#every once in a while my 12 year old self returns and forces me to draw thorin oakenshield

[hansoeii]

thorin

#every once in a while my 12 year old self returns and forces me to draw thorin oakenshield #my very first fictional love #thorin #thorian oakenshield #the hobbit #the hobbit fanart #thorin fanart #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanart #middleearth #my art #my sketchbook #fanart

[mightyflamethrower]

— Joe Biden ogling his daughter, Ashley Biden.

— Excerpt from Ashley Biden’s diary, in which she admits to being molested and taking “inappropriate” showers with her father, Joe Biden. Source: The National File

What more proof does America need??

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Originally posted at Dispatches From Reality – dfreality.substack.com

“Every single morning since I’ve been 27 years old, I’ve got up and someone’s handed me a card like the one I have in my pocket with the schedule on it, of all the things I’m gonna do.

I don’t know what to do if I didn’t have that card.”

— President Joseph Robinette Biden

The name Caligula has become synonymous with sexual depravity and violence, a ruler famed for savage acts of barbarity and carnality. I contest that we have a modern reincarnation of Caligula on America’s shores; personified in a quite public fashion by our alleged President, Joe Biden. Like the Caesars of old, this demented pervert can not contain his foul sexual urges, molesting terrified children on a nearly weekly basis. YouTube montages of this man’s public behavior are appropriately age restricted due to the graphic nature of his pawing. We have watched this man, and many others within the political realm, fall prey to the basest of human desires: pedophilia. Blackmail of this sort has been used by generations of fixer’s — such as Jeffrey Epstein and Roy Cohn — to bend politicians to their master’s will. It has become painfully self-evident that the nations of the once Christian West are ruled by a corrupt and depraved intergenerational criminal cartel; a cartel who holds their pawns in spiritual slavery through sexual bondage of the most horrific nature.

Our taskmasters are not an aberration in this regard, for this monstrous sexual predilection is extraordinarily common amongst the ruling “elite” throughout history. The tales of the Julio-Claudian Caesars of Rome serve as a fitting frame of reference to compare our current ruling class to, for the old pagan ways have returned to the once Christian West in force. The degenerate sexual escapades of the Julio-Claudian dynasty included parental incest, sibling incest, mass public orgies, sodomy, bestiality, cross-dressing, and pedophilia. The Roman historian Suetonius best chronicles the reprobate reign of Caligula (emphasis mine):

It was his habit to commit incest with each of his three sisters and, at large banquets, when his wife reclined above him, placed them all in turn below him. They say that he ravished his sister Drusilla before he came [of] age: their grandmother Antonia, at whose house they were both staying, caught them in bed together… …He showed no such extreme love or respect for the two surviving sisters, and often, indeed, let his boy friends sleep with them; and at Aemilius Lepidus’ trial, felt no compunction about denouncing them as adulteresses who were party to plots against him – openly producing letters in their handwriting (acquired by trickery and seduction) and dedicating to Mars the Avenger the three swords with which, the accompanying placard alleged, they had meant to kill him. — Life of Gaius

One of Caligula’s surviving sisters — Agrippina the Younger — would later go on to birth the future Emperor Nero, with whom she would continue the Julio-Claudian tradition of intergenerational incest.

— Bust of Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus (31 August, 12 AD – 24 January, 41 AD), “Caligula”

Rape, sibling incest, and pimping out his sisters were just a small portion of Caligula’s sins. While the Emperor Elagabalus is often referred to as the “first” transgender emperor by leftist historians, it was in my opinion Caligula. Let us once again turn to Suetonius and his Life of the Caesars, which describes the personal habits of Emperor Caligula (emphasis mine):

Gaius [Caligula] paid no attention to traditional or current fashions in his dress; ignoring male conventions and even the human decencies. Often he made public appearances in a cloak covered with embroidery and encrusted with precious stones, a long-sleeved tunic and bracelets; or in silk (which men were forbidden by law to wear) or even in a woman’s robe; and came shod sometimes with slippers, sometimes with buskins, sometimes with military boots, sometimes with women’s shoes. Often he affected a golden beard and carried a thunderbolt, trident, or serpent-twined staff in his hand. He even dressed up as Venus… — Life of Gaius

Caligula’s profligate homosexual appetites were only matched by his extravagant financial expenditures. With the treasury dwindling, plots against the Emperor grew. The final straw was his announcement that he planned to leave Rome in order to permanently reside in Alexandria, where he would be worshipped as a living god. His short-lived reign ended when the Praetorian Guard stabbed Caligula to death with his wife and daughter. The Roman historian Cassius Dio famously quipped that Caligula “learned by actual experience that he was not a god”. In Caligula we see shades of our own rulers, for the American ruling regime has become inhabited by the same pagan sprits ruling the nations of yore.

— Caligula is Assassinated by the Praetorian Guard, ill. by Jan Luyken

“Thus, in setting an American agenda for a New World Order, we must begin with a profound alteration in traditional thought.”

— President Joseph Robinette Biden

Unlike the Emperor Caligula, our American Caligula’s reign has lasted for generations. The crimes of the Biden family are long and sordid; from corruption, foreign influence peddling, to sex trafficking and incest. Today’s essay will purely focus on the most vile and underreported aspect of the Biden crime family’s scandals: the intergenerational incest that Joe Biden and his son Hunter have engaged in.

On October 24th, 2020 the National File broke a bombshell story after acquiring Ashley Biden’s journal. The obscene contents of this journal were quickly lost in the chaos of the 2020 election; the Biden Department of Justice however did not forget. On October 25th, 2022, two Floridians pleaded guilty to trafficking in stolen goods for selling Ashley Biden’s diary. By convicting these people for the “crime” of stealing and trafficking Ashley Biden’s journal, the DoJ has de facto admitted that the journal is indeed authentic.

In her rehab diary, Ashley Biden describes all the tell tale signs of childhood sexual trauma. Here are her own words on her traumatic and turbulent childhood (emphasis mine):

“Hyper-sexualized [at] a young age. Was I molested? I think so – I can’t remember specifics but I remember trauma… I remember having sex with friends [at] a young age; showers with my dad (probably not appropriate); Being turned on when I wasn’t supposed to be… I’m so afraid of him coming in the shower with me that I’ve waited until late at night, to take a shower.”

Given the contents of the journal, it is truly staggering that the DoJ even attempted to bring charges against these Floridians. Due to the utter corruption of our state controlled media, this shocking and disturbing story has been drowned out by asinine stories about cocaine, spy balloons, missing submarines, and stolen Potemkin elections.

Our President molests his own children; given the conduct of said children, likely far worse.

That every single right of center newscaster does not hammer this truth home on a habitual basis speaks to the utterly depraved state of the so called Conservative media.

— Joe Biden ogling his daughter, Ashley Biden.

— Excerpt from Ashley Biden’s diary, in which she admits to being molested and taking “inappropriate” showers with her father, Joe Biden. Source: The National File

Given Ashley Biden’s testimony and Joe Biden’s lifelong public behavior, it beggars belief that Joe’s first wife Neilia was not aware of his aberrant sexual proclivities. Neilia was killed in an auto accident with Joe’s first daughter, Naomi, after being struck by a tractor trailer. According to the driver of the semi, Joe Biden’s wife purposely drove her car into his path after coming to a stop. Despite Joe Biden’s smears against Curtis Dunn, he was never charged with a DUI, and eye witness testimony corroborates Mr. Dunn’s account.

The ex-husband of Jill Biden claims that Joe & Jill’s affair started in 1972, eventually leading to the dissolution of his marriage in 1974. Despite Joe Biden’s protestations — including campaign ads claiming that he did not meet his current wife until 1975 — Jill Biden admits that she “briefly” met her future husband at a campaign fundraiser for his 1972. This paints Neilia’s untimely death just a month later in a much different light, and instead appears to be a deliberate murder-suicide in order to keep her children away from the monster she had unwittingly married.

— Joe Biden and his first wife, Neilia Biden, mother of Hunter and Beau.

Perhaps the greatest indictment of Joe Biden’s depraved and debauched mindset is his own public actions. Time and time again, this man is drawn to children like a magnet; grasping and pawing at them in inappropriate places, in full view of the stupefied public. Strangers are not his only victims, as his family has repeatedly suffered these same molestations at campaign and White House events. As you can see below, if this is how he is willing to act in public, can can you imagine what he is up to behind close doors?

— Montage of Joe Biden’s serial public molestation.

More Here: (https://www.theburningplatform.com/2023/07/18/american-caligula/#)

[the--morning--room]

RESURGAM (Arthur Harrow x F!Reader) Chapter 5: My little friend

"It had formerly been my endeavor to study all sides of his character: to take the bad with the good; and from the just weighing both, to form an equitable judgement. Now I saw no bad." -Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

WARNINGS: Mild sexual content, Blood

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

AO3

If one good thing can be said about the Thorn's time as one of the Followers of Ammit, it's that her physical health improved greatly and rapidly. Thanks to the fresh, home-grown produce, the yoga and pickup soccer games, and exposure to more fresh air than she'd seen in the past twenty years of her life combined, it was only a matter of months until she hardly recognized her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were brighter, the bags beneath them having all but vanished. She looked—and felt—alive.

Of course, while a healthy lifestyle is indeed beneficial to the human body, much of the Thorn's external transformation must really be owed to the superficial "glow" of infatuation. Reader, she was deeply, deeply in love. For reasons I will never understand, Arthur Harrow had come to be the center of her personal universe. She thought of him every moment, saw his face each time she closed her eyes. She imagined that the soft, gentle touches he often bestowed on her contained some kind of life-sustaining elixir; one touch would keep her going until the next one, and if she found herself devoid of Harrow's touches for too long, well…

The first morning she woke to find him gone from the community ("Well, it's not like he can spend all his time here, love. He's got communities like this all over the world to take care of," said the sweet woman serving her breakfast), she found herself so consumed with shock and anxiety that her head swam and she was forced to lie down. Never before had she so fully understood the concept of missing someone. It wasn't just Harrow that was far away, it was the greater part of her own self. This happened each time he traveled abroad: The Thorn would feign sickness, race to her room and succumb to an onslaught of tears that left her head throbbing and her body listless and hollow. The following days were spend in a melancholic fog until the return of the man she had unwittingly made into her personal god.

She knew she was really in trouble when her old nightmares of the deformed Randall Spector were gradually replaced by blissful dreams of being wrapped in Harrow's arms, his lips consecrating her neck and breasts, his strong hands exploring her waistline before dipping beneath the brim of her pants. She would often wake with a moan to find her hand between her legs and a sweet moistness decorating her fingers, her body celebrating with the warm, ecstatic tiredness of an orgasm she couldn't remember.

And that's not even the worst of it, reader: One winter night, as she was passing a donation bin wherein the community had been encouraged to deposit clothes for the homeless, she noticed the sleeve of one of Harrow's shirts resting over the corner. Scanning the vicinity—coast clear—she picked it up, buried her face in its fabric and inhaled. His scent still lingered; it was the smell of old books and parchment, of shadowy hallways and antiques and a subtle overtone of refined masculinity, all heightened by a conspicuous absence of any cologne or other artificial scents that might undermine the general clean, natural freshness of him. (That's what he smelled like to her, reader. Personally, I don't buy it. To me, he just smells like any other human, but, you know, who cares what Khonshu thinks? Whatever.)

Checking once more that she was completely alone, the Thorn slipped Harrow's shirt into her bag and carried it to her bedroom, where she guiltily stashed it under her pillow. On the occasions when her childhood nightmares returned to torment her and she woke with cries of fear and not ecstacy, she had only to pull the shirt from under her pillow and hold it to her face, and her heart would slow to normal as the sacred smell of the man she loved quieted her fears and soothed her back to sleep.

Do not let the still-fresh tattoo of the scales on her arm fool you, reader: The Thorn was never a worshippper of Ammit, despite the lie she so expertly performed while in Harrow's cult. The "deity" her heart chose to serve was, ironically, one of the most human of all human men who ever walked on Earth.

It had been nearly six months since the Thorn had come to stay with the community (and vowed never to fall for Harrow's manipulations). When she wasn't working on her dissertation, she was often summoned to assist Harrow in his efforts to find the location of the imprisoned Ammit. As the Thorn's scales had supposedly predicted, her presence proved invaluable to Harrow and his twisted mission. Her status as a doctoral student gained her access to research materials that would otherwise have been supremely difficult, if not downright impossible for Harrow and his other followers to acquire without committing some very noticeable crimes. Besides this, I must give credit where it's due: She was both knowledgeable and intelligent—not in an extraordinary way, but respectably so. Harrow frequently sought her counsel in regard to his mission, and it was on one of these occasions, sometime in January that—pardon the human slang, reader—shit started to go down.

Harrow greeted her at his study with a warm "come in" and a swift kiss on the cheek, and led her over to his desk. The manic brightness in his eyes and the jerkiness of his movements betrayed the excitement he was clearly fighting to contain: He had made a breakthrough.

"This text," he began, planting a finger on a photo in one of his books. "This is the one."

Her heart gave a single loud, fervent THMM like the beat of a battle drum. "It'll tell us the location of the tomb?"

"Yes," said Harrow. "According to this, it's being held at the Library of London."

"It's here? In the city?"

"Heaven is on our side, my sweet lamb." He cupped her face with both hands, a "signature move" of his that never failed to leave the Thorn weak in the knees. "Come with me," he told her, "and we will begin our holy pilgrimage together."

"Ugh, I hate the way he talks. Who does he think he is? No—the more pressing question is, how did I make it through the ten years in which he was my avatar without grabbing him by the throat and squeezing the life out of his pretentious little body?

Ahem. Anyway…

To the Thorn's utter elation, Harrow didn't invite anyone else to come along with them to the Library of London. They set out at the break of dawn, during the hour when the streets of London were shadowed in shades of turquoise and a pale halo struggled to crawl over the skyline. There was snow on the ground, for which the Thorn was grateful as the crunch of it partially camouflaged the sound of clattering glass inside Harrow's brown boots.

The Library of London, as the reader may or may not already be aware, isn't a typical library. It is partially a museum dedicated to "precious" and "historically significant" samples of human writing and art which, to my godly eyes, appear more or less equal to every other piece of human creation in terms of mediocrity. The text which Harrow and the Thorn sought was, luckily for them, not one of the artifacts featured in the museum. It was a fairly obscure document dating from the Late Period, just after the death of Alexander the Annoying, written in black ink on papyrus paper. Unbeknownst to the curators of the Library, this unassuming little sheet of papyrus, tucked away in the darkest shadows of the archives, was one of the most dangerous documents ever written.

The lobby was enshrined in white scholarly marble and hard, shining floors, and that uniquely "museum-y" kind of silence that the Thorn found equally enthralling and unnerving, disturbed only by the rhythmic bnk of Harrow's cane. The front desk abandoned, their only company was an endearingly unkempt young man whose nervously bouncing knees threatened to upset the thin portfolio he held on his lap.

The Thorn's gaze attached itself to the man, and wouldn't budge. She knew those fidgety hands, those dark curls, the adventurous face with its friendly, lopsided mouth and long eyelashes. Gods knew the last thing she needed right then was an awkward encounter, but alas…

"Marc?!"

The achingly familiar brown eyes turned to her. They blinked. "M…arc?"

"Marc? It's me," and she said her name, "don't you remember? We were neighbors in Chicago."

"S-sorry, I think you've got the wrong bloke," he quavered. "The name's Steven, actually—I'm here for my interview?" He waved his portfolio as if offering proof of his interviewee status. "I've never been to Chicago, actually, but I hear it's lovely. Lot's of trains, and…baseball, I think—oh, and that bean! Wait, is the bean in Chicago or New York? Oh, bullocks, my mind's all over the place today, must be the nerves…"

"Never mind," the Thorn interrupted. "I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have said anything if—I mean, you look just like someone I used to know. But he's not British, so it can't be—never mind."

"Oh," said Steven Grant, with genuine regret. "Sorry, love. Well, I hope you find him."

"Thanks," she said. "Good luck with your interview."

Behind her, Harrow said her name quite loudly. "Do you know this man?" he asked, an unmistakable tension lacing his voice. He was looking at Steven with something close to hatred.

"No," she replied hastily, turning away, just wanting the whole embarrassing episode to be over. "I thought so, but…no."

Mercifully, it was at that moment when Steven was called to his interview, which would actually turn out to be a less stressful ordeal than the one he'd just escaped. (No, reader, of course he didn't get the job—what an idiotic question to ask.)

Harrow put a hand under the Thorn's chin, tilting it up to face him. "What did he say to you?" he demanded in a soft growl.

Her heart quickened its pace. "N-not really anything, just that he wasn't who I thought he was, and that he's here for an interview."

"If that's true, then why are you crying?"

She lifted a tentative finger to her cheek, and it came away glistening with salty wetness. "I…don't know." She laughed nervously, blinked, and more tears fell. "I really don't."

Harrow's eyes were deep with distress. His mouth quivered ever so slightly. He took her hand, kissed it, and held it against his heart. "Promise me," he said, "promise that you will always come to me when you're in pain."

She was seized by a bizarre impulse to laugh, which she firmly resisted. If he only knew that she had already made a million such promises in her heart, that everything she was and ever would be was promised to him, as far as she was concerned.

"Of course," was what she said out loud.

At this he seemed to relax, but maintained a firm grip on her hand. "You are so precious," he whispered, trancelike. He closed his eyes, putting her hand on his cheek, leaning against it. "Such a precious little thing. If I could take that pain of yours, and carry it for you so that you could live free of any burdens," he opened his eyes and looked at her with a steady, unblinking gaze, "I want you to know that I would."

"But then who would carry your burdens?" she asked, thinking of the glass in his shoes.

He gave no answer, only brushed his fingers across her face, banishing the remaining tears one by one. "All better," he said with a smile.

"Can I help you?" said a male voice behind them.

"Yes!" said the Thorn, too eagerly. She broke away from Harrow and approached the desk. "I'm the Lowood University student who called yesterday to ask about viewing the rare books archive?"

The man at the desk ("R. Mason, Collections Manager," read his nametag) nodded. "Yes, I remember you. Student ID?"

She slid the card across the desk. Mason inspected it briefly and handed it back to her. "You're all set. And I take it your father will be joining us?"

"Sorry?"

Harrow stepped forward. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, sir. I'm an associate of hers."

If the brief meeting with the man-who-was-not-Marc had left the Thorn shaken, it was this exchange that finally broke her apart. Standing, crestfallen, amid the remains of the lies she had been telling herself for months, she felt that she was seeing clearly for the first time since she'd arrived in London. What right did she, of all people, have to fall in love with someone like Harrow? Someone old enough to be mistaken for her father? How naïve was she to believe it even mildly possible that he could come to love or even respect her in return? In his own words, she was an associate—nothing more, nothing less. In a few months' time she would complete her research and he would no longer be obligated to house her in his community, and then he would be free to turn her away into the cold, ugly world with nothing more than a handshake to commemorate their precious time together.

As Mason led them to the archive, Harrow put a gentle hand on the Thorn's shoulder. She shrugged it away.

"This manuscript was thought to be lost when the original copy was destroyed in the Library of Alexandria," Mason explained as he guided them through the forest of books, "but then a copy was discovered just a couple hundred years ago, hidden in the sarcophagus of an obscure Egyptian priest."

"Sounds about right," said the Thorn.

"This is it." Mason pulled a pair of sanitary gloves over his hands before taking the surprisingly large scroll and carrying it, so delicately one might assume it was in danger of exploding, into a small, gray room occupied only by a large and brightly-lit table. He spread the golden-brown, wrinkled papyrus under the lights. "If you must touch the papyrus, please do so with these gloves," he said, setting down two pairs of gloves identical to his. "I'm afraid protocol says you can't be in here alone with it, so I'll have to stay in the room—but I'll be right over there in the corner, and you won't even know I'm here."

Harrow's face soured as he regarded Mason, and the Thorn watched his hand tighten around the head of his cane. "He's just doing his job," she said, grabbing his arm. "We'll speak softly."

She scanned the ancient papyrus, suddenly noting the careful lyricism of the script. "Shit," she said, less quietly than she had intended, "it's written in hieratic. I suck at hieratic—it'll take me forever to read this." Shame pricked at her heart like a tiny electric shock ("why didn't you work harder at learning to read hieratic before you got here? incompetent, idiotic excuse for a historian you are").

"Let me," said Harrow, bending over the document. As he began to read, his face all at once came to life with a flame of quiet rapture.

"What if you miss something I would have picked up on?" asked the Thorn.

"I will not miss anything," he said with rumbling finality. End of discussion.

Chastened, and with a humiliating feeling of uselessness, the Thorn sat back in her chair and watched Harrow study the ancient manuscript.

There are few elements of humanity that are more beautiful to behold than passion in its purest, rawest form. No, reader, I don't necessarily mean the "moaning and clutching at bed sheets" kind of passion, though I'm sure that's nice too. In this case, I'm referring to the sort of passion a human will have for a career, or a hobby, or just a particular task they find invigorating. There's something beautifully pathetic in the way the whole self will narrow to the subject at hand—take, for instance, Steven Grant's ritual studying of the hieroglyphic alphabet late at night. He makes strange faces, sometimes talking or whispering to himself. His eyes squint behind his idiotic reading glasses. His hands roam the pages of his books, dragging the occasional yellow burst of highlighter across the word or phrase he finds interesting. Beautifully, tragically pathetic.

Contrast this scenario to our current scene: Harrow studying the ancient scroll. There was nothing beautifully pathetic about this display. "Passion" is far too mild of a descriptor for what this wretched man was doing. This was zealousness, obsession—a perverse, sickening thing to watch. The last time I saw a human with that look on their face, reader, that human ended up dead from twenty-three stab wounds in the middle of the Roman Senate. The Thorn, who was not oblivious to the unnatural expression on Harrow's face, dared not interrupt him to ask if he had found the information they both sought. After an age of torturous silence, he spoke at last:

"Yes."

"You found it? The location?" the Thorn asked.

Harrow looked at her. The ghost of a hungry, lustful smile rendered his face an inhuman sculpture. A gargoyle. "Oh, it won't be that easy," he said. "The great pilgrimage is only beginning, my jewel…but we are one step closer to knowing exactly where it begins."

"Excuse me," interrupted R. Mason, Collections Manager, emerging from his corner. "If I may ask, what exactly are you two researching?" Everything about this poor man, from his voice to his wide eyes to his unsteady hands, was coated with a mixture of suspicion and fear.

"I—" the Thorn began before Harrow cut her off.

"My colleague is studying the goddess Ammit for her doctoral dissertation," he explained.

"Your 'colleague' hasn't done anything but sit there for the past hour while you looked at the document," argued Mason (that poor, doomed man). He fixed his eyes on the Thorn. "Ma'am, what in particular is the focus of your research on Ammit?"

The Thorn tried again. "I—"

Harrow said her name. "Why don't you go and fetch the portfolio that you left in the locker downstairs?"

"What p—" she began, but in Harrow's eyes she read a clear warning: Go, and do not argue.

She did as she was told. Reader, given your prior knowledge of Harrow's wickedness, I'm sure you can intuit what happened next. I don't need to clarify the source of the thud she heard on the other side of the reading room door, the thud of something that had been a "he" and was now a mere "it." A softer thud than one would have expected, given R. Mason's height and weight—perhaps the human soul weighs even less than is commonly thought.

You may be wondering now (and may have already been wondering) how the Thorn could harbor such deep romantic love for Harrow while knowing he was a serial murderer. The answer is simple: She didn't know. Miraculously, after being alive for nearly thirty years, and living with the Followers of Ammit for half of one of those years, the Thorn still had yet to witness the death of another human being. This fact would change later that very night…but we're not there quite yet.

The rest of the day was spent with Harrow in his study, combing through books and internet archives, searching for any sign of the scarab-shaped compass that, according to the document they viewed at the library, would lead them to Ammit's tomb. The internet archives were the Thorn's idea, as Harrow was strangely aloof concerning the topic of the internet. He frequently seemed to forget its existence entirely, appearing ignorant of the many advantages it could offer him as both a scholar and a cult leader (I mean, even I know those things, and I'm not even human).

"Arthur," the Thorn said after a long silence, embracing the feel of his name in her mouth, "you have followers in Switzerland, right?"

"Yes," he replied without looking up from his own research.

"Look," she said, carrying her laptop over to him, "this has to be the scarab described in that document, right? It's in a museum in Bern."

"Let me see," Harrow carefully took the computer from her hands and studied the photo on the museum's website. "I think you're right," he said with an inspired smile. "We must act quickly to retrieve it—it's in a traveling exhibit at the Kunstmuseum until the end of the month." He was reading from a blurb under the photo. "After that, it'll be transferred back to the private residence of its owner, a man named Anton Mogart."

"Wouldn't it be easier to rob a private residene than a museum?" asked the Thorn. "Maybe we should wait to go after the scarab until next month."

"Oh, my lamb," Harrow laughed softly, "who ever said we were planning on robbing anyone? We're going to buy the scarab—well, barter for it, to be exact."

"Barter? With what?"

With a sweeping gesture, Harrow indicated the creepy collection of treasures that filled his "man-cave."

"Those? Those are…you know, real?" She'd always assumed they were replicas, if she thought of them at all—which, to be honest, she rarely did.

"Of course. What else would they be?"

"But how did you…I mean, those statues must be expensive as hell!" She knew he had accumulated some wealth over the years (hello, private plane), but to acquire a whole room full of genuine ancient sculptures he would need countless millions, at least.

A shadow crossed Harrow's face. "When I worked for Khonshu, I explored many ancient tombs, temples, palaces, et cetera. I'm very ashamed of it now, of course, but at the time it seemed a bit of a waste to come away empty-handed."

The Thorn was awestruck. "Oh my god," she said, "you were a vandal! A literal 'tomb buster!' …Sorry," she added hastily, seeing the very real shame in his eyes.

"That's correct," he said. "A vandal. But now, I have been blessed with an opportunity to put this sin to use for the greater good. The Kunstmuseum—well, Anton Mogart, to be exact—will doubtless take a few of those ill-gotten treasures in exchange for the scarab."

"Wow," she said, unable to think of anything more fitting to say. "Wow. I mean, this is…this is…"

"Yes," said Harrow. "It is." He closed the laptop and stood up. "I'll send Bobbi and Billy to the museum; they can confirm for us that the scarab is there. Once we have this confirmation, you and I will follow them to Bern and obtain the scarab."

"You and I?"

"Naturally. I would have no one else with me on this most fateful of missions." He stepped forward and took her face in his hands. "My strange, precious little dove."

Reader, in this moment it was harder than ever for the Thorn to tell herself the falsehood that her love for Harrow was unrequited. It took all the self-restraint in her pathetic little heart to avoid his eyes, fearing that if she returned his searing gaze her feelings would suddenly be known to him.

"I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed early."

Harrow leaned toward her. She reflexively closed her eyes in a moment of combined terror and excitement—but the kiss was for her forehead, not her lips.

"Good night, then, my…" Harrow trailed off. He covered his face with a hand and turned away."

That night, the Thorn's unquiet mind presented her with a new dream: She saw the community of the Followers of Ammit in ruins. Rivers of thin leftover smoke streamed in and out of the small blackened towers of brick, and rats were already beginning to pick apart what little flesh remained intact on the charred bodies. She woke with a dry sob, clutching Harrow's shirt to her chest. Turning over, she buried her face in the fabric and lustfully breathed in the scent of him the way a desert castaway might slurp the waters of an oasis.

As her breathing quieted, it gradually dawned on her that things were not right—very wrong, in fact. She remembered, for the first time in years, the terrifying pre-seizure feeling that had overtaken her in the cave as a child. WRONG. This was the same feeling, but no seizure came to relieve it.

Then she heard the distant screams.

With the throbbing premonition that she should not do this, she got up and approached her bedroom windows. She looked down onto the street. Empty. The screams continued—the hall, she realized with a sickening lurch, and tore out of her room and down the stairs. Reader, I don't know why she ran down to the hall. She knew that whatever was causing the screams was likely to be something which she had not the slightest power or expertise to handle on her own. But human nature is exhaustingly predictable, and the "hmm, I wonder what that weirdness could be?" instinct reigns supreme, without fail, above all reason and logic.

The "weirdness," in this case, was a lot of blood, more than the Thorn had ever seen in one place. It splattered the walls, pooled in thick scarlety swamps on the floor, and flowed primarily from the bodies that littered the disastrous scene, most of which were sprawled over the tables, apparently interrupted during a carefree, impromptu late-night meal.

#moon knight #moon knight 2022 #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #arthur harrow x reader #arthur harrow x f!reader #arthur harrow #marc spector #steven grant #khonshu #marvel #mcu #the morning-room #resurgam tmr #resurgam ch5

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsguild #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic

[inevitably-johnlocked]

((my account is @mymiddlenameslove tumblr is still being weird lol)) do you have any fics where john and sherlock hold hands for the first time? i just love the build up/panic that leads to some good fluff thank you (*´∇｀*)

Hi Lovely!!!

Bah, sorry about Tumblr being dumb!!!!

What a fun fic req!! I know for SURE I’ve missed a lot, so these are either fics I remember have hand-holding, are tagged with it, or I’ve just re-read and found it in there :D Hope you Enjoy!!

HAND HOLDING / for COMFORT

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Peacock by ClassyGirlsWearPearls (T, 1,189 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Cranky Sherlock, Soft John, Hand Holding, Soft Sherlock) – A study in Sherlock and John.

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

Random Numbers by songlin (T, 1,671 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock / Straight John, Cuddling / Snuggling, Massage, Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Post-TRF, Slice of Life) – A collection of moments in the relationship of asexual!Sherlock and straight!John.

Giveaway Fic #9 - Angsty Sick Fic/Sherlock is Sick by ConsultingPurplePants (T, 1,734 w., 1 Ch. || Sick Fic, Hypothermia) – The next time he awakens is even more chaotic. Two doctors are shouting at each other in the corner, and John is holding his hand so tightly Sherlock is worried he’ll break it. Part 9 of 1000 Tumblr Followers Giveaway Fics

Once is Enough by Jominerva (T, 3,030 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Whump) – Just as the earth rises to meet the sun at every mountain crest, John reaches out for Sherlock and takes his hand in his own."Tell me it won't end like this," he says, blue eyes holding grey while he laces their fingers together. Sherlock lets out a shaky laugh and shakes his head. "I wish I could."

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Alternating POV, Scottish John, Online Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Holding, Forehead Touching, First Kiss/Time, Texting/Sexting, Rimming, Toplock, Sherlock Speaks French) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w. across 20 stories || Asexual Sherlock / Straight John, Est. Rel, Queerplatonic Relationship, Romance, Cuddling, Fluff, Platonic Romance, Domestics, Rape/Non-Con) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They've been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #holding hands #fluff fics #my fic recs #Anonymous

[the-tiniest-one]

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

#rock lee #might guy x you #might guy relationship #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto fanfiction #might gai imagine #might guy fanfiction #rock lee fanfiction #parenting with maito #rock lee's mom #maito guy #rock lee imagines #rock lee x y/n #team gai

[fiveisnumber1]

The Vortex That Takes Me To You - "Me, Lu, and Five Times Two" Side Story

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32

_________________________

"Wait!" Five called out as he tried to hand you the briefcase

It was too late though as Luther pushed him into the vortex to 2019. As Five held the now-defunct half of the briefcase he fell through time for what felt like a matter of seconds before hitting the ground of the courtyard behind the academy. With a giant flash, the spot in the sky where the blue used to be was now gone. From afar the five known living Hargreeves siblings slowly approached the person who dropped from the sky.  Slowly, Five got up from the ground throwing the broken briefcase away as he dusted the dirt and leaves off his clothing. Approaching closer the group looks on in confusion as Klaus asks,

"Does anyone else see a slightly older version of little number Five or is that just me?"

Five took a look down at himself. His suit was too loose now and when he looked at his hands he saw no more wrinkles or signs of old age. There was a leftover puddle nearby from rain that must've occurred early and as he bent over it he saw the version of himself that he had left only moments ago. Bringing a hand up to his face, he stared at his newly youthful reflection.

"I'm young again." He whispered to himself

At the same time that this was happening you were making your way to the florist to pick up flowers that Pogo had ordered. As you walked to the shop you felt that something was wrong. No, not wrong, but different. From behind you, you felt a molecular disturbance and a giant one at that. As you continued to walk to the shop the physical pain grew so much that you had to stop and bend over. It felt like your insides were being torn apart bit by bit. Somehow managing to turn around you felt the direction it was coming from. It was coming from back towards the house. The pain of the disturbance went on for a few more seconds but then abruptly it stopped. Catching your breath, you stood back up but something felt familiar in a way. It was like an odd chill of deja vu but you had never experienced this before. But if the disturbance was coming from the house then the flowers could wait. Reginald didn't deserve flowers anyway. Quickly, you started sprinting back towards the Academy trying to get there as quickly as you could.

Back at the house, the five Hargreeves siblings sat around the kitchen table as they watched the newly returned Five make a sandwich. It had been years since they had last seen him and a lot had changed in that time. Everyone had their own thoughts and feelings on the matter and some were more upset than others. Five wasn't exactly sure what to say to them after all this time. It was quite a complicated situation to be in. Trying to not let his uncertainty show, Five stoically questioned,

"What is the date? The exact date."

The group stays quiet for a second before Vanya states,

"The 24th."

"Of?" Five pressed

"March," Vanya replies

"Good." Five comments

This was exactly the time that he was planning to be here, on the day of his father's funeral. Thank god that man was dead. If he was alive he would never hear the end of it.

"So are we gonna talk about what just happened?" Luther asks

It was no surprise to Five that Luther would speak up. Even after all this time, he was trying to take the lead on things. Instead of responding to his brother, Five puts two slices of bread down on a cutting board and focuses on his desired food item. He hadn't eaten all day and apparently paradox psychosis was a real energy drainer. He needed a second before he was going to explain anything. Standing up, Luther looks down to Five and states firmly,

"It's been 17 years." 

"It's been a lot longer than that." Five replies immediately jumping behind Luther to find marshmallows

"I didn't miss that." Luther comments

While Five looks around the kitchen for the marshmallows, Diego asks accusingly,

"So where'd you go?"

Of course, an accusatory tone. How could Diego not have one? Five could just tell that Diego was upset not because he had disappeared for years but because he was the one that made you disappear for years. If only the siblings cared for each other as much as Diego cared for you, maybe things would be different. Five didn't have time for Diego's older brother shtick though. Jumping back to the table with the marshmallows, Five bluntly replied,

"The future. It's shit by the way."

"Called it!" Klaus exclaims

Five turned towards the refrigerator to get peanut butter for his sandwich, his mind wandering as he thought back to his time in the apocalypse. 45 years. He was so arrogant to think he could time travel. Grabbing the peanut butter jar, Five talks aloud,

"I should've listened to the old man. You know jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice."

Unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter jar Five looks up from the sandwich he was making and at his siblings before him. The last time he had seen them all together was as corpses. And before that, they were all still children. It was a lot to take in but he was focused on his task of stopping the apocalypse. He had the information he needed on what caused it, but he needed to find the right time to discuss it with everyone. Keeping a stoic look he tries to deflect his mind to something else by commenting to Klaus,

"Nice dress."

"Oh, Danke," Klaus responds playing with some of the loose straps

As he starts to assemble the sandwich he was making Vanya questions him,

"So how did you get back?"

"In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time." Five responds

"That makes no sense," Diego says confused

"Well, it would if you were smarter." Five remarks

Diego angrily stands up and stares down Five attempting to get towards him to attack him. Instead, Luther stands up puts out an arm to hold him back. Honestly, it didn't matter if Luther was there to stop Diego or not. He was all bark and no bite.

"How long were you there?" Luther asks

"45 years." Five states bluntly "Give or take."

Luther and Diego both sit back down in unison. All the siblings stare at their brother with wide eyes in shock at his statement. 45 years?

"So what are you saying? You're 58?" Luther asks

"No. My consciousness is 58. My body is 18 again." Five retorts

With his sandwich put together, Five walks off to the side of the table they all sat around and faces away from his siblings.

"How does that even work?" Vanya inquires

"I used the improper equation when I was forced through time." Five replies

"Improper equation?" Vanya questions

Electing to ignore Vanya's question, Five turns back towards his siblings at the table. There was no reason to explain all that had happened before he came here. It was unnecessary and would probably worry his siblings more than they needed to be, or perhaps even enrage them and there was no way he was going to stop the apocalypse if his siblings weren't willing to work together. Picking up a newspaper detailing the death of his father, Five takes a look at it before commenting unamused,

"Guessed I missed the funeral."

"How did you know about that?" Luther asks

"What part of the future do you not understand." Five remarks to him, his eyes not leaving the paper "Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah," Diego says

"No," Luther adds

Ah, yes. One and Two still fighting to be the leader of the family as if it hadn't been years since the dissolution of the Umbrella Academy.

"Hmm. Nice to see nothing's changed." Five comments

The Hargreeves looked at their newly returned brother and as he stood there quietly, holding his sandwich he stared back awkwardly at his siblings. The prior self that he left in the '60s said that you would show up when the conversation with his siblings felt over. It felt pretty over right now and there was no sign of you. Five's heart started to race, everything had been laid out for him, and now nothing was going according to plan. Panicked, Five decided it was best to leave. Keeping a serious look on his face he started to walk out of the kitchen.

"Uh, that's it? That's all you have to say?" Allison questioned

"What else is there to say?" Five responded

When he was out of sight of his siblings he once again noticed how his suit didn't fit him properly anymore. He needed to change. Flashing upstairs he looked in the closets of his siblings but was met with academy uniform after academy uniform. Reluctantly, he took an academy uniform from Klaus' closet since it looked like it would fit best and put it on. He stared at himself in the mirror for a bit before deciding to head back downstairs.

Making it back to the house, you looked around, and only felt faint traces of a disturbance. Maybe you were going crazy? Heading through the front door you looked around the foyer and some other rooms on the main floor and upper floors but found no one. Maybe they all got in an argument and left, it's not like they enjoyed being here anyway. Letting out a small sigh you made your way back downstairs to the parlor. Someone would probably show up soon enough. You stood in the doorway for a second and stared at the portrait above the fireplace. You had hated the painting at first, but you tolerated its presence after years of coexisting with it. Carefully, you made your way over to the fireplace and looked up at the portrait that loomed over you. It was nothing like him. No light in his eyes, no cocky smile on his face, no personality. Just an emotionless and unrealistic replication of who he was. You wanted him to come back.

As you stared at his portrait, Five had made his way downstairs and took in what had become of his home. As he approached the parlor he saw a giant portrait of him on the wall and below it stood a familiar figure. Five stopped in his tracks and his heart began to race. This was his (Y/N). Five readjusted his jacket and tie and took in a breath before slowly starting to walk over to you. Hearing footsteps behind you, you stopped looking at the painting and turned to look where they came from. Seeing the figure before you, your eyes went wide with shock as the world around felt like it was slowing down. Carefully, you moved forward towards him almost as if in a trance, worried that if you moved too fast he would vanish. You extended your hand out and Five moved to meet you in the middle. When the two of you were close enough your fingertips lightly brushed his cheek, but you quickly pulled back, shocked by the feeling of something there.

"I think I'm hallucinating again," you whisper

Five reaches out and gently grabs the hand you had retracted. Bringing it closer to him he places it on top of his heart, holding your hand there. You can feel his heart beating rapidly beneath your hand as your own started to catch up to match his. You looked up at his face and gazed into his eyes. Tears prick your own as you softly ask,

"Five?"

Five smiled at you as he looked upon your face. You were so beautiful. Not that you weren't in the 60s but the way you looked at him now was different. It was soft and welcoming and felt like it was only for him. Leaning in just a little closer Five whispered to you,

"I'm here."

You let out a small gasp. He was here. This was real. Flinging your arms around him you held him tightly as Five wrapped his arms around to hold you back. No wonder his other self was so protective, who would ever want to let this go? You looked up at Five. A question had loomed on your mind ever since the day he vanished and you had to know the answer.

"Are you still mad at me?" You questioned nervously

Five saw the nervous look on your face. He knew that you had wondered if he was mad at you for a while. It was one of the last things you had said to him before you...died. Five took your face into his hands. Looking gently into your eyes he answered,

"I was never mad at you, to begin with. I was mad at my dad and one of my biggest regrets will always be taking that out on you and then leaving you all alone."

With his response, a weight fell off your shoulders. For so long you had thought you were the one that drove him away. You thought he was mad at you all this time, but to know that wasn't the case made you feel so much better.

"So you didn't purposely stay away?" You asked

"No, how could I ever choose to be away from my best friend?" Five added

You looked off to the side as best as you could, given that your face was held between his hands, and hoped that he didn't notice the blush rising to your cheeks.

"I don't know, but I missed you." You mumbled

Five took his hands from your face and hugged you once more responding,

"I missed you too. Not a day went by when I didn't."

You smiled knowing that Five had missed you as much as you missed him. Day after day, month after month, year after year, you thought of him as you waited for him to come back. And now here he was before you telling you he felt the same way. It was all that you needed to hear. Well...there were other things you wanted to hear but those were more so desires than necessities. You were just happy to have him back.

"Pull that shit again and I'll kill you." You joke as you give him a small shove away

"I promise I won't." Five replies with a smirk "Although I don't think you would kill me anyway."

"Perhaps." You respond

Five threw his hands into the pockets of his academy shorts and looked at you.

"Care to walk and talk around the house?" Five offered

"Of course. Would you like me to turn invisible so you look insane for old times sake?"

"I already look insane in this uniform." Five joked

"You always did. C'mon, let's go." You say extending your hand towards him

Five looks at your hand, almost hesitant to take it because none of this felt real. Even though he had been around you not too long ago back in the 60s, this truly was different. This version of you hadn't seen him since the day he left. Unlike prior you who had experienced being around him, you had waited every day for his return. There was an excitement and awe that he got from you this time around that made him nervous. As Five thought more about the situation before him he froze up. As much as he trusted you when you said that you loved him the way he loved you Five still couldn't help but wonder if his other self just had better circumstances. He still worried that maybe that version really was just lucky. Five didn't want to get this wrong, but nevertheless, he took your hand. Fingers intertwining, there was electricity you both felt but would not tell the other.

With a smile, you started to walk around the house as you had done many times before, both of you trying your best to catch the other up. The conversation came easy as if the two of you were never separated. Five took in the sights of his old home. Nothing had really changed since he left, minus the small presence you had created. There was a newer piano in the parlor and you had shown off your wonderful room to him. He remembered your description of it from your diary and how you changed it from being Diego's to yours but it was even better in person. As you two exited your room Five looked down the hall at a shut door. It was his room. Five made his way there and you followed behind. Carefully, he opened the door to it and stepped inside. Once more you followed behind and thinking that the sight of his childhood room might be tough for him, you shut the door.

As you shut the door though Allison who had been heading to her room happened to pass by and noticed the two of you in there. Something about you two being together again reignited the feelings of her youth. She remembered the times when you and she had traded secrets about your crushes. The gossip in her immediately needed to tell someone else. Turning back around she went downstairs and noticed the rest of her siblings in the parlor again. Approaching them all she said,

"I don't want to alert anyone but Five and (Y/N) went into Five's room and shut the door."

"WHAT?!" Diego shouted as he angrily turned to face her

"Oooh, juicy," Klaus commented "I remember being 18 and hormonal. Horniness levels are through the roof, I mean-"

"NOT ON MY WATCH!" Diego yelled cutting Klaus off

There was no way his baby sister was going to be in a room with a boy alone. Especially not with the boy who had left her alone and broke her heart. What was he going to do? Break it again? Not if he had anything to say about it. With his fists clenched tight Diego started to march his way out of the parlor. He was going to protect his little tiny princess, but as he attempted to go, Luther, with his superior strength, held him back.

"Let me go, Luther!" Diego yelled

"We shouldn't just barge in there Diego." Luther criticizes

"That's MY  little sister!" Diego retorts

"There are better ways of approaching this," Luther replies

"I want to know what's going on though..." Vanya comments

"Me too," Allison adds

As the group stands around debating Ben leans over to Klaus and says,

"Klaus."

"What do you want?" Klaus replies annoyed

"Is that camera we bought as kids still in Five's room?" Ben asks

"Yeah, we never took it out. Why?"

"The tablet to watch the video feed on is in my closet." Ben states

Klaus looks at him confused for a second before realizing what Ben meant. Getting excited Klaus exclaims,

"Guys! Guys!"

The rest of the group looks over to him confused and with all of their attention grabbed Klaus continues,

"The video camera we got as kids is still in Five's room and the tablet is in Ben's closet!"

"Do you think it still even works?" Allison questions

"It's worth a try," Luther says

The group looks at each other before silently nodding in agreement. Together they head up to Ben's room and search for the tablet in his closet. Finding it they turn on the switch and to their surprise, it works. The picture quality was not as great as they remember but clear enough that they all can see what is going on. As they all stand over the tablet Diego says annoyed,

"Alright Five, what are you hiding from me."

"From us." Luther corrects

The two brothers glare at each other before turning their attention back to the tablet and the two of you in Five's room. Five stepped into his room quietly taking in the surroundings. Nothing had changed, it was as if his room was frozen in time. As he looks around you slowly approach his side. Standing next to him you looked around the room as well and comment,

"It's an odd feeling. Knowing that time has passed but everything looks the same."

Five looks towards you. Of course, you knew the feeling he was going through.

"No worries though, we'll get you everything you need to make this place feel like home again." You mention

"I already have everything I need to feel at home." Five replies, his hand holding yours just a little tighter

Five gazes in your direction but as he does so he notices something behind you. Letting go of your hand he steps around you curious and makes his way over to his desk. Looking down at the object placed there he realized that it's the radio he had taken from Allison all those years ago. Confused as to what he was looking at you followed him towards the desk and saw the radio.

"I can't believe it's still here after all this time."  Five comments

"Well we never gave it back and I'm guessing nobody wanted to come take it after..." You mention trailing off

"Yeah..." Five replies before questioning "I wonder if it still works?"

You shrugged your shoulders and gestured to the old electronic encouraging him to see if it worked. Leaning down Five plugs in the old radio before pressing the on button. The sound of static blasts loudly through the speakers causing both of you to flinch back a little in shock. After a moment Five started to turn the knob to tune the radio, searching through for a station that was clear. Soon the static started to fade and in its place music could be heard. 

As the camera continues to spy on the two of you, the rest of the Hargreeves siblings watch what goes on from Ben's room. Seeing the working radio Allison exclaims,

"Hey, it's my radio! I never got it back!" 

"Allison, it's been years and still no one cares about your radio." Klaus comments "We want to know what's up with Five and (Y/N)."

Allison lets out a huff and crosses her arms. Just because it was old and she hadn't been in possession of it or thought about it for years didn't mean it wasn't hers. Even with her pouting, the siblings continued to observe. As they did so Diego aggressively says,

"Alright Five what shit are you going to pull now?"

"I don't think he's going to do anything." Vanya comments "I mean there's nothing wrong with them being happy."

Back in Five's room, music flowed through the air as Five leaned against the edge of his desk, watching you look around the place. He was absolutely enthralled by you. The most mundane of things seemed extravagant just because you were there with him. A wide smile appeared on his face as he remembered a similar time he had spent with you. You took in the room silently as the upbeat music played. It had been a bit since you'd last been in Five's room, but for the first time in a while it felt warm and bright again. Looking over your shoulder you looked back towards Five and noticed the smile on his face.

"What?" You questioned 

"Nothing." Five replied with a shake of his head

"Nothing? The mind of Five Hargreeves is completely empty?" You joke sarcastically "This is something I'd expect from your brothers, not you."

Five rolled his eyes at you but he missed your quick wit. No one at the commission could keep up with him like you could. As you walked back over to him, Five could see the look on your face waiting for him to elaborate. 

"I was just thinking-" Five starts to explain before being cut off

"Ah, so you were thinking!" You comment back

"Yes." Five replies letting out a small laugh "I was thinking about how this reminds me of our friendiversary a bit."

"Yeah, kind of, minus the food and flowers." You reply 

You were right, there was no food and flowers. How could he even think to compare the two times when this time wasn't as perfect? Quickly standing up from the desk, Five starts to make his way over to the door as he states worried,

"Do you want food and flowers?" 

Reaching out, you grab his hand preventing him from going any further. Stopping in his tracks he looks back towards you confused at your action. Gently, you pull his hand back towards you, causing him to come back close to you. With his hand still in yours, Five asks confused,

"Do you not want food and flowers?"

"No, Five."  You replied with a smile "I just want you."

For a moment, Five could feel his heart stop. Although his expression seemed calm and collected, internally he had no clue what to do. He was so preoccupied trying to figure out how to get back to 2019 so he could stop the apocalypse that he never stopped to think fully about what would happen when he actually did so. And it wasn't until he met himself that he even found out being a teenager again was a possibility. This was the most unprepared he had ever been and the nerves he felt on your friendiversary were nothing compared to the nerves he felt now. If you didn't want food or flowers then what could he do? And then from the radio, he heard the voice of the announcer,

"This is Arlo Vegas with 103.5 WKTU. I hope that even with all the doom and gloom outside today everyone can stay high and dry. Up next, a throwback to 2017 this is Adore by Dean Lewis."

I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm I'm just gonna walk home kicking stones at parked cars But I had a great night, 'cause you kept rubbing against my arm So I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm

Five looked towards the radio as the sound of a soft guitar slowly playing and the lyrics of the song enveloped the room. As the music played he remembered the part of your friendiversary that he could never forget. He remembered how the two of you danced that night and the joy he felt in that moment. Looking back towards you he nervously asked,

"Would you like to dance...with me?"

"I'd love to." You replied longingly

Five guided you the few steps towards the center of his room taking a quiet breath as he tried to calm his nerves. How did he do this so easily as a child? Oh right, he didn't realize he was in love with you then. Turning back to face you he saw as your eyes lit up and your smile widened. So much for breathing when you took his breath away so easily. Gently, he took one of your hands in his as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. You wrapped your free arm around his neck as the two of you slowly started to dance to the music.

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm I adore you

"So is this what your prom was like last week?" Five asked 

You looked up towards him slightly confused. How did he know about your prom? It took you a second to remember but you then recalled that he had come from the future so he had to have found out about it somehow. You recalled your prom only a week ago, it was fun to be with your friends but it was definitely not the same experience as dancing with Five. With a slight chuckle, you answer.

"No, it was not like this."

"Oh, why not?" Five questions

"Well dancing with you is quite different than dancing with Dean, because neither of us had dates and we pitied each other." You explained

"I wish I could've come a week earlier then. I would've saved you the pity by dancing with your brother." Five joked

"Wow, okay." You laughed

"I'm joking." Five explained, his expression softening as he added "I'd never pass up a chance to dance with you."

"Neither would I." you replied quietly

All of my money is spent on these nights, just so we can hang out Spacing in and out of your dresses, I wanna be found by you Found by you

As the two of you swayed you couldn't help but rest your head against his chest. A small smile appeared on your face as you closed your eyes and comfortably melted into the moment. Unconsciously, you started to stroke the hair at the back of his head casing Five to lean into your touch. It was so gentle and soft. Five could feel his heart start to pick up its pace. He hoped that you couldn't hear so because he had no clue how he would explain it to you. Granted, he knew all the words he wanted to say to you but he didn't know if he'd even be able to get them out. 

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm I adore you, I adore you

As your head rested on top of him a thought came to your mind. It was something that you hadn't done in a while and something you had desired to do. Lifting your head up, you look towards Five who looks back down towards you. Had he done something wrong? Did you hear how fast his heart was beating? Quietly you ask,

"Will you spin me?"

Relief washes over Five's system as he gives you a soft smile.

"Of course I will," He replies

Slightly breaking away from you he helps to twirl you around, the smile on your face filling his heart to the point he felt it was going to burst. Your laughter filled the room as you enjoyed your time with your best friend. You couldn't think of anything to make the moment better. Five spins you back in towards him before spinning you out once more. As you spin out quickly your grip on his hand slips and you start to fall back. Quickly, Five flashes over and catches you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as yours find their way around his neck. 

She kicks the gutter in tight shorts, basketball courts Watch me, watch her talk to boys I'm known as a right-hand slugger Anybody else wanna touch my lover?

The two of you look at each other both trying to catch your slight breaths from the burst of adrenaline that just occurred. 

"I told you I wasn't going to let you fall." Five comments

It was too late for that though. You had fallen for him years ago in a situation exactly like this one. There was something different about it this time, an energy you had never felt before. Your eyes were still locked on each other he slowly brought you back up. The soft bridge of the song played in the back but all either of you could hear was the beating of your own hearts. Wrapped up tightly in each other's arms there was no space between the two of you. Each of you wanted to say so many things, wanted to shout the thoughts that raced in your mind, the ones you always had, but no words came out. As Five stood there with you in his arms he finally started to understand what you meant back in the 60s when you said the pieces would fall into place. Everything about this moment felt right like it was meant to be. Like he was meant to be here with you. As you continued to look into each other's eyes there was a magnetism that pulled you closer. Your faces inched closer as the space between you lessened more and more. For a moment you both wondered if you were dreaming but no, this was real. You were here with each other. And as the climax of the final verse hit, your eyes closed as your lips gently pressed against each other.

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm Just to adore you

Tenderly, you both expressed everything you wanted to tell the other without saying any words at all. The years of pining and longing to be reunited had finally culminated into something beautiful. Something you both had desired for a very long time. The world around you faded away leaving only the two of you and your newly acknowledged love for each other. Removing his arms from your waist he took your face in his hands, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He never wanted to leave this moment. This was all he ever wanted, this is what he survived and fought for and now to have it? It felt unreal to him. But it was real. He had you, and you had him, and nothing would ever take that away now.

I adore you

Neither of you wanted to be the first to part from the kiss but as the final lyric of the song ended the two of you slowly separated. With eyes still closed, you rested your foreheads against each other, relishing in the beautiful moment. As Five held you close, he knew he needed to tell you something. Even if he had expressed it in his kiss to you, he wanted to verbalize it, to make it know and make it real. Moving one of his hands from your cheek to your chin, he tilted your face up to look at him. As he gazed into your eyes, with adoration in his voice, he whispered,

"I love you, (Y/N)."

You could feel your stomach flutter with butterflies as you processed his words. There was nothing you wanted to hear more than those words. Finally getting to express how you felt, you replied breathlessly,

"I love you too, Five. You know what this means now though."

"What?" Five questioned

"You can never leave me again." You answer

"I promise nothing will ever tear us apart again. Not people, not distance, not time, nothing." 

The two of you looked at each other lovingly before leaning in for another kiss. As you did so the siblings in the other room saw everything. 

"Awww," Vanya said as she placed a hand over her heart

"They're so cute!" Allison exclaimed

"They are not!" Diego remarks angrily as he tries to make his way to the door "I'm going to go in there and stop him."

"Luther, stop him." Allison requests

Doing as she says, Luther wraps his arms around Diego from behind and picks him off the ground. Kicking his legs and wriggling around, Diego fights like a child trying to escape Luther's grasp.

"That is my little princess! I need to put a stop to this!" Diego complains

"She is 18, you need to let her live her life," Allison replies

"Not with him! The one who ruined it." Diego retorts

"I don't think she sees it that way," Vanya interjects

As the other siblings argue with Diego, Ben leans over to Klaus and states,

"If I was alive you would owe me $20 bucks right now. I told you they'd come back and get together before Allison and Luther would."

"Oh, shut up," Klaus replies

The rest of the group looks over to Klaus before looking back at the still flailing Diego.

"Klaus makes a good point. You need to drop this and shut up Diego." Allison states

"I will not!" Diego replies back

"If you don't calm down, drop the issue, and let them be happy I will rumor you into doing so." Allison threatens

It takes a moment but Diego soon stops his fighting. He was not going to be rumored into ignoring the situation but for now, he would put it off. Letting out a huff, Diego relents,

"Fine."

"Good, now let's shut down this camera and just leave them be. We can talk to them later." Luther commands as he puts Diego back down

And so as the siblings tried to quietly file out of Ben's room and go off to do other things, this version of Five and you stayed happily together ready to take on whatever the future threw at them.

____________________________________

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @sunsetcurve-1995 @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @shadowycreationcupcake @emily-hargreeves @metor-showers1994 @fivehargreevesforthewin @rinko-san @supernovavision @cicilisthebest @flickbix @hi-v-juice @magykal-777 @zosiaduda @thethirdwheelfriend @mysticracoon @isnt-it-loverly @officiallydarkgeek @lady1505 @always-the-very-worst @tinypandagirl @libidinexx @lemongrabbuns @itwasallred @deadandoverit @shlokage @keksi249 @theoriginalkat @we-stan-fiction @bi-idiot-fanfics @annnagennnie @izzyjojo4 @megasimpleplan4ever @flowertoty @grabthemoneyandletsgo @itsametaphorbriansblog @vanillacaramelhoney @satvaldiva @disaster-magician @margotsfandoms @emily-b-m @bluechildrenlickmytoes @soft-slytherin-sweetie @oceanspray5 @im-here-for-fanfics @thebloodrobin @freestarlight @starcurrent @lilacs-lavender @moatsnow @give-the-boy-a-hug @narikyuwu @whenyouregrungeaff @gabriella-aesthetic @xxtwizztedxx

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #umbrella acedmy #tua #tua2 #UA #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy five

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

Animal Companion (RATLD-October Prompt)

Another AU where Namaari didn't try to steal the dragon gem.

I will upload it to A03 eventually.

Timeline: Still 12 years old

Warnings: None

"Pleaseeeee," Raya pouted as she sat at the end of her Ba's bed, clutching a letter close to her chest.

"Dewdrop, it's too early for this," Benja huffed as he shifted onto his side, maintaining his eyes closed. He knew the moment he opened his eyes and looked at his daughter, she would win. "I can't just drop everything and accompany you to Fang today."

"BUT--" Raya pouted as she jerked her body up and down, making the whole bed shake.

"What's so important that you woke me up before the sunrise? Only to ask me to take you to Fang?" He asked as he frowned his eyebrows at Raya's tantrum.

"Namaari is choosing her serlot cub today, and I just really want to be there for her" Raya cut herself off, scared of the personal information she accidentally shared, "I MEAN I want to meet the cub." 

Benja yawned as one eyelid blinked open. Raya looking directly at him, with a pout on her lips, puppy dog eyes, and both hands clasped together at her chest, pleading with him. 

"Tuk Tuk needs a friend! Look at his sad face," Raya said, then pointing to her lap.

Benja finally allowed both his eyelids to open as his gaze fell to Raya's lap. The pill bug also looking up at him with pleading eyes as he silently grunted. "UGHHH," He growled as he shifted to laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. 

Raya knew her Ba was caving; he just needed a little push. "I realllyyyy think traveling to Fang will give us more time to bound, as the trip there and back is somewhat long by foot..." She grinned as she watched her Ba close his eyes, gulping. "I get to met a serlot cub, and you make up for all the bonding time we've missed this week BECAUSE of your busy schedule."

Benja sat up, a broad grin on his face. "Ohhh, you're good." He chuckled as he nodded yes, Raya screaming in her joy, "I'll take you, but I have to arrange a few things before we go."

Raya nodded her head happily as she threw herself onto her Ba, planting a massive kiss on his cheek.

---

"Are you excited, Morning Mist?" Virana asked, reaching out and brushing her daughters hair out of her face. Namaari only looking back at her with such excitement.

"So excited!" She purred

"Princess Namaari" Atitaya voice announced, "Cheif Virana, You have vistors."  

Namaari had her back towards the General, but she watched as a wide grin appeared on her mother's face. "Ohh Chief Benja, and Raya! Welcome! It's a pleasure to see you both!"

No sooner had Namaari heard Raya's name had she fallen face down onto the floor, Raya having tackled her from behind. Everywhere Raya was touching, pulsing with a warmness that made Namaari's heart smile.

Raya lifted herself off Namaari, sitting off to the side, smiling as the other sat up looking at her. 

"Dep La! You came?" Namaari asked in disblief. 

Raya only smirked as her most trusted companion rolled off her shoulder onto Namaari's lap. 

Namaari using one hand to gently scratch his forehead as the other massaged his shell tenderly. "Of course! I couldn't miss the day you met your second best friend" Namaari's smile turned into a smirk as her eyebrows went up, challenging Raya's words.

"Who's my first?" Raya gasped as she let a hand fall against her heart.

"I'll just walk back home then," Raya taunted, but she had no intention of leaving.

"Kidding!" They sat on the floor, looking at each other, just smiling at the other. They've been communicating through letters for weeks, so now being able to see each other in person felt like the first sip of ice-cold water on a hot day.

"Princess," Atitaya announced once again, "It's time."

Both girls squealed as Namaari scooped Tuk Tuk into the palms of her hands, standing up. Once Raya was on their feet, she allowed Tuk Tuk to roll onto her shoulder again. Both of them grinning from ear to ear. "I bet I can get there faster than you," Raya stated with a bobbed eyebrow.

"Challenge accepted," Each of them exchanging a glare as they got into their running stance. "1...2...GO," both girls zooming off in opposite directions, as they didn't know where they were headed. 

After realizing none would win, they slowly jogged back to, Atitaya, Virana, and Benja. Who were engaged in conversation, patiently awaiting the return of the silly princesses.

---

"Aren't you a cutie," Raya purred as she held a female serlot up to her face, rubbing her nose against the kittens.

Namaari was happy; she was having a blast sitting on the floor, surrounded by several kittens, but she couldn't feel a connection. Or a spark. And the longer she sat there petting them, taking in their kitten breath, the more guilty she became. "I can't do this." She exclaimed as she lightly pushed three kittens off her lap, standing up running towards the door.

"Morning, Mist! What's wrong?" Virana said, beginning to chase behind her daughter only to be stopped by Benja gently gripping her arm. Virana raising her eyebrows at him as he motioned with his head towards Raya. Virana instantly understating to allow Raya to handle the outburst.

Raya had instantly placed the kitten down, running after Namaari. Yet as she was about to leave the nursery, she spotted a separate room with even younger serlots. She smiled as she instead walked into the room, looking at the four kittens, her eyes landing on the runt of the litter. 

Raya watched as the other siblings tried to gang up on it, only for the runt to hiss and protect herself. That's when Raya knew that kitten was meant to be Namaari's. So without thinking, she scooped up the kitten and ran for the door. She knew she would be in deep trouble for catnapping the kitten, but Raya had to do this for Namaari.

When Namaari exited the nursery, she walked over to a bench and sat down, throwing her head in her hands. She was overwhelmed by the cuteness, but nothing was clicking into place. She thought that she would feel something within her when she saw a kitten or even held it. Yet, she felt like she was cuddling and playing with someones else pets.

"The Namaari I know never runs away! What happened" Raya announced behind Namaari, watching her shoulders go up and down with every breath. 

Namaari shrugged as she exhaled loudly, disappointed in herself.

Raya chuckled as she stood right behind the other, lowering her voice. "You missed a couple of faces on your way out." Raya gently brought the kitten down on Namaari's head, who seemed startled. "She wanted to meet you, but you left so fast she couldn't say hi," Raya whispered as she brought the cat back up.

After having felt tiny paws on her head, Namaari quickly turned around, finding Raya holding the most petite kitten in her hands. The kitten wasn't very happy with Raya, hissing and scratching her hands as if the cat didn't want to be held.

Suddenly the kitten looked at her, and she felt a desire to hold it and keep it safe. So she reached out, grabbing it from Raya's hands. 

The moment she held the cat within her grasp, the serlot sprung into action, scratching her across the cheek. Instead of getting mad, Namaari chuckled. The kitten didn't attempt to strike her again but did continue to hiss. Even so, Namaari watched the kitten with understanding eyes, realizing the kitten was acting in self-defense, scared that Namaari was going to hurt her.

That's when the pieces made sense. This kitten was no older than a month, but she was extremely small, meaning she was the runt of the pack. Being so tiny makes her a target to her siblings, resulting in her being forced to protect herself from danger.

"It's okay! I'm not going to hurt you," Namaari whispered as she slowly pet the kitten. Its hissing increasing as its back arched, yet Namaari wasn't about to give up.

As the slow movements weren't working, Namaari placed the serlot on her lap. The kitten now tugging and biting on her clothing. She knew this should upset her, but she couldn't help but smile, thinking the whole exchange was adorable.

"Hmmm," she thought out loud as she clicked her tongue. "Of course," she thought as she brought her fingers behind the cat's ear, scratching it with her long nails. Within seconds the serlot had stopped hissing and tugging at her clothes, only purring in contentment. Finally, Namaari had connected with her new companion. 

Raya had watched the whole exchange and had just decided to sit beside the other, her hands occupied by petting Tuk Tuk, "So what are you naming your feisty kitten?" 

Namaari was okay with the rest of the world, seeing this kitten as feistily, maybe a little rude, but Namaari knew that there was a softness in this cat that she was going to enjoy unveiling over time: A softness that would only exist for her. And that was enough. "Thuy"

"That's beautiful," Raya comments as she reaches for the kitten. She was half expecting the serlot to hiss, bite or even starch her but instead, Thuy licked her, "You are gentle, making the name perfect for you." 

The princesses having no knowledge that Thuy would grow to be ice cold to everyone besides Namaari, Raya, and Tuk Tuk, while only tolerating Virana. So to the rest of Kumandra, the name Thuy was unfitting. 

--

I don't feel strongly about this piece, as I wrote it with a massive headache; even so, I'm just happy I completed it!

#ratld October #day 3 #ratld prompt #ratld #ratld raya #ratld Namaari #ratld incorrect quotes #raya and the last dragon #raya namaari #namaari raya #raya x namaari #Namaari x Raya #namaari #raya #rayamaari #raymaari #rayaari #chief benja #chief virana #general atitaya

[thesleepiesthufflepuff]

My Favorite Fics 2020

Alrighty. I read a decent amount of fanfiction this year (mostly thanks to Wizards Hearts/Game of Drarry), and I’m here to list out some of my very favorites. Thank you to all of the creators out there who put so much time, effort, and energy into creating beautiful stories, and here’s to lots of reading in the new year 💜 also, this is in no particular order and all rec notes are from my personal fic tracker spreadsheet (if anyone wants details on how I set up my spreadsheet, etc. please feel free to send an ask!) 💕

1) Change on the Horizon by Static_abyss / @static-abyss [Explicit, 118.6k,]

When things settle down after the war, Harry has trouble figuring out who he’s supposed to be and what’s expected of him. At the same time, Draco finds himself having to decide between what his parents want and what he wants for himself. Together, Harry and Draco embark on a journey to figure out who they are as individuals and what that means for their future together.

A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless.

Hands down one of the best fics I've ever read. Ana did the most amazing job at translating Micky and Ian's relationship to Harry and Draco, although it’s definitely not necessary to know Shameless in order to enjoy the story. The writing is stunning, and I loved every single bit of this

2) I’ll Play Your Game by JayseHasNoGrace [Mature, 52.2k]

After quitting the Auror department at the ripe old age of twenty two, Harry Potter finds a nice, uneventful job in an apothecary. At least, it's uneventful until his old rival Draco Malfoy comes into the shop.

They strike up an unlikely friendship, which evolves into an increasingly convoluted scheme, which then snowballs spectacularly out of control into a tangle of lies and blurred lines.

They'd agreed to a fake relationship — in Harry's case, to get the wizarding world to take him off his 'perfect saviour' pedestal, and in Draco's case, just to be given a chance in wizarding society at all — but neither of them expected just how difficult that might really turn out to be. Especially when the stakes grow ever higher, and they both start falling for each other. Just a little bit.

FAKE DATING!!! Ugh, this was so good. I love the media aspect of it, and the way that everything comes together is just brilliant. A must-read for anyone who loves fake dating!!

3) I Can be Your Lighthouse by orpheous87 / @orpheous87 [Teen, 4k]

When Harry gets called to investigate reports of Dark magic, the last thing he expects to find is an almost unconscious Draco Malfoy. After multiple instances, he resolves to find out what's going on.

inspired by the song The Lighthouse by The Used.

So, so sweet. I love Harry's determination to figure out what's going on. This is such a lovely fic, and I enjoyed every minute of it

4) Freedom to be by Quicksilvermaid / @quicksilvermaid [Explicit, 169.5k]

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.

12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.

Only nothing feels perfect.

Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

This left such an impact on me, and it’s a fic I think about often. I can't even begin to explain how incredible everything about this is.

5) Dear Diary by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix) [Teen, 20.4k]

// This can’t possibly go worse than the last time I kept a diary. //

After the war, Harry picks up a journal to write in… and it writes back. Luckily, it’s not a Horcrux on the other end this time.

Absolutely amazing. The relationship that develops between Harry and Draco as they write to each other was so soft and wonderful, and I would easily read 100k of this!

6) Grounds for Divorce by Tepre [Explicit, 122.2k]

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

I loved this. It was so angsty at times, but well worth it. An absolute classic that I’m so pleased to be able to say I’ve read.

7) Nero Su Bianco by Zuzallove [Explicit, 40.5k]

September 1997. Hogwarts is under the regime of Voldemort and the Carrows. Finding himself alienated by both his friends and his supposed enemies, Draco puts quill to parchment, and writes letters. He addresses them to the only person he can think of, as Hogwarts rapidly falls into chaos and ruin: Harry Potter. He goes to great lengths to ensure the letters are never discovered, and he’s pretty certain he’s done a great job.

Until the day of his trial.

The letters were so much fun to read, even though they were heartbreaking at times. I loved Draco’s characterization in this, as well as how his relationship develops with Harry.

8) Thunder by Keyflight790 [Explicit, 21.5k]

The storm will disappear; the rain will subside; but what's left in its wake will last forever. A story of love and loss, redemption and thunder

I really loved how well Draco's addiction was written. I'm not a huge fan of past relationships, but this was done in such a beautiful way. Plus, talking to dragons!!!

9) dirtynumbangelboy by magpie_fngrl [Explicit, 39.4k]

After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

Amazing. This has absolutely sucked me into the world of fake dating. I could ramble about this forever, to be honest. Simply incredible, and I love how snarky their relationship was. It was the epitome of a good Drarry fic.

10) just tell me when it’s alright by M0stlyVoid / @bonesliketambourines [Explicit, 23k]

Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

YES!! I genuinely loved Harry’s clinginess. This fic was absolutely amazing, and the secret dating was lovely. Plus, bi awakening!!

11) When Hippogriffs and Pygmy Puffs Collide by oldenuf2nb [Mature, 32.7k]

Harry Potter bakes cakes, brilliantly. Draco Malfoy inks tattoos, brilliantly. Owls deliver post, including messages from clients, with an occasional lack of brilliance.

I was really surprised at how much I loved this, especially since I’ve not really read many fics with odd jobs. I absolutely adored the fact that Harry was a baker and Draco was a tattoo artist, and the characterizations were absolute perfection

12) You Send Me (Honest You Do) by firethesound [Explicit, 37k]

As far as potion accidents go in general, and deaging incidents go in particular, Draco knew this could have been so much worse. Harry only lost about ten years, and all his memories are still intact. But the sight of him looking as if he’s stepped straight out of Draco’s Hogwarts memories has dredged up a whole mess of complicated feelings Draco thought he’d buried years ago, and Draco really doesn’t know what to do with any of it.

I absolutely adored this, and I thought the de-aging aspect was done is such a tasteful way. Such a good read.

13) Highly (in)Compatible by daisymondays [Teen, 36.8k]

Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it?

I LOVED THIS! Oh man, that ending!  Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant

14) Kiss the Joy (Until the Sun Rise) by ICMezzo [Mature, 37.8k]

The Room of Requirement was severely damaged in the war, but not so much that it could not provide for one lost student and another young hero—especially when they needed each other most of all.

An amazing, beautiful, tender fic! The ROR has given them the gift of each other, and I honestly love that it's just the two of them and no other characters. An incredible and soft read

15) December Never Felt So Wrong by MaesterChill / @maesterchill [Explicit, 50k]

'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side.

All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there.

Truly brilliant, and I was laughing from the start. The combination of the aging up, Harry’s off-tune singing to Muggle songs, and soft parenthood were all things I immediately fell in love with. Will be reading again and again

16) Catch Me If I Fall by keeli_marie [Explicit, 38.2k]

When Draco Malfoy collides with Harry Potter one morning while dropping the kids off at school, things don’t go quite the way either of them would have expected.

Another absolute gem, and I'm still reeling from how amazing it was. I'm always a bit hesitant with kid fics, but this is one of the best depictions of love between Harry and Draco that I've read. I love how supportive Astoria is. Such a lovely fic  

16) Love Found by Peachpety / @peachpety [Explicit, 7.5k]

During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love.

SUCH a good rewrite of the astronomy tower scene. I can’t describe how much I love the pre-existing relationship, which is a trope I typically steer clear from. And the snark!!! Such a good fucking fic

17) Taro Milk Tea with a side of Depression by Veelawings / @veelawings [Mature, 1k]

Draco sat through twenty grievous minutes of Ministry-mandated group therapy for Newly Registered Magical Beings & Creatures — then promptly stormed out.

Okay, I loved this. The play format was so cool and fit the narration so well. Absolute perfection and SO. GOOD.

18) The Dragon At The Bottom Of The Garden by Zopno [Explicit, 52.3k]

At 25 Harry Potter's life was simple; he flew, sculpted, and had the vault in the back of his mind to keep all unpleasant business. It was stable, but when Draco Malfoy literally hit him with a giant rock; all that changed.

I loved the storyline, especially Animagus bird Harry!! This was such a unique take on an Animagus and post-war fic, and I loved reading it so much   

19) Exposure by GallaPlacidia [Mature, 26.9k]

When Seamus uncovers Draco Malfoy's camboy profile, he, Harry and Ron decide to anonymously book a private show so as to humiliate him later. Fascinated by Draco's confidence, Harry keeps booking private shows under the disguise...

Self prompt: Draco is a camboy. Harry betrays him.

I can't give this enough praise. The hurt of it all was so brilliant. A new favorite for sure

20) you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass [Mature, 20.7k]

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Fuck. Like...fuck. This was so sad and angsty and perfect in all the right ways. Watching everything unfold was so painful but so worth it. Another new favorite

21) A Room Up There (And You In It) by thestarryknight [Teen, 59.2k]

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

Absolutely fucking fantastic. This fic reads intimacy all over, despite there being no sex. I love preservationist Draco and the way in which information about Harry unfolds. I can’t say enough how much I loved this advent fic, and Starry did such a great job

And now for three fics that I have yet to read/need to emotionally prepare myself for:

1) Modern Love by Tackytiger / @tackytigerfic [Explicit, 61.2k]

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t?

Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years.

And that’s what starts it all.

2) Dragons Don't Know Paradise by  tainara_black / @teacup-tai [Explicit, 50.9k]

In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

This is a story about falling in love online and about facing the reality of death, but above all, this is a story about hope, finding love and acceptance. (Non-magical / bookshop AU, written for the 25 days of Drarry 2020)

3) Aeternus Solem by onbeinganangel / @onbeinganangel [Explicit, 36.9k]

On December 1st, Harry Potter gets sent halfway across the world to attempt to break a possibly fatal curse on an unnamed British Unspeakable — except said Unspeakable is not unnamed at all and Harry has been in love with him for over four years.

{If anyone spots any mistakes in this list, PLEASE let me know! I hope you all have a lovely New Year’s, and may 2021 be less of a dumpster on fire than its predecessor 💜}

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #drarry fanfiction #drarry fic recs #drarry favorites #fay recs

[moth-based-cryptology]

HELLO BESTIE I am currently having Ralbert Brainrot and you're the best person go come to for this, obviously,, so PLEASE share! I would like to hear about ufc albert or youtuber race, or dancing partners!! I love them smm

HI YES HELLO USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE UFC FIGHTER AL PART 2 THANKS BABES

i just witnessed a literal crime and i’m Feeling The Rage (boxing judges at mma events can catch these hands) so here is. my brain on anger.

also the first half of this is pretty fight-talk heavy but the second half is more al/ralbert central so message me/send me an ask if i don’t explain something well enough <3

here is the ask i sent to @we-are-inevitable (thanks jac i’m in love with you mwah) and here is part 1 for this au if you haven’t read that one yet !!

also,,,,, this is fairly obvious. but trigger warning for violence/physical fighting, as well as blood. (it’s a rough gig y’all fjdhdb) oh and swearing but that’s pretty much just me LMAO

here i am, bein mad and writing ralbert. therapy time with chandler ig

OK SO

this is after his debut. duh. continuation

i think he’s probably 5 fights in with 5 wins. he’s been running people through, especially with four full camps after a short notice start, and he’s never even seen a decision in the ufc

let’s just say the hype train is moving FAST and it’s moving LOUD

everyone has to have those people that watch their fights just to see them lose, on top of the majority male fan base that have to have a little bit of toxic masculinity and homophobia in there

so there’s A LOT of people that are waiting for him and his hype train to get derailed. but there’s also a fair amount of fans, so you win some you lose some (the way i would die to see this be a real fighter pls)

now albert’s not always the most confident guy, and he’s never been cocky, but none of this shit gets to him. he’s got his coaches, he’s got his friends and he’s got race behind him. he knows he’s got the skills, and he’s got his support system, so who gives a shit what a bunch of cowards on the internet have to say?

and then they put him against someone known for his grappling and stamina. and the “it’s a wrap for dasilva!” bandwagon starts. it happens every time a rising striker and early knockout artist fights a well known grappler with any semblance of later round power (even if al has a background in wrestling and has gone 5 rounds and won outside of the ufc. it’s a bandwagon for a reason)

and it’s not Upsetting, it’s not really getting into his head in any way that’ll make him do worse, but it’s kinda pissing him off. which is bad for his opponent

the last person on earth you want to be fighting is an annoyed albert dasilva who thinks he has something to prove

he works his ass off in camp, and the press tour is a self-assured albert vs. a loudmouth who thinks he’s hot shit cause a few people on twitter think he’ll sweep

and, to be completely honest? it’s starting to look that way 2 rounds in.

it’s a 5 round fight, co-main event on a big card, and so far all al’s opponent has done is pinned him to the cage and kept him there. a few strikes worth anything - at least enough make al’s cheek bleed, no takedowns, which would at least give him some activity, and so submission attempts, so he can’t even gain any ground that way. he’s just- Stuck. and if THIS is how he loses, he’s gonna be pissed

the bell for the second round sounds, and you can actually see al’s chest heaving on camera as he walks to his corner - not because he’s tired or out of breath, but because he’s MAD, and fuck if he’s not going to do something about it

not only that, but he can not only see race and jack standing up by the cage - plus race’s expression, which is slightly annoyed and super anxious, which hurts his chest to think about - but he can hear them too

jack is yelling profanities, as per usual. he doesn’t that regardless of how the fight is going, but it’s less encouraging when you’re the one losing.

race though,,,, race isn’t really yelling, he’s more talking to himself than anything, but he’s close enough to cage and al knows him well enough to figure out what he’s saying. and if the muttered almost-prayers while he paces back and forth weren’t enough, the shiny gold engagement ring on race’s hand definitely is

round 3,,,, let’s just say it goes a little differently than the first 2 had gone.

he opens with a spinning back kick, of all fucking things, and that truly sets the pace

he’s the taller guy by a few inches, like usual, which makes his arms longer. the only reason crushing his against the cage worked is cause the guy he’s fighting cuts weight like a wrestler, so he’s easily got 20 pounds on albert come fight night

but once he finds his rhythm and starts throwing, he starts connecting too. he manages to stay out of range of his opponent and stay his comfortable distance to start t-ing off

this isn’t a one punch power ending. this isn’t a beautiful head kick, or a giant knee, or even just a clean right hook.

this is albert, who’s arms are starting to feel the 3rd round a little bit, hitting this guy with everything he has cause he refuses to lose this fight.

i mean- everyone watched him get up at the start of the round with a set jaw and a scary determined glint in his eye. he’s not a person you fuck with, and he’s definitely not a person you publicly ridicule before being locked in a cage to fight with

the guy he’s fighting is absolutely battered, but he manages to survive until round 4. the first of the championship rounds, something al’s never seen in a ufc fight before, and it feels like the arena is holding its breath

so when al comes out and does the same thing as round 3 to better results - fight ending results - everyone’s a little shocked, honestly

the commentary team’s in disbelief, cause albert is NOT a slow starter, regardless of what this fight would tell you, and the fact he managed a win at all, let alone such a phenomenal one, is fucking astounding

he gets his hand raised, obviously, but the really interesting part is the post fight interview

“albert, man, what changed between round 2 and 3? what second gear did you find?”

“bro, i just— it was pissing me off, honestly. i don’t come in here to get pinned down for 25 minutes. and, y’know, my team gave me good advice. i had all the pieces, straight from the jump, someone just had to force me to put them in place…”

and then he looks over at race, who gives al one of those half grin, half smirks and winks at him, and al just chuckles to himself and finishes answering the question

“the thing that really forced my hand is race. i won’t get cheesy on you, but watching someone who loves and supports you through everything panic cause he’s scared for you - it’s a big motivator. everyone would figure out a lot more of my motivations if they went and watched race’s expressions back instead of whatever the hell i’m doing in here. he’s always been the brains, i’m just the brawn.”

and that’s a better answer than anyone was expecting, plus he’s just had the fight of a lifetime that’s probably earned him a title shot, so he’s done soon after that and gets to have his little in-cage celebration

he hugs his team and jack, who razzes him a little bit as per usual, and makes some dumb quip about going over tapes later like he’s a coach. and then comes race

he hugs him, all tender and cute and also very sweaty cause That’s How It Works, and the camera’s focused on him, so they can tell they’re whispering back and forth. but there’s no mics on them, so what’s said is missed entirely on the audience, but it’s their usual cheesy, in love mess

“congrats, baby. i’m proud of you.”

“oh please. it was 90% you anyway. i meant what i said, it wasn’t just for the cameras.”

“i know that. i’m gonna have to get you back somehow for telling everyone to go back and watch my awful anxious expression. i’ll think of something.”

“i’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

and then al does that awful, adorable lil nose bump thing, and then kisses race. and then jack covers his eyes and whines until they stop like the actual 12 year old boy he is inside

and then they leave the octagon, race and al holding hands, and al throws his arm over jack’s shoulder and shoves his head down and pushes him, cause even though he was just in a literal cage match he’s still a roughhousing teenager at heart

and he’s got interviews and press shit that separates him from his people, and he’s gotta slide that bulletproof mask back down over all the happy and in love shit he’s feeling so he can not smile like an idiot on camera constantly

but every once in awhile he’ll catch jack giving him the finger and laugh before returning it below view of the camera

or he’ll catch race’s eye from where he’s standing behind all the studio lights and do a little wave under the camera and return the wink from earlier, and the unbothered fighter facade will crack a little bit

but he’s not completely convinced that’s such a bad thing

GOD THIS POST IS SO MUCH LONGER THEN I MEANT IT TO BE IM SORRY

but Yeah. Them.

i love this au a helleva lot more than i should but that’s Fine cause i’ve got thoughts for days on it

#newsies #livesies #never not read the tags #albert dasilva #ufc fighter al #mma fighter al #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #ralbert #spam ralbert gang #ralbert ralbert ralbert #chandler screams about ralbert #chandler out of context #chandler’s ✨losing it✨ #chandler.exe has stopped working #chandler’s an idiot sorry y’all #causing chaos with chandler #shut up chandler #nO #tw violence #tw fighting #tw blood #tw swearing

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them.  Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post.  Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss.  Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole.  The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere.  Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries.  He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor.  Izuku tries to figure out why. 

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma.  He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings.  Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.  

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic.  Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain.  he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school.  Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All.  All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku.  They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf.  And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit.  I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances.  izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom.  Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible.  Aizawa has no answers.  They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work.  All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless.  Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods.  None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through.  They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another.  It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did.  All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor.  But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor.  None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them.  And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might.  He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor.  But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives.  He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it.  He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up.  Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might.  Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might.  That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes.  Not do anything, just sit there.  Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night.  The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right.  She wants it to be perfect before showing it off.  But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be.  Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral.  He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

#mha #bnha #mha prompts #bnha prompts #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #deku #bakugou katsuki #aconstantstateoffanfiction

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (5/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 27,895

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

When Dani woke up next Sunday morning before the sun, trembling under the sheets as a cold sweat ran down her body, she struggled to control her shallow breaths. Her heart raced in her chest, galloping from a nightmare that was swiftly vanishing into the shadows. Her jaw was locked in place, teeth clenched so hard she could feel the pressure in her skull. It took a great effort to will herself to move, to do anything more than twitch her fingertips and tremble, jerking fully awake as though strings were tied to her joints.

The sky outside was a dark blue peeking through the shape of the curtains against the window. Slowly, Dani managed to stretch out from the tight ball she had curled herself in to lay on her back. She exhaled. Hesitantly, shakily, she risked a glance next to her to see Eddie still asleep, his back facing her. She exhaled again, long and slow and a little more steady. For a brief intense moment, Dani wanted to reach over and wrap herself around him, to wake him up and make him hold her tight until the trembling stopped. Instead, she pressed her eyes shut and wiped at her cheeks and tried to quietly settle her breathing. After what could’ve been just a minute or an hour, feeling more like herself and less like something was crushing her chest, Dani squeezed her eyes shut, reaching for remnants of the nightmare, but any memory of it was long gone by now. 

Maybe it was the dinner with Eddie’s boss and his wife, where it felt as though she was seeing the rest of her life flash before her eyes. Or maybe it was being in Jamie’s new home; warm and bright and welcoming. A direct contrast to the last time Dani had been in a house Jamie belonged to. Sneaking into the old abandoned railway bungalow with a spare key, the once bright house a ruin of dust and peeling wallpaper and the crunch of glass underfoot. 

She reached her hand out and placed it against the broad flat of Eddie's back, holding it gently there, feeling him breathe, adjusting her own breaths to match. The cotton weave of his shirt was warm, trapped between them. He did not stir even when she stroked her thumb in a pattern against his spine. The sound of his alarm going off made her start, her already shot nerves ringing like a claxon. Only then did Eddie move, pressing the alarm off and rolling over to cuddle into her side, his eyes closed and his face pressed into her shoulder. And only then did Dani remember she still had to face church and lunch first before she could even think of delving into the comfort of Jamie’s house. She swallowed down an unpleasant feeling rising up in her throat, her stomach twisting. 

“Morning,” Eddie mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Sighing, Dani lifted an arm to drape across his shoulder. “Morning,” she murmured, her other hand dropping to the arm he had snaked across her waist. 

He was quiet for a long moment, his slow breath soft against her skin, and then he said, “Pancakes.”

Dani blinked. “Mmm?”

“Pancakes,” Eddie mumbled. “Want pancakes.”

There was a pause before Dani chuckled, her throat feeling thick as she pressed her cheek to his thick dark hair. His wants and desires had always fallen so easily from him, from morning pancakes to endlessly asking for her hand in marriage. 

“Eddie?” she started softly. He hummed in response, indicating he was listening. She swallowed hard, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of his t-shirt. “I think I’m gonna skip church today.”

When he didn’t respond after a long moment, Dani feared he fell back asleep and all the courage she managed to grasp would slip away until finally he shifted, rising to lean on his elbow and frown softly down at her. “Again?” he asked gently, “Why?”

It took her longer than she hoped to find the words to respond. “I just — I didn’t sleep very well.”

He pressed his mouth in a thin line, concern in his eyes as he lifted the hand from her waist to sweep a strand of hair behind her ear. “You okay?” 

Dani nodded, forcing her mouth into a reassuring smile. “Yeah,” she murmured, “I just - um. I think I just need a break from it, you know? I’m pretty tired this morning.”

He mirrored her nod, the corners of his mouth pulling into a soft grin. “I get it. It’s been a bit stressful recently, with moving houses and new school year and all,” he said, and chuckled, “Mrs. Townsend really doesn’t know to let it rest, huh? Every Sunday, like clockwork. Hasn’t stopped bugging us about wedding plans and we haven’t even started yet.”

Her stomach twisted in a knot at the reminder. “Yeah,” she murmured, her eyes drifting away briefly, “She can be a lot.”

Eddie stared at her quietly, his eyes still heavy from sleep, and said, “Our moms are gonna wonder where you are again, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Um - can you just -?”

“Hey,” he interrupted, grinning and shaking his head, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make up an excuse.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Just want you happy.”

Dani couldn’t help smiling sleepily up at him, even as his grin turned mischievous. “Or maybe I can play hooky too,” he said, “You and I can make a day of it.”

It took all of Dani’s self control to not react to that, to not let the panic rising in her throat like bile show on her face, and instead she said, “And risk the both of us being the headlines of the rumor circuit this week?”

His face blanched. “Good point.”

It was by the grace of Dani’s fortune that Eddie valued their privacy as much as she did. But then he grinned again, his eyes tracing down to her mouth. When he started to lean down, Dani turned her head just in time for him to press his lips against her cheeks.

“Morning breath,” she said sheepishly, the panic back with a vengeance. 

He pulled back and fondly rolled his eyes. “All right, have it your way,” he said, and pressed another kiss to her cheek. “You rest for a little bit longer. I’m going to go get ready, and get started on pancakes.”

“Oh, you were serious about that?” Dani said with a teasing grin, curling into the sheets as he slipped out of bed, “Thought you were sleep talking.”

“I’m always serious about my pancakes,” he said with a faux-glower, leaving Dani in bed with one last chuckle and disappearing into their ensuite bathroom. 

She tried to sleep again afterwards. Curling away into her own corner of the bed, her back facing Eddie’s side of the room, lying in the state between being awake and drifting off back to sleep, distantly listening to Eddie shuffling around the room quietly. When he finally left to descend downstairs, only then did Dani let herself sink into the sheets, the coiling tension in her shoulders she hadn’t realized was there before slipping away. And then, her eyes flickered open, drifting towards the red numbers of her clock to see that somehow another half hour had passed. She blinked and swallowed heavily, feeling splintered right down the middle. 

Dani left bed soon after that. Washing up and dressing in a pair of jeans and a sweater before descending the stairs towards the kitchen where Eddie, in only his dress pants and a white undershirt, was waiting for her by the stove with a warm grin and a plate of blueberry pancakes. In the few steps it took to walk towards him, Dani gathered her courage with a slow inhale and greeted him with a thankful kiss, brief and chaste. He smiled down at her, his eyes bright as Dani tried desperately to ignore the guilt pressing under her ribs. 

They ate together with a companionable ease as he read the newspaper in between inquiries on what her agenda was for the day now that she had the rare free time to herself. She shrugged noncommittally with the mention of finishing grading school work and catching up on lesson plans. She then paused for a long moment, fiddling with the cutlery in her hands, before she said, “And I’m — I may go have lunch with Jamie again.”

He paused, mid-sip from his coffee. “That sounds nice,” he said, setting down his mug, his face going soft with a contemplative look before catching her eyes, ”I’m glad. That you two are friends again. I know how much you missed her.”

Dani’s breath caught in her chest, unblinking as she stared at him. “Yeah,” she murmured. 

“And,” Eddie continued with a sigh, rolling his eyes, “Guess I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t miss her too. When she wasn’t being so annoying, that is.”

Dani laughed. “You know, she still thinks you’re upset that she accidentally set your homework on fire,” she said, popping another bite of pancakes in her mouth with a grin.

Twisting his mouth, Eddie gave her a look. “That was no accident,” he said,  “She cheated off me and wanted to hide the evidence.” When Dani laughed again, memories of the old argument coming back to her, Eddie was unable to hide his fond grin as he quietly watched her. Seeing this, Dani slowly sobered, ducking her head. “Haven’t seen you laugh like that in a while.”

She shrugged. “I’m just — “ she paused to settle the buzzing under her skin, trying to find the words “ — I have my two best friends back in my life again, what’s there not to laugh about.”

He regarded her with a kind smile. “Well, I’m happy that you’re happy, then.”

Dani paused, knowing that statement was both true, and somehow utterly wrong all at once. Yet, she smiled gratefully at him all the same. 

After they finally finished their breakfast, Dani insisted on doing the clean up. He grinned and kissed the side of her head as she flipped open the tap, and returned upstairs to finish getting ready. When the dishes were done, Dani took the opportunity to spread out her textbooks and binders of notes on the kitchen table, keen to get some work done. 

When Eddie finally returned with his tie dangling loose from his neck and his suit jacket draped across his arm, he groaned and laughed. “This is getting to be a problem,” he said, gesturing towards the table, already overflowed, barely a speck of the wooden table visible beneath Dani’s work. “I think your books ate the table.”

Dani gave him a look. “Being a teacher is a lot of work,” was all she said, a tension pulling at her shoulders.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t,” Eddie replied, and waved one end of his tie at her, “You mind, uh…”

She softened at his sheepish grin, and with a faint smile she stepped in front of him and diligently set to tying his tie, knowing very well he did this on purpose just to be close to her. At the exact moment Dani expected it, Eddie’s hands came to rest on her waist. When she was done, she looked up at him to see him affectionately smiling down at her. 

“Thanks,” he murmured. 

Dani could only nod, knowing this part of the dance very well. When he leaned down, his eyes intent on her mouth, Dani pressed her own eyes closed and let herself fall away, slipping on the mask of Danielle as Eddie pressed his mouth to hers in what should’ve felt like a warm fortifying kiss. But when he pulled away, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed, all Dani felt was an encompassing strain across her skin. 

“Still sure about me not playing hooky?” Eddie said, a glint in his eyes.

Pressing her mouth in a thin line, Dani pushed his glasses up his nose and then gently shoved him back by the shoulders. He went easily with a chuckle. “Yes, I’m very sure,” she said, “I don’t particularly feel like being the center of attention, if you don’t mind.”

“Guess we’ll have enough of that at my aunt’s place in a few weeks,” he agreed, and she felt her heart sink at the thought.

When he eventually left with a conceding grin and another kiss, this time thankfully to her cheek, Dani was finally left alone. The house felt inexplicably empty. Smaller. Like the walls were easing closer after being expanded for so long to fit Eddie’s tall frame. Ignoring the feeling, Dani set to work, starting with grading homework. It was a simple distraction, one she took to with an easy eagerness, pleased to see the progress of her students. But it was the ticking clock that hung on the wall opposite her that kept drawing her eyes. Kept taunting her with the passing of time with every tick, indicating the passing seconds, the minutes. 

It was early still, she knew. 9:24am. Too early for lunch, and too late for breakfast. But there was a temptation that lingered over her, one that made her bite at the end of her pen and stare at the clock with a piercing intensity. The temptation to have more time at Jamie’s house. To escape the oppressive air of the kitchen she sat in to instead sink into a threadbare blue couch across town. 

Dani spent another fifteen minutes debating with herself before finally making a decision, exhaling sharply and jumping into action. She took care to repack her work into her bag and set off to her car with it in hand, not bothering to change into anything special. 

In the short time it took for Dani to make a quick pit stop at A Batter Place before driving to Jamie’s house, the route already familiar and etched into her memory, nerves worked itself under her skin again. Her heart beating just a tick faster as she bit her lip. But when she drove up to the house and saw Jamie’s truck sitting in her driveway, Dani exhaled slowly, a little steadier. 

Walking up to the front door was a curious event of itself. The closer she got to the red door, the more she could hear a deep rhythmic bass of music coming from the other side. A grin sneaked on her face as she strained her ears, hearing the distinct sounds of guitar and drums. She rang the doorbell a few times to be heard over the blaring music. It took a minute, but then she finally heard the music being turned down just a little before there was the clinking sound of a chain being undone and the door being unlocked. 

When the door swung open, she was greeted to what sounded like David Bowie and Jamie blinking at her, eyes wide. Her hair was tied back with a bandana, and she wore a black tank top and sweatpants rolled up to her knees, a bright sheen to her skin as if she had just run a marathon. Dani blinked rapidly, pulling her eyes away from the bare skin of Jamie’s neck where a long silver link necklace descended below the collar of her shirt to catch her gaze. 

“You’re early,” Jamie said, mouth pulling into a crooked grin. 

Dani winced, only now just noticing a citrus scent that accompanied the mop in Jamie’s hand. “Sorry, um — guess I should’ve called,” she said, and jerked her thumb behind her, “I could - I could come back? You seem busy and —”

“Poppins,” Jamie interrupted with a patient smile, and gestured widely for Dani to enter the house, “Get in.”

Grinning sheepishly, Dani stepped inside, careful to slip out of her flats on the welcome mat and not on the hardwood floors, and set them neatly aside. Jamie shut the door and set the mop against the side table to lead her further into the house. Already, Dani felt lighter just by being inside. 

“Excuse the mess,” Jamie said, guiding her into the kitchen, “We’ve been cleaning all morning.”

Dani swept her eyes across the room, seeing the space spotlessly clean besides the pots of plants carefully cluttered across the kitchen island and dining table, waiting to be returned to their usual spots. Dani turned back to Jamie with an arched incredulous eyebrow. Jamie snorted with a laugh. 

“You missed breakfast too, sorry to say,” Jamie said. 

“That’s all right,” Dani said, holding up the takeout bag in her hand, “I dropped by Owen��s.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up and she grinned broadly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to spoil us.”

Dani shrugged. “Just wanted to do something nice.”

For a long moment, Jamie just stared at her with soft affection. But then, underneath the blaring music still coming from Jamie’s stereo system, there was the distinct sound of feet rapidly thudding down the hall. Dani turned towards the sound just in time to see Mikey sliding into view on his socks, shredding an air guitar solo with those bright neon green glasses perched on his nose. Dani bit her lip hard to refrain from laughing fondly as he rocked out quietly to himself. It was the most energetic she’d ever seen him. 

Behind her, Jamie snorted. The sound was loud enough for Mikey to hear. He froze, his head darting towards them, and he shot upright like a taut rubber band let loose. He stood silent, his arms held tight to his side, his cheeks bright red. Dani could easily imagine his eyes wide and blinking in panic through the dark lens of those ridiculous glasses that had looked so absurd on Jamie, but endearing on Mikey.

“Um — “ he started, his hands fidgeting, “Hi, Miss Clayton.”

“Hi,” she said, offering him a kind smile, “Just Dani is fine here, remember?”

He nodded. A beat passed, and then without another word, he sped away into the living room and went careening over the couch to hide. Dani struggled not to laugh out loud to spare him from further embarrassment, but Jamie had no such reservations. She snorted loudly again, and stepped closer to the entranceway of the kitchen. 

“Oi, if you're gonna hide, at least be productive about it and go vacuum your room!" Jamie called out to be heard over the music. 

If Mikey responded at all, it was muffled under the music, but he still shot up from the couch and dashed towards the staircase where Dani could hear his feet thudding with each step through the floor until she could hear the slam of his bedroom door. It was only then that Dani let out a laugh, still struggling to keep it quiet, her hand over her mouth. Jamie was bent over, clutching her side as she laughed in that quiet way that pained her stomach. 

“Christ, please don’t die on my kitchen floor,” Jamie said, when they couldn’t stop, struggling to speak, “I just mopped.”

“Does he always do that?” Dani asked when she could finally breathe again. 

Jamie nodded. “Yeah,” she said in between breathless laughs, leaning heavily against the counter, “Though something tells me he may never do it again. Shame. I was building up an impressive blackmail portfolio.”

Dani nudged her arm, laughing. “Don’t be mean.”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie grinned wide, the scar descending from her mouth to chin on display in the morning light cascading through the windows. “No promises,” she said, and exhaled slowly, regaining her breath. “Best get back to it then. We shouldn’t be much longer.” She gestured to the room. “Feel free to help yourself to anything if you’re hungry or want a brew. Just don’t save any of your poison for us, is all I ask.”

Dani snorted. “Brave words to say to someone who kindly brought you some of Owen’s pastries,” she said. 

“Prefer to live life on the edge.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dani muttered, eyes narrowed playfully. Jamie only shrugged. 

Dani set the takeout bag on the counter. When her eyes caught sight of the dining table tucked to a small corner, the window beside it casting streaks of bright light across, a thought occurred to her. 

“Hey, do you mind if I do some school work here while you guys finish up?” Dani asked, turning back to Jamie to see her arms pulled up in a stretch, the fabric of her tank top dragging up just enough for a sliver of a toned stomach to briefly appear.

“Don’t see why not,” Jamie said, exhaling through pursed lips as she let go of the stretch, shaking out her arms. Dani could only blink as Jamie grinned at her. “Make yourself at home.”

Jamie left her to do just that, disappearing into the hallway to call out again, “I don’t hear the vacuum going!” Seconds later, there was the sound of a vacuum humming through the floor.  

Left alone in the kitchen, Dani wrapped her arms loosely around her stomach, glancing around, unsure where to start. It wasn’t often she was left to her own devices in a house she wasn’t acquainted with. But the blue kettle on the stove, the well loved potted plants, the fridge covered in scattered magnets, homework graded with top marks, and a grocery list in Jamie’s scrawl — there were little touches of Jamie everywhere. Little familiarities that settled the nerves in her stomach. 

She started with the kettle. It took a minute to figure out Jamie’s stove, but eventually she had the kettle happily heating up. In the meantime, she ran back to her car to retrieve her work bag and returned just as the kettle started to whistle. In no time, Dani had set up on the dining table; the windows pushed open to let in the cool morning air, and binders and textbooks once again spread out across a table, this time with a pot of tea and a croissant by her side.

It was oddly peaceful, working to the sound of music still playing, softer now but no less raucous, and of Jamie and Mikey moving about as they cleaned. There was the occasional thump on the wall as the whirring of the vacuum traveled across the top floor, the muffled voices and periodic bouts of laughter. At one point, there was the rattling of pipes, loud and startling as though a train had crashed right through the house, traveling down the walls and settling with a weary groan. 

“All right, all right, wind your bloody neck in,” Dani heard Jamie’s voice through the floor as the sound eventually gave way to the muffled rush of water, the shower getting started. "You first. Go on, then." 

Chuckling, Dani shook her head and took another sip of her tea before returning to her work. It was a great, good place, Dani decided. The house occupied for just a little over three months, and somehow it was already so lived in and welcoming. As though Dani could just sink right into it, and the house would morph itself around her like a well used wooden chair, worn away to the imprint of those who sat there before. She felt as though she could reach out and press her palm to the pale wall next to her, it would give way, leaving behind the impression of her hand, and there it would remain. A piece of her to prove that she was here. 

Dani hadn’t realized she had drifted off into her thoughts, chin on her palm, her free hand twiddling her pen, until Jamie and Mikey returned to the kitchen. They gently jostled each other as they pushed their way in, their hair towel dried and still damp from their showers. Dani jerked upright and smiled at them. 

“Good god,” Jamie said, chuckling as she took notice of Dani’s piles of work, “What have you done to my table?”

Feeling her cheeks warm, Dani’s eyes flitted away, already reaching to stack loose sheets of paper together. “Sorry, I’m - I just had a lot to finish, and your table is small, and — ” 

“Said I didn’t mind, didn’t I,” Jamie said. Dani blinked up at her and nodded. Jamie picked up a page to absentmindedly drift her eyes over. “Not a lot of time to work at home, then?” 

“Not a lot of room, actually,” Dani said, more gruffly than she had meant. A twinge of guilt pulled at her chest. 

“No desk at home?” 

Dani shook her head. "Never had one.” 

A thoughtful look bloomed across Jamie’s features. She hummed softly with her brow furrowed. “A teacher without a proper desk. Doesn’t seem right.” 

Dani only shrugged. It was what it was. For years now, Dani had only ever needed kitchen or dining tables to do her work. Never wanting more than what she already had. What would be the point anyway, when she’d never had the room before.

When Dani didn’t add anything more to her response, Jamie glanced back down to the sheet in her hand and smirked, a glint in her eyes. “Oh, lookit here, Mikey,” she said, twisting around to wave the page in Mikey’s direction, “If you play your cards right, you could get all the answers you need for that test you’ve been cramming your head for.”

Mikey, who had yet to look in Dani’s direction since entering the kitchen, was manning the stove, settling the kettle on a back coil to heat up. At Jamie’s comment, his face twisted up in distaste.

“That’s cheating,” he said. 

“Not if you get the answers from the teacher herself.”

“That’s still cheating.”

“Is it, though?”

He scowled at her. “Yes.”

Dani pulled her lips between her teeth to refrain from laughing as Jamie gave him a look of bewilderment.

“Are you sure we’re related?” Jamie asked. “Who are you?”

Huffing in response, Mikey returned to stand sentry before the stove, waiting for the kettle’s whistle with his arms crossed. Jamie snickered and turned back to Dani, her smirk softening as she handed back the sheet to Dani. 

“Don’t worry,” Jamie said, gesturing to the now neat stack of binders and textbooks, “You can finish after Mikey’s put you through Star Trek again, if you like.”

A warmth spread across Dani’s chest. “I would like that, yeah,” she said, smiling. 

“Good,” Jamie replied, and reached to pick up the teapot, shaking it gently, “Done with your poison, then?”

Rolling her eyes, Dani nodded, but couldn’t hide the way the corners of her mouth curled up. Jamie smirked again, a mischievous tilt to it, and her eyes darted down towards the half eaten croissant on the saucer next to Dani. When she reached out with her free hand towards it, Dani slapped it away. 

“There’s more for you in the bag,” Dani admonished as Jamie jerked away from Dani’s hand, chuckling. 

Instead of remaining at the table as Jamie and Mikey puttered around the kitchen and set the table with nothing else to do but awkwardly sit and stare, Dani jumped at the opportunity to help, dismissing Jamie’s chiding with a wave of her hand. She gathered the plates and cutlery as Mikey attended to the tea and Jamie went about returning flowers and plants to their proper place, until finally they were gathered around the table, eating pastries from the cafe and drinking their tea with affable ease.

“We boring you?” Jamie asked at one point, noticing Dani’s heavy eyes and chin on her palm as she was listening to the soft banter between the siblings. 

Dani shook her head. “Just happy to be here.”

Slowly, Jamie’s face went slack, softening to an expression Dani couldn’t decipher. Jamie grinned and promptly hid it behind her mug as she sipped her tea. 

When lunch was done and dishes cleaned, they settled once again with an eager Mikey on the couch. Instead of perching in the middle, this time Mikey seized the corner for himself, still apparently not entirely recovered from his embarrassment. At Jamie’s snicker when she took the middle seat, he shot daggers at her. With nowhere else to sit besides next to Jamie, Dani settled into the couch, careful not to jostle it too much or graze against her. 

Jamie offered her a grin. “Sure you don’t want a beer?”

“I’m sure.”

Shrugging, Jamie took a deep sip from her bottle and sank further into the cushions, once again lifting up her feet to rest on the stained coffee table. 

“All right, mate, let’s see what Captain Bald Guy is up to this time,” Jamie said, gesturing towards the television with her beer.

“He’s not Captain bald guy!” Mikey replied hotly. Dani couldn’t help but laugh. 

“He is kinda bald, though.”

“He has a name!”

It was like being fifteen again, pressed up next to Jamie in the O’Mara’s basement when they had all gathered around the tv for the animated television special of The Hobbit where Jamie had relentlessly and goodnaturedly mocked Eddie for it. The familiarity of it coiled warmly around her. Memories dredging up of lazily lounging on Jamie’s couch at the old bungalow, sitting through another episode of Wonder Woman on Nan’s ancient tiny television. Jamie sighing exasperatedly, but never once complaining. She never took her eyes off the television when Lynda Carter was on screen either. 

After the episode came another session of Q&A’s with Mikey that Dani happily partook in, finding herself becoming invested in the show herself. Jamie rolled her eyes with a long suffering sigh, and once again left them to it, muttering to herself as she withdrew into the kitchen. 

“Do you want to watch one of the movies?” Mikey asked, “I have all of them upstairs.”

Dani could easily picture Jamie’s pained face. On cue, she heard from the kitchen, “She has work to do!”

“Oh,” Mikey winced, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dani said, chuckling and leaned closer as if divulging a secret, “Next time.”

Dani left him to his devices, his eyes bright with an eager mischief at the possibility of torturing Jamie some more. She found Jamie brewing another pot, shooting Dani a grin over her shoulder when she heard her come in. Without a word uttered between them, Dani quietly fell back into her work as Jamie set a mug next to her, already made to Dani’s specifications, and disappeared to the living room with another mug in hand. She didn’t return for a few minutes, allowing Dani the time to work quietly, before returning smelling of smoke, sans the mug.

Dani flit her eyes towards her as she began making another cup of tea seemingly for herself now. “You don’t smoke in the house?”

“Nope. Never,” Jamie said, “Think I want the kid ending up like you? Wheezing every ten steps? Not on my bloody watch.”

“I have an inhaler, thank you,” Dani said, nudging her bag with her foot, “I don’t wheeze anymore.”

“You sure about that? ‘Cause I swore earlier, you were about to collapse in the — “

Dani threw a pen cap at her. Laughing, Jamie flinched away in an exaggerated motion. “Easy with that. Could take out an eye, you know.”

Rolling her eyes, Dani laughed and shook her head. It was all too easy. The way Jamie switched on the kitchen radio on low, just enough to keep them company. The way Jamie sank into a chair opposite her, lounging back and resting her legs on the chair beside her, her tea carefully in hand. The way Jamie kept silent for the most part besides soft murmured comments and conversations over whatever came to mind, her fingers tapping to the beat of the music. The way Dani didn’t mind her presence as she worked, a companionable ease that reminded her of days when they’d study or suffer through homework together.

And when it finally came time for Dani to make her way out, her work bag repacked and a quick “See you, tomorrow,” to Mikey, it was terrifyingly easy to linger in the entryway and catch Jamie’s eyes. Gray and vivid like a summer storm. The hug they sank into was similar to the first, slow and hesitant, until they eventually melted into it, pulling each other close. Dani pressed her nose into the fabric of Jamie’s t-shirt, breathing in sandalwood intermingled with cigarette smoke as Jamie’s arms around her lower back and between her shoulder blades pressed tight, hands splayed across the fabric of Dani’s sweater. She could almost swear that the slow exhale Jamie let out trembled. Eventually, they pulled apart, clearing their throats. 

“Thanks for having me again,” Dani murmured, wrapping her arms loosely around her stomach, finding the courage again to meet Jamie’s eyes.

“Any time,” Jamie replied, and then added, “I mean it.”

Dani couldn’t help the eagerness in her next words. “Next Sunday, then?”

Jamie smiled. “We’re all yours.”

 --

Sundays become almost solely devoted to Jamie’s house. She continued to forgo Church, and while Eddie kept his word with making excuses for her as the weeks went on, Dani still couldn’t avoid the endless parade of questions every time she delved into town for errands or food. But still, she carried on. Not wanting to give up the peace her Sundays gave her; spending time in Jamie’s kitchen or the couch, watching Star Trek and sharing cups of tea that Jamie still refused to let her make. 

And every time, it would end in that same hug. Faces buried into shoulders, and hands pressing tight, like they hadn’t seen in each other in years and not just one week. A decade of deprivation that left her hands aching to just keep holding Jamie for just a second longer. Making up for lost time, she told herself. Making up for ten years without hugs and shared smiles and just desperately missing her best friend.  

Eddie stopped questioning Dani’s absences at Church by the second week, no longer perking up hopefully with the question of if she was attending this week, only to slump his shoulders when she told him no. He simply resigned himself with the corners of his mouth pulled tight and conceding to a thankful consolation kiss to his cheek. He always grinned after, happy to receive the affection. 

And inevitably, Sundays weren’t the only days Dani saw Jamie and Mikey. There was now the occasional dinner at Judy’s where they’d find themselves all attending, where it seemed that Jamie and Mikey had already frequented unbeknownst to Dani. It was like no time had passed at all. Judy and Mike would ask them all about their week, and one by one they’d go around the table with their varying answers. It didn’t pass Dani by, the way Jamie softened under Judy’s proud smile whenever she talked about work at the botanical gardens or stories about Mikey. She’d even seem visibly pleased with herself at every admonishment from Judy whenever Jamie’s quips or teasing toed the line of insolence, sharing a cheeky grin with Dani over the table.

At one comment towards Eddie about the animated Lord of the Rings movie from years ago, Eddie had laughed but his mouth pulled into a thin smile as he speared a potato. “Just like old times.”

The only difference now to the occasional dinners was the new addition of Mikey, somehow even more quiet and shy at the table than Dani’s ever seen him. Particularly so under the attention of Judy who immediately took to him, his expression just short of panicking whenever he was brought under the center of attention. But Jamie was always there next to him, nudging him gently in the arm with a teasing word and grounding presence. And at the end of the night, Judy clutched at his cheeks the way she used to with Jamie, his eyes blinking in quiet bewilderment as they said their goodbyes. 

“You get used to it,” Dani had murmured to him once. 

Least surprising of all was the way Carson and Mikey immediately got along like a house on fire. Quiet as he was, Mikey was still bright eyed and eager when Carson dashed up to his room one evening after Mikey mentioned music, and brought down a shoebox of cassette tapes that he happily pushed into Mikey’s hands.

“You can borrow them as long as you want,” Carson had said, “I have a whole collection.”

While Mikey pawed reverently through the box’s contents, a smirking Jamie had swung her arm around Carson’s neck in a loose headlock, calling him a big softie and ignoring his groan of complaints.  

And dinner at Judy’s wasn’t the only place she’d catch sight of Jamie. 

One Sunday morning, dropping in at A Batter Place to pick up another surprise breakfast for the Taylor household, expecting the place to be void of customers busy attending Church, she jerked to a stop at the sight of Carson and Jamie standing by the counter, whispering wildly to each other.

At the sound of the bell, their heads spun towards Dani and they both smiled. Carson whispered something else to Jamie, and in response, she glowered and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“Now, what are you two doing here?” Dani said, marching towards them with a grin, folding her arms across her chest as Carson rubbed at his ribs.

“Thought I could beat you to the punch today,” Jamie said gruffly, “But someone is persistent.”

“Gee, I wonder who that could be,” Dani said, smirking. She turned to Carson who she now noticed was busy eating some kind of cake. “And what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Shift change,” Carson said, his mouth full.

Jamie made a face. “Gross, mate.”

“You wish you had some of this,” Carson said, dancing a fork with dark chocolate cake pierced on the end in front of Jamie’s face before popping it into his mouth, smirking. 

“Had enough yesterday at dinner.”

“Because you stole some from me.”

Jamie pursed her lips and shook her head. “Y'know what? I think you may have a problem.”

Glowering, Carson hovered protectively over his plate. Dani laughed. “Okay, what is going on with you two?”

Jamie jerked her thumb towards the kitchens. “Sharma back there needed a taste tester for a new cake he made. Carson and I happily signed up for the task, and what does this prat do?” She gestured towards a sheepish Carson. “He steals my share. So I took some back.”

Carson opened his mouth to complain, but suddenly a voice from the kitchen called out. 

“Did someone say my name?” 

A moment later, Owen appeared, smiling when he caught sight of Dani. “Oh, Miss Clayton, how do you do?”

“Mr. Sharma,” Dani replied, “I’m doing perfectly. And you?”

“Christ, you two have been getting on, have you,” Jamie muttered, though she was grinning. “He doesn’t let me call him Mr. Sharma.”

“Oh, Jamie,” Owen said, ruefully shaking his head, “You need to reach level five on the friendship scale for that achievement. You’re still only on level three. Pick up the pace.”

Jamie grumbled under her breath as Dani laughed. Carson, however, was mysteriously silent, leaning his elbow steadily against the counter, a corner of his mouth quirked as he stared at Owen. Dani shot him a puzzled look that he didn’t notice. 

Owen meanwhile was looking at Dani. “So, what can I get you?” he asked, “The usual?”

“Afraid this one has already beaten me to it today I think,” Dani said, gesturing to Jamie. 

“Ah, yes she has,” he said, and dropped a takeout bag on the counter he had been holding, as if only now just remembering. “Here you are, Miss Taylor.”

“Piss off,” Jamie said, grinning and sliding the bag closer. 

“But I’d also like four hot chocolates to go, please,” Dani added, smiling cheekily at Jamie’s glare.

“Lovely choice. I’ll get right on that as soon as I get a verdict from these two,” Owen said, looking between the pair, “Well? How’d you find the cake today?”

“Wouldn’t bloody know,” Jamie muttered.

“No idea how you do it, Owen,” Carson said with keen enthusiasm, “Never had cake that moist before. Think I’m addicted.”

Jamie snorted as Owen’s mouth stretched into a humble smile, and then he leaned his elbows on the counter with a conspiratory look. Carson followed his example and leaned a tad closer. “You know, I knew a man once who was addicted to the hokey pokey.”

Groaning, Jamie rubbed at her forehead. “Christ.”

Dani bit her lip hard, a laugh threatening to burst out of her. She shared a look with Jamie as Carson blinked. “The...hokey pokey.”

Humming in confirmation, Owen nodded earnestly. “But he turned himself around, and really, isn’t that just what it’s all about?”

When Carson laughed and Dani couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping from her pressed lips, Jamie gave Owen a dry look. “Do you ever hear yourself speak?” she asked, “Is that why you left England? They chuck you out in shame?”

Owen pressed a hand to his chest. “I am the paragon of charm, thank you very much.”

“Or, it could just be that rubbish southern accent keeping you afloat.”

When Owen chuckled, Carson perked up. “You know, I’ve been wondering about that,” he said, gesturing between Jamie and Owen. “Two Brits in North Liberty. I get the gist of why Jamie’s here, but what brought you to our extremely boring and tiny town?”

“Guess you could say I needed a change in scenery,” Owen said, and gestured around the room. “Brought a little bit of Paris with me too. Show you Americans how it’s really done. Not the place I had in mind at first, but to put it briefly into words, I figured it’d be an interesting challenge. An extended layover, if you will.”

Carson nodded. “Yeah, that’s interesting.”

When Jamie snickered again, Carson surreptitiously kicked her in the ankle. Jamie didn’t even flinch. 

“You’re not the only two,” Dani said. 

Jamie frowned. “We aren’t?”

“My boss. Hannah Grose. She’s also English.”

There was a brief pause before Jamie turned to Owen. “I’m telling you, mate,” she said, “There’s something in the water here. Attracts us like flies.”

“Or like gravity,” Owen replied with faux solemnity. Ignoring the roll of Jamie’s eyes, his expression turned thoughtful. “What does she look like, if you mind me asking?”

“Um, shaved head. Black. Incredible fashion sense,” Dani said, “Most put together woman I’ve ever met.”

Owen visibly wracked his brain, and eventually shook his head. “‘Fraid I’ve never seen such a woman,” he said, and added, “Pretty sure I’d remember.” Owen then straightened and tapped the counter. “Anyways, I should be getting your hot chocolates, Dani. Won’t be but a minute. And you two, I offer my thanks for testing my creations.”

“Any time,” Carson said, his shoulders slightly slumped, handing over his empty plate and fork as Jamie saluted. 

Owen nodded at them with a smile and retreated towards the kitchen. When he was gone, Carson spun to them both. “Okay, you have to get me a job here.” At Jamie’s laugh, he groaned. “Come on. Do you know how long I’ve been a line cook down at Big Bill’s? I’ve been smelling like grease everyday for years, I need a change in scenery. I need — “ he gestured widely “ — an opportunity to grow!”

“Uh huh. Sure. Opportunity,” Jamie smirked, “Let’s go with that.”

Carson shot her a dirty look. “You’re his friend!”

“It’s truy encouraging to know that you think I have that amount of influence,” Jamie said. 

“He really has been working there forever,” Dani offered, grinning affectionately when Carson waved an arm towards Dani in a 'You see!' gesture. 

Jamie sighed. “All right,” she finally said, “I’ll mention it, but no promises.”

His face brightened into a wide smile, his expression slowly pulling into one knowing he was pushing his luck. “And you’ll come to our next show? We play every few weeks down in Des Moines.”

Jamie gave him a long look, shaking her head affectionately at his eagerness. “I’ll do my best. I’m sure your mum would love to watch Mikey for the night,” she said, and chuckled, “Who knew tiny Carson would grow up to be a big time drummer.”

“Mom still blames you for that actually,” Carson teased, “All that practicing drove her crazy. Said all that music you used to play had too much of an influence.”

Jamie laughed. “That's fair.”

Bouncing on his feet, Carson then turned his hopeful eyes to Dani, and immediately she felt her stomach sink. As if sensing this, Carson’s smile dimmed. “Come on,” he urged, sinking his hand in his pockets, “You don’t even have to bring him along if Jamie’s coming.”

Dani swallowed heavily, pushing down the strained nerves of being caught between asking Eddie once again to accompany her to Carson’s show, and leaving Eddie behind, in preference towards Jamie’s company. She could feel Jamie's eyes on her, watching carefully. 

She forced her mouth into a faint smile. “I’ll ask him again, but I make no promises.”

Sighing, Carson softened and gave her a knowing kind smile. “Well, it’s better than a flat out no.”

“I think you know by now I can’t give you a flat out no,” Dani said. 

He chuckled and nodded, stepping closer to wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her close. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite,” he whisper-shouted. Dani laughed and leaned into him, feeling his hand gently rub her shoulder.

“Guess I’m just invisible now, huh? That's how it is?” Jamie said, arms crossed but visibly amused. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carson said, shrugging against his leather jacket. 

“Oh, sure,” Jamie drawled, “And this has nothing to do with buttering up to her at all.”

“Or maybe, it’s her birthday soon, and she deserves to hear it.”

Dani felt her cheeks heat up. Seeing this, Jamie laughed, eyes warm. “Fair point.”

Before Dani could find the words to respond, blinking at Jamie, Owen returned with a cardboard tray of Dani’s hot chocolates. The same takeout cups that Carson had brought on her last moving day. She smiled with the memory.

She pulled a cup from the tray and offered it to Carson. “For you.”

The look he gave her was so fond, it did nothing to help the twinge of guilt in her chest. “You’re too good to me,” he said. She shrugged shyly in response. 

Carson took his leave after that, leaving with a wave to Owen and a kiss to Dani’s head, neatly dodging away from Jamie’s hand threatening to ruin his hair, laughing as he went. 

Both Dani and Jamie paid for their respective takeout, and as Jamie started towards the door with a departing salute, Owen held Dani back and slid a small container towards her. “On the house,” he said and winked, peaking open the container just enough to see a large piece of the same cake Carson had been eating. “Figured if those hooligans got to have some, it wouldn't be fair to let you miss out on all the fun.”

She smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to.”

“Any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of mine,” he said, a glint appearing in his eyes, “Besides, I doughnut take my taste testing lightly. More test subjects means butter results.”

It took Dani a moment to hear it, but at Jamie’s loud groan a few feet behind her, the puns became clear as day.  

“Would you give it up, mate?” Jamie said as Dani laughed. 

“Give what up?” Owen replied, looking so earnest that Dani would think he was serious if it weren’t for the twitch of his mustache. 

With another laugh and thank you to Owen, she followed Jamie outside who immediately traced her eyes to the container Dani held. “You’re sharing, right?”

“Obviously,” Dani said, taking great delight in seeing the light dim in Jamie’s eyes when she added, “Only fair to give Mikey half.”

Jamie huffed, and eventually grinned. “Race you home?” 

Taking a quick glance towards the streets, a near ghost town if it weren’t for the occasional car passing by or pedestrian walking in the distance.

“Try not to kill anyone,” Dani said, already taking off towards her car, grinning as she heard Jamie laugh behind her. 

 --

Mikey wasn't at school on Thursday. At the head of the class, Dani faltered over his name during attendance, expecting his hand to lift from the back of the room, for his voice to sing out in a mumbling "Here." Instead, she frowned at his empty seat, shrugged, and continued down the list. Probably sick, she told herself. Probably none of her business. Even if she spent nearly every Sunday over at his house. Even if he and his older sister had become regular additions to her life again. Even if he had finally taken to calling her "Dani" when he was away from campus, carefully, as though she might change her mind and demand that everything return to the days of "Miss Clayton."

She shrugged it off. And when he arrived at school the next morning, she greeted him with a smile from her desk. "Hey, Mikey! Were you sick yesterday?"

He kept his gaze fixed on his feet and hurried past her without anything more than a mumbled, "Morning, Miss Clayton."

Blinking in confusion, Dani stared after him. He slouched down in his seat further than usual, shoulders hunched, hands gripping the edge of his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him afloat. She couldn't say anything. There were too many other students around. Now was not the time or the place. And she wasn't sure if any time or place would ever be appropriate.

None of her business, she thought with a furtive little shake of her head. She cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet to begin roll call.

Each kid had their own particular nuance. Most grew bored the longer class went on. Others fidgeted restlessly and needed constant diversionary tactics to hold their attention. Others — more rare cases like Mikey — relaxed. They opened up, participating more freely as class went on. She could always count on a few students to raise their hand and answer questions, and Mikey was one such student.

Normally. Not today. Today, he skulked at the back of the class, gaze darting to the window anxiously every now and then as if half expecting someone to roll up to the school and stalk out of their vehicle towards the front steps.

"Mikey," she said.

His head jerked around, eyes wide.

Dani tapped at the equation she had written on the blackboard with a bit of chalk. "Can you solve this one for me, please?"

"Abigail knows the answer," he said, pointing to a girl in the front row who was all but leaning out of her seat with her hand raised, trying to get Dani's attention so she would call on her.

"I know Abigail knows the answer," Dani said. "But I would like you to answer it. Come on. Please."

When Dani held out the piece of chalk in his direction, Mikey sank down in his seat a few more inches. Then with a resigned sigh he scraped his chair back and trudged to the front of the class. Taking the chalk, Mikey glanced at the equation and solved it without either a word or a hint of hesitation. Not looking in Dani's direction, he placed the chalk on the ledge at the base of the blackboard and walked back to his seat.

"Thank you," said Dani.

Mikey did not reply. He just went right back to what he'd been doing before. Dani's mouth pursed, but she continued with class as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. And at the end of the day, Mikey scurried out the door, pressing himself in between a few other students so that Dani could not notice his escape.

Maybe if there were fewer students. Maybe then she could reach them. Maybe then it would be easier.

When Sunday rolled around, Dani stood on Jamie's porch and knocked on the front door. After a minute of waiting, she could just make out the shape of someone approaching through the fan of glass at the top of the door. The sound of a chain being undone, the tumble of a lock, and then the knob twisted and the door opened to reveal Jamie in a band t-shirt tucked into a pair of jeans.

"Hi!" Dani said with a cheery wave.

Jamie had already turned away and was walking further back into the house. "C'mon in," she said.

Hesitating a moment at the chilly greeting, Dani stepped inside. She shut the door behind her and slipped off her flats, arranging her shoes so that they were lined up neatly by the door. The house — usually so full of life — was eerily quiet. No music. No vacuum. No open windows to admit the morning breeze. No Mikey.

"Is -" Dani ventured further inside after Jamie, "- everything all right?"

"Right as rain," Jamie said. She was digging through a kitchen drawer dedicated to junk and tchotchkes. "Didn't I give you a key already?"

"Uh - No?" Dani said, her voice inflecting upwards in confusion.

"Could've sworn I gave you a key," Jamie muttered, her words low enough that they were nearly indistinguishable over the clatter of her hands rummaging through the drawer.

"I don't think it would have made much of a difference with the chain in place," said Dani, gesturing over her shoulder towards the door.

"Here," Jamie straightened with a spare key in hand, holding it out towards Dani without looking at her. "Just let yourself in through the back next time."

Slowly, Dani took the key. It was a flash of warm silver in her fingers. "Thanks," she said warily. As she dug through her purse for the cluster of keys attached to the end of her teacher's lanyard, Dani asked, "Is - uh - Is Mikey sick again?"

For some reason that simple inquiry made Jamie stiffen. "Nope," she said, and without another word turned and began pulling out a frying pan from a cupboard.

"Oh. Right." Dani watched her. She put the key on its own ring and then fiddled with the end of her lanyard, leaning her hip against the island countertop between the kitchen and the cramped dining room. "It's just, I noticed he wasn't at school on Thursday, and I assumed."

Jamie slammed the pan atop the stovetop and twisted a knob until the coil burned ruby-bright. She moved to the fridge and yanked it open. "You want eggs?" she asked, and pulled out a carton of eggs without waiting for Dani's reply.

"Eggs sound good," Dani said. Her brow furrowed. She tossed her keys back into her bag, then set it on the ground at her feet so that it leaned against the island. Jamie was still moving about the kitchen, her actions short and sharp as a honed pocket knife. Carefully, Dani approached her and gently placed her hands on Jamie's tense shoulders so she could turn her around. "Hey. Jamie. Look at me."

Jamie allowed herself to be turned, gripping a plastic spatula like it was a sword and she wanted to ram it through someone's stomach. When she finally looked at Dani, her iron-colored eyes were as unyielding as the line of her jaw.

"Did I do something?" Dani asked. "Do you want me to go?"

Jamie's gaze softened somewhat, and her throat flexed as she swallowed. She shook her head and let out a huff of joyless laughter. "No. No, you didn't do anything."

"Are you sure? Because I can -?"

"It's not -" Jamie inhaled deeply, and though the tension unspooled slightly from her shoulders, she was still coiled tight as a spring. "Stay. Please. It's nice having you around on my day off."

Dani let her hands slide down Jamie's arms, resting at her elbows, where she fluttered her fingertips against the rolled up flannel sleeves there. "All right," she said with a smile. "Then let me at least make you a pot of tea. You look like you need it."

Jamie brandished the spatula under her nose with faux solemnity. "Don't botch it."

Dani's smile turned into a teasing grin. "I make no promises."

Even so, she did not immediately move away and Jamie seemed content to stand there looking at her with an odd expression on her face — as if caught between fondness and something else Dani couldn't quite place. After a beat, Dani let go and stepped away. As she turned to fill the kettle in the sink, she heard Jamie open the carton of eggs.

"Long week?" Dani asked. She came up beside Jamie to set the kettle down on a spare slot on the stove, while Jamie automatically turned the appropriate dial to max so the water could boil.

"You don't know the half of it," Jamie said, cracking an egg into the pan.

"Want to tell me about it?" Dani asked. For a moment she thought Jamie would demur. There was the sound behind her of more eggs cracking and the sound of the garbage opening and closing with a creak as Jamie chucked the shells away with a barely self-contained fury. And then -

“You’d think the botanical gardens would be a nice and quiet place to work. But no,” Jamie wrenched at a pepper grinder as though trying to take its head off. “You know how we do events and stuff, yeah? Birthdays. Weddings. The works.”

Dani made a noise of affirmation as she scooped tea leaves into a large tea pot. 

“Well, we’re doing this corporate event, right?” Jamie continued. “And I shit you not, I have never dealt with people more fucking irritating. If I have to hear about how the hydrangeas aren’t quite the right shade of purple one more time -” And rather than vocalize her threats, she stirred the eggs far more vigorously than necessary, and growled, “Dickheads.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” said Jamie darkly. “Some absolute knob came ‘round and hacked off the heads of a whole row of roses, and then I get my ear chewed off like it was my fault. What do they expect me to do? Grow them again overnight? Fuck’s sake.” 

The earthenware teapot radiated heat like a pot bellied stove. Dani slowly turned it in place as she’d been taught by Nan all those years ago, wondering as a child if it was called ‘brew’ because of some mystic quality forever beyond her reach. “Do you have any other plants you could put in boxes around them? Try to cover up the damage, at least?”

Jamie waved the spatula without looking over. “Already done. Doesn’t hide much, though. And people like this — well, they’re always looking for something to be sour about.”

“Yeah,” Dani murmured. “Yeah, I know the type."

Always people watching, waiting. This town was too small for its own good. Too few people with too few hobbies and far too much time on their hands. Gossip wasn’t so much a staple as it was a means of survival. Dani had only ever scraped by on eavesdropping. She was caught up with current events, but never partook if she could avoid it. Never sat right with her, talking behind peoples’ backs. Not when she had her own secrets. Not when a single whisper and a pair of loose lips could play havoc so easily with her own life. 

When Dani opened a cupboard to grab a few mugs, Jamie’s eyes darted towards her. “Hasn’t steeped long enough. Give it a minute.”

Dani checked her wristwatch. “It’s been three.”

“And you always have a tendency to not put enough leaves in the pot,” Jamie said with a grin. “Another minute. Why don’t you start on toast.”

“Buttering up was always your forte though,” Dani said as she grabbed a half-finished loaf from the counter and untied the plastic wrap.

Jamie snorted. “Rubbish. 

Smiling, Dani pulled out a few slices. It was terrifyingly easy, falling back into a routine with Jamie. They moved around one another in the kitchen as though with a sixth sense for the other’s whereabouts at all times. Dani was hyper aware of Jamie’s location in a way she never was with anyone else. Around her mother it was a keen-eared alertness and walking on eggshells. Around Eddie it was shrinking, making herself smaller to accommodate the space he filled. Even around Judy, it was smiles and softness, forced eagerness and a desire to please engrained so deep she could feel the grooves in her face at the end of a day. Here and now, in Jamie’s warm and worn kitchen, Dani could reach for a pat of butter without airs. Surreal, somehow, that even so simple an act would normally require a measure of her due diligence. Waiting for the toaster to pop and fiddling with a blunt knife, secure in the knowledge — the absolute certainty — that she could simply exist.

“Do you think this is enough eggs?” Jamie asked. She was holding open the refrigerator door and leaning her weight upon it, while she bent over to reach for another cardboard carton. “I have more.”

“That’s plenty,” Dani assured her. "Can I finally pour this now?"

Shutting the fridge, Jamie wandered over with narrowed eyes, as if suspicious. "I dunno. Let me see."

Dani leaned her hip against the countertop and watched as Jamie poured herself a small splash of tea into a mug, testing the color and then swirling the tea before tasting as though she were in a wine tasting competition. Dani rolled her eyes. 

"Do you detect hints of cherry and oak in your warm leaf water?" Dani asked. 

Jamie hummed a thoughtful note, then lowered the mug. "It's palatable."

"Well, aren't you a charmer," Dani drawled.

"What do you mean? That was a soaring compliment for you."

With a snort of laughter, Dani pushed away from the counter and began pulling out plates to set the table. "God, you're impossible. Go get Mikey. We're ready to eat."

Silence. When Dani turned around, holding three plates, Jamie had gone still. The smile had slipped from her face, and her expression was rigid, her eyes unyielding as hardstone. Dani's fingers curled around the edges of the plates. She opened her mouth to say something, but Jamie just shook her head and said tersely, "Yeah. No, I'll get him."

Jamie passed her without a second glance to spare, storming from the kitchen and up the stairs. Dani blinked after her in confusion. Her brow furrowed, but she walked slowly towards the cramped dining table and set down plates. She was fishing forks and knives from a drawer in the kitchen, when she heard raised voices through the ceiling above. Going still, Dani's eyes darted in that direction. Quietly, she thanked God that the walls here were thick enough that she couldn't hear the exact words being spoken.

By the time Jamie and Mikey emerged, Dani had already set everything out on the table — buttered toast piled atop a small plate, the pan of eggs resting on an oven mitt, the teapot's spout faintly steaming beside a bottle of cold milk from the fridge. Jamie walked in first, Mikey trailing not far behind. Dani caught Jamie's eye only briefly before Jamie sat in her usual seat beside her. Mikey on the other hand trudged over, still dressed in pajamas, gaze downcast and face twisted in a scowl. He yanked back his chair and dropped into it hard enough that the cutlery rattled slightly.

Dani reached for a piece of toast and braved the tense atmosphere. "Good morning."

Mikey sank a little in his seat, but said nothing, his hands hidden beneath the table. 

Across from him, Jamie kicked the leg of his chair so that it squeaked against the tile. "Hey," she said sharply. "Don't be a prick."

Jaw squaring at a stubborn angle — one which Dani knew all too well — Mikey cast a glower at his sister. Then, reluctantly, he grumbled, "Morning."

Dani chewed at a bite of toast, feeling like she had just been pushed into no man's land, trapped between two firing squads. Jamie ate with a single-minded viciousness, putting away food at an alarming rate. Shovels of scrambled egg into her mouth and teeth ripping savage hunks from toast, all washed down with gulps of tea. On the other side of the table, Mikey picked sullenly at his plate, pushing food around in an attempt to create the visual illusion that he had eaten something. Neither of them glanced up from their plates. Looking at the two of them — their hunched shoulders and slouched postures, their dark curly hair, their tightly held jawlines and hard glowers — Dani could not recall them ever looking more alike than in this moment.

Clearing her throat, Dani said softly, "Jamie, can you pass the milk, please?"

The air of the dining room was palpable. Dani felt like she could slice through it with a butter knife. Without a word, Jamie picked up the milk and placed it on the table nearer to Dani.

"Thank you," Dani murmured.

She poured milk into her cup of tea until it was pale enough to make Nan roll in her grave. When she took a sip, the sound seemed loud enough to drown out the only other noise of their forks across ceramic. For a long moment, Dani just looked between the two of them, as if daring one — just one of them — to lift their heads. Neither of them did.

Dani set down her cup of tea. “Okay,” she said. “What is going on?”

Jamie shrugged and took another bite, refusing to look at either of them. “Don’t know what you mean.”

"Well, I was really hoping to have a nice time. Maybe catch up on some more Star Trek.”

Mikey's face lit up, but Jamie said darkly, "No."

"But -!"  Mikey started to protest.

Jamie slammed down her knife and fork, and when she looked up her expression was a picture of bridled fury. "No.”

Dani sat there silently, watching the two of them glare at one another until, without another word passing between them, Mikey shoved his plate away, stood, and stormed off upstairs back to his room. Jamie did not follow him. She remained tense, glowering at his empty seat. 

Dani waited until she heard the slam of a door upstairs, then turned to Jamie. “Okay. Really,” she said. “Tell me.”

Jamie picked up her fork again and started stabbing a poor undeserving piece of toast full of holes, not meeting Dani’s eye. "Little shite," she growled. "Skipped class this week. Lied and said he was sick, and then who do I see down by the old tracks? Him and some mates faffing about."

Leaning back in her seat, Dani drew her lower lip between her teeth. "Ah," she said in understanding. When Jamie merely grunted a wordless reply, Dani sat forward once more and said, "It's one class. It's not that big a deal. Besides, he's smart. He'll catch up on the material."

Jamie's brows drew together in a sharp scowl. "One class is how it starts. I know. Trust me."

"You never missed much class when we were that age."

"No," said Jamie. "But I missed plenty after I -" She swallowed and made a sharp gesture with her fork. "After. More than I care to admit. Didn't do me any good, either. Wish I could go back and knock myself over the head for being a twat, but such is life."

It was an abrupt reminder of just how much of Jamie's life she had missed, and how she was merely coming along after, picking up fragments. Dani fidgeted with the napkin in her lap and said, "Well, I think you've turned out just fine."

Jamie smiled, but it was that bitter self-deprecating smile from the alleyway beside the pharmacy. She shook her head at her plate, still not glancing up to look at Dani. "He needs to attend class. I won't have this. I can't afford it, and neither can he. You think the system is so forgiving? Oh, sure. Other kids can play truant here or there, but for kids like us -" Jamie made a jerky motion towards herself and then towards the ceiling, "- it's not just harmless fun. It's a pattern of behavior. And they notice."

"You know what? You're right. You're right." Dani reached out and gently grasped Jamie's hand which was white-knuckled around her fork. "But I think they'll also notice if you stab your little brother with cutlery."

Jamie gave a huff of laughter. She did not shrug Dani away or go tense. Instead Dani could feel the slackening of muscle and tendon beneath her hands as Jamie loosened her death grip. "Yeah, I reckon they just might."

Dani rocked Jamie's hand against the table, so that Jamie finally looked up at her. With a small smile, Dani said, "You should talk to him. I know it's uncomfortable and hard, and it sucks -" Jamie snorted, and Dani continued, "- but did yelling at you ever work?"

"Christ, no. Never."

"You see? And if he's half as resourceful as you were as a kid — which, let's be honest, was pretty darn resourceful — then just grounding him isn't going to stick either. You're going to need to talk this one out."

Jamie groaned and leaned back in her chair, the movement making it so that her hand slid out from beneath Dani's. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back so that she faced the ceiling. "Fuck," Jamie breathed. "You sound like my therapist."

Dani withdrew her hand into her lap. "You have a therapist?"

"Had," Jamie corrected her. "I had a therapist. Not because I wanted one, mind you. They assigned Tamara to me."

"I didn't know child protection offered that kind of service."

"They don't," Jamie said. When Dani cocked her head in confusion, she sighed then brought her chin back down again. “It was in prison.”

Dani blinked. “Right,” she said. She had almost forgotten that Jamie had mentioned she had served time over in England. Just another piece of Jamie’s life that she had missed. “Of course. Sorry.”  

Jamie seemed not to have heard. Her knee was jumping nervously beneath the table. Dani had to resist the urge to reach down and place a soothing hand on her thigh. A hug or a quick clasp of hands was one thing, but that — for whatever reason — felt like a step too far. Maybe another time. Maybe when they were younger, and they were accustomed to pressing close to each other as they slept. But not here. Not now. 

“I just want to do this right,” Jamie said.

"You are," Dani said. "You’re doing great. I've seen bad parenting before. And I'm not just talking about in my own home."

Jamie gave her a wry grin. “No offense, but that’s a low bar even for me.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dani said dryly. “Let’s just say: some people from our school days should have thought twice before having kids.”

That earned her a chuckle, short-lived though it was. "I shudder to think of some of them reproducing.” Jamie gave a theatrical little shudder. When Dani made a face, Jamie said, "Not like that. Mind out of the gutter, Poppins."

"That's -! You were the one who said it that way!" Dani admonished.

"I -" Jamie placed a hand over her sternum as though clutching at invisible pearls "- was completely innocent, thank you very much. You, on the other hand -"

Dani pointed at her sternly. "Do not. I'm still getting over the image in my head."

"Naughty." Jamie smirked. "Care to share with the class?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Dani gave her a brook-no-nonsense stare. "I know you're trying to deflect by making dirty jokes. It won't work."

"Yeah, yeah," Jamie sighed. She grimaced at the stairs. "Suppose I should man up, then."

Dani wrinkled her nose. "I never liked that phrase."

"Do you have an alternative?"

"Gird your loins?" Dani offered.

Jamie’s answering grin was positively rakish. "You make this too easy, you know.”

Picking up her napkin from her lap, Dani smacked Jamie’s shoulder with it. “Stop that! It’s just an expression.”

Jamie laughed softly, pretending to flinch back from the napkin. “Yeah, well, keep my loins out of it."

“You’re impossible,” Dani said, and though she tried to sound firm she couldn’t stop her mouth from curling at the corners in a smile. She set her napkin atop her plate and stood to start collecting their plates. “Now, go. Talk. I’ll clean up down here.”

Dutifully, Jamie scraped back her chair and pushed herself to her feet. “Right. Time to face the music,” she said, then she snapped her fingers and pointed at Dani. “You see? An alternative that doesn’t involve my loins.”

“Oh, my God. Go.” 

With one last parting smirk, Jamie walked towards the stairs, the sound of her footsteps dwindling with every step she climbed, until Dani could only hear the creak of the ceiling beneath Jamie’s weight overhead. She cleared the table, setting everything down on the cramped kitchen countertops, where she began opening cupboards in search of any tupperware to save the bulk of the food for a later meal. When she heard a knock upstairs and the sound of soft voices, Dani went still. She glanced around the kitchen and, holding a few tupperware lids in one hand, strode over to the radio resting beside one of the many potted plants. 

A push of a button and a quick dial to a trendy pop station, and the kitchen was filled with the sound of the latest Top 100 track. Dani turned up the music slightly until she could no longer hear what was going on upstairs. Humming along idly, she rounded the kitchen island and picked up where she left off. 

 --

On Monday morning, Dani set a plastic container in front of Hannah. Blinking in surprise and leaning back in her seat, Hannah glanced at the lemon square then up at Dani, her face relaxing into a warm smile. "Well, good morning to you, too," she said. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Clayton?"

With a shrug, Dani took the seat opposite her. They were in the staff room at school, and the start of classes that week were still a good hour away. "No reason," said Dani. She set her bag down on the floor beside her. "I was just thinking about you yesterday when I was at the cafe, and thought I should bring you something."

"You're far too kind. Really." Hannah opened the container. "Oh, and it's lemon. You know me too well. That or you want a pay rise. I hear you have a mortgage again."

Dani laughed. "No. Selling the old house took care of most of that. And Eddie's new job. You know." She waved her hand in a flighty little gesture. "Sometimes I just like making other people happy, is all."

"Sometimes, she says." Hannah lifted her eyebrow but her voice was teasing. "Don't forget about yourself, dear."

The smile on Dani's face felt suddenly frozen in place. She shook an odd twinge in her gut away and watched as Hannah picked up the slice for a bite. Hannah made a wordless noise in the back of her throat, covering her mouth with her free hand while she chewed.

"Oh, that's divine," said Hannah, discreetly wiping at a crumb stuck to the corner of her mouth. "Where did you get this?"

"New cafe in town. It’s called: A Batter Place."

Hannah wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, I know. It's a terrible pun," Dani said. "But the chef there is excellent, and very sweet."

"Well, I might just have to pay it a visit. Bad puns or no." Hannah took another bite of the slice and closed her eyes. "Mmm. It's how tart it is. You would think living for the last six years in America that I'd be used to the amount of sugar you put in everything."

With a shrug, Dani said, "So, tell me about your weekend. Get up to anything fun?"

And it was easy as that. Talking aimlessly. Chatting about nothing and everything. North Liberty was small, but she and Hannah lived in different circles, their lives only ever intersecting at work. It was a rare occasion, running into her boss on the street. Hannah lived in another town over and commuted every day. Hannah was in a different denomination and attended a different church. Hannah disavowed malicious gossip and avoided it when possible. Hannah spoke in clipped British tones, but her words were as warm as her eyes. Talking to her was a breath of fresh air in a place where nobody ever ventured further than the next state over, if that.

The door to the staff room opened and a man walked in, but neither of them took any notice. Hannah had long since finished her slice and pushed the empty container into the center of the table between them. When the man ventured further into the room, looking around as if lost, Dani's eyes flitted towards him. She did a double take. She vaguely recognized him as someone who worked at the botanical gardens — was his name Leo? Leonard? — and in his arms he carried a bouquet of flowers.

Hannah lowered her voice and murmured, "Who's the lucky punter?"

Dani shook her head, the two of them watching him search the room. "No idea."

He had started to garner the attention of a few other teachers and staff members, who were politely waiting for him to approach someone and deliver them flowers. He cleared his throat and asked the room at large, "Excuse me. Is there a Dani Clayton here?"

Dani blinked. She went very still, gaze darting towards Hannah, whose eyes had widened.

"Looks like they're for you, love," said Hannah with a grin.

"But I -"

Whatever Dani had started to say died on her tongue, as Hannah lifted her hand and gestured for him to approach their table. "She's right here. Thank you." Hannah pointed towards her.

Dani straightened in her seat, staring at the bundle of flowers that was placed on the table in front of her. She had to quickly dart forward and move the empty container. He dug around in his pocket and handed over a small folded card as well to go along with it.

"For you," he said.

In utter bewilderment, Dani took the card. "Thank you," she said, slightly dazed. With a nod and a brief smile, he left. Dani was still staring after him long after the door had shut.

Across the table, Hannah clucked her tongue. "Well, well," she said, sounding amused. She gave Dani a significant look over the top of the flowers. "Guess you're the lucky one, after all."

"I guess," Dani breathed. She toyed with the card for a moment, turning it over between her fingers to see if there were any distinguishing marks on the outside. Finding none, she unfolded it.

'Thanks for the help this weekend,' it read. 'And sorry for being an arse.'

Despite the lack of a name, Jamie's messy scrawl was unforgettable. Dani would've recognized it anywhere. She didn't realize she was smiling down at the card until Hannah cleared her throat. Then, Dani jerked, looking up to find Hannah watching her with a warm gaze.

"And here you were telling me you'd had a perfectly unremarkable weekend," Hannah teased.

"Well, I -" Dani fumbled over her response, hastily folding the card back up and fiddling with it in her lap. "I did."

"That man of yours is a fine catch," said Hannah, nodding towards the flowers.

Dani hesitated. The corner of her mouth twitched and she ducked her head, trying to hide it with a nervous smile. "Yeah," she said, feeling breathless. "Yeah, he - um. He's very thoughtful."

The lie came far more easily to her than she would have thought possible. And even worse, she did not know exactly why she said it at all. Only that correcting Hannah didn’t feel right, that telling her it was someone else — even just a friend like Jamie — would arouse some sort of suspicion. Even if Hannah wasn’t the type. Even if Hannah would not care. Because Hannah wasn’t the only one in the room, and Hannah wasn’t the only one watching.

Which was silly, really. The flowers weren’t a bunch of red roses or anything romantic. If anything, Dani could recall Jamie grousing about these exact same purple hydrangeas over brunch the day before. It was a thank you. A friendly gesture like all their other friendly gestures. Sitting close enough on the couch so that their thighs pressed together. Grazing their fingertips while passing an item across the dining table. Hugging one another with every goodbye. Dani could do the same with anyone, and it would be no different.

Wouldn't it?

Dani tried to imagine hugging Hannah goodbye, tried to imagine a lingering hand on Hannah's elbow as they walked down the hall. She blinked and had to clear her throat, checking her watch to hide the flush on her face.

"I'd better get the classroom ready," she said. When she rose to her feet, Hannah did the same.

"Do you need a hand?" Hannah asked, gesturing towards the flowers.

"Oh. No, it's - I've got them." Dani slung her bag over one shoulder, then picked up the flowers. She edged around the table, giving Hannah a smile so fleeting it felt more like a muscle tick in her cheek. "I'll talk to you later."

Hannah gave her an odd look, but all she said was, "Of course. I'll pop round this afternoon. I'd like to go over the parent teacher talks and the upcoming library visit."

"Sounds good," Dani said, not actually listening. She was already halfway towards the door, rearranging the flowers so that she could prop them against her hip and still open the door leading out into the hallway. Out here, the calm bastion of the staff room was replaced by the cacophony of students arriving after a whole weekend to regain their full stamina. Their sneakers squeaked against the polish flooring. Immediately upon exiting, Dani had to press herself back against the shut door behind her and lift the flowers as two boys went racing by.

"Slow down, please!" she called after them. Both of them did as instructed, but only until she turned and began walking in the opposite direction down the hall, at which point she could hear them laugh and continue on as they had before. Through the windows outside, Dani could see cars pulling up to the curb and kids spilling out onto the lawn. A thin line of students were careening from the town's only school bus, the driver making sharp gestures with his hands when someone got too eager and took to shoving.

Dani's footsteps slowed to a halt when she saw a familiar green truck putter along, its tray holding something bulky strapped down and covered in tarpaulin. She did not have to look closely to recognise those silhouettes through the glass. She watched as Jamie gave Mikey's shoulder a playful push and he staggered out of the vehicle, shrugging his backpack over one shoulder and rolling his eyes. A far cry from the body language of yesterday. He paused, turning back when Jamie shouted something after him so that he could catch a bagged lunch tossed through the truck window. Then with a wave Mikey trotted towards the main entrance, brown paper bag clutched in one hand.

There was no way Jamie could have seen inside and known that she was looking out at her. Even so, Dani had to swallow down a strange sense of unease turning her stomach. She shifted her grip upon the flowers and continued towards her classroom, her footsteps quick and clipped against the floor.

The classroom was still empty when she arrived. Her students would take another ten minutes or so before they started trickling in. For a long, breathless moment Dani stood in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room for a place to set down the flowers. On her desk they would be too apparent throughout the day, blocking her direct view of some of the kids in the front row. Wandering forward Dani approached the windows, setting the flowers down on the sill. Her hands drifted towards the coronal burst of wine-dark petals, and she found it difficult to stop fussing with the arrangement until the mid morning sunlight hit them just so. The arrival of her first students prompted Dani to take a hasty step back, lowering her hands to her sides and walking briskly back to her desk to finish setting up for the day.

Even as she greeted a few of the kids good morning and pulled out her notes for the day's lessons, Dani found her gaze drifting back towards the windowsill. She frowned and shook her head, muttering to herself under her breath, "Get it together, Dani."

"Good morning, Miss Clayton."

Dani's head jerked up at the sound of Mikey's voice. "Morning!" she said in return, trying to put as much cheer into her voice as she could muster, but he had already walked towards his desk and was engaged in quiet conversation with the boy who sat next to him.

She was still unpacking when the starting bell rang. Dani rummaged around for a fresh carton of chalk in her desk. "All right!" she announced as the kids settled into their seats, their voices simmering to a murmur when they heard her begin to speak. "Who wants to tell me all about indirect statements?"

Her words were met with a chorus of groans.

"Can't we take attendance first?"

Dani was writing on the chalkboard, but she didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken. "I recognized twenty five faces on the way in, Abigail. Including yours. So -" she turned around, holding out the piece of chalk with a smile. "- anyone brave enough to label it for me?"

Eventually someone raised their hand, and class was underway. She had thought placing the flowers on the windowsill would have been far enough out of her direct line of sight to be unobtrusive, but as the hours ticked on, Dani would inevitably drift back towards them. She favored that side of the room that day. Once she even propped herself atop the windowsill beside the flowers, her heels knocking against the radiators snaking along the lower walls like the path of a plow tilling fields.

When the school day had finished and everyone was shuffling out with their goodbyes, Dani found herself wandering back towards that side of the room yet again. As if at the other end was a rope around her neck, tugging her back. She waited until the kids had left, then lifted a hesitant hand to test the slightly waxy texture of a petal between thumb and forefinger.

She couldn't take them home. It wouldn't feel right. The house would swallow them up with echoes the moment she walked through the door. Not to mention what Eddie would think.

"What am I going to do with you?" she murmured.

"Am I interrupting?"

Dani nearly jumped out of her skin. Straightening her shoulders, she whipped around. Hannah was standing in the doorway, the back of her knuckles hovering over the wooden frame around her. She must have knocked softly, but Dani hadn't heard.

"Oh! No," Dani said, immediately crossing the room to stand beside her desk at the front of the class. "Not at all. I'm sorry. I forgot you mentioned you wanted to swing by later."

"That's quite all right." Hannah smiled and stepped further inside.

"Do you -?" Dani gestured towards her own seat at the head of the desk.

Hannah lifted an eyebrow and gave Dani an incredulous look. "You can't think I'd want to steal your own seat."

With a laugh and a shake of her head, Dani said, "No. I just - It feels a little weird sitting behind it with you there. Like I'm the one in charge."

"Well, it's your classroom, dear. Why wouldn't you be?"

"Now, who's not being serious?"

Hannah made a gesture as if caught red-handed. "Fair enough, I suppose. But I think this will suffice." She sat in one of the kids' chairs, primly crossing her legs at the knee and arranging her skirts just so. "Shall we?"

"Sure." Dani lowered herself into her own seat, resisting the urge to fiddle with one of the many items that littered her desk. "Any negative feedback I need to be aware of?"

"Nothing quite so dire," Hannah assured her. "Everyone's been very complimentary."

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat. "Doesn't sound very like the parents of this town. Are they sick?"

"I've checked the water supply," Hannah drawled, playing along. "But no. The only mixed feedback seems to be about this trip to the town library."

Dani frowned. "Oh? Do they want it somewhere else?"

"I think several had some delusions of grandeur, but frankly if they want their children to visit the Mona Lisa, they're going to have to make some sizable donations," said Hannah dryly. "Mostly though, it just seems that most of them can't make it, and we're short a few chaperones. I know you weren't planning on it, but would it be possible for you to go along as well?"

Eddie had been planning a trip to his aunt's house in Cedar Rapids that Friday. A long weekend with the whole O'Mara family to celebrate the engagement, and by extension, her birthday. And it wasn't that Dani disliked the idea, only that his family was as they'd always been: big and loud. Meanwhile, Dani's mother was an only child whose parents had died years ago. Not to mention her father's only sibling — Aunt Liv — was younger than Dani's parents by a decade, and had moved east. Karen and Liv had a mutual dislike for one another. After her dad had died, Dani was never allowed to visit.

"Yeah," Dani said, nodding her head. "Yeah. I can - I can definitely go. I mean, if you need it, then of course."

"You're sure?" Hannah asked, her gaze dark and discerning. "You don't have to, if you have plans. I can talk to a few others who might -"

"No. It's fine. I can go," Dani said. She was trapped between the opportunity to wriggle out of being the center of attention for three whole days, and the sickening feeling in her stomach knowing she would have to tell Eddie she wouldn't be going.

Hannah rose to her feet and Dani immediately followed suit, mirroring her actions. "I'm sorry to have sprung this on you so last minute," Hannah said. "But I really do appreciate it. I'll be going as well, but if you know anyone who is also willing to attend, do send them my way. It's all hands on deck with Jack on sabbatical and Charlotte away on maternity leave."

Dani's eyes widened. "Charlotte's on maternity leave?"

"Oh, my dear, you really have been out of the loop lately, haven't you?" Hannah said, not unkindly. 

“I just feel like I’ve been so busy these days,” Dani said, her voice trailing off.

“I know.” Hannah smiled and placed a warm hand on Dani’s shoulder as they walked to the door together. She was about to say something else, when a tall shape loomed in the doorway and they both stopped.

Eddie pushed his glasses up his nose. “Hi,” he said, giving Hannah a smile and nodding in greeting. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Grose.”

“The charmer himself,” Hannah said, lowering her hand from Dani’s shoulder to gesture expansively towards him. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Eddie’s answering smile was somewhat puzzled, even a little bashful. He stooped a bit more, a habit he displayed more when in the presence of people who were far more effusive than himself. “I’m just here to pick up Danielle.”

Dani had frozen at Hannah’s side. She shook her head, a jolting little motion. “Right,” she said. Her car was back in the shop. Eddie had told her that morning he could drop her off and pick her up. That it was no problem. She dimly remembered him kissing her cheek as she’d stepped from his sedan earlier that same day. “I just need to -” 

When Dani pointed towards the chaos of her things across the desk behind them, Hannah said, “I’ll leave you to it.” 

And she swanned past Eddie with a parting pat upon his arm. Eddie adjusted his glasses again with a nervous laugh, stepping aside to let her pass. Dani went back to her desk and started piling all of her things into her bag as quickly as she could. She could hear Eddie step into the room behind her, taking in the scenery. He so rarely came in here. It felt strange to have him sharing this space, even for just a moment. As though his presence might leave a mark. As though he might somehow make it his in this brief time. 

Her eyes flitted to the flowers on the windowsill and her fingers slipped. A cascade of papers went sprawling to the floor. Cursing under her breath, Dani knelt down to begin scooping everything up, tucking her long hair behind her ears when it got in her way. 

“Let me help.” Eddie knelt down across from her, picking up pages at random and straightening them into a small pile in his hands. 

“Thank you,” Dani muttered, her movements sharp and anxious as she did the same. Anything that would get everything in her bag and Eddie out of this room as soon as possible. It was only a moment before they straightened, before Eddie handed over the pages with a soft grin. The sunlight slanted across his face when he straightened and turned his head, so that his glasses gleamed bright enough to burn. 

With a sense of dread pooling her gut, Dani watched him glance over at the windowsill. He looked back at her, his puzzled expression moving between her and the flowers. "An admiring parent?" he joked, nodding towards them.

Dani’s answering laugh sounded clipped to her own ears. "Yeah," she lied. Then, clearing her throat, she stuffed the last of the papers into her bag, not caring if she crumpled a few in the process. As she shouldered the bag, she started towards the exit. “Ready!”

He came without question, without even a backward glance. There was no hesitation in his face, no guile or suspicion. He smiled and held her hand as they walked down the halls of the school together, and it was like they were suddenly transported back to ten years ago. Walking these same halls. Lacing their fingers and squeezing tight. As if nothing had changed, as if they had stagnated in place, slowly turning to stone or the overwhelming tide of amber. 

When they reached the car, Eddie automatically rounded to the driver’s seat. He always drove. The only exception was when his dad or older brothers all but wrestled the wheel from him. Even if given the choice, Dani would demure and let him drive instead. Backseat drivers only made her more nervous, and Eddie and Karen were the worst of the lot. Her mother in particular would snipe and grouse, pressing her foot against the car’s carpet as if trying to stamp on the brakes from the passenger’s seat. Instead, Dani fastened her seatbelt and leaned forward to tune the radio. The only upside to being the passenger — complete control over the station, with limited veto rights from the driver. 

Eddie pulled away from the curb, pulling on the wheel to straighten the car as they trundled down the road. The school shrank in the passenger wing mirror. Eddie cracked the window a bit to let in some airflow, while Dani manipulated the radio dial, the orange line sliding from frequency to frequency in search of a station she wanted to listen to. 

When she hit a station that played nothing but alternative and prog rock that Carson would have insisted they listen to, Eddie crinkled his nose and said, “Pass.”

Dani hesitated, lingering at the station for a split second, before she twisted the knob and continued, landing on a pop station that was inoffensive to neither of them. She leaned back in her seat, adjusting her clothes so they wouldn’t be so rumpled by the seat belt. “I’ve been asked to help supervise the kids on their town library trip in two weeks.”

Eddie flicked on the indicator light as they approached an intersection and turned. “Isn’t that on the Friday we’re going up to Cedar Rapids?”

Dani had to lace her hands together in her lap to keep from biting at her nails. Instead, her teeth worried at her lower lip. She made an affirmative noise.

Eddie’s hands went still against the steering wheel. His head turned — a quick dart in her direction — only to face the road once more. “Danielle, we’ve been planning to see my family for weeks.” 

“I know.”

“They’ve wanted to get us all together to celebrate ever since the engagement.”

“I know,” Dani repeated, her voice smaller this time, drowned out by the music. “Hannah needs me to be there.”

“She can’t find anyone else? What about all the parent volunteers?”

Dani shook her head. “Too many of them are too busy. And we’re short a few staff members right now. So -” 

He let out a long sigh, not taking his eyes off the road. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, not daring to steal a glance at his expression and instead focusing on the way her fingers twisted together in her lap. “I love your family. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Somehow he still managed to sound disappointed.

“I just can’t be everywhere at once. I had to make a choice.”

“Sometimes I wish you’d choose me.”

Blinking, Dani looked up, head turning. “Hey,” she said softly, admonishingly, and she reached out to grasp his knee. “That’s not what this is.”

“Well,” He lifted a hand and dropped it back down to the wheel with a thud. “It feels like it. I feel like I hardly see you when we’re not both exhausted. You’re either doing work at home, or you’re skipping out on Church to go to Jamie’s house. Or -”

Dani withdrew her hand, clenching it into a fist and returning it to her lap. “That’s not fair, Eddie.”

“Isn’t it? I’ve been wanting to make time.”

“So have I,” Dani said. The car felt too hot, the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windscreen with little room for escape. She gestured towards the radio. “I’ve been wanting to go with you to one of Carson’s concerts for weeks, now.”

He rolled his eyes and said under his breath, “God.” 

“He’s been practically begging us to go,” Dani reminded him.

Eddie made a dismissive gesture. “We’ve seen him perform before in that crap Des Moines bar already. They weren’t that good anyways, and we’re always so busy. Or did we not just have that conversation?”

Dani tried not to clench her teeth. “We can make time. It’s just one Saturday.”

“We’ll see,” he said, but his tone was flinty and he added with a mutter, “If Hannah or Jamie allow it, maybe.”

Silence descended between them. The cheery pop tune in the background was too much to bear, and after a few seconds Dani switched it off with a sharp twist of her wrist so that the only sound was the rumble of the tires across sun-bleached bitumen. Dani spent the rest of the drive with her arms crossed, jaw clenched, glowering out the passenger window without really seeing the passing scenery. At one point it seemed Eddie would resume their conversation, but he merely cleared his throat and adjusted the rear view mirror. 

When they reached the house, she promptly opened the door and stepped out, storming towards the front door. He sighed behind her, climbing out of the car to follow after her. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

She yanked her keys from her bag, keeping her voice down as she unlocked the door. “You know how much it means to him, Eddie.” Her eyes darted towards their neighbors’ houses, but nobody was on their lawn to eavesdrop.

“I know,” he said. 

“Don’t make this about -” she pushed the door inwards and stepped inside “- the other thing. Because it’s not.”

“I said: I’m sorry.” 

Dani paused in the entryway only to remove her shoes and toss her bag to the floor beside them. Her keys still dangled from one of her hands, and she dropped them atop her bag, where they slid to the ground in a clatter. The light admitted from the front door folded as Eddie shut the door behind them. She did not turn around, starting off further into the house.

“Listen,” he sighed. When he grabbed her arm, it was not abrupt or hard, but it made her tense regardless. Eddie could feel it and he immediately let go with an apologetic grimace. “He’s my brother. And I love him. But it’s just one show, and he’ll get over it and be into some other new phase by the end of the year. I know, all right? But you - you don’t have siblings.”

“I have you,” Dani said, the words dropping from her lips before she could stop them. 

He laughed, the sound surprisingly light, almost relieved. “Yeah, but it’s not the same,” he said, as if that was obvious, the most obvious thing in the world. “Sure, we grew up together, but our relationship is different.”

Dani’s mouth opened but then shut again almost immediately. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed down whatever she had been about to say. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t. 

 --

The light from the flashbulb blinded her for a moment that she had to blink away the dark spots, her smile strained from holding it so long. Eddie was beside her, his arm around her shoulders, holding her close and pressing her into his chest where he smelled of cologne and aftershave until Judy was ushering him away, insisting for just one more photo of Dani alone. He went easily, but his hand lingered on the small of her back, almost unwilling to leave her. 

She offered him a faint grin back as he stepped away, ducking her head briefly to smooth down her dress as she stood alone just below one of those generically pretty, mass produced paintings along the wall of the living room. 

“Honey, you look so beautiful,” Judy said, “Still can’t believe how much you’ve grown.”

“Grew too fast if you ask me,” Karen said from the couch, where she sat watching with an already glassy smile. Dani swallowed thickly as Judy chuckled and finally took her last photo.  

Happy with the results, Judy stepped towards Dani and cupped her cheek, murmuring, “So proud of you.” Dani’s smile flickered, slipping into something more shy and real. 

“Thank you,” Dani murmured. 

Patting her cheek, Judy left Dani to her devices and handed off the camera to Mike who had been relegated as the cameraman for the evening, a bulky camcorder already set upon his shoulder as he wandered through the house, filming everyone and anything interesting.  

As far as O’Mara birthday parties tended to go, Dani’s party today was subdued by the family’s standards, but there was still a flair of the O’Mara fervor to it. Dinner had already been proudly served by Judy and Carson, an array of Dani’s favorite dishes perfectly cooked by the pair, and now, dinner table cleared and dishes cleaned, everyone was starting to get into the swing of things. 

Generic pop music played from the stereo system where Carson declared providence over. He could often be seen trotting back and forth to switch tapes and fiddle with the stereo equalizer. Her mom laughed on the couch where she accepted another glass of wine from David’s wife. Kids that barely reached her waist either ran through the house or lingered on the carpet by their parents’ legs. Judy wandered around, always with a food platter in hand or a glass of her own wine, playing hostess. Eddie and his older brothers laughing as they stood around drinking beers. And Jamie — 

Dani looked around, fidgeting with her hands, seeing neither her nor Mikey anywhere. With one last glance around the living room, she wandered further into the house until at last she spotted Jamie at the end of the hallway, leaning against a wall near the basement entrance. In black slacks, a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, and brown suspenders, it was the most dressed up Dani had seen her in years. 

Jamie’s brow was furrowed, lost in thought as a hand held up a glass of wine close to her mouth while the other grasped her elbow. When Dani stepped closer, Jamie blinked and looked up, her expression brightening into a smile. 

“Fancy seeing you here," Jamie said.

“Are you hiding?” Dani asked with a teasing grin, leaning against the wall across Jamie, the corner edge of it digging against her back. 

Jamie gave her a look. “I’m doing nothing of the sort, thank you very much,” she said, taking a casual sip of her wine. “Just enjoying my drink.”

“Right,” Dani said, nodding indulgently, “So, you’re not lurking back here, staring holes at the wall — “ She twisted around to gesture with a pointed flourish, and froze, sucking in a quiet breath. 

Because there, right on the corner, was a collection of clustered lines and names written in pen and pencil, leading up from a foot or so off the floor, leading straight above Dani’s head. A near three decades of growth and life documented in just a simple straight line of uneven lengths, and two numbers. If Dani were to look closer, she’d find her own name somewhere in the disarray. 

Slowly, she twisted back around where Jamie was watching with a faint solemn grin. Jamie pushed off the wall, her arm reaching out to the lines, pressing a finger against a cluttered section. “Here’s me,” she murmured. Dani eased further aside, leaning her shoulder against the wall, reading where Jamie pointed: Jamie - 13 yrs old, 5’1. “First year they put me down.”

Dani smiled softly, remembering that day vividly. A raucous day spent at the bowling alley a town over, and then back at the house. Jamie high on a sugar and adrenaline rush, so relieved and happy to finally be a teenager. 

Jamie’s finger moved again, dragging higher and stopping after just a few inches to: Jamie - 16 yrs old, 5’3. 

“And the last,” Jamie murmured. 

Dani’s smile flickered, a heaviness settling in her chest as Jamie pulled away and leaned again on the opposite wall. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, it took Dani what felt like an unbearably long time to find the courage to look at Jamie again. When she did, Jamie still wore that same grin, but there was a fond amusement to it as she stared at the wall, chuckling softly. “And of course, you grew a bloody inch taller than me that year. Prat.”

Dani laughed. “Probably because you stopped eating your vegetables and bread crusts.”

“You’ve no idea,” Jamie said, drinking her wine. It made Dani pause. It was such a simple statement, but there was a somber history hidden in the words, one that she knew Jamie wasn’t ready to divulge yet, if ever. 

Before Dani could find a response to that, Mikey wandered over with a small bowl in hand with what looked like puppy chow, absentmindedly leaning next to Jamie as he munched. 

Jamie blinked down at him, incredulous. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Mrs. O’Mara gave me some,” Mikey said. With a soft hum of appreciation, Jamie reached a hand forward, but Mikey jerked the bowl away with a scowl. “Get your own!”

Jamie tutted. “Greedy,” she muttered, flicking his ear. Dani laughed as he swiped at Jamie’s hand, but made no attempt to move away, resting his shoulder comfortably against her. He’d been semi-permanently attached to Jamie’s side for most of the evening when he wasn’t either lingering at Dani’s elbow or hovering in the kitchen with Carson and Judy, helping to stir a pot or mix ingredients as they asked him about his interests. 

Though as he chewed now, his eyes brightened. “Hey, Jamie, your name’s on there,” he said, pointing to the list of heights, and frowned thoughtfully, “Did you used to live here?”

“No,” Jamie replied, her voice clipped. Dani gave her a look, but Jamie wasn’t paying attention, her gaze fixed on the wall. 

Mikey didn’t notice, either too fascinated or too used to Jamie’s gruff exterior. “Dani, your name’s here too,” he said, leaning closer, and then made a face. “It says ‘Danielle’ though. Why do they call you that?”

Dani refrained from sighing, but Jamie on the other hand had no such reservations, huffing and pulling Mikey back by the scruff of his shirt to her side again. 

“That was a lifetime ago, mate,” she said, ruffling his hair. 

He grumbled and shook off her hand. “But they still call her that,” he said, looking up at Dani who had always insisted to him: ‘Dani. Just Dani.’ So much so that clearly, it became an ingrained thought. 

Dani shrugged helplessly. “It’s just the way it’s always been.”

He stared for a moment, and then also shrugged, returning back to his puppy chow. Over his head, Dani finally caught Jamie’s eyes, already watching her with such a piercing gaze that Dani felt like Jamie was seeing right through her. Her heart sped up, and before she scrambled to think of anything else to say to fill the silence, she was saved by a collection of young voices and the drumming of feet scuttling their way towards the trio. 

“Oh, no,” Mikey muttered, grimacing.

Curiously, Dani turned towards the sound to see David and Tommy’s kids skidding towards Mikey to pull at his arm towards the basement, begging him to come play. Mikey cast his panicked eyes towards Jamie, but she only laughed. Being the newest, tallest, and the oldest by at least six years, Mikey was by default the most popular kid in the house. The four O’Mara children had immediately tried to accost him when they first set eyes on him, but shy and overwhelmed at the attention, he had hid away by Jamie, her mere presence enough to keep the kids at bay. But not anymore.

“Jamie -!” Mikey said, being inched away by two of Tommy’s kids pulling his arm.

Still laughing, Jamie finally softened, and said, “Thirty minutes, then red alert.”

Mikey’s face twisted, but he eventually huffed, acquiescing to the insistent pulling and let himself be led down the basement, the kids laughing as they went.

“Never thought I’d see the day Tweedledee and Tweedledum have kids, but here we are,” Jamie said. 

“They mellowed over the years, believe it or not,” Dani said. 

Jamie gave her a dubious look. “You sure about that?”

Having heard the news that Dani wouldn’t be able to visit their aunt's place the following weekend, and that Jamie had made her return to North Liberty, the twins had made the effort to travel back to town with their families for Dani’s birthday. The second the twins landed their eyes on Jamie for the first time in a decade, they had crushed her into excited back breaking hugs. 

Jamie gave back as good as she got. 

“What is that?” was the first thing she said to Tommy after they had released her, pointing at his thick, well cared for moustache. 

“You don’t think it makes me look handsome?” Tommy had replied, grinning proudly. 

“Looks more like a rat died on your face.”

David had bent over laughing as Tommy’s face fell. “Told you she’d hate it.”

“And you,” Jamie pointed to David, “Whoever said that hairstyle was a look for you lied out of their arse. It’s burning my eyes.”

“If Eddie and I hold them down, will you please shave them for us,” Carson begged.

“Dani, get a razor,” Jamie had replied.

Dani did not in fact get a razor, she had been too busy laughing. Too relieved to finally have Jamie and Mikey here after spending the morning and afternoon anxiously awaiting the party. Too busy watching the way Jamie’s wicked smile had pulled tight at the corners as she was introduced to Tommy and David’s wives and their kids. A similar taut smile that Mikey wore as he was pulled away from his hiding spot behind Jamie’s back to be introduced to the rest of the family as well. 

Looking at Jamie now, there was a tension to her shoulders and eyes that clashed with the easy grin she wore. 

Dani leaned further into the wall, giving her a careful look. “What are you doing back here really?”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “I’m having me time, is that a crime?”

“Of course not,” Dani said, offering her a smile, “Just...are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dani gave her a look, pinning Jamie with a knowing stare. Jamie’s shoulders slumped with an exhale, her eyes darting away briefly before meeting Dani’s with a faint grin. “Just feels like nothing’s changed here, is all,” Jamie said, “I mean — besides those two giant oafs managing to snag wives and push out a couple of kids.“ At Dani’s laugh, Jamie’s grin widened, a sharp edge to it. “Guess it just feels like…”

Edging closer, Dani reached out her hand to grab Jamie’s. “Like what?” she said, rubbing a thumb over Jamie’s knuckles. 

Her throat bobbing, Jamie’s mouth dropped open to speak, but the sound of feet again interrupted her, her eyes darting towards the noise. Dani dropped her hand as surreptitiously as possible, her shoulders tense, but at the sight of Carson marching towards them, she exhaled softly. 

“Jesus, did you leave a trail of breadcrumbs all the way here?” Jamie said. Dani chuckled and poked her hard in the stomach. Jamie flinched back, swiping at her hand with some minor grumbling. 

“Been looking for you two everywhere,” Carson said, mysteriously donning his leather jacket, and turned to Jamie. “I’m thinking it’s time for a smoke break.”

Jamie frowned. “Already?”

Humming affirmatively, his eyes bright as he looked to Dani, “And you’re coming with us.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

“Can I at least get my jacket?”

“Already handled,” he said, and began enthusiastically shoving them towards the kitchen where the back entrance was, ignoring their complaints. 

With jackets and shoes donned, they stepped out into the chilly evening air onto the back patio, the lights flickered on. Dani and Jamie leaned next to each other on the railing as Carson hopped on the patio table, his legs dangling over the edge. 

“So,” Carson started in between lighting a cigarette, “How’s it feel to be in your late twenties?”

“Please don’t remind me,” Dani said. 

“S’not that bad,” Jamie said, smoke billowing from her mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” Carson smirked, “You’re both ancient now.

Dani glared at him. “We’re twenty-six.”

“Yeah, ancient,” Carson replied. 

Tutting, Jamie shook her head. “Cheeky.”

Jamie was right. For the most part, it did feel like nothing had changed. While Dani and Jamie had been attached at the hip, there had always been room for Carson who lingered nearby, eager to soak up their time and attention. Fitting in between the gaps when there was breathing room. And when Jamie was gone, he had been a calm and comforting shoulder for Dani to lean on. And now, their banter kept her grinning like it always had. 

Eventually, the back door opened and Eddie peeked his head out, his glasses glaring bright under the porch light. “Oh, there you are,” he said,  “Carson, mom needs you in the kitchen.”

Carson exhaled and rolled his eyes. “Said she had it handled,” he muttered, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray on the table and hopped to his feet. “See you in five, ladies,” he said, saluting Dani and Jamie before slipping inside, patting Eddie hard on the back. 

Eddie twisted his mouth after Carson, before returning his attention to the pair. “You two all right out here?” he asked, his breath releasing a white cloud of ice. 

“Pleased as punch,” Jamie replied, releasing her own breath of smoke through pursed lips.

His brow furrowed as he stared at Jamie, opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something. But then he shook his head and smiled at Dani in that same way he'd been doing all week up until today since their argument, a sheen of remorse in his eyes and an eager willingness to put it all behind them. Dani wished she knew how to tell him that none of it was necessary, that she just wanted it to be over. Without another word, he stepped back inside and shut the door. 

Jamie chuckled. “Don’t think your husband to-be is pleased with you being outside with us smokers,” she said, spinning around to lean her elbows on the railing. 

“He just worries, is all,” Dani said, mirroring Jamie’s position, their elbows knocking together. 

“Promise not to give you cancer then,” Jamie said, “Y’know, he mentioned earlier that your house needed some work to be doing. Small repairs here and there. I occasionally do some freelance work in my free time, I wouldn’t mind popping over to spare a hand. Could even give you a family discount.”

Dani went still. Not even Jamie’s grin that somehow managed to be both roguish and sincere could stop the panic rising in Dani’s throat. It took all of her considerable will to refrain from shouting ‘No’ into Jamie’s face, an unyielding uneasiness settling over her at the thought of Jamie in that house, with its confining walls and ceaseless need to take and take. Dani couldn’t bear even the idea of it, of letting Jamie linger in its shadows, not when she was the antithesis to all of what it represented. 

Dani shook her head. “No - um. It’s all right,” she said, her voice high to even her own ears. She swallowed hard. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Dani said, “Mike said he’d come over soon to help to save us some money.”

“You know I was joking about the money thing, yeah?” Jamie said, frowning. 

Dani smiled softly at her. “I know,” she said, nudging Jamie softly in the shoulder with her own. “Just don’t want to keep you from actual paying clients.”

“You pay me enough anyways with the food and company,” Jamie said, waving her hand dismissively. When Dani didn’t respond, words trapped in her throat, Jamie shrugged. “Just saying. If you ever need the extra hand, just say the word.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dani said, almost breathless as she nodded. 

They descended into silence, watching the shadows of the O’Mara’s backyard under the blue evening light. She itched to return to their previous conversation inside, to ask again what made Jamie hide away so thoroughly for so long, staring so hard at the wall of lines of heights that she could’ve burned a hole into the wall. But Jamie remained silent by her side, like it never happened. Silent in the same way she’d been all week over the flowers that she had delivered to Dani, as though she hadn’t briefly turned Dani’s world upside down with the gesture.  

At a brisk breeze, the cold evening air biting at her cheeks, Dani shivered. Feeling the motion, Jamie turned to Dani and grinned. “All right, there?”

“What do you think?”

Jamie laughed and linked their arms, pulling her in close. “Get in, then.” 

Chuckling breathlessly, Dani eased closer into the warmth of Jamie’s side, and finally gathering her courage, she said, “I never did say thank you earlier. For the flowers.”

“My pleasure,” Jamie murmured, pulling at her cigarette. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“‘Course I did,” Jamie said, so matter of factly, blowing smoke up towards the sky and away from Dani, the white smoke disappearing into the breeze. “The way you’ve been feeding Mikey and I, keeping us sane. The least I could do, really.”

Dani was silent for a moment, and then said, “They really are an interesting shade of purple.”

“Don’t you start,” Jamie scolded, jostling Dani who laughed. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dani murmured, smiling gently when Jamie met her gaze.

“Me too,” Jamie murmured, the corner of her mouth tilted into a smile, her eyes soft.

“I think you’re wrong though,” Dani said before she could stop herself. At Jamie’s questioning frown, she swallowed hard and struggled to find the words. “I mean — what you said earlier. Some things did stay the same, you weren’t wrong about that. But other things. I just — when you were gone. Everything changed.”

Jamie’s expression slowly slackened to that same faint solemn grin from the hallway. Her eyes flickered away to the yard, taking a long drag of her cigarette and releasing it into the air. “Thing is,” Jamie slowly started, still not looking at Dani. “From my perspective, it’s like this place froze in time while the rest of the world spun around it. Changing and morphing itself into something unrecognizable and different. Just like I did.”

Dani ducked her head, struck silent. So much said with so little. Over the years Dani often worried about Jamie, always wondering where she was and if she was okay. Worry that eventually had nowhere to go but to be packed away in a box, tucked away safely. The relief now to have Jamie again, pressed warm against her side — solid, real, and safe —  changed, but otherwise still Jamie, was like sinking into a hot bath after spending years in the cold.

Slowly, she eased her hand into Jamie’s free one. The movement made Jamie meet her eyes. “You’re still my favorite,” Dani said, offering her a small smile.

“Even as battered as I am?” Jamie asked ruefully.

“Wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Jamie murmured, “Feeling’s mutual, Poppins.”

They fell silent again, their hands still linked. The small breeze rustling the brittle and colorful leaves. The end of Jamie’s cigarette burning a bright hot red, revealing grey ash as she took another drag, her lips wrapped on the filter with practised ease, leaving behind a faint print of lipstick residue. When Jamie lifted her head to blow the smoke into the sky, the scar along her mouth and chin was outlined in the porch light slanting sharply across her features. Dani swallowed hard and blinked her eyes away. 

“Do you mind if I -?” Dani started when Jamie dropped her head, gesturing towards the cigarette.

Jamie arched an eyebrow at her, smirking. “You sure your little lungs can handle it? Won't start wheezing on me?”

Dani rolled her eyes and held out her hand. Chuckling, Jamie dutifully handed it over, watching eagerly. The first pull hurt and she coughed lightly, blowing it out. At Jamie’s laugh, Dani knocked her shoe into Jamie’s ankle.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, and took another pull. It was easier this time, her shoulders slumping as she sank into it. 

“Well, look at you,” Jamie said, chuckling as Dani blew out a line of smoke, the pair watching it unfurl in the air. “You’re a pro.”

“Only socially,” Dani said, handing it back. “That’s gonna bite me in the ass later with my asthma, but thanks.”

“No problem,” Jamie said, pinning the cigarette with a hard stare, flicking off the ashes, looking very much like she was debating taking another pull or not. But then, Jamie sighed and checked her watch. “Better get inside before they wonder if we ran off into the night.”

Dani laughed. “Like that one Christmas when we were fourteen?”

“Probably the best Christmas of my life,” Jamie said, grinning as she stepped away to put out the cigarette. 

They returned inside, shedding their outer layers that Jamie insisted they leave in the kitchen for now, taking her hand and leading her towards a mysteriously dark dining room. 

“Hey,” Dani started, “What’s going — “

Before she could finish the question, there was a loud cacophonous noise as a dozen people began to sing happy birthday at her. She jerked to a stop with a startled, “Oh!” It took a moment to settle her heart, but she finally laughed, taking in the room that was lit by only the candles that sat in a birthday cake on the table, the darkened room aglow with firelight, and everyone surrounding the table, looking at her as they sang.

She heard Jamie laugh behind her. Dani shot her a knowing grin over her shoulder, shaking her head. Jamie shrugged, her smile bright, and pressed a hand to her back to ease her forward as the singing continued. When she made it to the head of the table where the cake awaited her, aware that Mike’s camera was on her, and Judy’s arm now wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close, Dani held onto a wide smile, her cheeks straining, unable to look anyone in the eyes as the singing came to a close with a round of applause.

At the calls to blow out the candles and make a wish, Dani hesitated, worrying at her lower lip as she stared down at the candles. She could feel Eddie on the other side of her, pulling her hand into his, linking their fingers. Judy’s arm was warm and solid around her shoulders. Her mom sat adjacent to her, a glass of wine in her hand, her smile just short of wistful and her eyes glassy. Dani leaned forward, feeling the heat of the fire on her face, and her eyes darted up at the last second, catching Jamie’s eyes. Jamie smiled fondly at her, her arm resting around Mikey’s shoulders. Her stomach twisting as she looked back down at the cake, Dani took a deep breath and blew out the candles. 

 --

“Budge up,” Jamie said, nudging Mikey’s socked foot with her own. 

Mikey frowned at her and pointed at the space on the couch beside him. “There’s space right there.”

“I can see that. Got your name on it, too. Now -” Jamie made a whistling noise and gestured with her bottle of beer. Rolling his eyes, Mikey scooted over so that Jamie could take the middle section of the couch, directly between him and Dani. 

“Right,” Jamie groaned as she lowered herself onto the couch. “Let’s get this over with. Bring on the ear people.”

On the other side of the couch Dani could just hear Mikey mutter, “Ferengi. I told you they’re called Ferengi.” 

Dani could see Jamie hide a smirk by taking a sip of her beer, well aware that Jamie knew exactly what they were called. 

“You’re such an ass,” Dani murmured with a small smile, watching Jamie instead of the screen.

“Just doing my sisterly duty,” Jamie said.

“Shh!” Mikey told both of them.

“Yeah, Dani,” said Jamie, lifting a finger to her lips.

Dani snorted and shook her head, turning her attention back to the television. She curled her feet up beneath her legs, so that she leaned against the arm of the couch. If Jamie cared that the side of their hips were pressed together, she did not complain. On screen, the episode played but Dani hardly saw it. 

It wasn’t even about watching television with them. The screen could have been blank for all Dani cared. It was an excuse, like a hearth in the dead of winter. Something they huddled round for warmth and the quiet comforts of each other’s company. She would have been just as happy sitting in silence with them, and she wondered how she might best memorize this moment, press it between two pages and preserve it for safe-keeping for when the inevitable end came. When the episode was over and she no longer had any excuse to linger in a house that was not hers but which felt more like a home than the one to which she would return. When Mikey would bound off to his room up the stairs, leaving Dani and Jamie alone on the couch together, reluctant to move apart despite the newly freed space. When Jamie would be the first to rise to her feet and walk towards the kitchen to make one last pot of tea for them to share, one last excuse before Dani had to go. 

“Cuppa for the road?” Jamie asked.

The moment came too soon. A blink and it was here. Quick as a press of fingers to the pulse. 

Dani sighed and dragged herself from the couch to where Jamie was already putting the kettle on the stove top. “That’d be great,” she said and sat at a barstool, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island. Upstairs she could hear the thump of Mikey’s footsteps down the narrow hall, followed by the slam of a door. Dani winced. “Forgot how loud boys can be.”

Jamie gave a huff of laughter. “How could you, living with the O’Maras all these years?”

“They're not that bad.”

“You sure we’re talking about the same O’Mara boys?”

“Pretty sure,” Dani said with a smile as she watched Jamie rummage around the cramped kitchen space. The afternoon light glanced through the windows, illuminating the space with squares of italicized sunlight. With very little effort she could pretend it was morning and that they’d just woken up and Jamie was making them the first pot of tea to fortify them for the day.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Jamie asked, pulling down two fresh mugs from the cupboard. “You’ve got one of those looks on your face.”

“I miss sleepovers,” Dani admitted. Her jaw was propped atop her hands, so that the words came out half mumbled.

Jamie paused, but it was such a minute thing that Dani might have imagined it. “‘Fraid my couch isn’t very comfortable.” She set down an empty mug in front of Dani. “But you’re welcome to it, whenever you like.”

“Thanks,” Dani said softly. 

Jamie’s eyes met hers and there was a beat of silence before the kettle started to whir in the background. Clearing her throat, Jamie turned and took it off the heat, pouring water into the teapot and setting the lid atop to let it steep. She did not turn back around immediately. Instead, her head tilted as if in contemplation, and she reached for a piece of paper atop a corner of the kitchen counter beside the radio, a bunched up scarf, and a small bowl holding different sets of keys. 

“Forgot about this,” Jamie muttered. She turned, paper in hand, and frowned down at its contents. Then she held it up for Dani to read from a distance. “Something about a school trip to the library?”

It was, Dani realized, the student permission form. She straightened and nodded. “Yeah. We need parental or guardian permission, otherwise the kid has to stay at the school for the day while the rest of us go.”

Jamie turned over the page to see if there was anything written on the back. There wasn’t. “Do you do these sorts of trips often?”

“There are a few, yeah,” said Dani. “There’s an upcoming camping trip over one of the long weekends, I think. And a Halloween event. And, you know, the usual dances and stuff.”

Jamie raised her eyebrows, her mouth curling at the corners. “Don’t remember the school having this kind of budget when we were attending.”

Dani laughed. “Yeah, well. There are a few more students nowadays.”

With a wordless hum, Jamie turned and wandered over to the junk drawer in the kitchen. She pulled out a pen, shutting the drawer with a nudge of her hip, and signed the piece of paper with a fast scribble against the bench top. She was about to straighten when she paused, frowning down at the page. “Says here,” she tapped the tip of her pen against a section of the page, “to sign as a volunteer?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to -” Dani shook her head. “That’s just for parents who want to come along and help supervise.”

Jamie made a gesture with the pen. “So, should I sign it?” 

“Only if you want to spend four hours of your Friday at a library with two hundred elementary schoolers,” Dani said. 

“Two hundred?” Jamie repeated, making a face. “What? Are you taking them all at the same time?” 

“Our budget isn’t that big,” Dani said. “It’s cheaper if we just do it all at once.”

“Blimey.”

Dani held out her hand for the paper. “Don’t worry about it. You can -”

“But do you need more volunteers?” Jamie asked, interrupting her. 

“Don’t you have work?” 

Jamie shrugged. “I can take a day off. Can’t even remember the last time I stepped foot in a library. Think I almost caught fire.”

Dani snorted and said, “No, I’m pretty sure that was the Church.” 

“Holy ground and I never did mix well. D’you reckon this fancy new library will be consecrated?”

Dani hesitated, but couldn’t fathom why. Being afraid of Jamie mingling with her work life was not the same as worrying about Eddie mingling with her work life. She was afraid of seeing her too often, of being seen with her too often, of Hannah seeing them together, of Jamie mentioning the flowers, of Hannah cluing in to her lie, of Eddie’s absence and Jamie’s — something. And Jamie was watching her now, as if waiting for her permission, as if Dani had complete say over everything and anything.

Dani shook her head. “No. No, I’m sure you’re safe from heaven’s wrath.”

“This time, maybe.” Jamie’s smile softened, but then she winked at her before glancing down to scrawl her signature a second time. When she had finished, she held out the page to Dani. “Here you are, then. Count me in.” 

Dani took the page. Her fingers traced the edges, lingering as she folded it into a small enough square to fit into her pocket, but even then she did not tuck it away. Not just yet. She tapped the folded paper against her opposite hand and chewed at her lower lip. 

“Should I not come?” Jamie asked, slowly putting the pen back into its designated drawer with all the rest of the home’s miscellaneous items. 

Dani shoved the paper into the back pocket of her jeans and smiled. “No,” she said. “I just think you’ll find it all very boring, is all.”

“I like boring.” 

“But you’re not -” said Dani, waving towards her, “- boring.”

“Never said I was. Just said I liked it.” 

With an incredulous snort, Dani asked, “Since when?”

“Since my life got too interesting.” Jamie deemed the tea steeped and poured them each a cup. “Boring’s good. Boring’s underrated.” 

Without a word Dani took the cup offered to her. She added a splash of milk from the jar Jamie put out on the counter, but didn’t take a sip. Her fingers tapped nervously against the rounded surface of the mug, and with every brush of her third finger against the earthenware there came the clink of her engagement ring. She stared down at the cup. In it her reflection was murky and small.

“Hey,” Jamie said and Dani glanced up. Jamie smiled. “I still have a birthday present to give you.”

Dani blinked. “You really didn’t need to -”

“Too late. Already have it.”

A weak huff of laughter and Dani shook her head. “It’s fine. Really. Having you at Judy’s the other night was enough.”

Having you here is enough, she didn’t say. It was what she meant. And Jamie’s expression has softened in a way that said she understood the implication, even if it wasn’t stated outright.

“Come on,” Jamie set down her cup of tea, clink of earthenware against tile, and gestured for Dani to stand. “Up you get.”

Dani never could say no to her. Some days it felt like she couldn’t say no to anybody, but with Jamie it was always true. She let go of the mug and scraped back the barstool. When she rounded the kitchen island, Jamie stopped her with a touch at her shoulder. 

“Turn around,” Jamie said as she picked up the scarf and made a twirling motion with one hand. When Dani gave her a dubious look, Jamie laughed. “It’s a surprise. I promise I won’t lead you over a cliff.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dani replied dryly, turning in place.

The scarf had been worn so often throughout the years that the wool was soft with age and wear. Dani held her breath as it came up over her eyes, folding across the top half of her face until the world was but a warm darkness that smelled of shampoo and subtle woodsy cologne. She could feel Jamie tying the ends off at the back of her head. Reaching up, Dani folded a bit of the scarf so that it was further up the bridge of her nose.

"No peeking," Jamie chided.

"I'm not."

"Sure you aren't."

"Jamie."

"And here I thought you were a fan of delayed gratification," Jamie said, chuckling softly.

Her voice had moved. Dani's head twitched in that direction, straining to follow Jamie's presence, but Jamie walked with soundless steps. Whisper of socks against the floorboards. Shift of cloth against cloth. Dani reached out blindly in the direction she thought Jamie was standing and was startled to feel a hand catch her own.

"This way," Jamie murmured.

Dani took a step forward but paused when Jamie let go of her hand. She hesitated to move until she felt a gentle touch at the base of her back, the low curve of her spine, and Jamie's voice in her ear. "I've got you."

A shiver traced its fingertips from the nape of Dani's neck down to where Jamie's hands were pressing her forward, one step at a time. Dani could just make out the floor and the blur of her own feet, but naught else. She walked with a hand outstretched, dragging her fingers against the wall, against fixtures and door frames, even knowing Jamie wouldn't let her run into anything.

One of Jamie's hands smoothed over her hip, holding her in place. "Just a tick," she said, and suddenly she was gone and Dani stood alone in the dark, listening to the sound of a lock tumbling open with a click.

"Watch your step," Jamie said, taking both of Dani's hands now and guiding her along.

Dani felt around the ground with one foot until she found the step and carefully took it. Another and then flat surfaces once again. The floor here was colder, harder. It caught slightly like a burr on the undersides of her feet. Dani tilted her head to one side, smelling the faint fumes of diesel and metal.

"Are we in the garage?" she asked.

"Look at you, Sherlock."

"Please don't tell me you bought me a car."

Jamie laughed softly. "Just how much do you think they pay me at the botanical gardens?" Dani opened her mouth to reply, but Jamie said warningly, "Don't answer that. Rhetorical question."

Dani's mouth curled at the corners in spite of herself. She reached up to touch the scarf. "Can I take this off now?"

"In a minute," Jamie grunted and her voice was further away now. There was the sound of something heavy sliding across the ground, as though being pushed atop scraps of cardboard. “You know, for someone who didn’t want a present you’re awfully impatient.”

"Consider my curiosity piqued."

"All right." Jamie sounded close again, and Dani started when she felt a soft tug at the knot of the scarf at the back of her head. "Ready?"

Dani's only reply was a wordless, helpless noise in the back of her throat, and the scarf fell away. Blinking in the strips of flourescent light of the garage, Dani squinted at the shape before her. It was a desk. Broad and deep, the wood warm and oak-bright. She took an abortive step forward, then glanced over her shoulder at Jamie, "Can I -?"

Jamie was winding the scarf around one fist as though it were a hand bandage or a precursor to boxing gloves. She motioned towards the desk. "Course you can. It's yours, if you'll have it."

The top of the desk reached Dani's hip. She ran her fingers along it, savoring the smooth surface that had been painstakingly sanded back at various grades until the wood was almost buttery to the touch. A walk around the desk revealed a few deep gouges even sanding couldn't erase — marks studiously engraved with initials and little pieces of history scattered here and there — but Dani found herself lingering over those the most. She opened a drawer and seared onto a corner of the wood inside was the county seal.

"They're doing some renovations at the old council offices near work," Jamie explained when she saw what Dani was looking at. "Found 'em trying to chuck this out, and I rescued it. Those contractors didn't know what they had. Too good for kindling, this."

The drawer shut smoothly with the barest push of Dani’s hand against it. “Jamie,” she said, “this is too nice. I can’t -”

“Rubbish,” Jamie scoffed, stepping forward to stand beside her. She crossed her arms and admired her own handiwork. “Few hours with a hand planer and a belt sander. Few coats of linseed oil. That’s all it is.” 

There were wood shavings caught in the corners of the garage still. A small pile of dust beside a broom which was leaning against the far wall. Dani felt her throat tighten, even looking at the desk. Just a piece of furniture, she thought faintly. A battered and recycled old block of wood from the same building complex where Eddie worked. Had he mentioned renovations at dinner? Dani couldn’t remember. 

“Thank you. It’s -” Dani said, trying to bite back the slight tremor in her voice. “I don’t know where I’m going to put it.”

The spare bedroom, maybe. She and Eddie hardly ever had guests come over to visit. He would complain. He would help Carson and Jamie haul it inside, but he would complain. Subtle jabs about the guest room feeling cramped. How they would need to buy a new chair to go with it. How its weight would dig grooves into the carpet. When he had only ever complained about how her work took up space. And now, here Jamie had done the opposite.

“I do like it,” Dani insisted. “I do. It’s wonderful. It’s -” she clamped her teeth to stop herself from prattling, feeling a strange burning in her throat. 

Jamie was frowning. She nodded in Dani’s direction, just a quick lift of her chin. “Everything all right? You seem out of sorts today.”

“Yeah,” Dani said but her voice sounded high even to her own ears. “Yeah. I just -” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “There’s a lot going on right now.”

“Kids,” said Jamie. “Run you ragged.”

“It’s not just that, though. It’s -” Dani waved her hand in an absentminded gesture, only to then rub the weariness behind her eyes. “Weddings plans. And family. And - And new house and old car and -”

She cut her own babbling off, half expecting Jamie to have done it for her, to slice through Dani’s fumbling attempts at self-expression. But Jamie didn’t. Jamie waited for Dani to finish her thoughts, silent. Dani was biting at her nail before she even realized it, and she jerked her hand back down, tucking it beneath her opposite elbow and clenching her teeth together tightly. 

“Do you remember,” Dani said suddenly, “when we snuck out at night to see Carrie that one time?”

Jamie hummed. “I remember. We went to that old outdoor picture theatre and it started to rain at the end.” 

Dani nodded and sat on a corner of the desk, staring down at her own feet. She dug her fingers into her own flank to ground herself, just on the edge of pain beneath her ribs. “When she’s standing on stage with a crown and a sash, and everyone’s looking at her and clapping?” she said faintly, voice distant. “That’s what it feels like. Like I’m just walking around, waiting for a bucket of blood to drop over my head, and I don’t know when it’s going to happen but I’m the one holding the rope.”

Jamie didn’t say anything, but from the edges of her vision Dani could just make out movement. The light rustle of fabric as Jamie removed the scarf from her hand to wind it around her own neck as she approached, so she could sit against the edge of the desk beside her. Close enough to touch without doing so. Just the warmth of her hand a hair’s breadth away as Jamie leaned her weight back, hands spread against the broad wooden surface behind her.

“Need me to sort out your mum for you? Or Ed? Or Judy?” Jamie asked. “‘Cause I will.”

Dani’s answering laugh was weak and watery. She shook her head, but could not bear the thought of looking up at her, seeing the expression on Jamie’s face. “I try,” she said. “I try to tell them that I don’t want - that I - I like working, but they don’t listen. No matter how many times I try to open my mouth and it’s just - Everything’s happening so fast,” Dani shut her eyes and swallowed thickly past a lump in her throat. “I feel like I'm standing in the middle of the room, screaming, and nobody even looks at me. Nobody can see me."

Jamie’s hand drifted over and covered hers. "I see you,” she murmured.

For longer than she should have, Dani let her hand be held, squeezing Jamie’s fingers so tightly her knuckles flashed white and bloodless. Knowing that this was probably too much, that she should let go, but unable to make herself do so until she heard footsteps overhead once more. She jerked away, expecting Mikey to come thundering down the stairs at any moment, but he never did. 

“Jamie!” his voice called from the top of the steps, out of sight and muted down the hall. “The sink tap is broken!”

“Be there in two shakes!” Jamie yelled. 

“Sorry,” Dani mumbled. She stood and started towards the door leading back to the main house. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

“It’s fine,” Jamie said, following after her through the narrow hallway with a puzzled expression on her face. “You don’t have to dash.”

“I should. I have -” Dani picked up her bag and jammed her feet into her shoes at the front door, “- dinner plans. I have to go. I’ll - I’ll see you next time.”

“Sooner.”

Pausing at the threshold of the house, Dani blinked over her shoulder in a silent question.

Behind her Jamie stood with her hands in the pockets of her jeans, her smile crooked but her gaze soft. “Friday,” she said. “For the library trip. I’ll be there.”

 --

It took four school buses to cart all the students to North Liberty Library. Dani and Jamie sat at the head of the final bus, directly behind the driver’s seat. The faux leather seats were slippery after decades of use, like the worn tread of an old shoe. Dani rocked as the bus trundled along, her shoulder pressing up against Jamie’s with every turn of the vehicle. Behind them, nearly fifty students were babbling away, the noise loud enough combined with the rumbling of the engine that whenever she and Jamie wanted to exchange a few words they had to lean their heads together to be heard. 

The bus rounded a corner and approached the Library, where the other three yellow buses were already parked, a flood of students rushing onto the lawn. The asymmetrical building with its broad brick face and a playground that was already being overrun with kids despite the volunteers’ best efforts. Looking at it now, Dani struggled to imagine two hundred kids fitting inside at all. 

“Maybe we should’ve taken them in batches,” she murmured. 

She thought she was talking low enough to not be overheard but beside her Jamie said, “And I thought riding in here was like being crammed into a tin of sardines.”

Dani turned to smile at her, but at that very moment a wadded up ball of paper went streaking overhead and hit the back of the bus driver's seat. Looking briefly heaven-ward for patience, Dani leaned her arm over the back of her seat and aimed a stern glare behind her. "What did I say about throwing things?"

Several kids were giggling. Others pointed at one another, trying to blame someone else. Most hadn't even heard her over the general din of noise. Dani could see where her influence over the bus ended and it was about seven rows back. Beyond that, it might as well have been pandemonium.

"I think you're going to have to work on your volume," Jamie said when Dani gave up and settled back into her seat.

Sighing, Dani shook her head. "You know I hate yelling."

"Yeah, and your lung capacity is pure shite."

Dani elbowed her gently in the ribs, but still Jamie gave a theatrical grunt. Jamie's hand wormed its way between them, fingers testing the sensitive side of Dani's flank so that Dani squeaked and sat ramrod straight.

"Don't," Dani warned firmly. "Technically I am at work."

"Should’ve thought of that before you jostled me, then.”

Dani shook her head with a small smile, and from the corner of her eye she could see Jamie withholding a grin of her own. The bus jolted to a halt in a high squeal of brakes. Behind them, kids were already scrambling to their feet or kneeling on their seats to get a better look outside. Dani made a gesture towards Jamie so they could both stand in the aisle and block any potential escape before everyone could be briefed.

Jamie stood, hands on her hips, and bellowed, "All right, you lot! Listen up! Miss Clayton wants a word!"

The excited exchange of dozens of separate conversations died down to mutters and then to general silence. Jamie gave a mock little bow. Shooting her a grateful look, Dani lifted her voice to address the bus at large. “We’re going straight from the bus to the library! No running off the parking lot or the playground! When we’re inside, you’re going to follow the nice lady around the library for a tour and a presentation! Remember your groups, please! And no wandering off! If you want something, come to me or Miss Taylor! Okay?” 

There came a chorus of begrudging agreement, and then they followed her off the bus. Jamie stood by her side on the footpath, the two of them watching students disembark and then promptly scamper off to find their friends as they all congregated outside the front of the building. Dani kept careful count of every head that passed. At one point a student ran into her and she simply guided him back towards the stream of others with a gentle set of hands at his shoulders.

"That way, honey," she said distantly, not paying attention as he mumbled a brief thank you before rushing off towards his group.

"So, this is what you do all day," said Jamie.

"Hmm?"

Arms crossed, Jamie watched her with a soft smile. She nodded towards Dani and said, "This. Herding cats."

The words finally registered and Dani gave a brief laugh, sparing Jamie a glance before she resumed her counting. "Mostly. Though at this point my clothes would be covered in chalk hand prints."

"School can't even afford to buy you towels?" Jamie clucked her tongue in faux admonishment. "Who's running this shit show anyway?"

"That would be me."

At the sound of a voice directly behind them, both Dani and Jamie jumped to attention and whirled around. Hannah was watching them with glittering amusement in her dark eyes. Today she was dressed in an earth tone tweed suit with sculpted brown boots clinging to her calves, leather polished to a mirror shine, so that she appeared to have just dismounted from horseback after a ride across some vast demesne.

Hannah held out her hand. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure, yet. Hannah Grose. School principal."

"Uh -" said Jamie as she shook Hannah's hand, looking as utterly lost for words as Dani had ever seen her.

"Jamie Taylor," Dani said for her.

There was a flash of recognition across Hannah's face. "Mikey's mother?"

"Sister," Jamie corrected. She pulled her hand away with a smile. "Sorry 'bout earlier. I was just -"

"Teasing," Hannah finished for her, gaze darting towards Dani. "Yes, I could see that."

"Dani mentioned you were the most put together woman she'd ever met," said Jamie with a gesture towards Hannah's outfit. "Can't say I disagree."

Hannah's smile grew warmer. "Miss Clayton is far too generous. Though, I'm sorry to say she hasn't told me much about you."

Dani could feel her cheeks grow hot. Her attention was divided in equal parts as she tried to pay attention to the conversation as well as to the last of her students disembarking and the bus driver waving at her in a silent query if he should go park. She craned her neck to ensure there were no kids running around the bus before nodding and waving him along. He flashed her a thumbs up, then shut the passenger door and put the bus into gear.

"Not much to say, really," the conversation was continuing beside her. Jamie had her hands jammed into the pockets of her baggy jacket. "Spent a lot of time here as a kid. Now I'm back."

"With that accent?" Hannah narrowed her eyes and made a thoughtful sound. "Nottingham?”

Jamie gave a derisive snort but she was grinning broadly. “Further up, you Southern softie.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you,” Hannah said. “I actually wandered over to say thank you for volunteering.”

Jamie waved her away. “It’s no problem.”

“Even so. I’m glad Miss Clayton was able to convince you to come along.”

“I can never say no to her,” Jamie said and shot Dani a wink. 

Hannah nodded sagely. “It’s the eyes.”

“What?” said Dani.

“Too pretty,” Jamie agreed.

“What?” Dani said again. Hannah and Jamie were watching her with identical expressions now, somehow both puckish and reserved. Dani rolled her eyes. “Okay. I’m going to go rally the troops. You two keep -” she made a flapping motion with her hand towards them “- being British.”

“Think we can manage?” Jamie asked Hannah, who shrugged.

“Depends on just how far north you meant.”

Jamie laughed.

Wandering over towards the building, Dani left them to it. Some of the kids had ignored instructions and were clinging to the monkey bars of the adjacent playground. Dani saw an unfortunate Jackie Pullman trying to coax them down without much luck. She considered helping, but stopped when another teacher joined in with far more success. Turning her attention instead towards a group sneaking around the back of the building, Dani headed them off. She was herding a cluster of grumbling kids back towards the front, when Jamie caught up with her again.

“No more Hannah?” Dani asked, then pointed sternly at the children. “You can explore outside after the tour inside. Go on!”

They sighed and ambled away to join the larger congregation. Jamie made a shooing motion towards them — one of the kids stuck his tongue out at her and Jamie returned the gesture much to his surprise — and after they’d gone she said, “She went to talk to the bus drivers to confirm something in the schedule.”

“That sounds like her.” Dani stood on her toes to get a better look over the area, checking for any students trying to sneak away from the others or otherwise cause mischief. 

“Christ,” Jamie breathed and Dani turned to follow her gaze in the direction of the playground. “Is that Jackie?”

“The one and only,” Dani muttered. Jackie had given up on trying to corral kids and was now standing with her back towards them, hands on hips. 

“She still with that dickhead? What’s his name?”

“Sterling?” Dani supplied helpfully. “Yeah. They’re married and have a kid. Want to say hi?”

Jamie made a face. “I’ll pass, thanks.” 

As if she had overheard them, Jackie turned and saw them there. Dani lifted her hand in a half-hearted wave. Most times, her old school ground bully acted polite and charming in that sickly sweet way, like a passive aggressive suit of armor for social situations where the two of them had to pretend to hold a civil conversation for two minutes. Now however, Jackie’s eyes moved towards Jamie and her expression went utterly wooden. 

“What’s that about?” Dani wondered aloud as Jackie stalked off, pretending she hadn’t seen them.

“No idea.” Jamie nudged Dani’s elbow with her own and jerked her head towards the front door. “C’mon. Let’s keep up.”

Puzzled, Dani let herself be led back to the rest of the group. She and Jamie shuffled along in everyone’s wake, Dani hanging in the back to ensure that everybody was well and truly inside before she followed suit. 

“Do you want to find Mikey?” Dani asked Jamie at one point, but Jamie shook her head. 

“Last thing he needs is his older sister hanging about while he’s with friends.”

“Cramping his style,” Dani said. 

“Making him look thoroughly un-cool,” Jamie agreed, even as she slouched against the brick wall beside the open door looking artfully disheveled, as though she had meant for those unruly curls to escape from her devil-may-care updo. Dani considered tucking a stray strand of hair behind Jamie’s ear, but ultimately decided against the urge; it wouldn’t have improved her appearance, only detracted from it. 

Instead Dani took Jamie's hand, and tugged her inside. Jamie came without a fuss, pulling Dani’s hand so she could tuck it and her own into the pocket of her baggy coat as they trailed behind the group further into the library. “Almost forgot your hands are always freezing no matter the weather,” she muttered.

The inside of Jamie’s pocket was warm, the material slightly scratchy. “Is that a piece of paper?” she asked, pinching something crumpled in Jamie’s pocket and pulling it free to reveal a five dollar bill. “Oh, nice.”

“Oi!” Jamie hissed. 

She tried to snatch it back, but Dani transferred the bill between different hands until Jamie was trying to reach around to where Dani hid it behind her back. Dani pressed herself against a wall to keep Jamie from where the bill was wadded up in her hands at the base of her spine.

“Shh!” someone said.

They froze, glancing over to find that the librarian was delivering a welcome speech to the students. Dani could barely make her out at the end of the main room over the sea of heads. Biting back a grin, Dani relinquished the five dollars without further ado. 

“I thought I was supposed to be the troublemaker,” Jamie said in a low tone as she crammed the bill back into her pocket. 

Dani shrugged. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

At that, Jamie snorted and shook her head. Reluctantly they turned their attention towards the speaker. The main room wasn’t much to write home about. A low slanted ceiling commanded the space. Rows of books filled up most of the hall, so that everyone was crowded together, every sneeze and errant murmur echoing dimly along the ceiling. 

She couldn’t think of anywhere else she would rather be in this moment. Here. Crammed between a bookshelf and a garishly painted wall. Jamie pressed up so close against her that the head librarian’s voice seemed to fade into a distant murmur like the slough of wind through branches. Far enough back that nobody was looking at them, that nobody cared. Studying the line of Jamie's profile, the shadow of her eyelashes cast across her cheek like a smudge of charcoal from an errant touch. Inside, the lights were dimmed until only natural light drifted across the stacks. They stood, it seemed, in a pool of shade, watery sunlight slanting overhead like a pane of glass, motes of dust glimmering gold in the air.

Jamie twitched when she was still for too long. She shrugged her shoulders. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. She crossed her arms then uncrossed them again, glancing about the room in search of something to occupy her. With a charmed smile, Dani nudged the back of Jamie's hand with her own and Jamie blinked at her in confusion.

Dani bowed her head just slightly — that was all it took — to whisper in Jamie's ear, "Bored yet?"

Jamie had gone very still and from this angle Dani couldn't clearly see her expression. She could feel the warmth of Jamie's skin against the tip of her nose, and Jamie sucked in a breath. And then Jamie was turning her head, so that they stood close enough for Dani to count the new freckles splattered lightly across her cheeks.

Jamie arched an eyebrow at her as if in a challenge and murmured, "Half asleep already."

Jamie's grin was infectious. Dani could feel her own smile broaden, could feel the graze of their fingers, knuckles slipping past one another as she curled her hand. There was a warmth pooling in her chest, branching out against her ribs in a rush that was familiar and heady. The same feeling that stung Dani every time she allowed her eyes to follow a pretty waitress, every time she caught herself staring at a woman’s mouth, a woman’s hands, a woman’s knees, the drape of cloth across a woman’s shoulders. For a single mad moment Dani imagined closing the distance between them and kissing her, and the image sent a jolt of heat down her spine that was so startling she lurched back, breathless.

Jamie was watching her with a furrow in her brow. “You all right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Dani said. “Yeah, no, I’m - I’m fine. I - uh -” she swallowed past a sick feeling welling up in her throat that just wouldn’t go away. “Excuse me. I need to -”

And feeling as though she were sinking down into the floor with every step, Dani slipped away, head down, eyes locked on the ground at her feet as if in a dream, as if sleepwalking. Her heart hammered against her ribs like it was trying to beat its way out of her chest. The tips of her fingers trembled. Her skin felt as though it were trying to slip off her arms like a pair of gloves. Dani tried to keep her breathing calm and level, but with every step it came short and fast, building up an all too familiar burn in her chest. 

Dani rounded a corner and pushed open the clearly labelled bathroom door. The door creaked shut behind her. Standing before the center sink, every gasp of air a flicker of embers in her lungs, she twisted at the taps with shaking hands until water streamed into the sink, flecks splashing up along her forearms as she plunged her hands beneath the spray. The cold was shocking across the pulse at her wrist. She scrubbed her hands together then shut the taps off in order to grip the sides of the sink so hard the porcelain edges dug into her palms. 

Leaning her weight against the sink, she struggled to get her breathing under control. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on every inhale, every exhale, her chest hitching until — slowly — she felt the pressure ease like a fist uncurling around her sternum. Dani leaned back, hands loosening against the sink until they slipped free and fell to her sides. She opened her eyes, half expecting someone to be standing behind her — she hadn’t checked the stalls, had blindly rushed in — but the individual stall doors were open and empty. 

There was only her. Panicked and tired, hollow-eyed and blotchy-cheeked. 

Her breathing had settled, but her hands still trembled. She raked them through her hair, and the water clinging to her fingers left honey-darkened trails in their wake. One hand dropped back to her side, but the other rubbed at her damp cheeks and below her eyes before following suit. 

She couldn’t want this, she thought faintly. This couldn’t be her, this person she hardly recognized. Smudged mascara around her eyes. Hair a slumped mess around her ears and shoulders. Her lungs no longer burned, but still Dani felt like she was only seconds away from losing that morning’s breakfast into the sink. Intermittent drip of the tap. The world was blurry at the edges as if the mirror was choked with steam, and Dani had to swallow down the hot threat of tears behind her eyes again. 

Outside, she could hear the clamor resume. Young strident voices called out and the chaos of jumbled footsteps dispersed as the librarian’s presentation ended and the kids were all released to explore the premises as they pleased. Inhaling deeply, Dani steadied herself in the mirror. Her reflection squared her shoulders and her jaw. She yanked a paper towel from the wall dispenser and tidied up her mascara until she merely looked fresh-faced and not like she’d been on the brink of a total collapse, life crashing down around her ankles. Movements jerky, Dani crumpled up the paper towel and threw it away. 

She couldn’t want this. She couldn’t want Jamie. 

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #dani/jamie #roman writes #cfau #bring home a haunting

[heavyarethecrowns]

Forget Wills and Kate - it's Harry who's found love - May 2007

Gazing into the flames of a campfire on the banks of Botswana's Okavango River, a scruffily dressed young man took a sip of his beer and let out a prolonged sigh.

Minutes later, he was pouring his heart out to the three strangers sitting beside him.

"Apparently, he had fallen in love with some girl in Cape Town who was the daughter of a rich businessman in Zimbabwe.

"He seemed really serious about her, saying he couldn't understand how he had fallen head-over-heels only four days after meeting her," one of those fellow travellers later recalled.

The love-sick youth was, of course, Prince Harry, then on holiday in Africa during his gap year. And the girl who made such an impact was Chelsy Davy.

Three years on, almost to the day, Harry is preparing to wave goodbye to his girlfriend and march off to war.

Much has happened to the young prince in the intervening period: officer training at Sandhurst; periodic brawls with the paparazzi; and his father's marriage to the woman Harry once blamed for causing his late mother so much anguish.

But, to the surprise of many observers, one of the few constants in Harry's life has turned out to be the coltish, snub-nosed girl he met in Cape Town.

Indeed, some of his friends believe that an engagement is almost certainly on the cards, though probably not for a few years yet.

Of course, feelings can change. A tour of duty in Iraq, fighting for his country, may accelerate the progression from pampered prince to more mature man of the world: he may want to close the book on his youth, open a new chapter, find a different kind of soulmate.

But maybe not. Even 12 months ago, few could have predicted that Harry's long- distance relationship with the coquettish daughter of a Zimbabwean wheeler-dealer and former Coca-Cola model would outlast William's romance with the eminently proper Kate Middleton.

The truth of the matter, however, is that Harry has always seen himself and Chelsy as better suited and more capable of going the distance.

"And now," said a well-placed source this week, "he's been proved right."

The 22-year- old prince has become increasingly irritated by what he saw as the "hype" surrounding William and Kate's relationship.

A friend of Harry's says: "Harry doesn't want to be subjected to the level of interest people have been taking in William and Kate.

"It's his idea of hell. But he also feels very frustrated at the way people are so dismissive of him and Chelsy.

"They are always portrayed as a pair of poor little rich kids who will burn themselves out sooner rather than later.

"In Harry's mind, there is nothing ridiculous whatsoever in the idea that one day, in the not-too-distant future, Princess Chelsy could be standing on the balcony at Buckingham Palace - even though she would probably be hiding a cigarette and a bottle of Malibu behind her back."

Despite the stream of paparazzi photographs that reveal a fondness for partying and a distinctly beach-chick style, the 21-year-old Zimbabwean has been an "A" student at school and university.

Harry would not want to change anything about her.

While others - including his own father, according to Harry - find themselves transfixed by Chelsy's more obvious charms - the prince has always believed that his girlfriend has some sterling qualities that Kate probably lacked.

"Harry has always been quietly very proud of the fact that Chelsy - or Chedda, as he affectionately calls her - loves him for who he is.

"In fact, she sees the fact that he's royal as more of a hindrance than a help," says a confidante.

"As the hugely popular daughter of a multi-millionaire businessman with homes in at least three different countries, she doesn't really need to take advantage of Harry's birthright."

One source close to the prince suggests that he actually sided with members of William's circle who felt that Kate Middleton had started to take advantage of the relationship.

"Harry had sympathy with those of William's friends who felt Kate had begun to rather enjoy her fame by association a little too much - unlike his own girlfriend, who he thinks is a 'real class act'," the source explains.

'When she first met William, Kate had few friends of her own - but over the years, she carefully assimilated herself into his circle.

"There was a feeling among some of William's friends that Kate had become a little too self-aware - she even had the cheek to bag herself a cut-price Audi, thanks to her royal links - while publicly insisting that she wanted to be treated as an ordinary girl."

Although Chelsy and Kate were photographed together on several occasions, most notably at the Beaufort Polo Club last summer, Harry's girlfriend apparently didn't particularly take to Kate.

"It wasn't that she disliked her - it's just that they had nothing in common. One only has to look at them to see it," says the source.

"Chelsy is a lot sweeter than she looks, but she is still a very outgoing girl who likes a beer and a fag.

Thanks to her rather indulged upbringing, she is incredibly sociable and self-confident - qualities that don't come naturally to Kate."

Others more sympathetic to Miss Middleton's cause, suggest the reality is that Chelsy has been just as keen to turn a royal relationship to her advantage.

She may protest about the attention, but she has not raised objections about her new status as international cover girl.

Last year, the society magazine, Tatler, even bracketed her with the Duchess of Cornwall as one of the most powerful blondes in Britain.

Her brother Shaun, meanwhile, has taken to styling himself as one of Harry's official bodyguards, and has been known to chase after photographers when they try to take the prince's picture.

Yet, in Harry's besotted eyes, Chelsy and her family can do no wrong.

Courtiers who have expressed concern about the Davys' controversial business links to Zimbabwean despot Robert Mugabe, have been told that she is a "non-negotiable" part of his life.

And he is undoubtedly entranced by the relative normality of his girlfriend's close-knit family.

Which is perhaps hardly surprising. By the age of 13, Harry had weathered not only his parents' separation but had also been forced to cope with the tragic - and endlessly raked-over -death of his mother.

Since then, his upbringing has been marked by a lack of parental discipline, thanks to his loving but laissez-faire father.

Even those with reservations about Chelsy concede that she has had a positive effect on the headstrong, devil-may-care young prince.

"It's far from a coincidence that when Harry does slip up - the times when he falls out of nightclubs drunk and brawls with photographers in the streets - Chelsy isn't around," says one who knows them both well.

"Believe it or not, he has matured in recent years - in large part thanks to Chelsy, whom he is incredibly protective of - and really does try to keep his head down.

"They are so besotted with each other - like a couple of lovebirds, really - that when they are together, nothing else really matters.

"Their body language is so different from that of Kate and William, who always used to look more like brother and sister.

"The trouble is that when Chelsy isn't around, Harry is easily led astray."

On their recent jaunt to the Caribbean, the couple barely left their luxury condo in the exclusive Glitter Bay resort in Barbados, preferring to lie, holding hands, by the pool.

And at last Friday's raucous Blues and Royals party to celebrate Harry's deployment to Iraq, it was William who stayed out clubbing until 4am with a bevy of beautiful girls.

Harry and Chelsy quietly sipped cocktails in a private booth before slipping off discreetly at 1am.

Lately, friends have noticed that the relationship seems to be deepening - although that is not to say there haven't been some pretty intense spats.

Unlike William, who was accused of leaving Kate to flounder under the weight of expectation while he forged on with his own life, Harry has been actively encouraging Chelsy to make solid plans for their future.

Bristol University has flatly denied rumours she plans to do a postgraduate degree there in the autumn, but friends say she is definitely planning to spend more time in England, where she has many friends from her days as a boarder at Stowe, a co-educational public school in Buckinghamshire.

She has even cancelled her plans to return to Africa over the summer and will instead wait for Harry to return from Iraq on leave.

"Chelsy hates the weather here, but is desperate to be nearer to her darling Haz. She is willing to make sacrifices if it takes their relationship a step forward," says a friend.

And Harry has already asked Chelsy to attend the memorial concert in July that he and William are organising to mark the tenth anniversary of their mother's death, though they are still discussing whether she should attend the formal church service later that month.

A Clarence House source says: "The problem is that every senior member of the Royal Family will be there, and Harry knows that taking her is tantamount to making a public statement on the future of their relationship.

"He doesn't think that it's fair on her to open the floodgates just yet."

In the immediate future, he knows that he needs to concentrate on leading his men in Iraq.

The highly charged public debate over his deployment to the Gulf has radically increased the pressure on him to make a success of his career - and he wants to show that the Army's confidence in him has not been misplaced.

"After what happened to my mother, I'm not afraid to die - but I am frightened for those around me," he recently confided to one close friend.

Although he did once petulantly threaten to quit if he were not sent to Iraq with his troops, his attitude has changed in the last few months.

"He knows that the situation is bigger than him now, and he'll take whatever he is told to do on the chin," says a royal aide.

Indeed, those who know him well say he is haunted by the fear that one of his men could be captured or even killed because of him.

"That's something he just couldn't bear, and he knows he would be held to account for the rest of his life.

"The men in his troop have tried to reassure him - joking that they will all wear ginger wigs to confuse the enemy, which is typical of Army gallows humour - but he is wracked with guilt," says another friend.

Iraq, however, is also Harry's big opportunity to strike out from under his elder brother's shadow.

For the first time in his life, the spare to William's heir will be taking centre stage.

"Harry loves his brother very much, but he is acutely aware of the way in which he is overshadowed by William.

"He is determined to go to war and make his family proud," says a friend.

But unlike William, he will have a long-term sweetheart to sweep into his arms when he returns.

#duke of sussex #prince harry #chelsy davy #article

[antiquitiesandlabyrinths]

Akhenaten

The name Akhenaten is rather well known as a Pharaoh of Egypt. Like Ramesses II, Hatshepsut, Cleopatra, and Tutankhamun, Akhenaten won the popularity contest of modern society through defining himself as far different from most other Pharaohs. With Akhenaten, however, he’s not even like the special Pharaohs.

Let’s look a little at his life and the history of the time period he ruled over. He was in the 18th Dynasty of the New Kingdom, from 1353-1336 BC. Like most Pharaohs there are a few different pronunciations of his name, including Akhenaton, Ikhnaton, Khuenaten, all meaning of great use to Aten, which leads into his conversion into the cult of Aten. Before the conversion his name was Amenhotep IV, son of Amenhotep III. His mother was named Tiye. Later on in life he married Queen Nefertiti, fathering two children, one from his wife Nefertiti and one from his lesser wife, Lady Kiya, having Ahnksenamun and Tutankhamun to each wife respectively.

Before we get into the whole mess of his religion and the ‘revamping’ he did of ancient Egypt, let’s recognize the other things he did for or to the country.

You’ll recognize the vastly different art style between Akhenaten’s rule and the history of most of Egypt. In art that depicts Akhenaten, he was shown as long and spindly, a style that carried into his family. Some people believe that this was because he and his family suffered from Marfan’s syndrome, a disease that caused the elongation of bones and skinniness. A more likely explanation stems from the Pharaoh’s religious beliefs, which as you know, was vastly different from other Pharaohs. This theory is a little more likely because there was no reason for the queen Nefertiti to have the same condition as her husband. Instead, it was probably because their status was far different from the other Pharaohs, as they were moved into a genuinely god-like status for their worship of Aten.

The part of Akhenaten and his rule that interests me the most is the way the royal family was presented in art, despite the style. Like many parts of Akhenaten, it’s entirely different from other Pharaohs (though, whether that’s good or bad is up to you).

Now, most Pharaohs presented themselves highly in art. They could do that, so why not? If I had the guts and the money I probably would too, but my point is that essentially all Pharaohs depicted themselves alone on stelas, engaging in hunting or other activities that strengthened the image of themselves that they wanted to show the world. Usually they were masculine tasks that could be done only by those with great strength and great riches. Akhenaten went in an entirely different direction; he depicted himself with his family. In the stele of Akhenaten, he is shown in a private way, the scene being him with his family, enjoying themselves together.

While we can’t say the definitive reason for him presenting himself as this, the most logical conclusion has to do with, again, his religious beliefs. In his mind, the Aten was held above all else, even the Pharaoh. With Aten as the highest consideration, the Pharaoh and his family enjoyed their lives under the influence of the Aten’s love and grace.

Now that we have a little insight, let’s get into the whole mess of his religion that died immediately after he did.

Akhenaten originally reigned as Amenhotep IV, a reign that lasted around five years before he switched religions. Changing his name, he converted to a cult that worshipped Amun to that of Aten, abolishing the ancient rites of those before him, and instituting what is believed as the first example of monotheism state religion in the world. His rule as Akhenaten lasted 12 years, during which he was labelled as the infamous ‘heretic king’, so that should give you some insight into how people felt about him. 

Before his rule, the cult of aten was a cult like all others in Egypt. It was a bit like choosing your favorite God – find the one you like most, and join that cult. For example if I were to join a cult, I would join the cult of my favorite God, Ma’at. I mention this because before the change, the Aten was shown in inscriptions of Akhenaten (Amenhotep IV at that point), represented by the sun disk. It’s also important to note cult doesn’t carry the same meaning as it did then, and each cult shared the same goal: balance and eternal harmony.

At the time of Amenhotep IV’s rule the Amun cult (where the Aten is from) held incredible power. Their power had been growing for a long while, and by the time of his rule, they held nearly as much power and riches as the Pharaoh himself, and actually owned more land than Amenhotep IV. The fifth year of his reign he switched everything; this was when he abolished the practices of the previous religion of Egypt, and proclaimed himself the “living incarnation of a single all-powerful deity known as Aten,” (Joshua J Mark), and by the ninth year, he closed every single temple, prohibiting all the old practices and devotion to the many Gods the people of Egypt worshipped.

Around then was when he moved the royal seat of Egypt from the traditional house of Thebes to a city of his own creation, a city named Akhetaten, and with that he changed his name to Akhenaten. Here he earned the name the Heretic King, earning the ire of some historians and the admiration of others.

Despite the fact that Akhenaten’s influence completely destroyed worship of the Gods many Egyptians loved, one of the main problems with his rule was that the Old Gods of Egypt instilled harmony and order in the citizens, ultimately helping to create a country that lasted over 4,000 years. Without these Gods, things got a little wonky.

Religious tolerance was allowed with the many Gods, emphasizing peace to the point where religious intolerance wasn’t even an issue. Unfortunately, for monotheism to work, there has to be something inherently wrong with the other side, which made Akhenaten’s work a lot harder, and its’ effects much stronger. It led to the intolerance of other beliefs and some severe suppression, and if you look at the monotheistic religions of today, you can see the same sort of pattern. With intolerance comes hatred and war.

“Dating to this point in Akhenaten’s reign was a campaign to excise the name of gods other than the Aten, especially Amun, from the monuments of Egypt. This was done with violence: hieroglyphs were brutally hacked from the walls of temples and tombs. This was probably carried out, at least in part, by illiterate iconoclasts, presumably following the orders of their king. [Akhenaten] carried out a religious revolution the like of which had never been seen before in Egypt.” (Zahi Hawass, 42-43).

There were priests of Atum who attempted to hide religious artifacts, storing statuary and texts away from the soldiers ordered to destroy them. The priests, with nothing left to do, were forced to abandon their temples. In response Akhenaten either hired new priests or forced the other ones to obey him, proclaiming him and his wife once more as Gods on earth.

Now you can see how Akhenaten kind of sucks. Let’s talk about how he sucks even more.

His foreign policy.

With his ego inflated to the size of the sun, Akhenaten thought himself above interactions with foreign powers. He left his duties to spend more time on himself and his family, ultimately leading to a severe neglect.

You might be asking, “didn’t every Pharaoh have a super-inflated ego?” and yes, you’d be right, but no Pharaoh before Akhenaten had genuinely claimed themselves to be a God. As a self-proclaimed incarnated God, he must’ve thought such affairs beneath him.

Discovered through letters of the time, several (former) allies of Egypt had asked for their help several times with various affairs. At the time Egypt was wealthy, prosperous, and strong, a state that had been slowly growing before halting at Queen Hatshepsut’s reign. Hatshepsut and her successors employed a strategy of actually doing work, by working out when to approach with diplomacy, and when military action was required. Akhenaten on the other hand, ignored everything outside of his palace at Akhetaten. 

The uncertainty of Akhenaten’s rule, along with letters of correspondence between the city of Amarna, the Pharaoh, and foreign nations, led to this era being called the Amarna period. These very letters were proof of the Pharaoh’s negligence. However, the letters also show his keen eye in foreign diplomacy, if the situation interested him so. It was a whole thing with the Hittites, but since this is chiefly about Akhenaten, I’ll leave that topic for later. All you really need to know is that he only tended to issues that affected him directly, and through the Amarna letters, historians can see how poor of a King he was, as well as how deeply many of his subjects disliked or despised him. 

Essentially, the main reason this mess didn’t work out was because it brought about something new: exclusivity. And the Egyptians did not like that, believing that the world needed to have a balance in order to stay away from slipping into chaos. In the end monotheism didn’t last; hell, it was ended basically the second Akhenaten’s son took the throne. Tutankhamun, originally named Tutankhaten, changed his name to reflect the return to polytheism. His successors tore down the reminders of Akhenaten’s reign, removing him and his adoration for the Aten, eradicating his name from the record.

There’s no saying he didn’t affect the world – he did, a lot. Whether that affect was good or bad is up to the interpreter (personally I don’t like it all that much). By Freud’s thinking (hear me out, I know he sucks) Akhenaten’s rule inspired the ancient world, leading others to copy his ideas and theology, eventually snowballing into our modern world, where there are essentially no polytheistic religions. You have to give him credit – he was the first person of the ancient world to dream up monotheism, changing what had defined humanity for so long.

With his name stricken from the books, historians only discovered him upon finding his city Akhetaten. In the records, Horemheb is labelled as Amenhotep III’s successor, skipping over both Akhenaten and Tutankhamun’s rule. Later when Tutankhamun’s tomb was found as one of the very few graves still filled with treasure, interest spiked in Tutankhamun’s life, eventually leading back to his father Akhenaten. 

#ahkenaten #ancient egypt #ancient history #egyptian history #amarna period #cult of aten

[outbythehighwind]

The Misconceptions of FF7: A Cloud, Aerith & Tifa Analysis Part 3/5

Link to all parts: https://outbythehighwind.tumblr.com/post/640347336477966336/the-misconceptions-of-ff7-a-cloud-aerith-tifa

This post will examine the kind of love that Cloud has for Tifa.

I determined last post that his love for Aerith is that of a true and powerful friendship, but can, in interpretation of the narrative (which, unlike plot, is up for player interpretation), additionally be romantic. Regardless of the interpretation, it does not change the plot – that Cloud is romantically in love with Tifa. My emphasis from the prior post is that friendship, along with Eros (romantic love), is one of the highest forms of love, and its meaning & significance has sadly been lost in the world today. So I once again urge that people forsake this notion of ‘competition’ that one girl must win ‘all’ of Cloud’s affections (which is a betrayal to his character, for not all love need be Eros), and that at the expense of ‘winning’, his relationship with the other is belittled. With that in mind, let us proceed to part 3.

Cloud’s Eros love, in the plot sense of FF7, is Tifa.

“The event of falling in love is of such a nature that we are right to reject as intolerable the idea that it should be transitory. In one high bound it has overleaped the massive wall of our selfhood; it has made appetite itself altruistic, tossed personal happiness aside as a triviality and planted the interests of another in the centre of our being.” – C.S. Lewis (on Eros)

I have already established that Tifa is Cloud’s driving force. The weakness he attributes to himself resulted from his inability to save her at age 9 when they fell off Mt. Nibel’s bridge. His desire for strength came from his desire to be able to protect her, and coupled with his “sealed up secret wish” to win her acknowledgement, 14-year-old Cloud left to join SOLDIER.

The depth of Cloud’s feelings toward Tifa (whatever they may be at this stage) is emphasized in the circumstances: that they were not close and yet at 9 years old he had such strong desire to protect her; that over the next five years – despite their minimal interaction – he fervently held that conviction; and that the conviction grew to the point where, the moment he heard of Sephiroth’s strength (a way for him to act on it), he left to join SOLDIER.

A common misperception is that Cloud only wanted general acknowledgement – from Tifa and the other kids and villagers. He did want general acknowledgement, yes. But let us consider the Lifestream revelation summarized in the 12 screenshots below.

When Tifa asks Cloud why he joined SOLDIER, a dialogue occurs between the Cloud she is speaking to and his inner voice in the white text (his true self that they are presently trying to reach). Note that Cloud’s inner voice only ever speaks to Cloud; nobody else can hear it. Here, ‘real’ Cloud (the voice) says to “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud – ie. Cloud from his inner subconscious says to himself – with both emphasis and exclusivity – “Who? You know who! …You, that’s who.”

“Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud then repeats aloud, “You…” to Tifa.

The context is of the singular person pronoun, in elaboration of Cloud’s statement “someone would notice.”

“You” is exclusively Tifa.

When Tifa is surprised and exclaims why her, Cloud brings up a time in their childhood that she does not recall right away – which he will reveal to be the Mt Nibel bridge incident. Immediately before showing her that memory, ‘little’ Cloud appears (the other manifestation of Cloud’s true self, as I noted earlier). ‘Little’ Cloud invites Tifa into this memory when Tifa engages with “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud again, who reveals a “A sealed up secret… wish… Tender memories no one can ever know.” This wish is his answer to Tifa’s “Me? Why!?”

Cloud still holding this desire at present is evidenced in that it is “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud – rather than ‘little’ Cloud – who states this. ‘Little’ Cloud is able to engage with Tifa. Were it his sealed up secret wish alone – something Cloud had only once desired – then he (‘little’ Cloud), not “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud, would have been the one to tell her.

We are then taken to the specific memory of the day Tifa’s mother died and the accident on the Mt. Nibel bridge; the moment Cloud began his obsession with gaining strength in order for that sealed up secret wish to be realized (as he saw it).

I’ve already discussed his feelings of weakness and failure with regard to protecting Tifa. So I will just point out the last screenshot below in light of the sequence before it, where he says “Then even Tifa would have to notice me…”

Tifa being singled out as the “Who” he wanted to be noticed by has already been confirmed. This statement does not alter that exclusivity. Rather, it is Cloud’s affirmation to himself that his goal will be realized through the means of ‘strength’; if he becomes ‘strong’ then he will be acknowledged by others, he will be worthy – and surely then, even Tifa would have to notice him.

Cloud promised to be Tifa’s personal “hero”. What he has already resolved to strive for becomes a binding, personal promise between them – having resulted from, to his surprise, Tifa’s suggestion. This promise is both the heart of the entire internal plot (saving Cloud) and what brings Cloud and Tifa into the external plot (saving the Planet).

“Hero” to Cloud is synonymous with “SOLDIER”. “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud therefore feels enabled to keep the promise, and joins AVALANCHE (and the fight for the Planet) with the sole primary purpose, as it had always been, of protecting Tifa.

Even while Cloud’s ‘real’ self is trapped in his subconscious and his memory is muddled, Tifa’s uniquely distinct importance to him is enforced throughout “Ex-SOLDIER’s” journey. Alongside this is the emphasis of his reliance on her – that Cloud, striving to be strong for Tifa, sees Tifa as his source of strength.

He hopes in himself because Tifa knew him.

He trusts only Tifa in what is true pertaining to himself.

It is when Sephiroth breaks through the trust between them that Cloud’s entire identity shatters (both “Ex-SOLDIER” Cloud and ‘real’ Cloud are lost). Sephiroth plays to Tifa’s confusion surrounding Cloud’s identity and her doubt in her own memories that do not align with Cloud’s. It is when she cannot give Cloud an answer that Sephiroth is able to convince Cloud of the lie that he is not the “Cloud of Nibelheim” she grew up with – synonymous with him not being Cloud the being at all.

Sephiroth, whilst successfully manipulating Cloud, is still threatened by their bond. He keeps an illusion over Cloud where Cloud cannot hear Tifa’s voice as she screams for him to not hand over the Black Materia. Later, Cloud will hear her voice above the cries of all souls within the Lifestream.

In the Lifestream, Cloud and Tifa cry out to one another simultaneously and Cloud draws her into his subconscious. This is revealed in both versions of their night under the Highwind, and is thus an emphasized plot matter – the big difference being that in the low affection version (see the red textboxes below) Cloud is thinking out loud rather than speaking directly to Tifa.

The English translation is vague in the fourth screenshot (“I think I’ve heard about it too”) – the Japanese being 俺も、聞いたような気がするな (which literally translates to “I feel like I heard it too”). “It” is referring to Tifa’s voice outlaid the fifth screen – “At that time, it was Tifa’s voice…” (あの時、TIFAの声を). Cloud chooses to introspect rather than engage directly with Tifa.

In the high affection version, the same term is used: he says to her that it was her voice (TIFAの声が) calling him from “the sea of consciousness in the Lifestream” (ライフストリームの意識の海から). The English translates this as: “You were calling me back from the consciousness in the Lifestream”, which, in both high and low affection alternatives, refers to all souls within the Lifestream (for Tifa quotes that her and Cloud were “surrounded by all those screams of anguish” when they were separated in their fall).

The point I wish to get across is this: that in both versions, Cloud’s subconscious cries out for Tifa and simultaneously hears her crying out for him amidst every scream from those returned to the Lifestream. We see this scene play out not as Cloud, but as Tifa, and the black void emphasizes their complete separation. Yet Cloud, in comatose state, unable to communicate physically at all, manages to draw her into his very subconscious.

Now here is the thing most players miss:

Aerith – as Cloud knows for certain – is also in the Lifestream, and having maintained her full consciousness rather than merging with the Lifestream like all these other souls crying out, would be capable of reaching both Cloud and Tifa more easily than they can reach each other.

Is she aware of their situation? Undoubtedly, she would have been watching over them throughout their entire journey since her passing. Does she somehow help behind the scenes? Quite possibly, and very likely. Aerith is already implied to be the reason Cloud survived the week before he washed up on the shores of Mideel (Cid is told by one of his finders, “That boy must have one powerful guardian angel watchin’ over him”).

So I like to think Aerith had a part in Cloud and Tifa’s survival too – but we’ll leave that one to theory. Just a thought.

Whatever transpired, only Tifa could reach the ‘real’ Cloud, and I have no doubt that Aerith knew this. So Cloud reaches Tifa and Tifa reaches Cloud, with all of their being each crying out for the other.

Now, we come to the long debated ‘scene’ – did Cloud and Tifa make love under the Highwind?

I believe the answer to be, under the high affection version, yes. But that is irrelevant to this discussion of whether their love is romantic – for that experience is not a plot matter (occurring in one narrative alternative), and may operate without Eros or as part of Eros. Of course, in Cloud and Tifa’s case, it would have stemmed from their Eros (my point simply being that it is not a necessary ‘proof’ of their love).

But before considering the high affection alternative, let us turn to what we can find in the low affection scene. The scene also results in Cloud and Tifa sleeping against each other. After they board the airship the next morning, they find Barret, Cid and Red XIII and the following conversation ensues:

Tifa then runs to the window and faces the other direction in an awkward stance, while Cloud turns away also and scratches the back of his neck. “Were you listening?” If nothing romantic was said at all, as the argument goes, what then is there to make of their embarrassed reactions?

In the high affection version, this conversation with Barret, Cid and Red XIII plays out the same up until the point where Tifa responds. Instead of saying, “Were you listening?” she asks “Were you watching?” and then falls to her knees in embarrassment.

There is a reason there are two versions of this scene and it is not whether Cloud and Tifa ‘get together romantically’ at all. Rather, it is what transpires – according to the player’s agency (for their earlier decisions result in either narrative) – around Cloud and Tifa’s sealing of their romantic relationship (Cloud’s feelings having already been brought to light in the Lifestream):

        In the low affection version, they declare it with words (that their friends listen in on).

        In the high affection version, they declare it, like they have been declaring it the entire game, through actions (which their friends, to their dismay, end up watching).

Now, with Cloud’s love for Tifa having been openly revealed in the Lifestream, this night under the Highwind is centered on the revelation of her love for him, and upon that love being mutual, the sealing of their relationship. The version the player ends up with is therefore dependent on the affection points earned with Tifa throughout the game.

These points being ‘low’ simply means they do not make love as they do in the high affection alternative, despite high emotions with the impending doom of the Planet. Like Gold Saucer, the narrative can differ. Their love coming together, however, is part of the plot.

Sephiroth’s manipulations through Tifa’s doubts – the catalyst that caused Cloud’s psyche to shatter – is paralleled in the Lifestream with the restoration of his psyche. After Cloud’s “sealed up secret… wish” is brought to light, Tifa is able to fully overcome her doubts over both Cloud and herself. And it is then that they return to the Nibelheim incident, where Cloud regains his true self. It is when Sephiroth broke Tifa that Cloud broke; it is when Tifa overcomes herself (“You weren’t created five years ago. My childhood memories weren’t all made up!”), that Cloud gains the strength to both recover and accept his true self.

They share a oneness and complete mutual reliance on one another in pertinence to their very personhood.

So far runs Cloud’s love for Tifa that it is at the core of his identity. While he cannot recall who he is even within his own subconscious in the Lifestream, his inner voice (true self) recalls Tifa as the motivation at the core of his being.

There is no ‘you and me’ in pertinence to Tifa and Cloud. There is only ‘us’. And alongside this reciprocative Eros (which I will soon examine on Tifa’s part), exists a friendship that surpasses that which Cloud has with anyone else. They are wholly absorbed in each other, and they are side by side in vision. Tifa is his rock as much as he is hers, fighting beside him in every sense of the word; she is his best friend.

Let us now turn to Aerith and Tifa:

https://outbythehighwind.tumblr.com/post/640347336477966336/the-misconceptions-of-ff7-a-cloud-aerith-tifa

#ff7 1997 #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #my analyses #cloti #ff7 advent children #ff7 remake #ff7 crisis core

[theowlandthekey]

Embracing Hel

Embracing Hel

Three roots standon three ways under Yggdrasil’s ash: Hel under one abides, under the second the Hrimthursar, under the third mankind. -Poetic Edda, Grímnismál, Stanza 31

Who is Hel? In the vastness of Norse mythology, she is rarely given much due. She does not go on adventures for glory and fame as many of the other gods do. She does not seem to bother overmuch about the future of the world like Odin, nor does she stir up trouble like her father, Loki. She’s content in her dominion of the death, Niflheim, and seems well placed out of the troubles of men and gods. So much so that it often feels she is neglected when compared to the rest of the pantheon.

Hel is featured as a character only once in the Prose Edda, when the god Hermoor rides to Hel on behalf of Frigg and offers her a ransom for the return of the god Baldr. Hel agrees, stating: “If all things in the world, alive or dead, weep for him, then he will be allowed to return to the Æsir. If anyone speaks against him or refuses to cry, then he will remain with Hel.” Baldr was well loved and so it was thought this would be easy to accomplish. But when the jotunn Þökk refuses to weep, Baldr is consigned to remain in Niflheim in service of Hel.

In nearly all other mythos, Hel is mentioned only in passing, referenced rather than focused on. Every other god gets a myth where they are the protagonist of their own story. So why is Hel overlooked? Because of the fear she inspires at the prospect of a life lived without note or valor? Because her appearance was considered so repulsive that, while acknowledged as a goddess, she was put as far away from Asgard as physically possible so as to avoid offending the others with the sight of her?

As much as I love Norse paganism and link myself to it, I find plenty of people who speak with Odin and Frigg, Loki and Thor. Never once have I met someone who says with a smile that they speak to Hel. That’s fair. How many people do you know talk to Hades or Osiris or Mictlantecuhtli on a regular basis, even among the gothiest of pagans? Why even bring this up at all? Last December (2019), I was doing a Krampus Walk with a bunch of women from the International Wenches Guild. (That’s a whole other story.) At the end of the walk we gathered up in a local alternative religion shop to warm up and grab a few things for the pre-Yule rush. Up on the shelf, something naughty my attention. It was something I'd never seen before in all my years of goblin-like hoarding of witchy stuff. A statue of Hel looked back at me, sitting on a throne with a knife in one hand and a bowl in the other. By her side was a wolf, and her skull seemed to be grinning at me with interest. I went back to that statue three times, telling myself I didn't have the money to be spending on things right now. But when I picked her up to examine her, I knew I wasn't walking out of the store without this statue. I brought her home, placed her on my altar, put a few coins in her bowl, and there she stayed.

And then Covid-19 hit.

I've never been one to rely on religion in times of trouble. It's never done much for me one way or the other. I've long held the belief that witchcraft involves handling your own shit before calling on anything else to help out. But this? This is one of those things that is well beyond the control of most humans to handle alone. It's emotionally exhausting, mentally taxing, and physically dangerous. We're all doing the best we can, wearing masks, sanitizing, washing, distancing, doing all we can to prevent things getting worse despite the best efforts of the world to remind us that we are inevitably only human and the risks are infinite. It's humbling to say the least. So, it's in this time of stress and disorientation that I find myself drawn to Hel.

Family Ties

“The following night the goddess of death appeared to him in a dream standing at his side, and declared that in three days’ time she would clasp him in her arms. It was no idle vision, for after three days the acute pain of his injury brought his end.”

-Gesta Danorum, Saxo Grammaticus (12th century)

Hel's name means 'to hide/to conceal', giving it a cruel humor. She was, after all, respectfully banished from Asgard due to her physical appearance, or perhaps because Odin foresaw her part in future events. She is described as being half blue and half flesh colored, though the depiction has altered over the years to mean half flesh and half corpse. Hel is said to be gloomy, dour, and even fierce looking, which suggests a woman with little time for nonsense within her realm. Despite all this, she is said to have a vast hall called Éljúðnir and many servants as befits her station. Everything that surrounds her seems to speak to the fears of the people who believed in her. She has a bowl called 'Hunger,' a knife called 'Famine,' curtains called 'Misfortune,' and a bed named 'Disease'.

On the plus side, she does have a dog named Garmr, said to be the 'goodest of boys'.

The best of trees | must Yggdrasil be, Skíðblaðnir best of boats; Of all the gods | is Óðinn the greatest, And Sleipnir the best of steeds; Bifröst of bridges, | Bragi of skalds, Hábrók of hawks, | and Garm of hounds.

-Poetic Edda, Grímnismál

Her father, Loki, is well known for his mischief and chaos. But her mother, Angrboda, remains largely overlooked beyond being acknowledged as the mother of Loki's three 'darling' offpsring. Angrboda, being a jotunn, is not well looked upon as the Aesir seemed to find themselves constantly at odds with the jötnar. The Aesir and the Vanir form the two principal tribes of gods within the Norse pantheon, the forces which held the world together and brought forth order in which life could thrive. While the Jotunn were more elemental, primordial beings who were born from chaos and presented challenges to the structured order of the world.

It's important to note that Hel is not the only goddess who fits within the overlap of Norse mythos complex Venn diagram between the Aesir, Vanir, and Jotunn. Loki himself is Jotunn as is Skaði, while Freyr and Frejya are Vanir. However, Hel's connection to Angrboda as her mother and Loki as her father seem to be enough to condemn her in the eyes of the ruling Aesir, as well as make her a subject of fearful respect.

Her brother, Jormungandr, is the infamous Midgard Serpent. The middle child of the brood, Jormungandr was tossed from Asgard by Odinn into the ocean where he was said to grow so large he encircled the earth and bit his own tail. If you're familiar with gnosticism (or Full Metal Alchemist) you would recognize the ouroboros symbolism inherent in the mythos as connecting Jormungandr to the cycle of life, death and rebirth, another primordial concept. At Ragnarok, the serpent will be said to release its own tail and fight Thor, both of them doomed from inception. Thus, the old world will end, and a new cycle will begin.

Fenrir, Hel's younger brother, is likewise doom driven, foretold to devour Odinn at the end of the world only to be killed in turn by Odinn's son Víðarr. The theme of the bound monster, I believe, is connected to the concept of man trying and failing to forestall his own fate. Another primordial concept of change as an inevitability.

And yet there is Hel. Out of all her family she seems to stand alone as the most consistent of her bloodline. The black sheep in a family of black sheep. No sagas recounting her heroic adventures, no epics building to the rise and fall of greatness. Only a goddess fulfilling her function to take in those who died of sickness or old age. It is not known for certain whether she survives or dies during the events of Ragnarok, only that Loki will have 'all Hel's people with him' during the final confrontation.

Symbolism

Throughout my research into Hel's mythos, it's clear she was viewed with begrudging respect by her own people. As a goddess, one couldn't afford to be less than deferential when dealing with her (assuming of course that they dealt with her at all). But how they felt about her can be discerned from the associations given to her through her items and surroundings. I began to collect a series of symbols associated with her. Each one tells us something about how she was perceived among the Norse people, and gives us some interesting modern-day interpretations when applied.

50/50 – In all the descriptions of Hel, she is said to be half flesh and half either discolored or corpse-like. Like most cthonic deities, she has a liminal quality to her, being representative of a transitional state of being. Balancing neatly between life and death, Hel is a crossroads deity, guarding over the boundary lines (though not traditionally associated as such). She has the ability to release those sheltered under her threshold, although she demands a price as is her right. This also puts her squarely in the category of a liminal being, one whose mere existence challenges the social classifications of the time. Liminal beings are often described as both immensely powerful and dangerous, depending upon the situation and perception of society. They are undeniably eerie, and yet inspire awe for the way in which they transcend limitations of the self.

Hel's Hall – Éljúðnir is the hall of Hel, located within Niflheim and aptly named as her realm is said to be barren and cold. It's said to be a mansion, and it would have to be considering that she is responsible for sheltering everyone who didn't die gloriously in battle. Her hall then becomes a symbol of her status, a recognition of her as a goddess with her own realm and duties. With hospitality being such an important social factor to the Norse people, I find myself hard pressed to believe Hel is needlessly cruel to her guests. Like any mead hall, it is a center for social activity as well as her residence, if a somewhat foreboding one.

Hunger, Famine, Misfortune, Disease – It seems Hel is often deemed responsible for all of the troubles that plague humanity. A rather dire proposition, but isn't it better for someone to oversee these things rather than letting them run amok? Given her connection to the primordial forces of chaos, it seems fitting that Hel, the stable one in her family, is relied upon to control the disorder that society faces from time to time. The objects deemed as a part of her entourage are significant to her personality. Even in the modern times, these troubles are never far from humanity’s mind, with much of the world facing them on a daily basis. *A bowl (Hunger) is often symbolic of receptiveness, or of fertility, neither of which seem to fit Hel herself. For many the bowl represents a scrying tool, portending to the future. It's not unusual for cthonic deities to be connected to omens and portends. So, it may well be that the 'Hunger' her bowl represents has less to do with wanting food and more to do with our hunger to know our own fates. An empty bowl representing the unknown fate of humanity as a whole may present as a bit nihilistic, but it does seem to fit. *The knife (Famine) as a tool which represents the ability to defend or attack. A knife can help fix a meal or it can protect a family. In this case, 'Famine' represents not only the absence of plenty, but the seeming inability to provide for one another, thus weakening everyone as a result. Famine is not just about food, it's about the failure to provide. For a society that was heavily reliant upon all of its people to survive day to day, this would have been a terrifying concept.

*The curtains (Misfortune) are used to draw over the windows and shut out the light. This is what 'Misfortune' does. It clouds reason and empathy and makes it difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Curtains can also be symbolic of one’s desire to hide from the world, to shelter themselves or to keep others from finding out something they find shameful. It may feel safe, as if we are only protecting ourselves. But Hel's curtains are, I believe, named Misfortune for the sake of choosing whether or not we draw them closed or open them up.

*The bed (Disease) is often used as a symbol of intimacy or rest. A bed named Disease could also easily be a colorful metaphor for STIs, though in this case I believe it was meant to represent the fear of dying in ones bed of old age or disease, thus missing out on Valhalla. For Hel to have a bed named Disease suggests an unexpected nurturing aspect to the goddess, as the sickbed is often where we find ourselves the recipient of the most care from others.

In this way, I believe Hel's tools exist as a reminder to society that these things will always exist, and that in order to combat them, people must constantly struggle against them to better survive together.

Garmr – Another in the long list of ferocious subterranean hounds associated with cthonic deities, Garmr was said to be her guard dog, standing bloodstained by her side. He is her faithful protector, as well as the guardian to the underworld. The hound is often a symbol of loyalty and ferocity, but in this aspect I believe it relates more to the black dog associations with death and ill omens. Again, I've yet to see anything relating to Hel being a seeress or an oracle of any sort, but there always seems to be some connection between death gods and omens of the future.

Hel in Practice

Change is uncomfortable. Humans have always preferred stability, even if it's inequitable, because we'd rather function in practice than succeed in theory. Hel is a paragon of balance within chaos, affording the opportunity to change and progress through the inherent suffering of life as it is. And yes, I'm aware of how nihilistic that comes off. But here within the instability of our current world, I find a kind of comfort in that rational. Change is eternal. Tomorrow is an unknown. Control what you can and stay by the people you care about. Keep moving. You are not dead yet.

Rune: Hagalaz “Hail”

- The rune of Hagalaz is practically unanimous with misery. Which makes it's appearance less than desirable during a reading or when found in the day to day. That being said, some degree of unfortunate occurrence is unavoidable in life. It is unalterable. However I find it's distinction kind of like finding a crack in a dam. You now know there is a problem. Maybe you can't 'fix' the problem, but you can stem the damage and keep the outcome from being worse than it absolutely has to be. Hagalaz is about weathering the storm and coming out the other side of it knowing the work that must be done.

Realm: Niflheim

- Niflheim is one of the nine realms of Norse Mythology. A world of coldness, fog, and the primordial darkness. Ymir was born here. Hvergelmir, the source from which many rivers flow, begins here. Níðhöggr the dragon/serpent dwells here, gnawing at the roots of the World tree Yggdrasil. So it would seem Niflheim is a a place of beginnings, endings, and ultimately change. According to the mythology this is where those who died too old, too young, or on the sickbed end up. And yet for all it's forbidding geography and weather, Hel is said to be put in charge of caring for those who arrive. Hall: Éljúðnir

- If Hel is meant to care for those who did not die in the glory of battle. Many times we see this as crowds of dead souls wandering endlessly in the freezing mists. But when I think of Hel's hall of Éljúðnir, I think of a place which is a respite from the cold. It is said to be sprayed with snowstorms, meaning that it stands against the raging storms of the realm, providing shelter to those who dwell within. What if her hall stands alongside Valhalla and Fólkvangr? What if she is the world-weary and cunning inn-keeper who offers bread and mead to those brave enough to find their way to her doors?

Appearance: Dour and fierce looking in expression. Half flesh and half dead.

Tools:  knife (Famine) bowl (hunger) curtains (Misfortune) bed (Disease)

Color: black white grey/silver blue dark purple

Animals: wolves/hounds serpents ravens worms

Plants: yew/ash wormwood rosemary mistletoe mustard seed blackthorn

Offerings: tobacco garlic figs mushrooms rye bread black cherries dark chocolate mead coffee, black espresso

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