and i look in the mirror

genzelda  asked:

When I saw your icon changed back, I thought tumblr glitched out and had Mr. G take over again. "Guess he was tired of Sasster's ugly mug taking over senpai's blog." <;3c

“ ’UGLY MUG’…?”

“…YOU ARE AWARE WE HAVE THE SAME FACE…”

anonymous asked:

I like thinking of Anti like Duine Sídhe (Irish fairies kinda? According to some mythologies they live in an invisible world parallel to ours so it makes sense for mirror demon headcanons too!) I'd recommend looking them up on Wikipedia if you're interested in readin about them! I see Anti as like a Trickster-Fairy type, like not really interested in destruction but more in chaos.

I love those types of headcanons, tbh! I don’t know a whole lot of the lore, but I’ve picked up a tiny bit from @aislinnsiofra, who’s written a couple of lovely Unseelie-Antisepticeye fics that I freakin’ adore. X3

I definitely need to devote some time to that particular Wikipedia rabbit-hole, haha.

Originally posted by markfangirl

anonymous asked:

I know you said you don't want to talk about this topic anymore but you hace always been balanced, you have never written hateful things about Sam (or Cait) so I would like to read a post of yours about all of this. Because I know I won't read anything hateful or disgusting but something that comes out from the heart of a kind person. And God knows how this shipper community needs more kind people right now.

Thank you, anon. That is nice to say.

I’m actually in the situation that I don’t know how to proceed. Reading what was said here over night, was like looking into an ugly mirror. I don’t want to be that person, who makes derogatory comments about a young woman. Calling her “crosseyed”,  with “no neck” and “fat shoulders” etc etc. 

Disgusting. And the reason? She might be a person Sam cares about. Maybe even loves. Maybe is very serious about. Or not. Who knows? In any case it is no reason to insult her.

For the record: I love Sam and Cait. I love Outlander. I think Sam and Cait are wonderful people. The might not always make wise decisions, but it is not our business how they live their life, with whom they’re in love and with whom they’re not. We might live in our own little fantasy world and wish for a fairy tale, because WE think the fairy tale would be wonderful, but that doesn’t mean it IS going to happen. 

I know I’m terribly curious. There’s no other excuse for my shipping. I also know it is not my place to be curious. I know I shouldn’t ship real people, because they’re real people with real feelings, but I thought it was okay, as long as I did it respectfully. I just love them together. They’re so cute, so wonderful, they glow, they make me happy. They’re a way to forget my own problems, to push worries away and frustrations. 

I think most people in a fandom have a reason to be there. We don’t need to pretend, that we’re all successful, happy, attractive women, who just happen to have this little obsession with Outlander and the two actors in it. I think we all know, that this little obsession is an escape for many of us. Not all probably, but a lot of people. And probably even more so for the most active people in this fandom. An escape from whatever trouble and problem and depression is in our lives and that is perfectly OK. We need it and it is good for us and it helps us to cope with really difficult times.

But real life shipping gets difficult if the real story doesn’t match the fantsy and we can’t cope with that. We have to realize, if the real story is a different one, then so be it. Where is the tragedy in it? Where does it really affect me whether Sam and Cait are together or not?

It doesn’tl. I’d need another hobby, that’s all. Because I’m a shipper mainly because it offers entertainment. It keeps me busy all day and the great thing about it is: It never ends. No hiatus, no Droughtlander. Sam and Cait are always there, always available for my shipper entertainment.

I thought it was okay, as long as it was done respectfully.

But for me the line was drawn tonight. I didn’t see much respect. It got nasty and ugly and I don’t want to be part of this.

Sam and Cait just live their life with or without other people in it. Who knows and who cares?

I’m undecided how to proceed. Maybe just concentrate on Outlander? I do love the show, but it is off air for another 6 months! And I don’t watch any other show. Not one. I just don’t watch TV. 

Maybe I should try to hold back more. Just try to create my own little bubble of shippers, who love Sam and Cait and love the fantasy, but are able to talk about the other people in their lives without malice and who can accept that there might be no truth behind our shipping. There are a lot of shippers, who don’t participate in the nasty. Maybe I should concentrate on those.

I really don’t know. 

William Nylander - Part 3

Tumblr won’t let me add a picture and I’m kinda pissed…. 

I wake in the morning feeling like train wreck. When I stumble into the bathroom I’m surprised to see that I can see out of both of my eyes, though one is completely black and purple. The swelling has seemed to go down quite a bit from when I went to bed and I breathe a sigh of relief. Not that I have anyone to look good for, but I don’t exactly want to be scared to look in the mirror every day.

               Letting the hot water from my shower wash off the remaining dried blood and I’ll admit, a few tears from last night. Nathan had been all over me like a mother hen, insisting that he stay the night in case something happened and when I in turn asked him what he thought could possibly happen he couldn’t think of a scenario. So Rian has shooed both him and Jake off before they could even walk inside the front door. She had been able to convince me to stay at my parent’s house with her, saying that she wanted to keep an eye on me but I really knew it was because she didn’t like staying in the house on her own. Our parents weren’t due to come home from their anniversary cruise until next week Monday and it was only Wednesday.

               I dress myself, careful when I pull my shirt on to not rip my stitches and make my way downstairs. Rian is already up and about to go out the door to head to school.

               “I was going to wake you, but thought better,” she says and eyes my face. “Balance the black on your other eye and you could make a good living as a hooker.” She smirks at me.

               I throw her a filthy look. “Don’t you have to be somewhere?” I huff back at her, making my way into the kitchen.

               “Yes, actually. But I wanted to see your face when I tell you this,” she says following after me and I frown at her.

               “Tell me what?” I ask slowly.

               “That you’re an internet meme now,” she looks overly happy and I tense.

               “What?” I ask, my voice much louder than I intended.

               “Someone at the game took a picture of the jumbrotron and you giving a thumbs up with a mangled face. Now people are posting those pictures with the clinche caption of how tough hockey fans are and all that,” she rolls her eyes and I relax.

               “Oh, then that’s not so bad,” I say and dig through the cupboards for something to eat.

               “You also might want to check your phone,” Rian adds, a devilish grin on her face when I turn to look at her. “See you later,” she says and skips out the door.

               I stare after her a moment and then make a mad dash to my coat hanging in the hallway where my phone is still resting. Swiping the screen on my stomach drops, there’s over five hundred notifications from all my social media apps and text messages.

               “How can people possibly know who I am? I got hit in the face with a puck!” I yell out loud into the empty house. Groaning, I start going through the follow requests and mentions, getting annoyed after thirty seconds and just changing my settings to that anyone can follow me instead. That takes away over three hundred of the notifications.

               Scrolling through the messages I ignore most of them from people I haven’t talked to in months. Both Jake and Nathan texted me this morning asking how I feel and I respond to them and them only. None of my friends that don’t watch hockey haven’t said a single thing to me so I know that it’s not as big a deal as Rian made it sound like.

               I mute my phone and get set on my bowl of cereal and think about what I’m going to do today. Working as an editor for a publishing company, I’m able to work from home most days and today will be no different. Cleaning up after myself I get my car keys and head back to my apartment downtown. I keep my hat down low on my head when I sneak into my favorite coffee shop and no one gives me a second glance. I hurry across the street to my apartment and breathe a sigh of relief when I get into the elevator.

               Kota is waiting for me at the door, meowing like she’s been starved to death. I fill her bowl that wasn’t even empty while she preys on my foot, thinking she’s the almighty queen of the apartment. I force myself to walk into my home office, the stack of manuscripts on my desk is intimidating and I grimace as I sit down and pull on my glasses carefully. Before the headache can even have a chance to start, I reach into the desk drawer and down a few pain meds. Always good to be prepared.

               Four hours later a ding on my phone nearly makes me fall out of my seat. I place the highlighter and pen on to the desk beside the thriller manuscript I had been pouring over all morning, yellow and red marks all over the sheet glare up at me. Picking up my phone I see a message from Rian.

               Half day today. Ready for pizza?

               I glance at the clock and cringe at the time.

               Give me fifteen minutes

               Another manuscript get the better of you?

               Always

               See you in a few

               Kk

               I scramble from my chair, Kota startles and sprints across the room sending toys and papers alike scattering across the floor. Giggling, I make my way into my room and strip down from my comfy clothes and into something that makes me look a little less homeless. I catch a glance of myself in the mirror and groan.

Having forgotten the black eye and angry red stitches, I reach for another ball cap and pull the bill down as far as I can. It doesn’t help much but I don’t dare to even try and put makeup over it. Maybe we can get a table in the back corner.

               I meet Rian in the parking lot and to my dismay the place looks packed.

               “Why are there so many people here? Don’t they have jobs?” I grumble and Rian laughs.

               “You have a job and you’re here,” she smirks at me, her eyes traveling to my bruised cheek. “Not gonna lie, you look pretty badass in your whole ensemble.” She gestures with her hands to the rest of my outfit and I realize that I put on all black, even my coat. “I’m loving the whole dark energy thing.”

               I roll my eyes at her and push her through the front door. While there are a lot of cars in the parking lot, there are still several empty tables and I’m grateful when the hostess leads us to one in a secluded corner. I pick up the menu although I don’t know why, I get the same thing every time I’m here. Rian does the same thing and we laugh at each other.

               “Remember when dad used to take us here when mom would go out of town. Literally every night she was gone this was our dinner,” she smiles down at her menu, tracing the restaurants logo that sits in the top right corner.  

               “Yeah, I do,” I smile as the memories as well. “Carson and Logan annoying us to death with their spit ball wars.”

               “I miss them, I hate that their camp is two weeks long. When I went it was only a week,” she pouts and I have to laugh.

               “I thought the same thing when you went, they will be back soon. And then you’ll be calling me begging to come over so you can get away from the twelve year old devils,” I say and she nods.

               “True, but I still miss them. The house feels so empty without them and mom and dad gone. I might go insane before Monday,” she replies, tracing her finger along the condensation on her glass of lemonade.

               “See, when I was home alone like you, I loved it. No one to annoy me or take my things without asking.” Rian scowls at me for that one. “It was nice, but I loved it even more when you all came home,” I add and wink at her, she softens her scowl.

               “I guess that’s the difference between you and I. You’re Miss. Independent and I’m the exact opposite. I don’t think I could live alone like you do, work at home like you do… I wouldn’t be able to function.”

               “I have Kota,” I argue and she gives me a look. “Hey! She’s a person too, just because she can’t talk doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings.”

               “Oh my God, my sister is already a crazy cat lady,” Rian says, rubbing her face with her hands and I roll my eyes. Her eyes dart to the side of me and widen slightly.

               “What are you looking at?” I ask her, preparing to turn around when she shakes her head.

               “Nothing, thought for a moment I left my straightener on at home,” she says, busying herself with her lemonade.

               I eye her blonde locks, perfect spiral curls going every direction. “Funny your straightener would be on when you wouldn’t have used it.” I quirk an eyebrow at her as her cheeks flush. Lucky for her, the waitress arrives again to take our order.

               After the waitress leaves I forget about the straightener and excuse myself to the bathroom. I keep my head low as I pass by the booths and tables, both when I head towards the bathroom and when I’m returning. I glance up to make sure I’m in the right line of booths when I notice that Rian traded seats with me.

               “What are you doing?” I ask her, pausing at the side of the table and eyeing her.

               “I wanted to watch the T.V,” she says nonchalantly, sipping her beverage though she never looks at me.

               I sit down slowly, still eyeing her. “You don’t like UFC fighting…” I say and she blushes again.

               “Well then maybe I thought you would enjoy the view sitting there,” she whispers, a smirk playing on her lips as she glances down from the T.V for only a second.

               “What are you talking about?” I ask and lift my eyes to gaze around, I don’t see a single T.V and the decorations are just that, decorations. It isn’t until I lower my eyes to the large table beside us do I realize what she meant. Oh God. I pull the hat down even lower and drop my eyes back to my empty plate. “Rian, switch back with me,” I plead in a whisper.

               “Nope,” Rian responds, not bothering to look down from the T.V again. “I’m good here.”

               “Rian, I swear to God if you don’t switch with me right now-“

               “What? What are you going to do?”

               I hesitate. “Cry.”

               Rian snorts a laugh. “No you won’t, I haven’t seen you cry since we watched Marley and Me six years ago.”

               I pout and dare to peek up at the table to my left. Big mistake. My eyes meet those blue ones again and I shiver. A smile flashes across his face before he looks back at one of his teammates.

               “So, what did you see?” Rian asks, trying and failing to keep the smile off her face and I aim a nice kick to the shins under the table. She jerks in her seat, hitting the table with her arm and causing the whole thing to tremble. Another mistake. I can feel the eyes of the table beside us.

               “God, I hate when you do that!” She snaps, rubbing her leg with her hand and glaring at me.

               I give her my biggest smile and flutter my eyelashes. “Do what?” I ask.

               Rian throws another look my way before our waitress returns with our pizza. All fighting is set aside as we devour the pizza with our eyes, still too warm to eat.

               We each have four slices a piece and I lean back in my seat when I finally gulp down my last bite. I let out a satisfied sigh and wish nothing more than to take a nap right there.

               I open my eyes to say something to Rian but my attention is caught once again to the other table. Will is immersed in the plate before him, shoveling food into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in a week. A faint smile pulls at my lips I continue to watch him, he doesn’t seem to notice until an arm nudges his side and when I look over at who the arm belongs to, I meet the eyes of another player, Morgan Rielly. He nods at me before I can look away and when Will looks in my direction I flush crimson and stare at my glass. Mortified.

               “I think I’m going to go the bathroom,” Rian says, oblivious to what just happened and I give her panicked look.

               “What? No, don’t leave me here alone!” I whisper quickly and she looks at me like I’m crazy.

               “You’ll be fine,” she says and slides out of her booth.

               “Rian, no!” I say, willing her to sit back down. She gives me one last confused look and walks past me towards the other side of the restaurant where the bathrooms are. “I have no sister!” I whisper and I think I see a faint hint of a smile before she’s out of my view.

               Turning back in my seat so I’m once again facing my empty plate, I try very hard to regulate my breathing. I can hear the faint conversation of the boys at the next table and I reach for my phone. My only distraction. I scroll for a moment until I feel the gaze to my left again. Pressing my lips together I tense, I can just barely see him to the side, my eyes still focused on the screen though I’m not reading a single thing. I see him stand slowly and say something to Morgan.

               Oh no. Please no. Will takes a step towards me and I stop breathing. I keep my eyes down even when he reaches the side of my table, his gaze hot on my face and I know I’m the color of the cherry red booth I’m sitting on.

               “Mind if I sit for a moment?” Will asks and I open my mouth to answer but nothing comes out. I can’t even look at him. Instead I slowly nod my head and put my phone down on the table.

               He moves into the booth and my eyes go his hands folded in front of him on the table.

               “How’s the head?” He asks and finally I’m able to look up.

               “It’s okay,” I answer, searching his face for the other question that he seems to be holding back on.

               “Good, it doesn’t look too bad,” he says, his eyes trailing up and down the side of my face.

               “Too bad?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

               “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says hurriedly. “I mean that I figured your eye would be pretty much swollen shut is all.” Will smiles at me and I just stare back.

               “What are you doing here?” I ask him after a moment and he frowns. “Didn’t think pizza was exactly the meal a hockey player has the night before a game.”

               Will’s eyes dart back and forth between mine, fumbling for an answer. “Because you said you would be here.” He says finally and I’m floored by his honesty.

               “What?” I stammer.

               “You asked your sister last night if you could come here today,” he says slowly and I remember the elevator ride.

               “So… you wanted to check up on me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and he blushes. I hate how adorable it looks.

               “Maybe.” Is all he says and we sit in silence for another few seconds.

               “And that was it?” I ask again, pulling my glass closer to me and trailing my fingers along the lip slowly, concentrating on the shapes instead of his face.

               He watches for another few seconds, not looking up at me when he answers. “Maybe not.”

               “So, what else could there possibly be?”

               He hesitates again and fidgets slightly in his seat. I make him nervous. “I kinda wanted to make it up to you, somehow,” he finally says and I halt my finger on my glass, my eyes flashing to his.

               “What?” I ask dumbly.

               “What can I do to make it up to you?” He asks and his blue eyes overwhelm my own and I have no idea what to say.

               “Tell you what,” he says after a beat. “I’ll give you my number, and when you think of something. You let me know.” Without waiting for a response, he reaches across the table and grabs my phone. When he sees that he needs a passcode to unlock it, he reaches back across for my hand. He gently slides my hand across the table, pressing my thumb to the home button and I let him. Will opens my contacts and adds his own in before sliding it back across the table to me.

               “Hopefully you let me know sooner rather than later,” he whispers, slowly sliding out of the booth just as my sister reappears in the corner of my eye. Will smiles at her and nods before flashing his eyes back to me, winking before he turns and returns to his own table where several of his teammates are staring.

               I blink several times and finally let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Rian sits back down across from me, pressing her lips together.

               “So, what did I miss?” She asks after a moment and I laugh.

               “Not much.”

My reading of Mirror
  • My reading of Mirror
  • a poem by Sylvia Plath
Play

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

—Mirror, Sylvia Plath

anonymous asked:

makeup made me sooo much more comfortable with myself & my face & I wear wear a full face everyday. I used to hate how I looked so I would rarely look in the mirror & since with makeup you're forced to look at yourself I just became more comfortable with my face. Since I actually felt pretty with makeup on it helped me still feel that feeling even when I wasn't wearing it. Bc I was like... If I'm pretty with it on & it doesn't change the way I look that much, why am I not pretty without it??

this is how i feel i used to cringe looking at my face and now i can look at myself and know exactly what makes me cute ya know

Title: Strawberry Pie

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: I love feedback! Love it, hate it. Yolo

Word Count: 3,672


You twisted the last piece of hair into place, securing it with a bobby pin. You had finished getting ready in record time; looking in the mirror you smiled, satisfied with the final result. What you were getting ready for however, was a mystery to you. Morgan had called you a few hours earlier; telling you to be ready at 7:00 and the two of you would be going ‘somewhere nice’.

His latest road trip had kept him out of town for the past 9 days and he was scheduled to be arriving home late this afternoon. He was usually exhausted after being out of town for so long and the two of you would spend his first day back lazing around; you were excited for a change of pace.

You walked to the living room and curled onto the sofa pulling a book off the coffee table as you waited for Morgan. You glanced at the clock on the wall, only 30 minutes until he picked you up. You started reading but were soon distracted by thoughts of Morgan. You smiled, remembering how the two of you had met 3 years ago…

About 3 weeks after arriving in Toronto, you were working the overnight shift at a local diner. The move had drained your savings; so on top of your full time job, you decided to pick up some night and weekend shifts at the George Street diner.  The diner emptied as the clock hit 3:00 am; your coworker decided to go outside for a smoke break, leaving you alone in the empty eatery. You glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing you had another 3 hours of your shift left. Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since dinner. Your eyes settled on the illuminated dessert case; after a moment of careful contemplation you pulled the strawberry pie out of the case and cut yourself a slice. Standing behind the counter you had just shoved a forkful of pie in your mouth when the bell on the door jingled and a handsome man, dressed in a suit, walked into the diner. He surveyed the room, taking in the empty booths and stools. Struggling to choke down your mouthful of pie, you watched as he walked towards you, taking a seat at the counter in front of you, and smiled.

“Hi. I’m so sorry.” You said, quickly stashing the remaining dessert under the counter, out of the sight. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you asked, sliding him a menu.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He smiled. “Could I get a cup of decaf coffee?” he asked.

“Absolutely.” You said, scurrying over to the coffee pots, filling a mug and returning to him. You slid the dish of sugar and creamers towards him as he glanced over the menu. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll take your order. I’ll be really easy to find.” You joked.

He grinned at you before asking, “What were you eating when I walked in here? It looked good.”

“Strawberry pie; the owner makes it fresh every day. It’s amazing.” You said.

“I’ll take slice of the strawberry pie then.” He said; you turning to cut another slice. “And please, join me.” He said gesturing to the empty counter space in front of him.

You set the pie and fork down in front of him. “Oh, no. I’m not supposed to eat in front of customers.” You said shaking your head.

“Who’s gonna find out?” he questioned, spinning around on his stool. Your gaze followed his as he looked at all the empty seats. “I won’t tell. I promise.” He said as his stool came to a stop, facing you once again.

You bit your lip, thinking. Going against your goody-goody nature, you pulled your plate and fork from under the counter, taking another bite. You chewed for a moment, taking him I as he dug into his slice. His hair was tidy, his suit crisp. Usually the customers you had at this time of night were not so carefully put together.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here at this time of night in such a nice suit?” you asked.

“I work for the Maple Leafs.” He responded simply. “Hosted a fancy charity event tonight; had to look like a gentlemen to convince the old, rich folks to fork out the cash for a good cause.” He said, cutting into his pie with the side of his fork. You chuckled as he continued. “The meal was one of those $10,000 per table things; lots of tiny, weird food that people pretend they like but only so they seem impressive to other rich people.” He finished, taking a bite of pie.

“So you’re here because you’re opposed to tiny, weird food?” You laugh.

“Oh yeah, I got distracted; this pie is really, really good.” He said, swallowing. “The fancy food sucked, so I needed sustenance for the ride home. Otherwise I may have starved… to death.” He concluded dramatically, popping the last of the crust into his mouth.

“Oh, wow. Glad to know I was able to save your life with a single slice of pie.” You said.

“I owe you a huge debt.” He said, bowing in his seat. “I’m sorry, what was your name?” he asked.

“(Y/N)” You stated, as he extended his hand to shake yours.

“Very nice to meet you, (Y/N). I’m Morgan.” He said as he stood; his empty plate in front of him. “Thank you for the pie and the company.” He said as he dropped at $10 bill on the counter, turning and walking to the exit, the door jingling as he pushed it open.

“If you ever need a pie recommendation again, I’ll be here.” You replied as he waved goodbye, the door falling shut behind him.

He came in a few more times throughout the next few weeks, always ordering a slice of strawberry pie. After six months of seeing him come bustling in and out of the diner, he asked for your phone number. You started causally dating, not sure of where your relationship was heading, until one night he knocked on your door after a particularly rough loss to Detroit; two slices of strawberry pie in hand. The two of you talked through the early hours of the morning. As the exhaustion of the day set in, Morgan laid all his cards on the table. He wanted you, only you. The thought of you being with other guys was tearing at him from the inside.  He needed you to know how he felt. The rest was pretty much history. It was only a few more days until you were being introduced as his girlfriend.

You jumped off the sofa when you heard the knock on the door. You pulled it open, revealing a smiling Morgan dressed in a navy suit, looking as handsome as ever. He was holding a bouquet of pink lilies, a smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. “Hey, babe, I’ve missed you.” he smiled as he handed you the flowers, stepping into the apartment.

“I’m so glad you’re back.“ you mumbled, engulfing him in a hug. His strong arms wrapped around you, careful not to crush the lilies that were trapped between the two of you. You breathed him in, the familiar scent of his cologne surrounding you.

"Me, too. At least we have a full week before the next trip.” he pulled back slightly, still smiling as he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“So where are we headed?” you asked, stepping back, your lilies in hand.

“Can’t tell you; it’s a surprise.” He said shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You turned to the kitchen, pulling out a vase and filling it with water before carefully arranging the lilies. “You’re really not going to tell me?” you said as he leaned against the wall, smiling as he watched you.

“Nope, not gonna ruin the surprise. You’ll have to wait and see.” Morgan responded.

“Morgan, you know I don’t like surprises!” you laughed as you walked over to him, rising to your toes to kiss him gently.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like this one.” he smiled. “I know what you’re trying to do, your kisses won’t break me!” declared, turning to walk into the living room.

“Can you at least tell me if I’m properly dressed for the occasion?” you asked as you followed him into the living room, modeling the simple dress you had chosen for the evening. “I mean, you look like you could be on a runway right now and I don’t want to look like I’m headed to my first communion.”

“You look beautiful, babe. Perfect.” he laughed. He walked over to the closet, pulling out your coat. “Ready to go?” he asked as he held it up; you turning around slipping your arms in the sleeves as Morgan lifted it over your shoulders.

“I guess so.” You said, slipping your hand into his as you pulled him out the door. “Even though I don’t know where we’re going.” You said; flashing him your best pouty face as you locked the door behind you.

“My lips are sealed, woman. Stop trying to crack me!” he laughed as you walked out to his car, noticing him tug on his right earlobe, something he only did when he was nervous.

“For all the secrecy, this had better be worth it.” you smirked, as he held the car door open for you before heading around to the driver’s side. The sun was beginning to set as he pulled onto the road. You were surprised when he made a left turn, instead of heading into downtown Toronto; he was heading in the opposite direction. You glanced over at him; seemingly sensing your question before you asked Morgan simply stated “Heading to this place out toward London.” Satisfied with his answer you nodded; Morgan reaching over the center console, pulling your hand from you lap and lacing his fingers through yours. You smiled; happy to be close to him, happy to have him home.

Being with Morgan was absolutely worth all the time you spent apart; but even after dating for the past 3 years, it didn’t get any easier when he had to go on the road. His homecomings were always sweet, but with the looming sadness of knowing he’d be gone again in a matter of days. Morgan lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin before settling your entwined hands back on his thigh. You chatted about your job, how the road trip went, what to get his mom for her upcoming birthday, and the upcoming charity event you’d be attending for the Leafs. The longer you drove the more you noticed the unease in Morgan’s body language. He was chewing on his lip and still pulling on his right earlobe.

“Morgan, are you alright?” you finally asked. “Yeah (Y/N), I’m fine. Just been on planes so much the past few days, all the sitting is making me restless.” he responded quickly. “You don’t have to worry – shit.” the last of his sentence was cut off as car engine sputtered. Morgan slowed down and pulled to the side of the road, just as the engine died. “Fuck.” Morgan muttered under his breath.

He popped the hood before getting out of the driver’s seat and walking to the front of car. As good as he was at so many things; you knew one thing he was not was a mechanic. You waited a few minutes in the passenger’s seat, hearing a few clicks and bangs before sliding out of the car and walking to the front of the car to stand with Morgan. “I can call a tow service or AAA.” you offered.

“That’ll take too long, babe.” he sighed. “We have to get to town for your surprise.” he muttered, struggling to check the coolant and oil levels in the dark.

“It’s not like either of us are car experts. I know you have plans, but if we miss a reservation or something it’s okay.” you stated, shoving your hands in your coat pockets, looking under the hood.

“It’s not okay! I’ve had these plans set up for a while now, and we need to arrive on time.” he said, the frustration evident in his voice. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing over the engine and air filter before emitting a large sigh.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

“Unless you’ve taken up learning car mechanics in your free time, there’s not.” he responded flatly, throwing his hand up in exasperation.

You walked back to the passenger’s seat, knowing that there was nothing you could do except wait for Morgan to calm down and call a tow service. You heard him yell “FUCK!” before slamming the hood of the car down. You watched as leaned against the front of the car, his back to you, and pulled his cell from his pocket, punching something into his phone.

You sighed, popping the glove compartment open; you rummaged through the contents to find the manual. Knowing there was nothing you could actually do to help the current state of the car; it would at least make you feel like you were doing something productive. Finding the manual, you struggled to free it from the other items in the glove compartment. As you pulled the manual out, an assortment of other items fell to the ground. You set the manual on the dash as you cleaned up your mess. Reaching down you put away a fallen flashlight, a pen, a screwdriver, and small cloth bag. Curious, you opened the bag; revealing a small box. After a moment of examination you realized it was a jewelry box; more specifically, a ring box. Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you shouldn’t open it, but you couldn’t help yourself. You cracked open the box, revealing beautiful ring; the large diamond in the center was surrounded by a series of smaller stones. You almost dropped it when you heard the driver’s side door open. Looking up, Morgan stared at you, his mouth agape.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have opened it.” you whispered looking over at him. “Is this why you were so adamant about getting to wherever we were going on time?”

“Uh, yeah. Um… I had a bunch of stuff set up, but now with the car… and you finding the ring, it doesn’t really matter anymore.” he said, the nerves evident in his voice.

“I hope it still matters, Mo.” You said, watching Morgan play nervously with his tie.

“Of course it stills matters, but the reservation and other stuff I set up are wasted.” He sighed, slipping into the driver’s seat and closing the door. Facing forward, you watched as he swallowed hard, trying to calm himself down. “I wanted this to be the most special moment of your life.”

“Babe, it will be the most special moment of my life.” You said, reaching over, resting your hand on his thigh. “I appreciate the effort behind it, but it would have been special any way or anywhere you chose to ask me.”

“But babe you deserve something better than getting proposed to on my front porch after a trip to Olive Garden.” He sighed, leaning his head against headrest.

“What you think I deserve isn’t important right now. What I want is what matters; and what I want is to be with you. Forever. That’s what matters; not where you propose. It could at a 5 star restaurant or behind a dumpster and I’d be happy.” you reached up, gently turning his face to yours. “And what’s wrong with Olive Garden? How can you go wrong with unlimited breadsticks?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows at him.

He smirked at you and rolled his eyes. “If all you want is me and unlimited breadsticks, this marriage thing is going to be easier than I thought.” he grinned. “So, now what? I mean, you’re holding the ring.”

“You could ask me now. Then you can stop tugging on your earlobe.” You grinned.

“You know what; I have an idea.” He said after a moment.  “It’s something you can tell your family about without mentioning the part where I don’t know how to fix a car.” He said reaching over and taking the ring box from your hands and slipping it into pocket.

Headlights came into view behind you, watching as the tow truck pulled in front of you. Morgan jumped out of the car, motioning for you to stay put, he walked over to the driver. Jake showed him something on his phone and spoke to him for a few moments before walking over the car and opening the door for you. You climbed out, watching as the tow truck driver hooked Jake’s car onto the pulley system, lifting it onto the back of the truck.

“Alright, she’s ready to go.” The driver said, motioning to the passenger side door.

You glanced at Morgan. “When you tell this part of the story, just tell people it was a limo, eh?” he glanced down at you hopefully as he walked you over to the truck, pulling the door open for you.

“Got it.” You grinned, stepping up into the truck, Morgan’s hands wrapping around your waist, giving you a boost into the high seat. He pulled himself up behind you, closing the door. The ride back to into Toronto was silent, the hour late. You were getting tired, your eyes falling closed, your head on Morgan’s shoulder. Soon, Morgan was gently shaking you awake.

“Babe, we’re here.” He whispered softly as you awoke. He helped you out of the truck, thanking the driver and making arrangements for the repairs. You yawned, taking in your surroundings properly. You looked across the street, there it was, the George Street Diner. You heard the tow truck pulling away as Morgan stepped beside you, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you into the diner. “Pick a good table for us.” He said as he walked to the counter, speaking with the waitress.

You sat at the corner booth, the best table to watch what was happening out on the street. You smiled as you looked around, remembering how much you loved this place. You hadn’t been back much since you had left; after you had gotten back on your feet you had quit to focus on your full time job and to spend more time with Morgan. You slipped off your coat, putting it beside you in the booth as Morgan came back, slipping into the seat across from you. A waitress followed shortly after, setting down two cups of coffee.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, crossing his arms on the table.

“Go for it.” You replied.

“I hate pie.” He admitted. “The only reason I got pie here the night we met was because you recommend it. I didn’t want you to walk away and take my order to the kitchen, so I ordered pie so I could sit and talk with you.” He said sheepishly.

“Mo, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  You said laughing as you reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “You ordered a slice of pie every single time you came in here after that night.”

“Yeah, but by that time it felt like tradition and I wanted you to know I valued your dessert opinions.” He said smirking.

You laughed as the waitress came back, this time with two pieces of strawberry pie. Setting a plate in front of each of you, she nodded at Morgan before walking away.

“Morgan, after all this time, you finally confess that you hate pie and you got yourself a slice anyway?” you said looking at the giant piece of strawberry pie sitting in front of him.

“I told you, it’s a tradition.” He shrugged, grabbing the fork off his plate and taking a huge bite. “It’s not so bad.”

You grabbed your fork, about to break through the top layer of crust, when you noticed the ring perched on top of your slice of pie. You smiled, looking up as Morgan slid out of the booth, coming to kneel beside you.

He reached onto the table, resting his hand over yours as he took a deep breath. “(Y/N), when I walked into this diner 3 years ago, I had no idea I would find the love of a lifetime. The life you’ve chosen to live with me isn’t an easy one. My schedule, my friends, my job; nothing in my life has ever been consistent; but the one thing that’s remained constant over the past 3 years has been my love for you. You love me, you support me, you take care of me; and I want to keep doing the same for you, for the rest of my life. (Y/N), will you marry me?” he asked, nervously, his blue eyes gazing into yours.

“Mo, of course I’ll marry you.” You grinned, blinking hard as tears threatened to spill. Watching as he plucked the ring off your slice of pie. “I don’t know what your initial plan was, babe, but it couldn’t have been more perfect that this.” You said, as he slipped the ring on your finger, tears rolling down your smiling face. Morgan slipped into the booth beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.  Looking down at the ring that now adorned your finger; you smiled as you looked back up at Morgan. His thumb gently brushed the tears off your cheek, he pressed his mouth to yours, the taste of strawberry still on his lips.  

“I love you, (Y/N).” he said breathlessly as he pulled away from you a few moments later.

“I love you.” You smiled.


HockeyWritingCollective Masterlist (X)

RANDOM SENTENCE STARTERS.

  • Death does not discriminate. 
  • I had a gun to my head once, I nearly pulled the trigger.
  • Why can’t you leave me be?
  • I don’t love you anymore.
  • Fuck off.
  • Everyone leaves in the end.
  • I always end up alone.
  • The silence can be deafening.
  • I’ve lost too much to try and love again.
  • Take a look in the fucking mirror.
  • I am not the man/woman I once was.
  • There’s someone outside the door.
  • Did I ever mean anything to you?
  • Was I just a toy in your game?
  • Did you ever love me?
  • I love you.

doddleoddle: We’ve done this emotional goodbye thing a lot, but today was the big one. Today I watched strangers walk into our empty living room that was once full of furniture and DVDs and a family of 5 that sat down to watch Doctor Who on Saturdays. They put down boxes of things that weren’t ours and they walked over the places I played with betti spaghetti dolls at 7 years old and said that their sofa would look good there. They started planning to paint over the height lines of mine and Hedy’s growth, they walked into my little room and imagined putting their clothes in the wardrobes that once held unwanted Christmas presents and my secret reading den. They looked in the mirror I first saw myself with mascara on, they tutted at the wobbly window frame I’d lean out of to shout across the road to my best friend Alice, they didn’t call each room “Iain’s room” or “mum and dad’s room” or “the cat’s room” - because they’re not, anymore. They only are in our memories.

This is honestly the biggest thing I’ve had to lose. And we can all keep saying “it’s just a house”, but it was my home. To think I’ll never hear the familiar creak of the floorboards, or mum calling up the stairs for us all to come down for dinner, or the sound of Iain booting up the PlayStation 2 on the landing again - it’s so painful to me.

There’s a wonderful, positive side to this, of course. And I’ll get there. But for now, I need to mourn, and process.
Oh the good old processing. I’ve been doing a lot of that, recently.

*dodie/doddleoddle on Instagram*

I feel like I don’t have any idea what I actually look like. I look at myself in a mirror every single day and each day I look really different and I don’t have a clear image of what my body actually looks like or what my face actually looks like and I have super conflicting feelings about my image. One day I’ll see myself and be perfectly content with my face and my body and then the next I’ll just feel so disgusted by what I see and I’m like “is that really me? There’s no way that that’s what I actually look like.” And some days I feel like I look really big while other days I feel like I look smaller, like I legitimately have no idea how much bigger or smaller my body actually is compared to how I see it. I hate it so much!! And I have no idea what to do!!!

anonymous asked:

sugakookie 14, if ur still doing this :)

Jungkook touches a hand to his lips, a considering expression on his face. 

“How- how was it?” Yoongi asks, leaning back on his heels, hands prim on his folded knees. He looks a little anxious underneath his calm exterior. 

Tilting his head to the side, Jungkook replies, “Dry? Kinda? Yeah.” He licks his lips without realizing it, and without realizing it, Yoongi mirrors the action. 

“Bad?” Yoongi wants to know. “Like, did you hate it?” When Jungkook doesn’t answer, he goes on to say, “Did it clear up your gay confusion?” 

Their maknae makes that hissing sound that he learned from imitating Yoongi, then shrugs uncomfortably. “I don’t- I don’t know, hyung. Maybe if we try it again. Maybe a little…better?” 

“Wetter?” Yoongi wants to know. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook whispers, a blush flaring on his cheeks, “A little wetter.” 

As Yoongi moves in closer, hands on his shoulders for balance, breath fanning warm across his face, Jungkook allows himself to admit what he already knew: yep, gay. Definitely, definitely gay. 


pick a ship and a number and i’ll write a drabble

(Reguest: Hi! Can you please write an imagine with Daryl where some guy start to flirt with the reader and Daryl gets jealous and tell him to stay away from her? Thank youuu)

Hi, thank you for sending in a request!! I Hope this turned out alright, enjoy!

Warning: jealous Daryl, swearing
———————————————————————————————————–

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, admiring how your tight black dress hugged all the right places of your body. Your hair was down, something that felt unusual as you always had it tied up in case you came into contact with a walker. You smiled to yourself and made your way downstairs, ready to head to the party that Deanna was throwing.
“You look gorgeous” Daryl murmured as you walked down the stairs, he couldn’t take his eyes off you; it made you feel confident.

“Thanks” you blushed and linked your arm through his. You both made your way to the party.
                                                              ****
Once inside you were greeted by Deanna who thanked both you and Daryl for attending the party, spencer then came from behind her and handed you both a shot of tequila.
You moved through the crowd of people, saying hello to the rest of the group and introducing yourselves to some of the Alexandrians.

“What you drinking?” Daryl asked you.

“Just a beer” you replied.

He nodded and disappeared through the crowd of people to get your drinks. As soon as you turned to find someone from your group a man approached you.

“I don’t believe we’ve met” he said, taking your hand and kissing it. “My name is Derek” he said with a smile.

“I’m (Y/n)” you replied, smiling at his kind gesture.

“So you’re with Rick?”

“Since the beginning” you said

“Ah okay. you’re really pretty by the way” he said, eyeing up your body. He bit his lip and you blushed.

“Aw, thank you” you replied, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No seriously, you’re stunning” He placed a hand on your cheek and licked his lips.

“Hey, I got our drinks” Daryl said, eyeing up the guy who was talking to you.

“Daryl, this is Derek” you said

“Hey man, nice to meet you” Derek stuck his hand out to Daryl who didn’t take it.

“Well, I guess ill see you later” Derek looked at you and smiled, then he nodded to Daryl and walked off.

“You need to get better at being nice” you laughed as Daryl handed you your drink

“I saw the way he was looking at you, touching your hand ‘n shit” he growled.

“Oh come on, just have some fun” you said, taking his free hand and pulling him to dance.

A few hours had passed and you felt a little tipsy.

“I think its time to get you to bed” Daryl said as you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Okay okay, lets go” you said.

Daryl kept his arm behind your back while you said goodbye to everyone and headed back to your house. Once inside you threw your heels on the floor.

“You wanna stay the night?” you ask

“Sure. Just give me a minute, I think I left something at the party” he replied, moving towards the door.

“Alright, ill be waiting for you” you winked at him before walking upstairs.

Daryl laughed to himself, he knew you’d probably be asleep by the time he got back. He shut the door and went back to the party to find Derek.

His eyes searched the room full of people until they landed on the man who was flirting with you.

“Hey, Daryl right?” Derek asked as Daryl approached him

“Yeah that’s right. Do ya mind helping me get (Y/n) back home, she drank a bit too much” He lied.

“Of course” Derek said, and followed Daryl out the house.

“Wait- where is she?” Derek turned to Daryl and was greeted with a punch. He shouted out in pain and gripped  his nose, blood starting to flow.
Daryl grabbed the guy by his collar and shoved him up against the wall, their faces nearly touching.

“If I ever see you flirting with my girl again, ill give you more than just a nose bleed” He growled. “You stay away from her, ya hear?” Daryl shouted.

“I get it man, take it easy” he said, holding his hands up.

Daryl let go of him and stalked off back to your house, he quickly wiped the blood off his knuckles with his handkerchief before going inside.
He quietly walked into your room to see you fast asleep under the covers. He smiled to himself and kicked his shoes off. He got under the covers and moved next to you. You stirred from your sleep and lazily opened your eyes.

“Find what you wanted?” you asked

“Yeah” he replied, his voice low.

You nodded and nuzzled your head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He felt warm and him stroking your back quickly sent you back to sleep. The only thing Daryl had to worry about now was helping you with your hangover tomorrow.
———————————————————————————————————–

I hope you liked how this turned out! send in more!!

I'M OVER WHATEVER'S BEEN COMING BETWEEN ME AND MY GOALS.

I feel so much better today and ready to keep working towards my goals. February has been my worst month eating and exercising wise but I’m gonna keep going. My goal for the end of this month was to hit 230 and I honestly don’t think I hit it. I haven’t weighed myself yet (which I’m not gonna do until Monday, changing my weigh in days.). In fact, I think I’ve gained weight. But that’s not gonna upset me. I feel so motivated today!

I’ve learned things about myself too.
1. STAY AWAY FROM ALL KINDS OF CHOCOLATE. Seriously. I have an addiction. I can finish 100 bars of chocolate in one sitting if you let me. No chocolate cake, no chocolate bars, no chocolate cereal, NOTHING.

2. I’ve got to STOP LOOKING IN THE MIRROR EVERYDAY. It just demotivates me and makes me want to give up. Like the anon said, I should just focus on losing the weight.

3. I need to stop comparing myself to other girls. This is at the gym, in lectures, my friends, EVERYONE. We are not the same and we aren’t at the same level in life. We aren’t the same people.

4. I’ve binged eaten over the past few days. I need to get over it and get back into my routine. I’m still Intermittent Fasting but now I have to stick to it. I also need to forgive myself for bingeing. People who have lost weight didn’t start off perfectly. I’ve read people’s success stories and most of them said they had a hard time the first couple of months. It’s not even been 2 months for me. I just have to keep going.

5. I also have to realise that reaching 160 by my birthday on the 4th of July is not a realistic goal. It’s possible and would be amazing if I did but I don’t think I will. So I’ve moved it to September 1st. I know we shouldn’t have goal dates, it’s a lifestyle etc but I’d still like to reach my goal weight/goal body before starting the second year of college. Wear all the cute outfits I want to in university 😩.

So yeah that’s basically it. I’m writing this from the gym so ✌🏾

anonymous asked:

Hi! After printing out the Devine Reminder from the PDF you provided me with, I was wondering how a konkokyo home "altar" or small place where the reminder may be put typically looks like? (I'm thinking if there are shinki, mirror etc present?)

Hi there!

Well, Konkokyo is interesting.

The only kind of guideline these days is to have the Tenchi Kakitsuke visible, preferably in a frame (but not  necessary) , somewhere on the altar - this is for one’s own benefit though, so they can remember it every time they pray. Not so much for Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama, but for the person - you and I.

We don’t have any strict guidelines for how to set up the altar, or offerings. (Water, rice, salt, and sake is traditional, but you should offer what you can and sincerely is most important. There’s a Konkokyo teaching that says  “Offer a candle. If you cannot afford a candle, then offer incense. If you cannot afford incense, then even the ashes of incense, sincerely offered as the only thing you have, will be accepted.” But we should strive to offer what we feel is best for Kami-sama to show our appreciation for the blessings in our lives, and our food, livelihood, etc.)

That being said, not only altars, but even every Konko church varies greatly. Some are indistinguishable from Shinto shrines, and others look almost like a Christian church. I’ll show you some examples…

Konkokyo Hawaii Mamichikai 金光教ハワイ眞道会

The first organized worship hall of Konkokyo believers in the Territory of Hawai'i. (click for source) 

(It looks different now, but this is one of the earliest style altars, very Shinto style and traditions) 

As you can see, there are traditional Shinto elements - a sacred mirror, gohei, shimenawa, etc. 

This is Konkokyo Church of Amagasaki 

Source of image: http://saza-nami99.at.webry.info/201208/article_10.html

As you can see, this one also uses Shinto implements: Shimenawa, Curtains, Sacred mirror, etc.

This is my personal home altar! Since I am closer to the Shinto side, I like using the traditional Shinto style altar. As in a Konko Church, the right side is for Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama, and the shrine on the left is for mitama-sama (ancestral divine spirits). The white snakes, kagura suzu, and little magatama is my own personal worship touches. You’re free to add some personal touches to your Konkokyo altar. The Tenchi Kakitsuke is right in the center.


But! ….Here is the flip side



This was the altar built  officially by the Konkokyo International Center and believers in the UK, for the Konkokyo gathering in the UK. (Source; http://kic.jpn.org/eng/?cat=4

As you can see, it has no Shinto style at all. It’s completely modern and simple, and I also really like it. 


This is Konkokyo Osaki church - as you can see it only borrows a few Shinto elements as well (Source: http://osaki.konko.jp/


Konkokyo Shimotani Church
Source: http://senjutalk.net/blog/index.php?e=565

And one of the most strikingly different  this is ..

The Konkokyo Church of Tokyo (the main one) 
Source: http://senjutalk.net/blog/index.php?e=708

It looks almost like a Christian church!



And of course, every other kind of style in between. 

The Head Church of Konkokyo (Headquarters) takes the middle ground approach. 

Source: http://blog.goo.ne.jp/kotomieko/e/1d2e6973366dc9684407a9b162066da1


It’s the traditional Shinto altar and offerings, but none of the other traditional things like shrine doors, sacred mirror, shimenawa, etc…So it strikes a happy medium for everyone. 


But again,  notice a common feature is the Tenchi Kakitsuke. So however you decide to make your altar, know that there isn’t exactly a right or wrong. As long as it’s kept clean and sincere, you’ll be fine.

The altars and churches vary so much, because Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama is a deity of the Universe and all people and living beings, not only a Japanese deity or only to Shinto traditions. They are more like the force/energy of the Universe, so any kind of style is fine - whichever makes you feel most connected to Tenchi Kane no Kami-sama.


Waiting for the right time

Dr. Hooper entered his home after excusing himself from his colleagues’ company; he promised them before he would attend the annual medical conference with them after finishing his day work, he blamed it on a very trying day at job causing a deadly headache.

He closed the door of his room with key, checking the window to be firmly closed.

He stopped in front of the mirror memorising how he looks like with his suit and mustache, with a heavy sigh he reached his wig taking it off slowly to reveal the long hair that kept underneath it, pulling the huge mustache off to let the small beautiful womanly features appear.

She went still, it was like she’s looking to a stranger she doesn’t recognize, she couldn’t remember the last time she stood in front of a mirror as Molly Hooper not as Dr. Thomas Hooper, the suit looked off on her after removing her mask, she went to wear a simple night dress and got back to where she’s been, studying herself like it was the first time.

She didn’t lie to her friends, it was a trying day at the morgue, but not because of the piles of works she had, she got used to that, actually she was living to prove she was the best, so when everything revealed like the plan was, they all would stand dumbfounded for months, that it would be the talk of society for years, that it would prove her case, her gender case, or at least help.

But today was different, she met him, she could feel he was her soulmate the moment she laid her eyes on him, she went silent listening to him deducing everything about the corpse laying in front of her, just watching him in awe, he was brilliant, he didn’t even give her a glance, or notice her appearance till Dr. Stanford introduced her to him as the best pathologist in Saint Bart he could work with, and introducing him as Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the only consultant detective in the world.

She wasn’t sure if he felt it too or not, panic rose in her veins, and her heart beats went faster, wondering if he did what would he do when he discovers her.

To her surprise he didn’t even get his eyes off the corpse, kept studying it, saying smirking he would take her Boss’s word for just now, she wanted to attack him with her words for his disrespectful answer, but she couldn’t find her voice, he turned to face his friend, it was the first time she noticed him, the rude detective gave him instructions to solve the murder case, but he seemed like distracted by her, he was narrowing his eyes looking to her with uncertainty, she didn’t give it much a thought, till he raised his hand to shake hers, all she could recognize from what he said was “interesting” with a face full with a huge smile, her mind wasn’t with him, it was with the man who rushed out of her morgue yelling at his friend, John was his name, to hurry up.

Her mind was recalling the whole situation like a book she reads, how her heart skipped a beat when she saw him, how brilliant he is, the beautiful color of his eyes that she didn’t know yet it would haunt her for nights in her dreams, his harsh words that questioned her proficiency skills.

He wasn’t affected at all, seemed like he didn’t give her even a look, she had mixed feelings thinking about that.

She looked to the mirror, running her fingers through her long –screaming her femininity- hair, deciding exactly what she would do about the new situation.

absolutely nothing.

She was fighting in a battle she can’t lose, it wasn’t hers to lose, she was fighting for all the wronged women of her generation; she was part of a big plan, a revolution to right the current situation to obtain their normal rights.

She silenced her beating heart, shredding one last tear for the life she could never have, holding her head high leaving the woman who glanced at her from the other side of the mirror, comforting her soul by thinking it is just the wrong time, maybe in another life.


“Hooper”

“Holmes”

It was his turn to look to her in awe. It was her all this time, how could he be that blind, that ignorant.

He knew he met his soulmate one day in this life, the mark was deeper now, but he could never remember when, he deduced that his mind found it as unimportant information and deleted it somehow, he was proud of himself, boring domestic life and a dull wife were the last thing he needed now and ever. The nearest relationship he had was with the adventuress Irine Adler, she occupied his mind for a long time with her case and her revolutionary personality, but she couldn’t occupy his cold heart.

She wrote to him after she left England, the last letter she told him she found her soulmate and she would stay in France, that was years from now.

He felt sorry for her, finding your soulmate would turn your life upside down, this woman couldn’t stay in a country for more than half a year, now she settled down just because she found someone she thought he will be the reason for her happily ever after.

He was glad for his situation in this life and the past lives he had, he was free to do whatever he wants whenever he wants without fearing anything, but sometimes he felt annoyed, it was like an unsolved case with the answer rubbing itself under his nose teasing him.

As usual he was right, literally right. The nagging doctor who turned his life into living hell with every case they worked on it together was his soulmate.

SHE was his soulmate, this brilliant stunning strong woman was his soulmate and he was as clever as a tire to notice her. He tried to find her after solving the case but she was vanished, he didn’t even know her real name.

The next day he stormed into the morgue searching for her, Dr.Stanford told him that the good doctor is taking the next couple of days off to get prepared for the conference he will host.

Those two days were enough to recognise some facts.

First he was stupid, second she was in danger with every day she spent in this disguise, yes it was for a noble case but it was her life in stake now, he felt unease with the thought, his heart was screaming at him to save her, his mind was convincing him it was a lost case, she would never accept, but he remembered Irine, she left it all for love, he knew it would take a lot of time to convince her to leave it all and run away with him, starting a new life where nobody would recognise her or could hurt her, he would sacrifice his current living for her, of course she would reciprocate.

He went to the conference, searching for her everywhere before it was her time to speak, he failed again.

She was at the stage and all the doctors and journalists who attended the conference gave their attention to her, he watched her, listening to every word she said with confidence, she made the whole place stunned with her speech, the hall filled with applause and cheering words for the brilliant doctor, but she didn’t get down, after all the voices died she looked to him.

He knew what she was going to do, but it was too late, before he could move she took off her mustache, than she pulled off her wig, the hall that was filled with applause less than a minute ago now was filled with shouting and harsh words ordering her to get down, calling her the worst names.

But he didn’t hear all of that, all he was focused on was reaching her and all he could think of that he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried, hands were holding him, prisoning him, he saw two police officers reaching for her putting her hands in cuffs, he screamed her name or at least the one he knew her by, she looked to them all demanding them to remember her as Dr.Hooper the woman who fooled them all, then she looked to him with sad eyes, he wanted to assure her that he wouldn’t let any harm come to her, that she will be safe, but the hands kept pushing him away.

He freed himself,went running after the carriage that carried her but his legs let him down.

He reached the police station yelling and asking for her, they told him the carriage didn’t reach the station, it never did nor did she.

It was the perfect plan, just like Recolliti’s, he thought.

It was the talk of clubs for years, the woman who fooled them all.

She vanished with no trace to follow, he knew now that the sad eyes weren’t out of fear, she was saying her last goodbye to him.

Leaving no trace didn’t stop him from searching for her for the rest of his life, he never lost hope.

The day he died he was laying with a peaceful smile on his face, promising himself he will find her in another life.

The present:

He got up with wide eyes and a forehead dripping sweats; panting heavily trying to catch some air for his desperate lungs, this wasn’t a dream, he thought

No it could never be a dream.

He got up in hurry and dressed up fast he didn’t even notice what he was wearing.

He stopped a cap and barked all the time for the fastest route that could make him reach his destination faster even by one minute.

She was wearing her coat to go home, she was desperate for a hot beverage and some food, it was a trying day at the morgue.

She heard the door opened and turned to see who’s coming in this late hour.

“Damn it Sherlock, I told you there is no parts available today, you didn’t have to come here to check”

He was just standing there, looking to her like he never saw her before, like she was a wild creature from an old book.

“Are you ok?” She asked concerned.

Before she could reach him she heard him saying one word

“Hooper”

She went still, he said it in awe, with longing filling his eyes, he remembers.

She looked to him with surprised eyes for a moment, then, they were relieved and peaceful, her smile was dazzling, she straightened her back unconsciously taking the same position in the old church.

“Holmes”


“Hooper”

“Holmes”

She didn’t know why she spoke in this moment, she could let another one explain, take the lead and she stays hidden in the dark, but it was like an internal force pushing her to show herself as she really is.

She knew he recognised her in the instant, not just as Dr. Hooper but as his other half as well, the admiration look in his eyes melted her heart.

All her partners’ eyes were on him, all of them but one, Lady Carmichael’s eyes floated between him and her, studying them.

Her ideal’s stares made her feel she could read her like she bared her soul under her foot, it terrified her.

Lady Carmichael narrowed the distance between them, asking her to come with her quietly.

They left the scene behind and took the carriage to their other bolt hole.

It was the first time they were together alone without the rest, hideous scenarios ran all over her head, the worst was that the good lady thought she revealed her disguise for the detective under a moment of weakness.

They reached the small house, her host offered her some tea then took the seat in front of her.

“You’re going to host the next medical conference” it wasn’t a question.

She sipped from her China “it will be the perfect time to reveal your real self” still no request in her tone.

She was shocked, that was not the plan, reaching one of the highest position at Bart before revealing herself was the real plan, and it was going better than expected, her career was heading up faster than any body thought.

“I don’t understand, the right time was with my name in the head chief of Bart’s office”

She was boiling with anger, she knew the day would come, but not that soon.

“Well it’s not an option any more don’t you think"her voice was cold.

“I didn’t…” the word choked in her throat, she was fighting tears.

“I didn’t uncover my disguise to anybody, I would never threat our case for any personal reason” she defended herself from an accusation was never pointed at her.

The lady’s eyes softened for a while with a hint of compassion, holding the young woman’s hand with one of hers

“I know my dear, I trust you, but can you trust him, that he will never be a threat for our society, for our cause”

Words failed her.

The older women straightened her back, gaining back her cold face.

“You will take the next days off, preparing yourself for the day, the carriage will take you home now”

The day they waited for had finally came, she was more than prepared for her role, mastering it, she walked to the stage with steady steps, looking to the hall from the height, journalists were crowding all over the place, a good sign.

He was sitting there, watching her with eyes full with worry, she ignored him.

After the aplause stopped, she prepared herself for the next, she picked another glance, his eyes were now wide with terror, he deduced what she was about to do, before giving herself time to think, she took of her mask, she didn’t trust herself for long time.

Lady Carmichael was right, they needed more than two fake police men, she could see him fighting with all he got to reach her, her screamed name on his lips ripped her heart, she looked to him for the last time, memorising his features, like she could ever forget.

‘Goodbye Mr. Holmes’ she whispered to herself.

They smuggled her out of the country, with a new disguise as Dr. William, she travelled to Africa, searching for solace and comfort there just like Dr. Watson did when his friend faked his death.

She found her happiness in helping the others who desperately needed her, dedicated herself for them till the last day of her life, she couldn’t deny that she missed him, dreamt of him, but if time went back, she wouldn’t change a thing.

Six years before he remembered:

she was eating her cold salad reluctantly when Dr. Stanford entered her office with hesitating steps.

“Molly I need to ask you a favor”

“No, Myke I won’t work with him, I saw Magy after she worked with him, she didn’t recover yet”

“Please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent” he pleaded her.

She couldn’t resist him, he was like a father to her.

With a heavy sigh she got up, at least she was rescued from this desastereous plate.

She entered the morgue, he was giving her his back lowering himself to the level of the victim, what a freak!

“You needed my help?” She asked exasperated.

“Yes yes, the other one was just too stup..“he rose up to look at her and stopped dead, she didn’t move either.

His expression was screaming 

HELL NO !

Hers wasn’t any better.

She stormed out of the morgue and ran for her life, her legs took her to the nearest lady’s room.

She was breathing hard, relying on the door behind her.

From the billions human beings in the world, it had to be this asshole, she thought bitterly.

Glimpses of a life wasn’t hers started to surround her brain, she was collapsing on the floor from the killing pain inside her head.

She remembered first.

She got out searching for him but he was gone.

He didn’t show up for another month.

When he did he made it clear he wanted nothing from her as a soulmate, that she would be better without him.

To his surprise, she simply agreed, with no argue at all, leaving him short with words and heading to her office.

She remembered every single detail, if this Sherlock was anything like the other, he would come to her, he loved her once, his voice screaming her name assured that, what will stop him from falling again.

It was just a matter of time, and she could wait.


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