be me again. I want to heal, I want to stop feeling like a sufferer and realise I am a survivor. I want to be confident, I want to go out, trust people again, I want to stop feeling like I am under a microscope and I always will be. I have made some wonderful new friends, reconnected with old ones. I want to stop being controlled. I am not a remote. I am a person. I am a mother and a bloody brilliant one. I am a great auntie, friend, daughter, granddaughter and sister and I just want to be acknowledged as a good person.  I don't want him in trouble I want to give a clean slate and draw a line in the sand. I don't want any of the bad anymore. I just want to focus purely on the good now. Why am I still not allowed to do that? Why is it not okay for me to just be me?

#MummaBearMusings

[katzuyas]

blood drips from the fingers of the hand that suddenly rips through the flesh of the man who was bout to cut yuuri’s head off with one clean swing of his sword, and yuuri can’t exactly say he minds this sudden development. there is a clean hole in the man’s chest when he’s discarded to the side like a piece of insignificant dust, but yuuri’s too busy gazing at the one who saved him to look closer at all the gore.

because before him stands the most handsome man he’s ever seen.

it’s part admiration, part disgust that stirs in yuuri’s belly as he watches the man lift his bloodied hand to his lips and suck his fingers clean. something very disturbing seems to be happening before his very eyes, and yet... and yet, yuuri feels himself bewitched to the point of staying there and watching.

“did I scare you?” the man asks, licking his hand clean much like a cat. a hell cat. one of those feral beasts that feast on rotten flesh and--

“um,” yuuri swallows. “no?”

he’s risking it, he thinks, but when he considers it closer, it’s not really a lie that he gives in reply. he’s only partially scared. everyone would be after someone tried to kill them, and yuuri’s fear stems from that alone, it looks like. 

“oh?” the man cocks his head to the side. he looks at yuuri with bright blue eyes, which shine like gems and steal yuuri’s breath altogether. “so you aren’t scared of me?”

“should I be?” yuuri asks back, wondering where he gets the audacity to question a being who can rip through a human with enough ease as he just witnessed.

maybe it’s his close brush with death that’s given him the courage, or maybe it’s another feeling -- one of premonition of what’s to come -- that tells him his adventure into the land of the dead might not yet be far off, but yuuri finds strength in his limbs and lightness in his heart, so he stands.

and he looks the man in the eyes with no fear. “are you going to hurt me?”

the man seems to be as surprised at yuuri’s question as yuuri is at his own daring.

“hurt you? no!” he shakes his head and his silver hair flits about like spiderwebs on a light morning breeze. “why would you even think that? I’d never hurt you.”

“well,” yuuri clears his throat, looking to where the corpse of the man who tried to take his life has yet to chill. “that might have something to do with my question, but... if you aren’t here to hurt me... and you just saved me... then, how-- I mean, who are you? and why did you help me?”

the little breath that escapes from the man’s lips is much more hushed than a gasp. much more... disappointed, yuuri decides when he sees the crestfallen look on the man’s face.

“you don’t know,” comes the reply, and yuuri frowns.

of course he doesn’t? how could he--

“you called for me.”

“what?” yuuri blinks, surprised. “no, I didn’t. I would’ve known if--”

“but you did,” the man insists. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. you called me, or, well, your soul did? when humans come close to death their souls resonate, you see, and some of you have the strength to call one of us.”

humans, yuuri’s mind repeats as it reels. one of us.

“who... who are you?” he repeats through trembling lips.

the man’s smile is a slow thing, and it’s beautiful. it’s beautiful, but all of his handsome face is. it’s in his eyes that the beauty ends, or maybe, maybe that’s where it truly begins, because his blue gaze glows with power that is darker than any yuuri has seen.

he shivers when the man steps up to him, almost jumps in unease when he kneels. yuuri’s hand is taken and brought up to those smiling lips. there’s blood stains on his skin now, too, from the leftovers of his almost-killer, and yuuri’s stomach turns when he feels a kiss pressed to the inner part of his wrist -- right where his pulse flutters like a bird trapped in a cage against its will.

“I am nothing but your loyal dog, my liege,” the man whispers.

his warm breath settles in the palm of yuuri’s hand, distracting, but not distracting enough.

“my what?” yuuri asks. his voice comes out broken, so he clears his throat, and says again: “I don’t understand. how...?”

“you called upon me,” the man explains. “and I answered your call. I am now yours to command until the day you inevitably die.”

“but I didn’t,” yuuri insists, this time harder. he shakes his head. “I couldn’t have.”

“whyever not?”

the man peers up at him. he looks so perfectly poised while he continues to kneel at yuuri’s feet that yuuri trembles within himself from how beautiful it makes him. he knows he shouldn’t, but... he was already set to die tonight and he didn’t. so maybe luck was on his side, after all. maybe... maybe enough of it to let him get away with even more.

he slips his hand away from the light grasp and bows over until he can take the man’s face in his hands and set their foreheads together in faux gentleness. and he knows it instantly when the man realizes the change in the atmosphere around them, for those brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise that is heavily meshed with awe -- the awe that somehow makes yuuri feel powerful, more so than usual.

powerful, and stupid.

it’s that feeling that makes his brown eyes glow red, and it’s that feeling, too, which has him give the silky whisper of truth that only sparse few have ever heard:

“because I have no soul to call you.”

the man’s breath comes fast and hard, but he hears the truth in yuuri’s words, sees it in his inhuman eyes. gently, he turns his head towards the corpse of what must have been his intended master, the one that called him and the one he should’ve served, and yuuri lets him. he lets go.

“oh dear,” the man says, yet his voice does not indicate much upset about the way things have turned out. “I guess... I made a mistake? now that is no fun. I will need to head back to hell then...”

he stands up, but... he doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry. in fact, he looks as if he wishes for a reason to stay. something to keep him here...

“before you go,” yuuri says before he thinks twice about it. “thank you for saving me. I would have died if he succeeded, so whatever trouble you’re in because of that, I feel like I should help you. so if you, well, that is, there is little I can do, but if you need a place to stay or to lie low for a while--”

“really?” the man blinks, and then breaks out into a smile so dazzling that yuuri feels the urge to shield his eyes. “could I stay with you then? I’m in no hurry to return, honestly. it’s so... dreary down there, you know.”

“but won’t you be in trouble if you don’t, I don’t know, report this? at least?”

the man shrugs. “they probably already know. besides, I’m glad I did what I did. I’d rather serve you than that pile of--”

“you don’t even know me,” yuuri tells him, a little amused, but mostly just too surprised at the turn of events to be fearful.

“but I’d like to know you,” the man replies easily. as easily as he slides up to him. as easily as he takes yuuri’s hand again, and as easily as he wraps his arm around yuuri’s waist almost in a parody of a dancing stance. “I’d very much like to know you... all of you.”

blood rushes to yuuri’s cheeks like it never has before, but even though the night is dark, he’s sure that this man can see it. he’s standing so close that he must, and yuuri knows it when he takes in the smile on his lips: a quirked, playful little thing that brings even more heat to yuuri’s face.

“how can I make a decision like that if you refuse to answer any of my questions,” yuuri says, but his protest is a feeble one. he already knows that he will not be able to resist this man’s charms. not now, not ever, most likely.

“then ask again, and I shall give you whatever it is you wish for.”

the man brings yuuri’s hand to his lips again, but this time he chooses to rest a kiss on yuuri’s knuckles instead of his wrist. if possible, it seems even more intimate than before, and yuuri’s heart beats double inside his chest.

“your name first,” he asks, unable to lift his eyes from where the man holds his hand in a grasp that is far gentler than yuuri would imagine. “and, who are you?”

“victor,” the man breathes. “my name is victor. and I’m a hellhound who answers the call of a human soul ready for eternal damnation. but, for you, I will be whoever you wish me to be--”

yuuri shakes his head as he looks up, right into his eyes. “no. you are who you are, and you will be who you decide to be. I have no right to change that, or ask it of you.”

victor’s surprise is clear, surely he hasn’t expected this. something in yuuri softens at the sight and it’s that same something that chooses to rest his trust in this man -- in victor -- whom he only just met, but whom he feels like he was supposed to meet all along.

“I’m yuuri,” yuuri says, and smiles when victor’s eyes meet his again. “yuuri of the katsuki clan. and I’m a vessel of the the squid god of hasetsu bay. my soul has already been claimed, but, with what little of myself there is left, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, victor.”

“oh, I assure you, yuuri,” victor chirps, sweet and playful, “the pleasure is all mine.”

he kisses yuuri’s hand again, yet this time his lips linger on yuuri’s skin just a bit longer while silver eyelashes flutter as victor closes his eyes. he breathes in deep, which makes yuuri flush all over again.

he quickly realizes why victor has done it, though. he’s a hellhound. he must have been familiarizing himself with yuuri’s scent, so that he could recognize it among the many others. and yet, once he figures it out, yuuri’s blush doesn’t go away. it only deepens, and deepens still when victor peers up at him with a gaze that is far more smitten than yuuri could ever hope it to be.

“you... um,” he bites his tongue from how fast he wants to speak, and needs to look away as embarrassment churns in his throat. yet, looking away from victor is harder than anything he’d ever done, and yuuri soon finds himself glancing his way again. “you said,” he tries again, “you said that you’d like to stay here, yes? if you still do, then my parents have an inn not far from here. we all live there, so if you--”

“I’d be honoured,” victor confesses, voice and eyes soft.

and yuuri, as he leads him by the hand which victor refuses to let go of, cannot deny that his heart feels oddly soft as well.

he was meant to die this night, but instead he has found himself with this strange man, who makes him feel strange things, and strangest of all? he has found himself trusting him, caring for him, and... before the cherry blossoms sprout their petals as spring takes her first steps, he finds himself loving him -- a hellhound from hell, who appeared in his life bloody, and who made all the blood in yuuri’s body run that much faster.

a hellhoud, a man, who showed him that even without a soul life has enough to offer to live, to love, and to be loved.

the hellhound, the man, whom yuuri has given what little of his was left to give: his heart.

#yuri on ice #victuuri #viktuuri #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuri #vikturi #my fic #I'm struggling so bad with writing these days #it took me 3 days to write this #ugh #but I think I will be slowly trying to start writing again #even tho it's painful rn #yrdcyvfhbn #enjoy I guess?

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Epilogue - Part Seven)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are totally going to be annoyed with me for how I left it on a cliffhanger when I totally didn’t have to except to show some character growth and how things change...which I guess is exactly the reason I ended it that way :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615@a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

“Can I come in, son?”

“Yeah, of course,” Killian answers automatically, the shock of his father just showing up at his door stunning him for only a moment. It’s not like he never visits. He usually just calls or texts first. “I didn’t know you were coming over, dad. Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I was visiting the kids and thought I’d drop by since I knew that the two of you had returned home.” His dad steps inside, squeezing his shoulder before leaning down to pet Indy. “Hello, darling,” he then greets Emma, kissing her cheek before wrapping her up in a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good, good,” Emma insists, her eyes still blown wide as if she’s actually been shocked. He knows she’s still a bit rattled from the flight and her nausea. The same thing had happened when they went out sailing the morning of their anniversary, before the disaster of the rest of that day, and even though he had been wary of it, Emma insisted she was fine. She never said she wasn’t, but the green of her face told him otherwise. “How are you?”

“Kicking pretty high for my age.”

“You are not old,” she laughs, tugging on Indy’s leash. “Do you mind if I take Indy for a quick walk? Let her run around a bit. She’s been told she’s going outside, and I’m afraid she’ll freak out if she doesn’t get to go.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll chat with Killian, and the second you two come back inside, I want to hear all about how you’ve been since you left us to go holiday in the warm sunshine. I swear it’s rained for the past week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Emma takes a step over toward him, leaning up and kissing his cheek, whispering that she’ll be right back before taking a step outside with Indy and leaving him with his dad.

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“I’m fine.” His father begins walking to the living room, settling down into the recliner he prefers when visiting all while Killian sits down on the couch next to him, only a side table between them. “So how was your holiday?”

He almost chokes on his own saliva thinking of all of the things he absolutely cannot tell his father about their holiday as well as wondering if he should bring up the privacy issue just yet. He doesn’t know, is never truly sure about these types of things. He could have a nice, normal conversation with his father or it could turn into another tense, stressful one. He’s had enough of those for a lifetime, but he also knows that he doesn’t have all of the time in the world to fix this. He’s got fewer than four months, really.

“It was wonderful,” he finally answers, his lips ticking up on one side. It really was wonderful to get away with Emma and only have each other for awhile despite the disaster that was their anniversary. It got better, though. It wasn’t completely bad. They had the sailing trip and the takeout meal that was better than anything else they’d eaten if only for how comfortable they both felt. He felt his son move for the first time, which was bloody brilliant and most definitely his new favorite thing. “It’s a gorgeous island. Emma mentioned something about asking you to make our beaches like that.”

Brennan barks out a laugh, the wrinkles on his face all gathering together while his gray hair shakes the slightest bit. If Killian was a betting man, he’d guess his dad is getting his hair cut in the next two or three days, keeping up with his lifelong schedule of haircuts. “If only I could. That would be bloody wonderful. But I like the way she thinks.”

“She’s definitely a brilliant dreamer.” He trails off toward the end of his sentence, looking down at his hand and twisting his ring around his finger, his constant physical reminder of his lifelong commitment to Emma, as if he really needs one. “Can I talk to you about something, dad?”

“Of course.”

“I know, well, I know that things were different when I was a kid, that technology wasn’t as advanced, that I was a bit of a surprise child and that you were on the older side when I was born.”

“Well, why don’t you just call me elderly then, Killian? And you have absolutely no proof that you were a surprise child.”

His dad laughs when he speaks, but Killian isn’t finding a lot of humor in it, knowing that he’s likely going to upset Brennan with his words.

“What I mean is, I know you weren’t really, truly involved in my life. And I’m not blaming you or trying to make you feel…upset, but I need a very particular kind of advice that really only you and mum or Liam and Abigail can give. And I’m honestly not even sure you can give it.”

“What’s wrong, Killian?”

He takes a moment to collect himself, hundreds of words on the tip of his tongue but none of them feeling quite right. But he has to say something, so he might as well speak the truth.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a father in a world where I can’t protect the privacy of my wife and my child? There were, um, photographers who rented out a house and used scopes to take pictures of us on the beach. And Emma and I got into a pretty nasty argument about it. She’s worried…I’m worried about Andrew’s privacy. We want him to live a life as normal as possible. We don’t want photographers following him to school or to the park, and I just – I don’t know how to fix it.”

He’s been clenching his fist all while he talks, the tenseness in his hand almost painful while hot tears form in his eyes, every fault and every insecurity he’s had long before the fight with Emma coming back and assaulting his senses, making everything a dark, cloudy blur.

Brennan looks calm, secure, the blue of his eyes not changing while his eyelids rapidly blink, his brows furrowing and the lines on his face increasing. Has he said too much? Shown too much emotion? Asked for the impossible?

“The fact that you have very obviously beaten yourself up about this proves that you are a better dad than I ever have been.”

“That’s not what I meant, dad. I didn’t – ”

“I know, Killian. I’m not taking offense to anything. I was a poor excuse for a father for the majority of your life. I was focused on Liam, on my job, on the protocol and the way that my father raised Albert and me. All I knew was that fathers were not supposed to be close to their children, and as much as that hurt me as a child, I stupidly believed it. The fact that you have forgiven me is something I still can’t believe.”

He leans over and places his hand on Brennan’s knee, patting him before leaning back and wiping at his eyes. “I did it for me, but with the way you’ve worked to change, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, my boy.” His father smiles, settling back into his chair and crossing his hands together in his lap. “But this is not about me. This is about you and your family. So you don’t want Andrew in the public eye? At all? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, we haven’t discussed it in serious length, but yes. I’m sure that Emma will be okay with releasing the occasional photo or having him join us when we go overseas so we don’t have to be apart from him, but I think we’re going to have to take a step back in traditions. And when he gets older, I think we may need to move somewhere much more private.”

The front door opens then, the alarm beep sounding at the same time that he hears the click of nails and the squeak of sneakers as well as Emma’s voice. He straightens up, fixing his hunched back and sitting against the couch in as much of a relaxed position as he can.

“Go find, Killian, girl, yeah,” Emma coos, her voice getting louder the closer she gets to the living room. And then she’s in view, Indy running in first and jumping up on the couch before getting down once she spots Brennan, less familiar people always more exciting than him. Emma walks toward him, sitting down in the seat Indy just vacated and reaching around him to tangle her fingers in his hair, stroking the strands. “What’s wrong? Your shoulders are tensed.”

How the hell does she always know?

“Killian and I,” his father answers for him, seemingly understanding that Killian wasn’t sure what to say, “were simply talking about how you two seem to be suffering from some privacy issues and are worried about your child’s future, that you want Andrew to lead a more private life than normal.”

“Oh,” Emma gulps, her hand stilling in his hair before beginning again, “well, yeah. I know that we all grew up differently and that my childhood isn’t really an option, but that’s what I want, what we want. We want him to be able to be a kid, you know? I don’t want him to be used to cameras everywhere he goes. I don’t know how we’d fix that, but that’s definitely my top priority right now. And forever probably.”

His hand finds Emma’s knee, thumb running back and forth over the material of her leggings while she speaks. He’s here with her, for her, consistently, and he hopes that she knows this.

“Why don’t you two give me some time to think things over? I’ll meet with security. We’ll work out some plans and ideas. You two should probably talk to Liam and Abigail. It’s not, well, it won’t be exactly the same. You have more freedom than them, and they’re not quite as private as the two of you. But they do have experience in all of this.” “Thank you, Brennan,” Emma sighs, leaning back into the couch and scratching at his neck, his eyes fluttering closed for a quick moment.

“Of course, but at the end of the day, above everything else, we’re a family. How you two feel is far more important than any sort of duty and tradition we have, even if I do ask that we stick to the important ones.”

“Actually, I have something else that I want to talk about.”

His head snaps to her, eyes searching for what she has to say, but she’s not looking at him, her gaze trained on the wag of Indy’s tail while her fingers tap over his on her leg, the hand in his hair having stilled.

“What do you want to talk about, love?”

She looks at him then, the smallest of smiles on her face that comforts him the slightest bit, before directing her gaze to Brennan. “I don’t want to walk out of the hospital all made up hours after giving birth. Kudos to Abigail. She is a badass woman for that, but that’s not what I want. Andy doesn’t need to be exposed to so many people as a newborn. I don’t need to be all dressed up when I’ve just given birth. I don’t care about tradition when it comes to this. This is what I’m doing, and I really feel like it’s the first step in taking a stand about him not being some kind of public property.”

He didn’t know she felt that way about any of that, nearly every word she said news to him, but he gets it, supports it. If that’s what Emma wants for this, that’s what they’ll do. He’s never quite understood that tradition anyways, and he likes the idea of a more private celebration with just them and their families while Emma heals and they adjust to the terrifying process of being parents for the first time.

“I’m not sure we can do that, dear.”

“What?” His head snaps over to his dad, trying to process the words. “You literally just said that how we feel is more important than any duty we have.”

“But that we need to stick to the important traditions, yes. New family members are an important tradition.”

“Brennan,” Emma grits, her voice strained as she tries to keep it friendly, “I respect our family and all of the traditions we have, but I am not some kind of human machine who’s only here to produce babies. Yes, of course this is a big deal, but it’s a big deal for us as a personal family, not as some part of the institution. You can still put the sign up, make any and all announcements you want. Hell, I’ll release a picture if we have to, but all I’m asking is that we’re allowed to leave and travel home in peace.”

“I agree, dad. I mean, really. Of all of the things we break and bend, of all of the things we change, surely you can let this one thing go? It’s not hundreds of years ago where people are faking pregnancies and paternities to keep the line intact, which was ridiculous then. I think letting family be family is the most important thing, don’t you?”

“Aye, it’s just…you’ll have to forgive me.” Brennan runs his hand over his face, visibly warring something within himself, the lines on his face stressing. “You were right earlier when you said things are different now. These are not things that I really went through with you, not as prevalent as you. Emma, dear, I’m sorry. I don’t…I shouldn’t have ever considered making you do something you’re not comfortable with. I love you dearly, and you and Killian know what’s best here, not me.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Emma says, getting up from the couch and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table so that she can squeeze Brennan’s hand. “You are so brilliant, and you uphold this family so well. I know that I’m different, that it was difficult to accept me, but change can be good, you know?”

“I know.”

Brennan stays for a little while longer, hashing out a few more details with them before accepting a cup of tea and some food, finally listening to them talk about their holiday all the while scratching behind Indy’s ears, her eyes closed in bliss the entire time. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and he feels his shoulders loosen the longer the conversation goes on, Emma’s laughter and joyful voice sounding throughout the room. In the back of his mind, though, he keeps replaying the conversation, thinking of everything he said, everything they all said, and he’s amazed it all went as smoothly as it did, surprised that his father acquiesced to their private exit from the hospital so easily. He had no idea that Emma wanted that, and he wonders how long she’s been toying with the idea, how many late nights she’s spent worrying about bringing it up. He knows she didn’t just think of it now, that it wasn’t spur of the moment, and he tries to remind himself to ask her about it later, to make sure that there’s nothing else she’s hoarding inside.

She goes through enough, has gone through enough over the years, and she shouldn’t feel like she has to hold things back from him.

But he saves his thoughts for later, letting his dad leave and letting Emma take a nap, her eyes falling shut without her even laying down on the couch. He wakes her before she can get into too deep of a sleep, though, knowing that it’ll hurt her back, and helps her go upstairs to their room, ignoring the curses she’s muttering under her breath about him waking her up. While she sleeps, he goes downstairs to his office, answering emails and clearing out his inbox that he left alone while they were in Spain.

Summer is normally a slow time for them, June and July full of engagements while August is usually taken off to spend in Balmoral. Emma’s due in September, though, a few days after his birthday, and she’s not working after August begins. He is, though, doing his regular work and making a few short trips, making sure never to never travel more than three hours away in case he needs to be home.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have things to do now, organizing his files and reviewing the financials for Kidding a Goal until Indy comes walking into his office, her nails clicking against the wood until she’s staring up at him with her mouth wide open, tongue practically falling out of her mouth. He checks his watch and sees that it’s far past seven. He’s surprised she didn’t come and get him two hours ago.

“You ready to eat, my girl?”

That gets her tail wagging before she takes off, running toward the kitchen at such a pace that she’s probably there before he even gets up from his chair. Sure enough, she’s already waiting next to her bowl like the most well-behaved dog in the world, which is not something he expected when he and Emma decided to get a dog last year. But she’s done well, their training working most of the time, but Indy does have the tendency to lick his face when he’s sleeping. He’s not a fan of that.

But she’s his best bud and a constant companion on his runs, so it all evens out.

After feeding her, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, Emma wandering into the kitchen with sleep-rumpled hair and pillow streaks on her face, her pajama top falling off of one shoulder. She immediately heads toward the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and some yogurt before settling down on a barstool.

“How’d you sleep?”

She grunts in response, opening her yogurt and eating a large spoonful. “I hate being pregnant sometimes.”

“So not well then?”

“Nope. I felt like my guts were all being squeezed out, but do you know who’s not moving now that I’m awake and out of bed?”

“Andy.”

“Yep.”

She keeps eating her yogurt, quickly finishing it up before getting another carton. He should probably fix something for dinner so she doesn’t consume the entire yogurt supply in their fridge.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles, pulling her spoon out of her mouth and looking up at him, her hair deflating the slightest bit from when she came down.

“You want to tell me what that was earlier? With my dad. When did you decide you didn’t want to do the public announcement?”

“Oh, um, I first thought about it a few weeks ago, but it was really driven home after last week. Why? You have an issue with it?”

“No,” he laughs, leaning down across from her and propping his elbows on the counter. “I think it’s bloody brilliant, that you are brilliant. I like that you want to do things your way…our way. It’s very sexy.” “Oh boy, if you’re looking to get laid right now that is not happening.”

“Well damn. Now I have no reason to compliment you.”

“Shut up,” she groans, tossing her spoon over into the sink, the metal clanking. “But seriously, you’re okay with all that, right?”

“Of course. I want you to do what makes you comfortable. I’m not the one giving birth.”

“Damn right. I think I’m going to give your dad a heart attack though.”

“Aye, definitely. I know he’s trying and he’s being accommodating, but I could practically see the fear of breaking traditions rolling off of him in anxiety-filled waves. But he’s seventy-three. Some things just aren’t going to change.”

“So basically we hit the jackpot today?”

“Yep.” He walks over to the fridge, opening it up and seeing what they have left over from before they left. “What do you want for dinner?”

-/-

“Bloody buggering hell,” he curses, bringing his thumb to his mouth and soothing where he just jammed his finger on the wood.

Building a crib should not be this difficult, but it apparently is. He’s been following the instructions exactly, making sure that each piece is doubly secure, and he’s not sure how it’s taking this long. He should be finished, this crib should be made, and he should be able to move onto the shelves or Emma’s glider that she was insistent on them getting.

He’s spent more time in this room in the past month than he has in any other room in the house, June somehow running away with itself all while he’s been hidden away within these four walls. It took a month and a half for he and Emma to decide on a simple light gray, one that he’s pretty sure is also in their bedroom, but honestly, once they both agreed on the color (likely because they have agreed on it once before), he wasn’t going to say anything else. He did pick out the gray-ish blue that’s on the wall with the shelves (or at least where they’ll go once he gets to them), so he’s pretty proud of it.

Neither he or Emma are much one for designing, though they have gotten a bit more into it since the remodel of the apartment, but he’s pretty proud of how Andy’s room is shaping up, even if the lad will stay in the bassinet in their room for awhile. It’s a simple room, clean lines and clean colors. All of the furniture are different shades of white and warm browns, woods really, with natural accents. Abigail gifted them a large wooden giraffe along with some leaf and animal prints, so those are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed after all of this furniture is built.

His favorite part, though, is definitely going to be the little sitting area by the shelves and the changing table. He’s not under any impression that this is going to be a calm room, a place to relax, but he figures there have to be times when he’s rocking Andy back to sleep in that very spot, the shelves filled with colorful children’s books that’ll become routine reading one day as well as being filled with several stuffed animals and photo frames that he can’t wait to update with pictures. Of course, the cabinets below will be filled with the essentials, the things no one likes to talk about like diapers and nipple cream (that was something Emma did not want to know about, and he honestly doesn’t blame her), but they’re definitely still in the dreamy, picture perfect nursery phase where the messiness of a child isn’t quite a factor.

Really to him, as much as he knows this is real, as much as he sees the physical proof, feels the physical proof (which holy shit is it incredible to be able to feel his son move), it’s still difficult for him to comprehend that in two months he and Emma will have a child. It’s something they’ve talked about for years, something they were planning on, but it’s difficult to put into words just how much love he has for his son.

And his wife.

She’s a rockstar in every sense of the word, and if he doesn’t mention it enough, Emma sure as hell will. He loves her fiercely, and that love is another thing that he can’t quite put into words. He honestly doesn’t understand men who moan and groan about their wives constantly. If anything, he finds it disgusting. Yes, you’re going to have disagreements with your significant other. That’s natural when you decide to spend your life with someone who has their own wants, needs, and opinions, but at the end of the day, his wife is his best friend. If there’s anyone he wants to spend time with, it’s her. No question.

If the answer to who your best friend isn’t your spouse or the person you’re marrying, he doesn’t understand why the hell you’d bother getting married. His mates are great, but they’re not Emma.

Maybe he is a bit of the cheeseball that Emma always claims him to be, but he likes it that way.

He’s definitely going to embarrass his kids. All of the time. He can’t wait. He’s got a few years, but he can’t wait.

“You know we can hire someone to do this, right?” Emma asks, a bit of laughter in her tone that makes him roll his eyes. His best friend, most definitely. The teasing is just a small part of that.

“Aye, but I’ve started it, and I intend on finishing it.” “Okay, but the crib doesn’t need to fall apart while there’s a baby inside of it, and the glider doesn’t need to fall apart while I’m sitting on it. That’s, like, a double disaster, and I know you lived by yourself for a long time, but I’m pretty sure you’re not capable of that anymore.”

“Oh, really? Because I was just going to make them as unsafe as possible so that I could live by myself again. I miss being able to stretch out in the bed.”

“You’re so funny,” she teases from the other side of the nursery where she’s putting away the washed clothes in the closet, organizing them by size. He swears they have enough clothes to last Andy for the first two years of his life, and that’s not counting the piles of things he knows David and Mary Margaret have at their house. “I think I may have bought him too much stuff. I don’t even think I own this many things.”

“You don’t mess your clothes up multiple times a day.”

“Good point.”

“I tend to make those.”

“Eh. Debatable.”

“Not at all debatable.” He turns back to the crib, looking at the instructions to see if he can remember where he left off before Emma distracted him. “Shit, this is impossible.”

“I can call my dad, babe. It won’t be a problem. He’s a bit handier than you.”

“Please, I am plenty handy.”

“Okay, well being handy with me is not the same as being handy when it comes to building things.”

“If we call your dad, he’s going to take over. I want to do some of this myself.”

“I will tell Dad just to help. Come on, babe, you love spending time with my dad.”

“Only now that he doesn’t give me the scary speeches anymore.”

“Yeah, I bet those were a lot of fun.”

“I mean, it’s been a solid half a decade since I’ve gotten one, but he still shakes me to my core.”

He hears Emma laugh, snort really, before she makes her way over to him, slowly settling down on the floor next to him and waving her hand until he gives her the instructions. She looks over them while looking at the crib, her eyes continuously darting between the two.

“You put part G in backwards. That’s why nothing after that is fitting.”

“Bloody hell,” he curses, reaching over and taking the instructions from her hand and checking to see if she really did just solve his problem, “how did you see that when I’ve been staring at it for the past hour?”

“Fresh eyes, my love. Fresh eyes.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek before falling back against the wall. “And that’s exactly why calling my dad and asking him to come over in the morning will be a great idea. I bet Mom will want to come too, and she does a mean job with a power drill.”

So Emma calls her parents who agree to come over in the morning. On top of moving, they’ve also begun to change around the hours of the pub, opening it earlier and letting Will close it out at night. And it’s because of this that they show up at eight in the morning, he and Emma both still asleep when their doorbell rings. Emma groans when she hears it, burying her face into his chest and making it impossible for him to get up without disturbing her. He can feel Andy summersaulting around in her belly, and he smiles to himself knowing that she’s going to have get up. She can’t sleep when he’s moving around like that.

He can’t sleep when Emma’s basically running marathons in bed, but that’s not something he’s going to voice out loud. He can get up and sleep in a guest room if he needs to. Emma can’t get up and walk away from the person who’s running marathons in her stomach.

There’s two human feet inside of her. That’s pretty weird if he thinks about it too much.

Okay, so really weird.

Slowly but surely he gets out of bed, letting Emma flip over into his spot, and heads downstairs to open the front door. David and Mary Margaret have a key, but they never use it, always waiting for either he or Emma to open the door for them, which he appreciates after one too many times having them walk in on he and Emma.

“Hi,” he greets, opening the door and ushering them inside. “Emma’s still asleep, but I’m sure she’ll wake up soon. Do you guys want some breakfast?”

“We ate at home, sweetie,” Mary Margaret greets, giving him a quick hug before David does the same. “So Emma said you guys were having some issues in the nursery.”

“I believe that it was more like Killian not being able to put together a crib in under three weeks.”

“So funny, Dave,” he bites, rolling his eyes and locking the door. “I did eventually figure it out. I just think this mid-July heat is obviously getting to me. Or maybe nerves. I’m not too sure.”

“Well, let’s go help then. We’ve got to be at the pub at two, but I think we should be able to get things done.”

After he fixes himself some coffee, not nearly as wide awake as David and Mary Margaret, they head upstairs and begin working in the nursery, assembling the shelves and drilling them into the walls in half the time that it would have taken he and Emma had they done this by themselves. So maybe help isn’t all bad. Before Emma even wakes up, they have the shelves installed and pictures securely nailed on the wall. There are books already being stacked, stuffed animals and knick knacks being placed, and all of the fun nipple creams and breast pumps being placed in the cabinet.

They’re working on the glider when Emma finally wanders in, her hair falling out of its band so that half of it spills down her back while the other half is piled on top of her head, and she’s got her glasses on, something she only does when her eyes feel too puffy to put her contacts in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets, finishing tightening the screw he’s working on before getting up to embrace Emma. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough today. I think the little dude’s a giant or something because he crushes my lungs and my bladder at the same time. So I can’t breathe, and I have to pee. So, yeah, it’s fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, dad. It looks fantastic in here. You guys have done so much. I feel like we’re not going to have anything to do in the next two months if we finish all of this.”

“That’s kind of the point, love.”

“Yeah,” she yawns, covering her mouth, “I know. Mom, do you want to come and rest with me in my room? My back hurts today, and I just can’t sit on the floor in here with you guys.” “Of course, hon,” Mary Margaret answers, walking away from the closet and stepping over to Emma before she rubs up and down her back. “Are you sure you don’t want Killian to join you? David and I would be fine to work on our own.”

“No, it’s fine. I bug him all day, and I’m kind of thinking that you can paint my toes for me or we can watch movies or something. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that.”

“Text me if you need me, love,” he tells Emma, his eyes tracing over her in a bit of concern. It’s difficult watching her be uncomfortable or miserable on some days when he literally can’t do anything about it.

“Yeah, babe, I will.”

Emma and Mary Margaret walk out of the room, their voices fading away as they walk into their bedroom one room over, and he’s left with just David who promptly gets back to work finishing building the chair. Music plays in the background, an eighties’ playlist he thinks, and it doesn’t take longer before the chair is completely together and he’s sitting in it testing it out. It’s comfortable, probably one of the best seats they have in the house, and he can definitely understand why Emma insisted on this one after shopping around a bit.

“How does someone so small have so much stuff?”

“My child is twenty-eight years old, we don’t even live in her childhood home anymore, and I swear things of hers still pop up all of the time.”

“That’s likely because Emma leaves everything all over the place.”

He folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth while Cherry Bomb plays in the background, which is definitely not a nursery appropriate song. Or maybe it is. Who needs Mozart when you can have The Runaways?

“So is Emma like that every day?”

“Like what?” he asks, popping an eye open to look at David who’s sitting against the shelves, which can’t be good for his back. God, how old is he getting if his first concern is for someone else’s back?

“Exhausted.”

“No, not every day. She’s usually got a hell of a lot of energy, even if there’s always a nap. I think she had a restless night. She’ll tell me like it is, though. If she’s having a bad day, she’ll let us know.” “What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have a baby crushing my lungs and my bladder.”

“True,” David laughs, running his hands through his short hair. Killian swears it’s gotten more gray in the past year, the blonde nearly disappearing. David is only fifty-two, so he’s not exactly older. Hell, if it weren’t for the wrinkles on his forehead and the gray hairs outnumbering the blonde, he’d look much younger. “But I remember being a dad for the first time. It’s terrifying, so you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I am. It’s…” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear, his hair getting long enough that he knows he needs to get a haircut soon. “Emma and I try to make sure that we keep up our normal routines, that we have our normal conversations without talking too much about the baby, but it’s kind of hard, you know? It’s like we’ll be talking about going out to eat and two minutes later we’re making a list of middle names or speculating if he’s going to look more like me or Emma.”

“I know. But it’s an exciting time, Killian. There will never be anything like it, and if you want to talk about the fact that you’re having a kid, you should. You and Emma have been together for so long, and I really don’t think your relationship is going to struggle if you’re not sitting around making references no one else understands for hours on end.”

“Oi,” he protests, resisting the urge to pick up the toy elephant next to him and throw it at David, “that is your daughter you’re mocking, and she can still kick your ass.”

“Trust me, I know. Who do you think raised her to be like that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“You’re walking a thin line.”

He winks at David, his lips ticking up on the right into a smirk. “I know. You and Mary Margaret did such a good job, still do such a good job, and even with all of the times you’ve messed up – ”

“ – which is a lot more often than even Emma has probably told you.”

“I just…you’re a good dad, Dave. To Emma, to me. I hope I can do half as good as a job.”

“You’ll be great, Killian.” David smiles at him, something genuine, and Killian’s reminded of how much David really has impacted his life in all of the best ways. “I promise. And as much as I love you, I do love my little girl more, and she’s going to be amazing. She’s always…she’s never been too open to a lot of people, but the people she loves, she loves so fiercely, you know? And she’s already doing so well at being a mom. She’ll call me at nights, and I can just hear the happiness and excitement in her voice. At the end of the day, that’s all you want, you know? For your kid to be healthy and happy.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how happy he is. “Also, how dare you imply that you love your own daughter more than me. I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought we had something special, man.”

“I can still give you hell. I’d watch yourself.”

He and David finish up in the nursery for the next few hours until David and Mary Margaret have to go to work, leaving after the three of them eat lunch down in the kitchen, Emma staying upstairs for a nap. When the Nolans are gone and he’s finished eating, he heads upstairs, bypassing the nursery and walking into their bedroom where Emma is sitting up on the bed watching TV.

“Your toes look nice,” he compliments, grabbing onto her big toe and moving it back and forth. “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, twisting onto her back and scooting up the bed, “it’s just one of those days, you know? I’m not usually this miserable.”

“I know, but it’s okay to have bad days, love.”

“Come here,” she tells him, crooking her fingers and motioning toward him before she turns on her side and wraps her arms around her pillow. He does as she asks, kicking off his sneakers and crawling up into the bed, the mattress moving against his weight until he’s pressed up behind her, his knee stuck between her thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist while the other rests above her head. This is how she’s been comfortable lately, and he can’t say he minds. “Did you guys get a lot done?”

“Aye, it’s almost all finished.” He moves her hair off of her neck, placing a kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder. “It just needs your finishing touches, I think.”

“And we have to unpack all of the boxes that are in the guest room and put them away in the closet.” “That too, but we’ve got time, Emma.” She hums, and he can feel the vibrations as well as Andy moving around under his touch, the movements following how he taps his fingers. “Has he been active today?”

“Not since I woke up, but he always responds to your voice.” “Yeah, he recognizes me?”

“Of course, you talk so damn much. How could he not?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss against her jaw, biting a bit just to tease her. “You are not a very nice woman, my love.”

“Oh please, I’m, like, the seventh nicest person you know.”

“Seventh?”

“I figured it was conceited to put me at number one.”

“Possibly.” He moves his hand against her stomach again, snaking his fingers up under her pajama top so that he can feel the warmth of her skin. “So he really does get more active when I talk?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird to think about, but it’s true. He likes when you talk. I think it’s because you’re a much better story teller than me.” “I mean, obviously.”

“And that he’s probably just glad to hear someone else besides me. Imagine being stuck with someone for nine months. Good God.”

“Well, I’m stuck with you for forever. Good God.”

She groans and curses him under his breath before she scoots over and turns in his arms, slowly but surely moving to face him. “Don’t be an asshole. Also, so I was talking to mom today, and she wants to be called Mimi. I think Dad wants to be called Papa, which I like as long as that’s not what you want. I know that’s what some kids call their dads.”

“Aye, it’s what Lizzie calls Liam, which is weird since Alex doesn’t do that. But I’m okay with dad or daddy, so David can be called Papa.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it. Mimi and Papa. And then your parents are Gammy and Grandpa, right? That’s what Alex and Lizzie call them.”

“Aye, but I know Mom didn’t want to be Gammy. It’s just what happened. She says it makes her feel old.”

“Your mom is not old.”

“I know, but considering your parents are barely fifty while my parents are in their sixties and seventies, it doesn’t help.”

“I’ll tell my parents to get older then.”

He smiles at her before closing his eyes and settling into his pillow, letting his head sink down into the softness. It’s calming in here, the lights turned off and curtains closed while the ceiling fan hums a steady rhythm above them. He could fall asleep like this even if he’s not the biggest fan of naps, always somehow ending up groggy when he wakes up, and it doesn’t help with the way that Emma is playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers scratching into his scalp.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

He pops an eye open, looking at Emma and smiling when her nail hits a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. “Aye, I’ve got the Investiture ceremony at ten. Why?”

“Just wondering. I was thinking we could go somewhere. Just us. Maybe take Indy to Berkshire and let her run around, spend some time outside.” “We can do it in the afternoon, if you want. I think the weather is supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning forward and sliding her lips over his for a brief moment, “I think that would be nice.”

The next day after he’s finished with the ceremony, he hurries home, changing out of his suit and into shorts and a t-shirt, slipping a baseball cap onto his head and grabbing something to eat for lunch while Emma does the same, her hair falling out of the back of her hat in a long ponytail. They’ve got all day, but the afternoon’s weather is pleasant enough that he’d like to go now so they can stop by a café for dinner, even if that’s the absolute last thing that Thomas will want them to do.

They want their privacy, but they should be able to go out to dinner.

So he and Emma load up into his car, letting Indy sit in the backseat with the window rolled down so she can feel the mid-July breeze blow through her fur. It doesn’t take long to get to Windsor, pulling into their parking garage less than thirty minutes later, and instead of going inside like they’d usually do, he hooks Indy up to her leash while Emma grabs some water bottles and they head to the private gardens, avoiding the visitors wandering around on tours.

As much as he prefers the spring, mild July days are near the top of his list of favorite things. Everything is brighter, more pleasant. The grass is actually greener, the flowers contrasting against their background to create a landscape of whites and shades of purple, while everything is covered in a clear blue sky, only a few white clouds scattered throughout. New life blooms, and he gets to be the one to appreciate it, to revel in it. England can be so dreary sometimes, the weather somehow reflecting the moods of most people on their morning commute to work, so he appreciates when it’s not. He’s always loved the outdoors, and if there’s any complaint he has about his home, it’s the small private garden that they have to themselves. He’d like something larger, more space to run around, and sometime in the future, he and Emma plan to spend more time in Bucklebury so that they have the privacy.

That’s what they’ve decided on since returning from Spain last month. There’s been more lengthy, draining discussions with his parents and their security team than he’s ever wanted, and as much as he feels like they haven’t really accomplished anything, he knows it’s a slow process. Of course, there are drawbacks to every positive. They’re still going to have to spend most of their time at Kensington. It’s closer to their work, to their families. Hell, Emma’s parents just bought a house so that they could have the ability to spend time with their grandchild, and now they’re going to move away from them. It’s less than an hour drive, but it’s not nearly as close as they currently are.

But everyone understands, and they don’t plan on moving any time soon, not until Andy’s a bit older. They want to be near all of their loved ones when he’s younger, and they’ve spent so much time working on their home, making it exactly how they want. It’d be difficult to leave full time, so it’ll be nice to have the option of both.

It’ll be even nicer to give Andy the most normal life that they can possibly give him.

Emma whistles next to him, her fingers between her lips, while Indy runs back to them from where they let her loose. She was about five seconds away from jumping into a pond full of fish, and as much as they’d usually let her swim, they don’t need to have a wet dog with them for the rest of the day. So she runs back to them as quickly as she can, her legs leaping in the air with her black and white fur bouncing the slightest bit. He’s convinced that she shouldn’t be able to be that quick, but she’s still just a young dog, less than a year old, and though her legs will get longer, he doesn’t think she’ll ever be full of this much energy again.

If she is, he and Emma are definitely in over their heads.

With the dog.

He’s going to choose to not think of what it’ll be like with a toddler than can run and a dog that he can run after.

After she calms from her almost pond dive, Indy walks along in front of the two of them, occasionally wandering off the stone path to sniff around in the plants, nearly tearing up several flowers until they call her back to keep walking. They stay wandering for a little over two hours, not caring where exactly they’re going or if they’re circling back around in the same spots. Indy and Emma get tired around the same time, so they settle down onto a stone bench with a patio cover that’s next to another small pond.

In the distance, he can see the Chapel where they were married, the steeple rising up above the other buildings and stone walls, and he smiles to himself thinking of that day. In the grand scheme of things, he knows that when it comes to he and Emma, as important as it was, they had so many smaller, inconsequential days that he holds just as fondly in his heart.

But that was a pretty damn good day.

He stretches his arm out over the back of the bench, wrapping it around Emma’s shoulder and tangling his fingers into the ends of her ponytail while she leans her head on his shoulder, the bill of her hat hitting him in the chin for a brief moment. He’s glad she suggested them getting away from London for a little bit, for suggesting that they change up the routine and spend a day enjoying summer, especially since they’re missing out on Scotland with the rest of the family.

A month in the same place as everyone is likely a bit long, anyways. He loves his family, but that’s a lot for anyone.

“I love you, you know?” Emma asks out of nowhere, her gaze never falling away from the rippling of the water in front of them, a fish leaping up out of the water while the lily pads float around.

He squeezes her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm and kissing her head even if she can’t feel it through the hat. “I know. I love you too.”

#second in command #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan fic

[musingsofanewbienurse]

Transitioning to Veganism

In January 2019 I decided to take part in veganuary with the intention of being fully vegan afterward (bar what was already in my cupboard and needed eating up). It wasn’t a sudden decision, in fact, it had been a gradual choice that I had been considering for months at this point. I had been vegetarian since July 2017 and had been gradually decreasing my intake of animal products so that by the end of 2018 my diet was 80-90% plant based already. I had been avoiding dairy for the most part anyway as it causes my skin to break out badly and cheese was an expensive luxury on a furgal university budget. The only thing that really let me down in that aspect was when I ate out or by not checking labels.

Like most people I had watched the world-famous Netflix document ‘What the Health’ in the spring of 2017 and that was probably one of the first major catalyst that lead to me analysing and changing my diet. I had grown up on a small, rural island off the mainland of England, one of its main agricultures being farming. Every-day I would see cows and sheep grazing in fields both outside my bedroom window and on the way to school, I saw these animals had a good quality of life (in a way that they do not always in larger areas of Britain and the US), and like many people, never really questioned the connection between that and my dinner plate.

I was also notoriously fussy, and although I liked most varieties of meat, the same could not be said of vegetables. In fact I hated every single one until I was 16 and then I could just about stomach carrots. A healthy diet I did not have, despite how much my parents tried to push otherwise. Going vegetarian was simply not a viable option for me back then; but on joining university I started to cook for myself and my taste matured, leading me to today, where I now love 99% of veg (broccoli is legitimately my favourite food) and it makes up the bulk of my diet.

It meant, that when I watched the documentary I was able to genuinely consider becoming vegetarian, and started to slowly phase meat out of my diet. Even then, I knew that ultimately I did want to become vegan, after seeing the impact the meat and dairy industry has on our health*, the environment and on the animals who are subjected to it. But I wanted to do it the right way and for the long-term. If I cut out everything at once I knew after a week or two I would revert back to my usual diet, my body craving things that had always been present. I also wanted to be educated about things I substituted meat for; I go to the gym regularly and I wanted to know that what I was eating would have a good variety of nutrients. And most importantly, I didn’t want my mental health to suffer.

Like most young women growing up in this century I have had issues with food and my body. Although I have never received any formal help or diagnosis I definitely had an unhealthy relationship with food, especially in my mid-teens, though even now some days are harder than others. For the most part I am a lot better, but I was wary that if I suddenly cut out a lot of different foods and placed a lot of restrictive rules on my diet that I would be taking a huge step backwards, that I would go back to obsessing over every little thing that I eat. I didn’t want to sacrifice my health and knew that if I was to do this safely, then gradually converting my diet was the only answer.

And that is what I did. First it was dairy milk, an easy swap as there are so many alternatives on the market. I mainly go for soya at home because it’s the cheapest and I really don’t need anything fancy in my bowl of porridge, but oat is by far my favourite and go-to when I’ve gone out for a coffee.

Eggs was one of the biggest changes. In my second year of uni I had eggs for breakfast nearly everyday that I wasn’t on placement, and I genuinely didn’t see myself as able to give them up. But in third year I found a love of porridge and overnight oats, or tofu scramble if I fancied something closer to what I usually had eaten. And eventually I was only having eggs when eating out, there is nothing nicer than an eggs benedict (and if anyone can link me to a good vegan recipe for it, I will love them forever).

Like I previously mentioned, cheese wasn’t a large part of my diet, because as a university student it just wasn’t worth budgeting for. I’ve never had a problem with any of the vegan alternatives I’ve tried, though this may be because I ate cheese so rarely that I couldn’t really directly compare the two.

Chocolate, the crux for many people, was a big one. “But how do you live without chocolate?” I’m normally asked by my horrified coworkers, and the answer is that I don’t. In fact, I probably have it in some form everyday, it just took a bit of getting used to looking for the vegan friendly alternatives in tescos. But there are plenty, and even some of the major brands are accidently vegan (looking at you bourbons).

Eventually it just left occasions where I was eating out (laziness would sometimes lead to me choosing the vegetarian option, and other times it was simply because that was what I wanted to eat), and items where I had not checked the label for hidden ingredients. Milk powder is in bloody everything, and if it’s not that, it’s normally eggs. Quorn in particular is well-known for this, though their vegan range is steadily growing.

By December 2018 I felt ready to take on Veganuary. I no longer felt like my diet, or lifestyle would be negatively impacted by it and I saw it as a great chance to draw a line under the sand. When speaking to my dad on the phone two weeks in he asked if I was struggling yet. And honestly? I hadn’t even noticed, as there had been so few occasions where I would have chosen the non-vegan option anyway. To me it just made sense that after January I continued to eat plant based, and now, at the end of February I haven’t regretted it once. I am a giant advocator of eating a vegan diet. I feel so much healthier than when I ate meat, am more active than ever and can’t remember the last time I fell ill. I do understand it’s not possible for everyone, people who have had or have eating disorders may definitely struggle, and placing a load of rules on what they can and can’t eat wouldn’t be beneficial to their mental health in the slightest (just as it wouldn’t have been for me once upon a time).

I also understand that if you’re not educated about nutrition and the aspects of a healthy diet, then becoming vegetarian/vegan doesn’t automatically mean you’ll be any healthier, especially with the wide range of plant based foods and meals now out in supermarkets (I’m not berating any of these releases in the slightest, it’s amazing to see so many options and makes it a lot more accessible than it once was, it just means navigating for a healthy option isn’t always the easiest thing). Being vegan is still a privilege, I only have to support myself on my wage and it leaves plenty of room to opt for the more expensive meat alternatives and keep my diet balanced. A single parent with two kids however doesn’t have this option, and places like Lidl and Aldi are brilliant for selling a large quantity of meat for a relatively low price.  

But reducing your meat and animal product intake is good for the planet, and I do think that every little thing, whether that be partaking in Meatless Monday or swapping dairy milk for soya helps. No-one has to be perfect or commit to the most severe of changes, especially if they feel it is what they should do because Instagram told them to, but making a substitution here and there helps massively.

*I am not saying that meat and dairy cannot make up a healthy diet, though like anything in large quantities it isn’t beneficial. There is also plenty of evidence against cows milk and how we digest it. In early 2019 the Eat-Lancet commission (linked below) was published, outlining global targets for the world population to achieve a healthy, nutritionally balanced diet whilst keeping food production sustainable. The diet consists mainly of fruit, vegetables, grains and legumes, with a small amount of meat and fish. It is fairly similar to the Mediterranean diet, and emphasises that you don’t need to cut all animal products out, but reducing them would be highly beneficial on a number of levels!

Walter, W., Rockstrom, J., Loken, B. et al (2019) Food in the Anthropocene: the EAT-Lancet Commission on Healthy Diets from Sustainable Food Products. The Lancet. [online] Available at: https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(18)31788-4/fulltext#seccestitle10

#nursing blog #nurse #newbie nurse #veganism #vegan #nutrition #nutrition blog #lancet

[the-desolated-quill]

Luther 5x01 - Luther blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Can you remember the last time I’ve written about this show? 24th December 2015. Feeling old yet? Back then I was lucky if my reviews got two notes. Now I can get as many as thirty. Goodness me, I’ve gone up in the world XD

If you would like to read my reviews of the previous episodes... well... I’d rather you didn’t if I’m honest because they’re not very good. I was still finding my feet as an amateur critic/blogger/moaning old fart at the time and only had a vague idea of what I was talking about. I can give you a quick summary of my views on the show. I love it for the most part. In recent years it’s become almost trendy to take the piss out of it due to its over the top villains and gratuitous violence, but that’s always been part of its charm for me. But above all, what puts Luther head and shoulders above most other crime shows for me is the title character. Writer Neil Cross has created one of the most compelling and morally complex characters I’ve ever seen and Idris Elba brings him to life expertly. As horrific and ludicrous as the crimes and plots usually are, it’s DCI John Luther that keeps me coming back for more.

Luther has always been more of a horror show than a crime drama and the first episode of Series 5 is no different. A masked killer with LED lights on his hood to confuse CCTV cameras, (which makes him look a lot like that ghost astronaut from Scooby Doo), is roaming around London, sneaking up on unsuspecting strangers and hammering nails into their bodies because that’s the only way he can achieve an orgasm. Oh yeah, and he also has a jar of eyeballs in his sex dungeon because of course he does. The villains in this show can be many things, but subtle isn’t usually one of them. At one point newcomer DS Haliday asks Luther if this kind of depravity is normal for him, which made me laugh. Any Luther fan could tell you that this is just an average Tuesday for him.

No other show can get away with this kind of grotesqueness, but in Luther it just works. It revels in how insane and weird it is. It’s not a question of whether or not it’s believable (because let’s face it, it bloody isn’t). It’s a question of whether or not it’s scary and it absolutely is. Jamie Payne’s direction really helps to up the creep factor and the concept itself is just inherently icky. By far the most terrifying scene was the killer creeping up on that woman on the top deck of the the night bus, almost panther-like. What made it scarier for me is that the scene was actually filmed near the Olympic Park in Stratford, which is close to where I live. Seeing a psycho wandering around areas you’re familiar with is disconcerting to say the least.

The episode also does a good job of piquing the audience’s interest and building intrigue. Hermione Norris is captivating to watch in her role as Dr. Vivien Lake, who claims to know who the killer is, but there’s clearly more to her than we think. Luther notices straight away this isn’t a normal patient/doctor relationship and we the viewer know from the outset there’s something not quite right about her. It goes beyond her empathising with the killer. She seems to have a degree of control over him, which makes you question whether she is playing a part in these murders, perhaps for her own sexual gratification. Even the reveal at the end that the patient was just a patsy and that her husband is the real killer doesn’t give away everything. I feel there’s a lot more to unpack here with this relationship and this character, and I can’t wait to see how it unfolds in the next three episodes.

The main cast are pretty good. Idris Elba is predictably brilliant, stepping back into the tweed coat and red tie with little effort. Dermot Crowley and Michael Smiley return as DSU Martin Schenk and Benny respectively and both are great fun to watch. Benny in particular plays a more active role this time, no longer being just the stereotypical computer guy and instead taking part in the action, helping Luther to remove a bomb collar from a hostage, which was cool. The weak link is probably DS Catherine Haliday, played by Wunmi Mosaku. She’s set up as the newcomer, being fast tracked to the Serious and Serial Crimes Unit from the public sector, but she doesn’t really have that much of a part to play. Luther barely even acknowledges her existence most of the time. There’s none of the Batman and Robin-esque camaraderie that Luther and Justin Ripley had in the first three series and she’s not as interesting as Emma Lane was in the previous series. She just... exists. Hopefully she’ll get more to do as the series go on.

Another actor who’s wasted in this episode is Patrick Malahide, returning from Series 4 as ‘old school’ gangster George Cornelius. Actually this is something of a recurring problem for Luther. The first series I remember fondly because Neil Cross kept everything simple for the most part. Each episode was about a different serial killer and how Luther was going to catch him. But from Series 2 onward, everything started to get needlessly complicated with B plots and C plots and side stories and so on. I can understand why they’re doing this. Idris Elba and Neil Cross aren’t as readily available as they used to be so when they do find the time to make more Luther episodes, they want to cram in as much material as they can to make up for the long wait by fans. I get it completely, but it comes at the cost of the narrative as a whole. Vivien and her sexually deranged husband is an interesting plot in and of itself, but we keep getting yanked away from it in order to deal with an entirely separate plot about George trying to find his kidnapped son. George isn’t a bad character, don’t get me wrong. Malahide does a great job in the role, but you can’t help but feel all of this is a bit pointless. Why should I care about this guy? He’s a cockney arsehole who tried to assassinate Alice Morgan (the most popular character in the show) for a bunch of diamonds last series. Fuck him. At least now that Alice is back, we can hopefully see her exact her revenge on him.

On the whole, a solid start to the new series with a lot of potential going forward.

#luther 5x01 #luther #idris elba #neil cross #bbc #review #spoilers

[li-yang-fei]

Don't Make Violence and Abuse Just Another Plot Device in Your Novel

Rene Denfeld on the Way We Write About Rape and Trauma

September 6, 2017 by Rene Denfeld

The following essay contains depictions of child abuse.

They say to write what you know, and so I’ve written two novels based on my life experiences. I was the child of a violent childhood, with a registered predatory sex offender for a father figure. I survived abuse and homelessness to become an author. Like most writers I have a day job, only mine is unusual: I’m a licensed investigator, working hundreds of cases, from helping sex trafficking victims to death row. I’ve also been a foster-adoptive mother for 20 years, caring for traumatized children who arrive on my doorstep. My life has revolved around violence: how to survive it, how to understand it, how to heal from it and how to help others heal.

While that all might sound grim, it is a very happy life, filled with joy and redemption, magic and poetry. As a writer, I want to explore the reality of violence, and my adult understanding of what it takes to survive it, and even thrive. I want to push back against a culture of shame.

As the adult character in my book The Child Finder says of her own childhood abuse, she is just as innocent now as she ever was.

Growing up with pedophiles, the most terrifying part of the violence for me was not that it happened. It was knowing that it would happen again. It was the infinite helplessness of it. The way I survived was my imagination. A voracious reader, I escaped into books. But even there I was not safe, because in the books girls got raped with impunity. Even at a young age I grasped that their experience was not for my reflection. Rather than feeling seen and heard, I felt more alone than ever. What had happened to me seemed to exist outside of all representation.

Unfortunately, much writing about violence is itself a violation. Violence—especially rape—is often used as a trope. The character is only there, on the page, to be torn apart. It’s not an accident that most literary victims are women of color, prostitutes, and the poor. Such victims are splattered across the page without any regard to their suffering. The character is denied both dignity and the autonomy to interpret their experience outside an expected range of reactions that include: shattered forever, destroyed, defiled. Violations are presented in detail, and yet the point of view often reinforces the offender, so that even while being raped on the page the victim is denied voice.

Take this scene from John Grisham’s A Time to Kill:

She was ten, and small for her age. She lay on her elbows, which were stuck and bound together with yellow nylon rope. Her legs were spread grotesquely with the right foot tied tight to an oak sapling and the left to a rotting, leaning post of a long-neglected fence. The ski rope had cut into her ankles and the blood ran down her legs. Her face was bloody and swollen, with one eye bulging and closed and the other eye half open so she could see the other white man sitting on the truck. She did not look at the man on top of her. He was breathing hard and sweating and cursing. He was hurting her…

And that’s just the beginning. The scene goes on in clinical, impersonal detail.

I’m not picking on Grisham. He has a huge fan base for a reason, and I’m sure puts his heart and soul into his writing. You could pick up one of thousands of books and find similar scenes. Readers have been conditioned to feel more comfortable with graphic scenes of violence while rejecting books conveying true horror, even when they are not explicit. Books that lead to us to feeling violence have become more controversial than books exploiting it.

Contrast such writing to a real child being raped. I’ve worked with such victims. I’ve been a victim. The physical pain is catastrophic. The feelings are absolute terror, horror, sweeping shame, mind-altering, obliterating, reverberating fear. Those feelings are like a vast dark vortex pulling us under, and even long after the event that vortex and its implicit promise remains: we know what it is like to feel we might die. Such feelings cannot be described impersonally. There is absolutely nothing impersonal about being raped.

There are some writers who argue they’re merely reflecting the mind of the rapist (begging the question of just how they know). They pretend to offer an edification rather than rape by proxy. Interestingly, the common idea for being inside the mind of a rapist is to create a character outside all norms. Thus we have characters who make skin suits out of women, who are reprehensible in thought and deed, who are without any humanity: they are monsters, and most certainly not like the writer themselves. Or any of their friends, neighbors, fraternity brothers, or relatives.

Othering the rapist as a monster may feel comforting, but it’s a denial of truth: most rapists are those friends, neighbors and men we know. When such men are accused, the immediate reaction of many is that it can’t be true. They think: a rapist is supposed to be a Hannibal Lecter, not Woody Allen or Brock Turner. The woman or girl must be lying! they think. That man can’t be a rapist—he seems so nice! In this way such characters end up reinforcing disbelief of victims. We know we won’t be believed. All the offender has to do is paint on a smile.

Such tropes also avoid grappling with important questions: what makes so many men violent? Why don’t we do more about it? Over the course of my work, I’ve learned that the reason we have so many unsolved cases is not because police are constantly outsmarted by a handful of brilliant sociopaths. It’s because our society doesn’t care about crimes against women and children, especially those of color. It’s because that for families of color like mine, the police are often there to harass, arrest and assault, not to protect. It’s because violence occurs in a cultural and social context. It is because some men are allowed to hurt others.

So how can we can approach violence in a way that is authentic and real, that exists within the world of the victim? To start with, we must imagine our characters as real people. We must honor the victims by telling their truth with an effort at genuine understanding, not just of their experiences but of the world in which they live. We must focus less on the details, more on the feelings. A single humane sentence can tell a far deeper truth than any catalogue of depredation. We must give voice to the victims.

As writers, we cannot pretend that violence is a rare and solitary act committed by a singular monster. We have to grapple with it as endemic, socially created, and preventable.

Source: https://crimereads.com/dont-make-violence-and-abuse-just-another-plot-device-in-your-novel/

#abuse #writing

[ohmygoshmymentalhealthstory-blog]

Waking Up With Anxiety

So I wake up with a massive knot in my stomach the crunching the tightness and the racing thoughts that got round in my head the lump in my throat that feels like its gonna stop me from breathing the tackiness of my heart it feels like its gonna stop beating only one thing on my mind that im thinking of.

I AM EXPECTING THE UNEXPECTED AGAIN Ohhh thinking one day this will kill me. So why dont I take a pill to stop the unruly pain the henches inside me which one of you shall I blame now Mr EUPD Mr Autistic Spectrum Mr PTSD Which one of you is response able for making me feel  this way so I ask u all one by one who is response able for making me feel like wreching up my fucking guts.

Mr EUPD what do you want me to do Selfharm Mr PTSD any flash backs in store today my pig ugly friend Mr Autism have you any Misdemeanors lined up for me  maybe a melt down or two Oh shit I forgot Mr Mixed PD any slight changes for today my butt ugly friend. 

You are all the thuggy little mental health problems that I love to hate  however they do say people with great talent spring from you so now tell me what your specialtys are my little mistakes.

So Mr Autism Jumps up and said “Well Jamie if it wernt for me where the fuck do you think youre bloody music talent arouse from”? hmmm yes I see Next please Mr EUPD you're turn “Well Jamie Where do you think youre survivorship  came from If it wernt for me being part of the damage of your upbringng you wouldnt be so strong would you hmmmmm”. Alright alright EUPD calm your tits replyed me Jamie”. Mr PTSD Step forward tell me your specialty. “Well Bricey remember that Doctor who said you had a body of an ex war vetrain basically a body of an ex hero because of all you been through. Rember the cancer you went through the unforgiveable sex abuse”. That gave you me you Jamie my friend you basically because you are traumatized even you're Physiologist admits your living in a state of truma and it holds you back but one thing though. “I have heard enough”. “But Jamie”. “Shut up I am in control of you all now”. “But I must say this”. “Listen shithead jus sit down and shut the fuck up.” But Jamie it aint all... “. “Shhh” But “Shhh” bu “Ohh will you shut the fuck up please PTSD You aint the only fucking one here like. So Shut it now”. “My friend You havent had one nice thing to say about me brother so sit you fucking ass down and shut the fuck up” 

“To be honest I don’t care what you lot have got to say about me and I understand I aint listened to all of you but I realy dont want to guys youre all bad”. “Mixed Personality disoderer now stands up “Well let me make my point then I sit my pig ugly ass back down if you want me too”. “Okay walk foward Mixed PD”. “Okay now I understand you we all hate each other However our specailitys do affect the brain in diffrent ways and we can argue but Jamie You as a person are kind geunuine and loving we dont ahve to take over youre brain in a negititve way if you dont want us to turn us inot positvety I mean me for instance can be used for acting. “Hmmmm Carry on”. Acting you can choose when to switch me about for rolls didn’t somone once say youd make a brilliant Method actor”. He sits back down. “No Carry on MPD”. “Jamie Jus think about us us more use us to you're advantage Youre a talented kid you know”. “Okay case closed I heard all youre words and im going to take them with a grasp” . 

Feel me I will never come last in anything I am gonna do I will you you to my advantage take the time to laugh it all off the negitve side of life is no longer the way to got for God is with me and far from perfect I may be a changed human I am And I will prosper in my blogs and Vlogs and life will slowly get better now”. 

They stand up the lights dim they all exit to the right. as for tonight they will leave you in peace as long as one promise is made that you promise to keep youre blogging up. and thats a yes I will I swear. Lights dim blog over for tonight God Bless you all Tommorows blogs to look foward to. 

The daily stuggle of life with anxiety 

Why I dont use punchuation 

Life of a cancer survivor the lasting end affects  

#mental disorder #mental health #positivity #positive mental attitude #actually eupd #mpd #medication #actually autistic #autistic headcanon #autism culture #voicesneedstobeheeard bpd Tumblr mentalhelath