#i’ve only had Muriel for couple of weeks but if anything happened to them I would k!ll everyone in this room and then myself

[boonte]

MURIEL MY BELOVED <3

#i love them #i’ve only had Muriel for couple of weeks but if anything happened to them I would k!ll everyone in this room and then myself #brooklyn nine-nine reference yes #good omens #good omens 2 #child of divorce #muriel good omens #muriel #gomens #my art #digital art #illustration #art

[genderfluid-insomniac]

"I can't anymore" ~ Asra Alnazar x reader

words: 1.7k

TW: cutting, self harm, depression

You held the small blade in your hand as the light flickering from the candle reflected off the small shiny object. Sighing as you triedly closed your eyes to quiet the thoughts that pushed you to this point and told them to shut up, not that it would help.

Cracks and pops sounded from the candle as you flipped the blade over in your hand debating whether you should or not. It had been a couple weeks since the last time you cut and somehow you had gotten to this point. Well, not somehow, you knew how.

Asra had gone to gather some supplies for a client and you had been cleaning around the shop, bumping into a bookshelf causing a scroll to fall off the top. You picked it up and unfurled it, not understanding what you saw.

It was a sketch of you and Asra were together holding hands and smiling at each other, anyone could tell the two people were head over heels with the other. But you never remember being present for this sketch and looking at the details a bit more closely, Asra looked a bit younger and your hair was a lot different to what it was now.

This must have been before the accident at the Lazerat.

You wouldn’t have been bothered by this but you’ve never seen Asra this happy before. It seemed like he was the brightest he’s ever been and you had never seen him like this as far as you can remember. There obviously was a difference between who you were then and who you were now but maybe it might have been better if you had died then.

The white haired magician wouldn’t have had to give up half his heart and none of that chaos would have happened. Yes, you would’ve died but everything seemed to go wrong right after you started getting your memories back.

Maybe Asra would’ve been happier if had gotten over his grief totally instead of bringing you back and then no one would have had trouble with the magic realm. You wouldn’t have screwed everything up and Vesuvia would be like it was, the plague would have ended and yes people would have died but both realms wouldn’t be risked.

It was all your fault. Seeing your tears hit the sketch and rolling it back up to avoid getting it ruined, placing it carefully back where you found it. You finished cleaning up the shop quickly and headed up stairs to where you both slept and locked the door, snatching a small blade you used to protect yourself with. Ironic.

This is where you are now, struggling to hold back tears as they cascade down your face, sniffling and trying to steady your shaky hand as you make another cut. The cold blood trailing down your hot skin, dropping onto a black blanket you had placed below not to make a mess or leave traces of what you were doing. Running the small knife against your arm again, cutting your arm for the fourth time and recounting a memory of every time you fucked up.

Why did Asra keep you around if you just kept fucking up? You would just make more mistakes and he probably knew. It did more harm than good. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt you, it seemed like something he would do.

Cut.

It was a stupid mistake bringing you back and it costs Asra half of his heart. Why did he risk something that important over a nobody like you? It made no sense. You weren’t worth anything and you would never be the person you were. It was impossible.

Cut.

More tears fell as you choked back sobs, your hand trembling as you held the blade, blood falling onto the black blanket beneath you. The room was only lit with a single candle by the window but you were sure to stay away from it. Not like anyone could see from the height it was at but just in case. The blankets and pillows around you forming the only comfort that seemed to embrace you, the colors fading in and out with the flame.

A part of you wanted to go to Asra but you felt like he would just lie to make you feel better or cover it up. You couldn’t go to anyone else but they would get worried, no telling what Muriel would do if he saw you like this. Letting your tears fall onto your arm stinging as it mixed with the blood and made more streaks.

Hearing the shop bell ring, you jumped. Asra was back. Shit. Shit Shit. He couldn’t see you like this. Not right now.

You hurried to roll up the blanket and carefully wiped your arms with it to wipe it of the excess blood, stuffing it in the corner of the room. Footsteps came up the stairs towards you and you heard the curtain move.

“Y/N? Darling, you here? Thanks for watching the shop while I was out-”

He went quiet as he noticed it was dead silent upstairs and you weren’t anywhere to be seen but saw that the door to the bedroom was shut. Guessing that you had taken a nap and were just sleeping, going over to check up on you.

The blood wasn’t stopping but you could only hope it would slow down. Grabbing a cloth you took from the kitchen as you went to wrap your injured arm. You hissed softly when the fabric touched the cuts and bit your lip, wrapping most of it when you heard a knock and the door handle shift.

“Baby you okay? Why is the door locked?”

You glanced around and tried to look for something to hide while you thought up an excuse, trying to hide the quivering in your voice. “Oh- I didn’t know you were back. I was just preparing some herbal tea but it must have been too strong because I started to feel faint, so I had to lie down.” Frantically searching for anything that looked normal to cover your forearm with.

Asra frowned, knowing you lied because the kitchen had been left untouched since he left and becoming more concerned trying to open the door, eventually using magic to get it open. Standing in shock when he saw the sight before him.

There you were tears streaming down your face and shaking lightly, holding your cloth covered arm tight to your chest. He rushed over to you as you moved farther away from him, pressing your back against the wall,

“Y/N- What- What happened? Are you okay-” Asra shook his head and let Faust down from his shoulder as she made her way to you. “That’s a stupid question, of course you’re not okay. What’s wrong sweetheart?”

His eyes never left your as you let the snake coil around you and nuzzle you, flicking her tongue at your tears. You looked up at Asra to see tears falling down his face as he shakily reached out a hand towards you and silently asked if he could touch you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Collapsing against him and sobbing against his shoulder as he rubbed circles on your back, feeling him start to cry as well. Faust slithering around the both of you, and being there to support you the best she could.

“I’m sorry-” you cried out.

“What? You have nothing to be sorry for.” Your lover said as he hugged you tightly.

“I’m sorry you had to give up half your heart to bring me back but I’m never going to be the same person I was back then. It would have been better if you hadn’t tried to bring me back, you would’ve been happier if I wasn’t here because of all the mistakes I’ve made. Everything that has happened is because of me.

I make so many mistakes and get so much wrong but I don’t know why you keep me around. Maybe you don’t want to hurt my feelings but it's better if you let me go.”

You cried harder and harder, feeling him pull you apart and lift up your chin, “Y/N, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I chose to give up half of my heart knowing I still might never see you again, but you’re still here in front of me. I know that you're not the same person you were back then but I don’t care because I love you no matter who you turn out to be.”

Asra raised his thumb to wipe away some tears that had fallen, taking your hand in his, “Don’t you ever think you’re a burden on me because I wouldn't have a reason to get up in the morning if you weren't here. I’m sorry you think that everything that happened was because of you but that isn’t true in the slightest. I love you so much and I will never stop.”

You broke down at his statement, relieved he wasn’t upset with you and your mind wasn’t right at all, but looked down at your covered arm. “Asra- I’m sorry-” You put your arm out to show him but he just shushed you and put a hand to your face.

Getting up to grab something from a nearby shelf and coming back with a bottle of herbs that you recognised to relieve pain, allowing him to unwrap the bloodied cloth.

“Y/N, We’ll get through this. You have me and Faust right here with you.”

The serpent nodded and coiled around your two hands that were intertwined. You smiled at her and leaned down to nuzzle her snout, murmuring thanks to both of them.

Watching as Asra cleaned the dried blood with a wet cloth and applying the crushed up herb to your arm, rolling a fresh bandage around your cuts. He kissed it once he finished and put away everything coming back in only a light open flowy shirt and pants.

Your violet eyed lover made a gesture causing all of the remaining light that you could see to go out and climbed into bed with you. Laying your head on his chest and pulling a soft blanket over you two, kissing your forehead and whispering one last thing before the three of you went to sleep.

“I will give up my heart for you any day.”

#the arcana #asra x reader #asra alnazar #self harm #depression

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, mentions of alcohol, SMUT

A/N: This chapter contains a rather long sexy scene (probably the longest I have ever written and well..it’s…juicy. I had a day, okay. BYE 🙈)

Chapter 14

Charlie

3 months later…

“Charlie, you got a minute?” I stopped in front of the Admission Office.

“Of course, Ernie. Got something for me?” I grinned at him.

“A letter from your brother.” He handed me the envelope. “What got you all cheered up today?”

“What do you mean?” I kept looking at the letter.

After all these months it still felt amazing getting a couple of letters per week from Bill.

“I heard you whistling walking here. You only whistle when you’re in a really good mood.” He smirked.

“It’s the first Saturday in August, Ernie. You know what that means!” I couldn’t hide the smile that spread across my face.

I can’t believe Ernie noticed when I whistle.

The truth is, I don’t recall the last time I was this happy. The mating season was over. Bill and I were on speaking terms again. Just last month I was able to see all my siblings and my parents again.

We had a family reunion and Bill and I got Ron drunk by accident. We had two bottles on the table. One with wine and the other with apple juice and we forgot to check the bottle before pouring him a drink.

He, of course, didn’t say anything and after two glasses he was hammered. Bill and I couldn’t stop laughing at the way he spoke and he was so tipsy. He tried getting up and almost fell flat on his face and then found it so funny that he fell off the bench we were sitting on.

It wasn’t funny when mum found us and saw something was wrong. Bill tried to distract her but failed and she figured us out. She made us take Ron to bed and then we planned to hide in the attic with the ghoul but mum found us and she shouted in our faces for a solid hour. I felt as if I was 12 again.

When she stopped she made us go down and wait on our family members for the rest of the night. Before we did, we made an excuse that we need to use the toilet and we locked ourselves in the bathroom on the middle floor and started laughing so hard I thought I won’t be able to catch a breath. We might be 23 and 25, which is way too old to make mum so mad, but we didn’t care. We were having the time of our lives.

I can’t begin to describe how happy it made me that I could hang out with Bill again. With my siblings. To get a bone-crushing hug from Ginny and play chess with Ron. It’s indescribable. For the first time since I started working in Romania, I wanted to plan my days off to go and see them again and I was loving it.

I was finally myself again. Talking to my family. Supporting and being there for my siblings. Teasing Bill for being so in love and having the best job in the world. I even made myself a bookshelf and I am slowly filling it with books.

My routine in the Sanctuary is more or less the same. I wake up. Make myself a coffee and go watch the sunrise. I am no longer overthinking if Rhylee’s going to be there and if she is, we simply watch the sun showing itself from behind the mountains together.

I didn’t think I would be able to be friends with her after what happened at her place that night but we grew even closer. She was one of my best friends. That didn’t mean my feelings for her faded away. But they were easier to bear now that I didn’t feel guilty for being in love with her.

I have come to terms that I will never call her mine. It was painful, I am not going to lie about that but at least I can move on and not overthink her every move.

Bill and my friends in the Reserve all think that I should tell her how I feel but every time they try and persuade me I stop them. I made a mistake telling my mates what Bill told me about Nick. Ever since I did they are trying to do everything to bring me and Rhylee together. At first, I wanted to kill them but now I just find it amusing.

I am proud of myself for how much I’ve grown. I feel more mature and I see things differently. I see what matters and I push myself to do things that make me happy. I read more. I run. I train Aami and Bean, that’s the name Rhylee decided to give our albino Short-Snout. I hang out with my friends and advise my siblings. I really couldn’t ask for more.

The fact that I am still awestruck every time I see Rhylee or that my heart wants to escape my ribcage every time she laughs or looks at me, is just a minor inconvenience now. I can deal with that with everything else being so great. I wouldn’t change my current life for anything in the world if it means I make my family happy and I can hang out with my friends while having the best job.

At first, I wanted to fight my feelings. Push them down. Get rid of them somehow. But I quickly realized that I can’t change them and that it’s pointless to think they are simply going away. I have meaningless sex and even though it’s never as it was with Rhylee, it still counts as a fun night and it’s a good distraction.

I might get lucky and find myself a girl to settle down with one day. For now, I was happy with the things being as they were. It wasn’t perfect but it was much much better compared to the painful loop I was in before.

“I’ll be damned!” Ernie’s voice brought me back to reality. “I forgot about the party tonight!” He slammed his hand at his forehead. “Thanks, Charlie for reminding me! Can you imagine me forgetting about it?” He shook his head.

“Ernie, if it’s going to be anything like last year, just the music and us being all over the place would remind you soon enough.” I laughed.

Every year, in the first week of August we had a party. We invited everybody from the neighboring wizard villages and there was always someone that borrowed something Muggles call speakers. We decorate the central area of our village with lights and put tables and chairs around it so it looks like a dance floor. We hang the speakers from the trees and we help with the cooking throughout the day.

The party officially begins the second we are done with work and the music starts playing. It’s something we all look forward to all summer. Theo has been talking about it for two weeks now. He made an entire plan on getting us all so wasted that if he asked Gerta out again, we won’t remember how she slaps him in the face.

“You’re right, mate! I’ll see you there!” Ernie started putting papers together. “I have to clean up the office early if I want to make it to the party in time!”

“Want me to help you? I just finished working.” I offered.

“Oh, no! You go get all nice and ready, so you can dance with the ladies!” He laughed and I followed.

“Will do, Ernie. Will do.” I waved to him and started walking toward my home.

People were already running left and right, checking if everything is ready. I unlocked my front door and closed it with my foot while opening Bill’s letter.

Dear Charlie,

I know you’re going to be busy this weekend with your big party and everything, but I just had to write to you about this.

I bought a wedding ring for Fleur today. I am planning on asking her to marry me this weekend. I am taking her to the beach near Shell Cottage. Dad said that perhaps we could even buy it if we ask aunt Muriel nicely. I don’t want to get my hopes up but I can imagine myself living with Fleur there.

I am planning a romantic picnic and popping the question by the end of the night! I would love your opinion on the matter but I sent out this letter too late for your owl to reach me with your answer. Perhaps while you’re reading this, I’m already engaged!

Can you feel how nervous I am through my letter?

Anyways, I just needed to share that with you!

Wish me luck!

Oh, and have fun at the party! Please have the time of your life and don’t hold back in case anything ought to happen, if you know what I mean!

Love, Bill

Merlin’s beard, he is getting engaged! It was Saturday, so either he is already or he will be soon!

I jumped in the air in the middle of my living room that’s how happy I was for him. I hope they can convince aunt Muriel to sell them Shell Cottage. We used to go there as kids and it’s a wonderful place to start a family.

I blinked as I felt my eyes water. I wish I had the time to write him back and tell him how fucking proud I am of him for doing this and that I think Fleur will be thrilled for how he is planning to propose. I can’t wait for them to have babies so I can be an uncle!

What was I doing?

I put the letter down and scratched my head. I was so excited for my brother that I completely forgot.

Party! Right!

I hurried to take a shower and then opened my closet to see what I could wear. I didn’t wear jeans for ages. So let’s go with that and a buttoned shirt. I checked myself out in the small mirror in the bathroom and combed my hair with my fingers. As much as I could comb it. My hair was untamable.

I think I look pretty good! Not that it matters as I knew Theo is going to get us all drunk in about 15 minutes! I locked the door behind me and started walking toward the music.

“There he is!” Andrew raised his glass at me the second he spotted me.

“Look at you being all handsome!” Theo put a hand over my shoulder the second I sat down.

“Are you flirting with me, Theodore?” I winked at him. “My place or yours?”

“Damn, Charles. Is that how you flirt with women because if I wasn’t married I would go with you right now.” Peter laughed.

“I would love to, Weasley. But I am going home with Gerta tonight!” Theo was determined.

“Really?” Andrew and John asked together before bursting out laughing.

“We should get one of those Muggle devices that capture what is going on. So that even if none of us remembers tonight we could watch it in the morning.” Evan said.

“I will stay sober just to see Theo get slapped by Gerta!” Peter smirked.

“You’re already tipsy, boss.” Andrew obviously didn’t believe Peter will stay sober.

“Damn, you’re right.” Peter said after a few seconds of thinking about it.

We all started laughing.

Three hours later our table had 3 empty bottles of Fire Whiskey on it, more empty beer bottles than one could count and the waitress just brought another round. To say that we were completely hammered was an understatement.

We were laughing at something, tears running down my face. I am pretty confident none of us knew what the joke was or who told it.

“Theodore, there you are damn it!” Our faces got serious the second we comprehended who was standing in front of us.

“Gerta, love!” Theo stood up, knocking a few bottles off the table.

“I am just wasted enough to say yes to you. Now come with me before I change my mind!”

I have no idea how Theo fancied this woman. I was terrified of her. Even her harsh voice scared me.

We all watched Theo and Gerta going towards her hut with our mouths open.

“Please, tell me one of us will be able to remember that in the morning!” Peter whined.

“I don’t think I could forget this if I drank the entire alcohol stash in the Sanctuary.” Andrew said slowly.

He looked like he was about to throw up.

“What is happening?” Evan, who was sleeping, leaned on his crossed arms, lifted his head.

“Gerta just took Theo home.” I answered, still in shock.

“What?!” I thought his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets and I think it’s safe to say he just sobered up.

“Look, Charlie!” Peter and John leaned against me. “It’s Rhylee.” They sang together.

“So?” I rolled my eyes.

I knew this was coming. I was hoping they would be too drunk to remember to tease me about her, but apparently, they weren’t there yet.

“Come on! Go and dance with her!” John tried pushing me to stand up but he was too weak.

It was funny how I was the youngest but did the best with alcohol.

“Give me a break, mates.” I pretended to look through the bottles to see if there was one that wasn’t opened yet.

“C’mon! She has been eyeing you all night!” Peter said. “Have some fun, will you!”

I sighed and got up. I knew they wouldn’t stop until I would go and ask her to dance. And to be perfectly honest, I was too drunk to care or to feel nervous about it.

I made my way to her. Surprised that I wasn’t tipsy at all.

“Hi.” I waved at her awkwardly. “Want to dance?”

“Sure!” She grinned and stood up at once.

I haven’t noticed how drunk she was until we reached the dance floor and she started hugging me. We danced to a few songs and I didn’t even dare to look at the table where my friends were sitting. They would probably start cheering.

The next song was a slow one. Shit! Who’s idea was this?

Rhylee pulled me closer, our bodies slamming against each other and if I wasn’t so steady on my feet we would collapse to the ground. She wrapped her arms around my waist and brought her face closer to mine.

“You look very handsome tonight.” She winked at me.

Okay, I think it’s time to take her home. She is drunk and doesn’t know what she’s saying.

“Thanks. You look great too.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Of course, she looked great. She was gorgeous. But I’m not going to admit that to her.

I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. Not one bit. It’s the same look she was giving me all night the night we had sex at the Burrow and I am not going through that again. I might not be hurting anyone this time but she was in a relationship.

“Let’s get you home, shall we.” I smiled at her and hugged her over the shoulder.

“No! Why?” She tried to stop me. “We just started dancing. Come on, Charlie! Loosen up a bit!” She got so close to me that if I wouldn’t move my head backward we would kiss.

This was getting out of hand.

She wrapped her hands around me again. How was she so strong if she was as drunk as she appeared to be? I sighed and we danced through one more song.

“Okay, now you can take me home.” Her whispering in my ear sent shivers down my spine.

We were slowly making our way through the crowd, toward her cottage when I remembered that I never opened the present she got me for Christmas at the Burrow. I have no idea why it popped in my head but I was just drunk enough not to care and admit to her that I lost it.

“Hey, Rhy?” I cleared my throat.

“Yes?” Her eyes were too hopeful for my liking.

“Do you remember the present you gave me for Christmas when we met?” She simply hummed in response.

I felt my cheeks turn pink. This was embarrassing. After what happened between us and she gave me the little package, I simply tossed it in my bag. I don’t remember where I put it once I got back to Romania and I don’t even know why we are talking about it now but apparently drunk Charlie’s curiosity got the better of him and wants to know what’s inside.

“I never got the chance to open it and I misplaced it somehow. What was inside?” I said as quickly as I could.

I didn’t want to offend her for losing it.

“What?” She laughed.

“What was inside the little box?” I repeated the question.

“Where did you lose it?” She ignored me.

“It has to be somewhere in my cottage if I didn’t toss it in the trash by accident.” I scratched my chin, thinking hard where it could be.

“Well, let’s go then!” She grabbed my hand and started walking.

“Where are you taking me?” I chuckled.

“We are going to search your place for my present!” She bestowed me with the biggest grin I have ever seen.

She seemed so pleased with her idea.

“Now?” I chortled.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “The gift might be silly but we got to see what I got you!”

“You don’t remember?” I raised my eyebrows at her and she stopped walking for a second.

“I am not sure.” She said slowly after a few seconds. “Come on, Charlie! It’ll be fun!”

I haven’t seen her this relaxed and happy in months. She grabbed my hand and started walking towards my cottage again. She was so excited to do this that I simply couldn’t deny her the satisfaction of finding the little box. And to be completely honest, I didn’t want to stop her.

“Okay, so if I was a little box, where would I be?” She put her hands on her hips, thinking hard, her eyes scanning every shelf and drawer. I started in the kitchen and she went to check the compartment in my bathroom.

After half an hour we completely trashed the place but I didn’t mind at all. I was having too much fun with her. She started throwing the clothes out of my closet, jumper after jumper and I started moving the socks away to see if I tossed it in the drawer.

I almost gave up when my fingers touched something that wasn’t fabric. I pulled out a small red box with a green bow on it. This was it!

“Rhy, I found it!” I heard her gasp.

I think she was standing inside my closet. I laughed when she poked her head out of it. She was adorable!

She hurried to me, stepping over piles of clothes, and stopped right in front of me.

“Open it.” She whispered, her eyes on the box in my hands.

I slowly removed the lid and shook the box’s contents onto my palm. I couldn’t believe it. It was a dragon scale. A dragon scale of an albino dragon.

That’s what she got me for Christmas?

I know it didn’t mean anything because she didn’t even know who she was bringing the gift to but I was still astounded. She knew I loved dragons so she got me a dragon scale. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“You call this a silly gift?” I breathed.

Rhylee dragged her finger across it and put it back in the box. I was so in shock at what it was that I didn’t notice how fast she was breathing. She took the box from my hand and placed it on top of my dresser.

“Rhy, are you o…”

She cupped my face and kissed me hard on the mouth. I was so startled by her action that I didn’t have the time to respond.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled away, her hand over her mouth.

“Emm…it’s okay.” I didn’t know what to say.

I just kept staring at her with my eyes wide open, trying to calm my heart down.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” I could see the panic in her eyes growing.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t enjoy the kiss? Because that would be a bloody lie. I have been dreaming about kissing her again since we spent the night together at the Burrow.

Did she even know what she was doing? How drunk was she? Because that kiss definitely sobered me up! I thought we were over this. She stopped that night when I came to her place. Why did she do it now? I thought I was doing a good job being her friend. Why does she mess with me like this!

I needed every muscle in my body not to grab her hand and pull her back for another kiss. I can’t do this, can I? She has a boyfriend. Somebody will get hurt again! I can’t go through that guilt again. I can’t hurt someone else. Even if I don’t know the guy. Even if he is a prick like Bill said.

Bill…

What did Bill say in his letter this morning?

Please have the time of your life and don’t hold back in case anything ought to happen, if you know what I mean!

Don’t hold back. Bill, that’s not helping!

I was trapped. I wanted to grab her hand and prevent her from leaving but at the same time, I wanted to do the right thing. My heart was beating so fast that it hurt and the look in Rhylee’s eyes wasn’t helping me decide. It was a mix of panic and hope. Hope, that I would decide for her whether or not this was a bad idea.

Of course, it’s a bad idea, Rhylee! It’s the worst possible idea.

“I have to go.” She bowed her head and started towards the door of my bedroom.

It’s a bad idea.

It is a really bad idea.

I know, damn it!

But do I care?

I stepped toward her, almost tripping over the clothes on the floor.

Do I care?

I grabbed her hand and turned her around, our bodies colliding. Her eyes slowly moved up to lock with mine. We were both breathing heavily.

“Charlie.”

Damn it, Rhylee! You can’t say my name like that. Don’t ask for me to do something.

Okay, let’s go over this again.

Is it a bad idea? Yes.

Do I care? I am just drunk enough that it’s safe to say that no, I do not.

I placed my hands around her neck and kissed her. I thought she was going to resist me. I was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. She was doing quite to opposite. She parted my lips with her tongue and it gently found mine. She was kissing me back.

Merlin’s beard, this was insane! I can’t believe I forgot how good her lips felt on mine. What an amazing kisser she was. How soft her lips were and with what passion she kissed me.

I put her hands on her hips and brought us closer to the bed. With a gentle nudge, she was lying on it, that playful look in her eyes again. I climbed on top of her and wrapped my fingers around her hair and gently pulled it back so she tilted her head and revealed her neck.

I placed a soft kiss just behind her right ear and I felt her tremble. I kissed her again, not so softly this time. I started biting her neck and I felt her moving under me.

This simply can’t be wrong. It felt too right to be wrong.

I pushed myself up and started to unbutton my shirt. I looked down at her. Damn, she was so sexy. She always was but the fact that she was wearing a dress when she always wears either jeans or sweatpants was frying my brain.

“Please, fuck me, Charlie!”

Seriously, she was begging me?

Why in Godric’s Hollow did I put a shirt with so many buttons on? I don’t have time to do this! I put my hands on my chest and pulled the shirt off me. The sound of fabric ripping filled my ears and my heart started pumping even faster when I saw Rhylee’s eyes shine.

I helped her get up and pressed her against the wall. She wants me to do her, I will do it my way!

I took my precious time unzipping her dress. I could feel her getting impatient but I knew she liked the tease. If she only knew what she got herself into.

She took her arms out of her sleeves and shook her body so the dress fell off her. I turned her around, her back to the wall now, and spread her legs. She was observing my every move, curious what I was going to do next.

“Lift your arms.” I demanded and without questioning me they were above her head.

I wrapped my left hand around her wrists and pulled her underwear down with my right one. I unhooked her bra without hesitation. She was now standing in front of me, completely naked. I stuck my tongue down her throat while circling her nipple. She moaned in my mouth.

Oh, Rhylee, you haven’t felt anything yet.

I slowly moved my fingers down across her belly button, still kissing her. It didn’t really surprise me that the second my fingers ran past her clit, they drowned in her wetness. She gasped in my mouth as I started moving them in circles.

I let go of her arms now and she put them around my neck, trying to keep it together. I have to say she was doing a rather poor job.

“What is it?” I teased her when I started moving my fingers around faster and her eyes rolled back.

“Fuck…you.” She said between her moans.

“I’m a little busy focusing on you right now, Rhy.” I whispered to her.

She tried squeezing her legs together but I didn’t let her. I felt her getting tighter and I was determined not to stop until she screams from pleasure.

“Are you going to cum already?” I laughed playfully.

“I…I can’t hold it.” She cried.

“Oh, don’t hold back.” I bit the tip of her ear as her breathing got even faster.

She buried her fingers in my hair and kissed me. She was pressing hard against my lips, clutching my fingers with her soaked walls, muffling her moans with the kiss. It was pure euphoria, feeling her tremble. It brought me pleasure on another level.

“Stop.” She finally pulled herself together to talk.

“Are you sure?” I mocked her.

The look in her eyes was saying otherwise.

“It’s your turn.” She winked at me.

“Oh, I am not done with you.” I pressed her harder against the wall and placed a gentle kiss on her collar bone.

She winced, her body still sensitive to my touch.

She was speechless and her eyes were full of the wonder of what my next move will be.

“You begged me to fuck you. Don’t you know you have to think before you speak?”

I bit her neck. And her shoulder. And made a few circles with my tongue around her nipple, while playing with the other one with my finger. I kissed the scar that painted her belly. And just below the belly button. I got to my knees and spread her legs again.

I slowly ran my finger across her clit and she shivered.

“Are you ready to cum for me again?” She bit her lip and nodded in reply.

My fingers slipped back into her. This time I decided to take it more slowly. Let’s see how she likes it if I move my fingers in and out. Does that do anything?

She arched her back, scratching the wall behind her. And what if I do this?

I spread her legs just a bit more, lowered my head, and kissed her wet lips.

“Oh.” She let out a sigh.

I ran my tongue over her clit and started turning it in gentle circles. As she started breathing faster I doubled the pressure and felt her knees give in.

“Keep it together, Rhy.” I teased, my fingers still hard at work.

She grabbed my hair and pushed me back to continue my work.

“Fuck, Charlie.”

I don’t know if she was so horny or was I doing such a good job as it didn’t take her long to cum again. Her body was spasming more than before and this time she didn’t have my lips to stifle her moans. I loved how loud she was. How her pleasureful sounds filled my ears. It was like a drug.

I got up and wrapped my arms around her. She was a mess.

“Have enough yet?” I winked at her.

“No.” She giggled.

“Good.” I nodded.

I put my hands on her hips and lifted her and she automatically wrapped her legs around me. I gave her just enough space between our bodies that she unzipped my jeans and pulled them off.

She grabbed my dick, looking me straight in the eyes, and bit her lips when she placed it right in front of her juicy entrance. I don’t know what she was expecting as a surprised gasp left her mouth when I thrust in her.

She wrapped her arms around me and held tight to keep herself steady, moaning while I was rocking my hips back and forth.

Fuck, she felt good. This was insane. I knew that with all the adrenaline running through my veins, the alcohol left my head a long time ago but I still felt dizzy. I can’t believe it was even better than the last time.

I fantasized about sleeping with her more times than I would like to admit. I just couldn’t help it. She was the best I ever had. I could be myself around her. Somehow I knew exactly what she wanted and I wanted to give it to her. Badly.

I have to start thinking about something else. She felt too good and she was getting tighter again. I want to wreck her completely. I want her to forget her name and I want her to scream mine again.

“Charlie.” She moaned in my ear.

“Have enough of me yet?”

“Charlie.” She said louder.

“Yeah.”

“I…”

“What is it, sweetheart?” I placed a soft kiss on her neck as I started to move my hips even faster.

“I…”

“Come on, you can do it.” I encouraged her to speak.

I was too amused by how weak she was.

“Oh, my…” Her eyelids fluttered and I felt her squeezing me even more.

“Cum for me again.” I breathed.

I could watch her moan and twist from pleasure all night every night.

“Charlie, I can’t.” She finally managed to complete a full sentence.

I stopped moving my hips and froze.

“Are you okay?” I lifted her chin and made her look at me.

“Why the fuck did you stop?” Her eyes widened.

“You said you can’t, I thought…” I blinked at her.

I was so confused.

“I…” She bit her lip and looked away.

“What is it?” I tilted my head to find her eyes again.

“I never came three times before.” She mumbled so fast that I thought I heard her wrong.

“Oh.” I pressed my lips together, to stop them from spreading into a smile. “Well, do you think you could cum again?” I asked gently.

“Yes. I was close.” That naughty smile is going to be the death of me.

“Then let’s break your record, shall we?” I smirked at her and lifted her so she wrapped her legs around me again.

I entered her slowly this time and she pushed my hips more towards her immediately when she saw what I was doing.

“Don’t get slow on me now, Weasley.” She bit my lip and sent a new wave of adrenaline through my veins.

I decided to tease her just for saying that. I slowly pulled my hips back, so that only my tip was inside of her and then pushed my hips forward again with such a force that it took her breath away.

I did it again.

And again and again and again until she started screaming from pleasure again. For a second I thought she was going to pass out as her eyes sealed shut and she gasped for air between her moans. But I was determined not to stop until her body relaxes or she tells me to stop. She was doing neither.

She barely had the strength to wrap her hand around my neck so I could lift her when she stopped moaning. I took her to my bed and covered her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her voice rusty from all the sounds she was making.

“I’m going to take a shower. You need some rest.” I winked at her.

“We need to take care of you first.” Her eyes moved from mine, down to my dick which was still hard.

“You can do that later. Now rest.” I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

I walked out of the room, straight into the shower.

Just as the hot water started running down my body, I felt her press her body against mine from behind.

“Miss me already?” I turned around and smirked.

“I told you…” She kneeled. “We have to take care of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to say anything else as she grabbed my dick and put it in her mouth. Damn, she was good at sucking dick. It was unbelievable. I was the one with weak knees now. She was moving her mouth so fast as if she wanted to get revenge for before.

I wanted to watch her doing it. I wanted to see how she chokes on my dick but I couldn’t. It felt too good and I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back and closing them. I buried my fingers into her wet hair and helped her move.

I loved how she enjoyed doing it. The way she was moaning and looking up at me. I can’t take it anymore. I let out a loud groan as I came, the water washing my load off her face.

“Now, I can rest.” She smirked and I helped her get up.

I turned her around, wrapped my arms around her and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

[vampiresuns]

This Is How We Say Goodbye (Song To The Open Road) | Asra x Milenko

☽ THIS IS HOW WE SAY GOODBYE (SONG TO THE OPEN ROAD) ☽

1.9k words. Written for Asra Week, day 6: Promise. In which the Plague ravages Vesuvia, there’s an argument and Asra and Milenko part ways.

You can catch up with Milasra’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

When Anatole and Milenko got involved, Asra and Amparo were already fighting. 

Their relationship had always been peculiar. More than friends, they were sometimes mirrors, matchstick and friction, cause and reaction. While Milenko was the one Asra had fallen in love with, and Anatole the one who he rode and died for, Amparo tended to spring Asra into motion. Both of them did things in almost identical ways — Asra’s sun sign was Amparo’s moon sign, her rising sign, his moon. As such, they gave the idea of instant compenetration, of unspoken frequencies vibrating in the same way. 

Amparo, the animancer, the actress, the dancer, the impersonator imbued in Asra something the others could not quite describe. That was Amparo’s charm, after all, that pizzaz that made her no one other than La Cassano. 

In that way, they shouldn’t have been surprised they would butt heads this way. They shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing could deescalate the fight either. Everyone was tired, everyone was grieving. The City was ridden with the Plague, there were no answers and no solutions offered, and for the first time in the almost 20 years Lucio had ruled the inevitable had happened: the Council of Vesuvia wasn’t enough, and now it was too late for them to remove Lucio from power by declaring him unfit to rule. The mechanisms would not work, the tissue of the Court was almost entirely destroyed, and the people were ill and needed food, clean water and doctors.

Their families had decided to all ride this out together in the Palazzo, with the proper health regulations that they could adopt. The building could house them all without problem but more importantly, it would mean they would be together. Many things were said about them, like how nothing mortal could kill them, based on an old, old story of how the Consul’s office had become theirs. It was no less true that the Radošević-Cassano did not survive alone. 

So they grouped, they went back home, and with their location inside the walls of the infamous Palazzo Cassano, they took in their closest friends. Their families had begun as friends, marrying between each other was recent, and only a kink of some very specific sets of family members. To them, family wasn’t blood, family was a choice. 

They had asked Asra to move in with them, and with that, to relocate Muriel, no one had to know he was in the Palazzo with them, specially not the Count. Asra, however, wanted to leave, and he wanted to convince Amparo, Anatole and Milenko to go with him, so they all would take their stuff and go, and abandon Vesuvia — a City that had never done anything for any of them. There was no point in dying in it, let alone for it. 

Naturally, the proposal turned into an argument. Amparo especially would not leave her mother and parent, Amparo would not leave Anzano, their grandparent, as she knew they would not leave Vesuvia. Anzano was old, very old, but still fit for travel; however, they had once been the High Priest of the Sun and had trained the new one, just like their spouse Atilia Cassano, had been the High Priest of the Moon. They wouldn’t leave a City they felt a sense of responsibility towards, and Amparo herself would not desert her family when they needed her.

Milenko had a similar idea. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave when he could help, he couldn’t leave when his mothers would not go, when his grandfather would not go, when his cousins would not go. Unlike Amparo he had no will to argue with Asra, instead, with the help of Anatole they tried to calm it down, so Asra could see where they were coming from, and they could try and answer Asra’s concerns.

It didn’t work. Everyone was strung, stressed and grieving, so it was a matter of time before one of them said the wrong thing, at the wrong time, with whoever the comment had been directed at not wanting to be understanding about it. It was a matter of time before they were all arguing in the ground floor of the Moonstone and Jasmine, all of Asra’s things packed up as he said he was not staying to die in a City like Vesuvia and how anyone with half a mind would do the same. 

Milenko saw the point of no return happen in slow motion: Asra’s words collided with nothing other than the behemoth that was the Cassano’s sense of pride. Whatever they had begun, it could not be stopped now. 

A lot of accusations flew around. Amparo tried to tell Asra that he couldn’t just expect her to leave the City she had always lived in, the City that she hoped to die in at old age. Asra told her what did she know about losing homes, she who had been born in the Heart District with a silver spoon on her mouth, who had never had to struggle because she always had a roof above her head. Funnily enough, Amparo’s patience ran out when he told her that she couldn’t even cook for herself. 

“Do whatever you want. I’m not leaving. If that’s all you think of me, then forget we were ever friends Asra.” 

She disappeared into the upstairs of the shop, into its main living quarters. 

“Asra, that’s not fair,” Milenko said. His tone was critical, but he still tried to stay as calm as possible. Maybe if Asra could see that he really would be safe—

Then Anatole spoke, his anger raw, yet cold and precise, like a well practiced fencing blow: “What the fuck is wrong with you. If we were a bunch of superior assholes who did everything for our own benefit—”

Asra snapped. “No, but you sure think you’ll save Vesuvia from Lucio just from existing, as if anyone in this city would ever care if you lived or died, Anatole. That’s what you do, don’t you? Pretend like you can fix his mistakes while everyone else suffers from them.”

The silence that fell between the three of them was abrupt, soon ringing in their ears, but when Asra tried to apologise, noticing he had said the wrong thing, it was too late. 

Anatole looked like he had been slapped.

“Toly?” Milenko asked, moving closer to his cousin to squeeze his shoulder, wanting to make sure he was okay. Asra’s words had hit one of Anatole’s greatest fears: that no matter how hard he tried, it’d never be enough. 

Before he could reach Anatole, his cousin’s face changed. As his features shifted with anger, Anatole spoke again. 

Now he was truly and really angry. “You meant that.” 

The issue with words was you couldn’t take them back once you said them. All you could do is hope the other person would forgive you and understand if you had misspoken. As Milenko was once again caught between Asra and Anatole arguing, he realised this was one thing Anatole might never forgive. He doubted it was his place to say, yet Milenko didn’t know if he could even advocate for Anatole forgiving Asra’s words, with time.

The issue wasn’t about who was right or wrong. There was no right or wrong, there was no miraculous answer in this unsalvageable situation. It was that Asra had meant it. Part of Anatole’s language magic was this: he was able to read feelings and intentions in spoken words. As a language manipulator, he could tell everything which people (intentionally or otherwise) imbued into words when they spoke, even if he couldn’t tell the why or the how. 

Would he be able to carry on if he could feel that after years of showing honesty and vulnerability because you want the other person to know you, this was what they thought at their worst? 

The argument didn’t last much longer. Anatole, not wanting to speak, went upstairs to check on Amparo, while Milenko and Asra stood alone on the ground floor of the shop. 

The magician began taking his things, preparing himself to leave for real. Milenko followed him, standing outside of the backdoor as he looked at Asra adjusting his travelling coat. Amparo has gotten it for him. It was handmade, Amparo’s gift to Asra two birthdays ago. 

“Aren’t you going to say farewell?” 

Asra startled, not expecting Milenko standing there. “I thought there was nothing else to say.” 

Once again they stood in silence. It felt like forever, even if it was probably just a couple of seconds. They were aware of every moment they lost to silence, looking at each other under the Vesuvian sunset. They felt far away, miles away. 

It hurt to realise, more than Milenko was willing to admit, but Anatole had been right: he still remembered when they were arguing about Asra not asking for help about Muriel. They could be as open as they wanted with Asra, but Asra would never step in time with them, even if he wanted to. 

Who better than Milenko to know this, and to know that sometimes, it was through no fault of his own. 

Asra spoke first. “You think I’m making the wrong choice.” 

Milenko pressed his lips together. “I don’t think there’s a right choice. There’s just the best we can do with the options we’re given.” 

“You don’t think I could do better with mine?”

“I don’t know, beloved, could you?” 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” 

“I’m sorry. Force of habit.” 

“I forgive you,” Asra said, shifting his weight between his feet. He wanted to say something else, yet he said nothing. 

“Asra. I’m not judging you. I already told you I am no one to judge.” 

“How can you say that to me at a time like this?” 

“What? It’s the truth. I don’t like that you’re leaving and I would never make the choices you are making, and I could give you a piece of my mind and point fingers at you. I am angry, I’m hurt, but nothing I accuse you of will make me feel better. Judging you will not make me feel better, so I won’t. I’ve never done.” 

“Sometimes,” Asra said, dislodging his travel bag from his shoulder, “sometimes I wish you did. It would make leaving easier.” 

To Milenko’s surprise, Asra crossed the distance between them. Milenko didn’t stop his hand from cupping Asra’s cheek. Asra leaned against it, even if he wished he hadn’t. Asra closed his eyes, tears coming through his closed eyelids.

“You know I won’t ask you to stay,” Milenko said, getting teary himself. 

“Just like I know I won’t get you to leave.” 

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Asra. Promise me that at the very least, you’ll try to take good care of yourself.” 

Asra opened his eyes, his vision blurred because of the tears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, letting Faust slither into his arm to stretch herself all the way to say goodbye to Milenko.

Her tongue flicked against his nose, making Asra smile. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself too, please.”

Milenko nodded, Asra saying his farewells before turning around and walking away as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Milenko watched him go, until Ursula, his familiar, nudged him inside. 

“May Allah keep you safe, Habibi,” he said to the empty street before closing the door behind him. 

#the arcana #asraweek2021 #the arcana oc #milenko #asra alnazar #asra #milasra #like thirst holds water #amparo cassano #aelius anatole #my writing

[eveningcatcher]

Julian/Lucio/Muriel/Vulgora/Valdemar picking MC up after they had an argument

Julian:

Lately MC and Julian couldn’t see each other eye to eye. It seemed that they argued just about anything. Last week they argued about the way one makes the bed, three days ago about the amount of money they spend. It was never enough to make them way too angry at each other, but the consequences could be felt. There was always a tension between them as if they were waiting to start arguing about something else.

All of this resulted in them trying not to do much in each other’s presence, thus not making any topic they could argue about. Today, it happened again. MC was cleaning their shop, trying their best to somehow please Julian as they went over his leech collection. They organized it how they saw Julian do it, thinking they are doing it the right way. Unfortunately, they were wrong, so the act of kindness they wanted to show Julian resulted in him getting irritated even more. The day had already been way too stressful for both him and MC, and all of this seemed to be a cherry on the top.

“You can’t just move my leeches wherever you want!” Julian said, taking a couple of jars filled with leeches.

“Julian, those are leeches,” MC said, annoyed, “Does it really matter how you organize them?”

“It does,” he insisted as he sorted them on his cupboard, “Leeches have different purposes!”

“They all do the same thing – suck blood.” MC said as they watched him organize the jars, “So, how much different is your organization than mine?”

“This leech,” he started explaining as he raised one of the jars, “Is much older than,” he tapped on the other jar, “This leech. And you put them together!”

“So? They both suck blood just fine.”

“Yes, but I can’t give people any leeches. It’s a long pro-”

“Why do you give people leeches at all? I bet that a nap helps the patient better than those,” they gestured at the jars in disgust.

“Of course not!” he protested, “If they weren’t good for the patients, I wouldn’t give them leeches at all!”

“You know what?” MC said, frustrated. They’ve had enough,” Fine. You’re right about everything. So now, Mr. know-it-all, pack your leeches and all other things and get out.”

“Fine!”

MC expected that Julian would start collecting his jars, leaving MC for good. Just the thought of that made something in MC break. They didn’t want Julian to leave. Just when they were going to beg Julian to stay, he grabbed them, nearly throwing them over his shoulder. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” MC asked as they tried to get off.

“I’m getting what’s mine,” Julian said with a dumb smile as he locked MC’s door, going his place.

MC blushed along the way, trying not to make any eye contact with the people passing by. Julian, on the other hand, didn’t seem to give a flying fuck about the glances he got. He happily unlocked the doors of his home, putting MC on one of the sofas, giving them a quick peck on the lips.

As soon as he pulled away, MC said, “I’m sorry for-”

“I know,” he interrupted them, gently smiling as he leaned closer, slowly as if he didn’t want to scare MC away. MC, on the other hand, got tired of waiting as they grabbed his suit, pulling him closer, but just before they could kiss, their noses bumped, making them pull to move away from one another, gently holding their noses. After a moment they looked at each other, then at their red noses, laughing at how dumb they are. After they’ve calmed down a bit they leaned again, this time, kissing properly.

Surprisingly enough, their kiss was soft, almost as if they were just brushing each other’s lips. Then, MC decided to spice things up as they bit Julian’s lower lip, gently pulling it, impatiently waiting for Julian’s reaction. He irked up a bit, not expecting MC to be so rough, however, by the way his blood rushed all the way to his cheeks, it was obvious he was enjoying it. MC didn’t stop there, their hands gently tracing over his neck, then playing with his ginger locks of hair as they took off his eye patch, tossing it on the floor. Now that was out of the way, MC pressed in further, on their tiptoes as they tried to pull Julian down. Once they’ve pulled away they stared at each other, appreciating the moment, feeling like they’re the only people in the Vesuvia.

Lucio

“You’ve been spending way too much money,” MC commented one time in the shop,” Please, please, get a grip.”

“Don’t worry,” he responded, gently petting MC’s head,” Our coffins are filled with money!” he continued bragging.

“But what if they become empty tomorrow?” they pressed the matter further,” What would you do then? What are you spending all that money on?!?”

“Dear, just,” he stopped for a moment, trying to think of what to say,” Don’t think much about it.”

“How can I not think about it? Lately, you’ve been spending way too much money on everything!” they said, staring at him with clear worry,” Do you really believe you need golden mirrors?”

“Of course I do!”

“I…” they looked at him in disbelief. He can’t be serious, can he? ” Look, you need a wake-up call,” they said, completely serious,” Please, if you truly do want to keep up with constantly spending money for no reason, leave. Just, take your unreasonably expensive stuff and leave.”

“I was just thinking about that!” he said with a smile plastered on his face as he picked MC up, walking out of the shop as he carried MC bridal style.

He noticed how MC stared at him in shock, so he proudly said, “Don’t mind me, I’m just taking what’s mine~”

MC stared at him in disbelief, blushing like mad. Once they were back at the palace, Lucio gently put them down. For a moment he admired MC’s figure who just laid on his bed, their cheeks still flushed from Lucio’s small act. He smirked as he bent over them, not even trying to be discrete as he stared at their plump lips. His head was so close to MC’s that he could feel their breath brush his cheeks. Just when MC thought that he was going to kiss them, he stopped, admiring MC’s face one more time, then, with a smug smirk, he leaned in closer, sealing his lips with MC’s.

The passionate kiss he gave them was rough, filled with emotion, just like the first time when he kissed them. MC was addicted to the feeling as they pulled Lucio closer, trying to deepen the kiss, holding his face firmly. Even though he enjoyed all of this, he hadn’t had enough; he needed more thrill. And so he granted his own wish as he grabbed MC’s exposed collarbone with his cold golden hand, making MC shiver below him.

MC’s lips formed a small curve as they played with the loose strands of Lucio’s hair, not even thinking about breaking the kiss. They decided to tease him back, touching Lucio’s exposed chest, tracing his abs with their nails. Lucio tried his best to suppress the gasp, frowning once MC pulled their hands away. MC is such a tease, always pulling away at the best part…

“Lucio,” MC gasped for a moment, not taking their eyes off of Lucio’s lips, “While I do appreciate all of this, your problem with spending enormous amounts of money still stays.”

He knew how stubborn MC can be, but he also knew that MC never did anything with ill intent. 

“Fine. I’ll sort out anything unnecessary and sell it off,” he said, pouting.

“Thank you, my love,” MC said with a smile as they gave him another kiss.

Muriel

MC and Muriel have been walking together in the forest, looking for some mushrooms. The two of them happily walked on the trails known only to them, trying their best not to disturb any forest animal along the way. Sure, MC wasn’t used to walking on the dirt-covered in grass and wood roots, so they found themselves, slipping and falling quite often. This never stopped them, as they would stand up quickly, brush the dirt off as they laughed with Muriel at how clumsy they are.

Finally, they found themselves in a small field filled with non-poisonous mushrooms. They collected them together, taking small breaks in between, playing with some rabbits passing by, as well as trying to approach deer who didn’t mind the two of them at all. Overall, they had a great, as well as a rather productive time since they were able to collect enough mushrooms for the whole winter.

They returned to the hut together, making some jokes about how they are better prepared than squirrels along the way. It was only when they were in front of the hut that MC had a feeling of sadness wash over them. Muriel lived in a small, minimalistic hut, having enough just to survive. For God’s sake, he didn’t even have spices for his food! All of this made MC feel terrible.

“Muriel,” they started talking as they took all of the mushrooms out of the basket, cleaning them in one of the buckets Muriel kept outside,” I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I would love it if you would move in with me.”

He turned to them, taking a glance at them then at the doors of his tiny hut. After a moment, he responded with a shrug, “No.”

“Why not?” MC asked them.

“Because I enjoy it there,” he said with a smile, looking at his hut once more. Sure, he didn’t have much, but he had a warm place, a roof over his head, food and most importantly, MC; what else does he need?

“But, but you don’t even have a bathroom.” MC noted with a frown as they prepared to grill some of the mushrooms for dinner,” Don’t you think that you should live somewhere with minimal living conditions?”

“I don’t care,” he said with a slight puff. This conversation started to annoy him,” I’d rather be in my hut than in your busy shop,” he stopped for a moment, realizing that this sounded a lot harsher than how he intended to say it.

“Is that how you feel?” MC responded, offended by his words,” Then what does my shop have that your hut doesn’t?”

“Peace,” he simply responded, hoping that MC would drop the topic.

“What are you talking about? Both of us know that apart from the customers there are no people! It’s pretty damn peaceful!”

“It’s not the same, though,” he insisted, not wanting to make eye contact with MC.

“How?!?”

“It’s just…” he stopped for a moment to think,” I don’t know how to explain it, it’s not the same as in here.”

“You know what?” MC asked him, knowing deep down that they were overreacting,” If it’s so much better in your hut than in my shop, then why don’t you take your things and live in this hut for the rest of your life?!?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said with a smile as he grabbed MC’s waist, picked MC up, staring at them directly in the eyes because he knew that if he stared down he wouldn’t be able to hold in his laughter. The height difference between them was just too funny to him sometimes. With a small smile forming on his lips, he went back into the hut, putting MC on the bed.

“I don’t think I’ll need anything else from your shop,” he said as he took a glance at MC’s flushed face as he went back outside, being proud at how smooth he was. Not long after he returned with some wood, starting the fire, then grilled the mushrooms. He walked back to MC, sitting right next to them, handing over the food.

“MC, I didn’t mean anything bad,” he said, snuggling closer to MC.

“I know,” they said as they finished the meal, standing up so they could kiss Muriel’s forehead, ” I overreacted,” they said as they took Muriel’s plate, going to the other side of the hut. They gently put the dishes into the bucket filled with water and started washing them. At that moment, as they washed the dishes in silence, they understood what Muriel was talking about not so long ago.” I have to admit it, you do have a point. It’s much more peaceful here.”

Vulgora

“MC LOOK!” Vulgora said one fine morning as they walked into MC’s shop without even knocking, holding a skeleton’s arm proudly in their hands.

“Eek!” MC screamed at the sight, jumping back which resulted in them accidentally breaking an empty jar.

“What’s wrong? Why so scared all of a sudden?” they asked, confused.

“Vulgora…” MC said as they stared at them from the safe distance,” Is that a hand?”

“Yes,” they said with a smug smirk, puffing their chest out,” It’s an old trophy of mine,” they said proudly,” Thought I should clean it.”

“Well I think you should throw it away,” MC said with a frown, cowering in fear. How did Vulgora get an arm?

“What?!?” they turned their head to MC, not believing what they were hearing,” NO WAY. DON’T YOU KNOW WHOSE HAND THIS WAS?!?” they said as they lifted the hand.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” MC said as they backed off a little,” Just get it out of my shop.”

“BUT THIS WAS A HAND OF ONE FAMOUS GENERAL!!!” they started explaining as the memory of them cutting off the hand of the man who begged them to spare their lives in the middle of the battlefield. Those were great times. They still couldn’t believe all of that happened 130 years ago. They remembered it as if it happened yesterday… Then, they got out of their trance, remembering where they are and what they were doing. Right, MC dares to disrespect this fond memory of theirs, ” YOU HAVE NO CLUE HOW MUCH PEOPLE WOULD PAY JUST TO SEE IT!”

“Well you have no clue how much I’d pay to throw it away,” they said as they couldn’t take their eyes off the skeleton hand.

“What?!? NO.”

“Please, just, just get it out of my sight…” they begged, feeling hopeless.

“No way!” they kept arguing, however, they felt like their anger started to wear off. They just couldn’t be mad at MC for long periods of time,” I wanted your help with cleaning.”

“Why would you need my help with it?!?” they asked with disgusted. They aren’t going anywhere near that thing.

“You know, for ‘bonding’” they said as they made quotation mark with both of their hands, still holding onto the skeleton,” And other bullshit humans believe in.”

“Couldn’t we just… I don’t know,” they said sarcastically as they shrugged,” Not clean the fucking skeleton?!?”

“But it’s all dusty!” they said as they extended the skeleton’s hand to MC.

“Vulgora,” MC said with a sigh as they massaged their temple,” Why do you have to do so many gruesome things?”

“SINCE WHEN WAS CLEANING GRUESOME?!?!”

“You know what… just…” MC said with a sigh, tired of everything,” Take that hand and any other ‘trophy’ of yours and leave. Please,” they gestured at an animal right above the entrance doors of their shop,” I can’t bear to look at that poor deer’s head anymore.”

“But you were the one who killed it!”

“Yeah and I cried because of it,” they said, remembering how sad, the deer’s eyes looked at MC.

“Weren’t those tears of joy?!?”

“NO!”

“Ugh, fine,” Vulgora said, feeling like they got tired of the argument themselves,” I’ll take what’s mine and go.”

They carefully put the hand in their pocket, then picked MC up with only one hand, like an absolute madman chad that they are and went back to their estate as if nothing happened.

“What are you doing?” MC asked, trying to get off.

“Exactly what you wanted!” Vulgora said, getting a bit frustrated at how difficult MC was to please.

Just before MC was about to tell them they never told them to do any of this, they realized what Vulgora meant, leaving them like a blushing mess all the way to Vulgora’s estate. As soon as Vulgora set a foot into their mansion they put MC down.

“So… this means no more deer hunts?”

“At least not with me,” MC said, looking down, trying to hide their flushed face away from Vulgora.

“That sucks,” they frowned, not noticing how embarrassed MC was,” It’s always more fun hunting with you…”

“I fall off my horse nearly every time. I can’t even hold a bow properly,” MC explained, naming just a few things at the top of their head.

“That’s exactly why it’s so much fun.”

MC rolled their eyes, letting a chuckle escape their lips, however, they stopped as soon as they saw Vulgora take out the hand.

“I want to never, ever, see that again,” MC said as they pointed at the hand.

“But-”

“No buts.”

“Ugh, fine,” they groaned, rolling their eyes,” I’ll hide it somewhere you won’t find.”

Even though MC would have much preferred that Vulgora would just throw the hand away, they knew this was the best solution they could get, “Thanks.”

Valdemar

“My dear, don’t you worry, this is just a usual protocol,” Valdemar said with a grin as they cleaned their scalpel.

“Are you, are you sure?” MC asked, a bit worried. Was a scalpel necessary for this wound?

“I have centuries of experience,” they said, not breaking eye contact with MC,” I’m sure.”

Half an hour later, MC stared at their patched arm. They were grateful for what Valdemar did for them, but was it so necessary for the process to be this painful? Once they took a glance at Valdemar happily writing down in their notebook, they got an answer. This was just another attempt to further their research. MC groaned in frustration,

“Oh my, guess I’ve carried it a bit too far, hm?” they asked as they walked back to MC, checking the wound once more.

“You think?” MC asked, annoyed.

“Come on now, my dearest,” they told MC as they checked to see if MC was hurt anywhere else,” It was just a little research about muscles. It’s nothing too much.”

“But you promised that it’s not going to be extreme.”

“Please, don’t make too much of a drama, I’m just,” they stopped for a moment, trying to find the right word,” Enjoying the moment.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, but this makes me uncomfortable…”

“I can assure you, you’re in…” they stopped themselves from saying ‘in good hands’ since they knew they had questionable morals,” Hands of a professional.”

“You do realize that I don’t want to, nor have to be in the hands of a professional, I just want to be in the hands of someone who won’t perform an experiment on my wound.”

“Why my little MC,” they joked as they checked the rest of MC’s body for any other wound, “If you minded me getting a better look at your body, you could have said something.”

Even though Valdemar gave them a reassurance, MC still felt uneasy, like their words weren’t enough, “It was that easy?” they asked, to which Valdemar only nodded, “Why do I feel like as soon as something else happens to me, you’ll be back on using the opportunity to further your research?”

“You worry too much. I stand behind what I said.”

“Right… just like when you promised Vlastomil you won’t lay a hand on his worms, or when you reassured Lucio that his peacock is in safe hands.”

“Oh please-” they wanted to add another remark, but MC interrupted them.

“If you can’t keep your word to them, then how do I know you’ll keep your word now?” they didn’t even bother to let Valdemar say anything else as they continued on with their rant, “Honestly… sometimes I feel like the same thing will happen to me. I think it would be best if we…” they stopped for a moment, feeling guilt choke them. They didn’t want to break up with Valdemar, “… Just take your things out of my shop. I need to think about all of this for a while.”

“Why would I go all the way to the shop when all of my things are right here?” they mused as they picked MC up, to which MC started kicking and demanding to be put down. Valdemar only sighed as they extended their arms, being at a safe distance from MC.

“Put me-” they couldn’t finish their sentence as Valdemar gave them a gentle, playful shake.

“Please be silent for a moment. You don’t want me to drop you accidentally, no?” they simply responded as they took a walk back to their estate. Once there, Valdemar put MC down, leaning closer, “I’ve taken what’s mine. What now?” they asked with a grin.

MC stared at them for a moment, trying to calm down from all of the kickings. Once they comprehended what Valdemar wanted to say, they started blushing like mad.

After a moment, Valdemar got impatient, so they simply stated, “As I said before, you could have just told me you’re uncomfortable. I can assure you that nothing bad will happen,” they repeated what they said in the dungeons, giving MC a gentle pat on the head, “So tell me now, my little guinea pig,” they said with a wide grin, “Would you like some tea?”

#the arcana #The Arcana Game #the arcana julian #the arcana muriel #the arcana lucio #the arcana vulgora #the arcana valdemar #julian #Muriel #lucio #the arcana headcanons #valdemar #vulgora #julian devorak #count lucio #courtier #quaestor valdemar #the arcana quaestor valdemar #pontifex vulgora

[crowsnests]

taste of certainty - part two

Fandom: The Arcana  Pairing: Julian Devorak x OC Apprentice (Syran Elkas) Tags: friends to lovers; modern times au; friend group dynamic; slow burn; pining; really just Julian being Julian and Syran being Oblivious Words: 6034 Warnings: mention of anxiety, migraines, insomnia, alcohol

part 1 2 3 4 5

playlist

I know that it can take me even deeper if I let it But my limbs are trying to swim away

- trust; half-alive

II. beach fire sparks

The car ride is mostly quiet, Nadia and Pasha sit at the front, humming along to the songs Pasha puts on– clearly some sort of playlist made just for the two of them. Syran looks out the window, buildings and lights passing by. The sound of Ilya’s voice doesn’t want to leave her mind.

Syran suddenly feels watched, so she pries away from the window, noticing how Pasha is leaning over the passenger seat to look at her.

“What?” Syran asks.

Nadia glances at her from the rearview mirror.

Pasha smiles, sly. “You know what.”

Syran thinks she does, but– she’s gonna pretend like she doesn’t. Mostly because she really doesn’t want to know what.

She shrugs, “I don't.”

Most of the time, if she focuses, Syran can be a good liar. She hopes to channel her talent right now, although she knows that sometimes Pasha has the ability to see through her.

“You really really don’t?” Pasha insists, smile getting wider.

Syran narrows her eyes, “You’re mad at me for the pizza choice?”

Pasha sighs, clearly impatient to Syran’s stubbornness.

“No! You and my brother!” She groans. “You got all cosy, and Ilya was all like ohhh hello and you were like oh shit, oh my god!!” She tries to imitate the two of them by changing her pitch. Badly. “Like, come on, just date already!”

“Wh– what?” Syran is a good liar, but hearing Pasha talk so earnestly about– whatever’s between her and Ilya is– weird.

“There’s no–” Syran swallows, trying to get her tone back to normal. “What do you mean? I’ve fallen asleep near you guys before– I mean. I just didn’t expect it to happen, this time. Why would we date? We’re friends.”

Please stop, please stop. She thinks.

Pasha furrows her brow. “Friends, huh? I mean, yes. You are friends. But mayyybe you could be friends that smooch.”

Nadia reaches to put a hand on Pasha’s thigh. Pasha turns to her for a second. “What? You know I’m right.”

“Your truth doesn’t mean it’s also Syran’s truth, babe.” Nadia’s tone is gentle, but she gives Syran an understanding look from the rearview mirror– Pasha doesn’t seem to notice.

Syran feels incredibly relieved. She is grateful to Nadia for bailing her out of this conversation.

“Yeah, my truth is very different from– whatever it is you think. Ilya and I are friends and we don’t– s– smooch.” Ah, she really wishes she didn’t say that last part.

Pasha narrows her eyes one more time. “Ugh, whatever,” she huffs, turning to sit properly, facing forward. “I just think you would be really good for my brother. He needs someone as nice as you.” She mutters, clearly more serious this time.

Syran can’t help but widen her eyes at that, flattered. She tries to ignore the heat on her cheeks, though.

“W–well, thank you, but there’s nothing like that between us.” Syran is trying to convince herself more than Pasha. Nadia throws her one last look from the mirror and she knows she’s caught on more than Syran would like.

As soon as Syran gets back home, a lazy meow greets her at the door. Her cat, Persephone, bumps her head against her calf. Syran reaches down to pick her up and scratch behind her ears.

“Hello, cutie, hope you didn’t feel too lonely today,” Syran plants a kiss on top of Persephone’s head. She lazily meows as a reply, in between all the purring.

The apartment is quiet besides that. Without Ran’s excited laugh and warm presence, the atmosphere in the house feels wrong.

Once Syran’s in her room and changed into comfortable clothes, all the embarrassment catches up to her as soon as she sits on the bed. She stares at the window for a second, then the thought of Ilya makes her want to hide herself further in bed and scream into a pillow, like she’s fifteen again and her emotions are all over the place.

Well, the latter is definitely true.

Persephone lays down beside her, kneading on the duvet until she finds a comfortable spot.

Just when she’s done strangling her pillow, Syran’s phone rings with the sound of a text.

from: dumbsra - 21:03

goodmorning (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Syran groans. She wants to punch him. She knows exactly what he’s referencing, but she is not going to fall for it.

to: dumbsra - 21:04

It’s nine pm

from: dumbsra - 21:04

Oh, i know (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

to: dumbsra - 21:05

good to know you can read a clock, then

from: dumbsra - 21:07

I’m just saying, you looked like you were really comfortable tonight (.❛ ᴗ ❛.) (－ω－) zzZ (¬‿¬ ) °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°( ´ ▽ ` ).｡♡(„ಡωಡ„)

Fucking idiot. What is she even supposed to reply to that? Fuck you, would be appropriate, but she knows that it will give him more ground to make dumb jokes.

Why is everyone onto her?

to: dumbsra - 21:08

we need to discuss the way you use emojis, honestly, it’s a problem

from: dumbsra - 21:09

Ignore my words all you want, you know i can read your mind (つ✧ω✧)つ :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

to: dumbsra - 21:10

then i’m sure you know what i’m thinking right now

from: dumbsra - 21:10

that you should ask Ilya out on a date?

(☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

to: dumbsra - 21:12

No, that i stole your favourite shirt once and i will do it again

Goodnight! ( ◡‿◡ )

from: dumbsra - 21:12

ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ don’t you dare

Syran puts her phone down, stopping herself from answering more. She hears it vibrate a couple times, definitely Asra complaining about being left on seen, but she doesn’t care right now.

She turns to her cat, who looks up at her, languidly, “At least you’re on my side, right, Persie?”

Persephone just yawns and goes back to napping.

Syran sighs. All she wants to do is get ready for bed and not think about Ilya’s comforting presence.

🂱

When she arrives at the park entrance, their designated meeting spot for the winter fair, there’s enough people around for Syran to not find her friends immediately. That’s until she spots a tall figure on the side of the entrance.

“Muriel!” She calls, waving towards him.

When she reaches him, breath forming little clouds of vapor, Muriel smiles down at her, “Hey, Syran.”

Muriel is wearing dark green gloves that Syran remembers getting him a few birthdays ago. “Aww, you still wear them?”

Muriel nods, “They’re warm.”

“Hello babe,” Asra pops up from beside him and beams at her, all bundled up in a puffy jacket and bright teal beanie.

“Hey handsome,” she teases back, hugging him briefly. “Where are the others?”

“Pasha and Nadia should be here soon, Ilya is– somewhere.”

Syran blinks. Ilya can be late sometimes but he lives with the two of them, so– “Didn’t he come with you guys?”

“Yeah, then he forgot his wallet in the car,” Asra rolls his eyes.

Syran laughs at the thought of Ilya scrambling to get back to the car and looking for his wallet.

Idiot.

She realises she’s said it out loud when Asra throws her a look. She tries to hide her face in her scarf.

Ugh, does he have nothing else to think about?

“Hey!” Someone exclaims from behind them just then, saving her from any comments Asra might make. “Found it!”

Except that someone is Ilya, waving at them and running, dark crimson scarf coming loose to show his neck.

For fuck’s sake, she can’t catch a break. He looks handsome as always.

“Oh– hey Syran,” he comes to a halt right in front of her, surprised, as if he hadn’t seen her before. To be fair, she’s only the second shortest of the group (first being Pasha by an inch or so, thankfully), so maybe he really didn’t see her. Then, he smiles and Syran wishes her scarf was big enough to become a cocoon for her to hide in.

She’s fine. She’s okay.

( “I don’t have a crush!” she told Ran over the phone last night, after recounting the events of the evening. “That’s ridiculous. Ilya’s been my friend for a long time. He’s just– nice, okay?”

“Of course he’s nice, wasn’t he nice before?” Ran laughed. “Feelings can evolve, you know?”

“No– no– he was.” Syran huffed. “It’s nothing, okay? I’m just– I’m just tired, all these years I’ve been fine, so I’m fine now too.”

She could almost see Ran raising her eyebrow at her, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Syran insisted. “I know very well what a crush feels like. Whatever I feel for Ilya is– not a crush. It’s fondness, friendship. Not– anything else.”

Ran sighed, surrendering. “Whatever you say, Elkas.” )

Ilya’s eyes are so hard to look away from, but Syran finds the strength to put her hands in her pockets and stare at her boots. Pretty safe defense mechanism, if you ask her.

“So, what’s the plan?” Ilya asks the group.

“Well, I assume since you found your wallet you’re going to pay for everyone?” Asra smirks.

Ilya scoffs, “You still owe me money for that dinner we had, Asra.”

“I paid you back!”

“A mug you shoplifted isn’t exactly the same,” Ilya retorts.

“It’s a beautiful mug and It reminded me of you! Isn’t the thought that counts?”

“It literally says World’s Worst Doctor, you little shit–”

“You still use it though!”

Muriel and Syran exchange a sympathetic smile, knowing very well the bickering between the two can be neverending. This argument comes up at least once a week.

Thankfully, Nadia and Pasha join them, interrupting the discussion.

“Market time!” Pasha exclaims as she runs for the entrance, Nadia and Ilya in tow.

They enter the park, all decorated, pretty lights illuminating everyone’s stunned faces.

They’ve been here before, when they put it up, but they have changed some of the stalls since– regardless, it’s always a fun night for them. The little wooden cabins sell all sorts of things. People crowd them, looking at the different displays.

Syran drifts towards one that sells honey from a small independent company. She and Asra sample some of it, while the others spread over the displays around them. Pasha buys a scented candle, Nadia some golden handmade earrings, Asra decides to get yet another set of incense, and Muriel takes a liking to a little hand-carved wolf sculpture.

Syran finds herself by a stall that sells minerals and crystals, all neatly separated by wooden boxes. She recognises some of her favourites: lepidolite, chrysocolla, black opal, agate. The stall owner smiles at her, reassuring her that she can look at them closely.

She picks up a lepidolite rock, looking at how the light reflects on the coarse lilac surface.

“Anything interesting?” A voice comes up behind her, startles her enough for her to almost drop the crystal.

She takes a second to regain her thoughts, still recovering from the small jumpscare. Ilya curiously inspects the display, like he didn’t just give her a mild heart attack.

“These are cool! Do you collect them?” He asks, leaning closer to look at some tiger’s eye.

“More or less,” Syran nods. “I’ve always liked to, since I was a kid.”

Ilya turns to her, grin on his face. “Aww, baby Syran playing with rocks!”

She rolls her eyes but not without a smile, “They are pretty rocks!”

Ilya laughs, then nods. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

Syran stares at him for a second, both of them just standing there as she still holds the lepidolite.

It’s not a crush.

Ilya turns back to the crystals, suddenly averting her gaze. “So, uhm– they all have meanings, right?” He points at the display with his gloved hand.

“Yeah, each has its proprieties– people use them for meditation, or for healing, things like that.”

Ilya looks up at her again, brows knotted. “You believe in that stuff?”

Syran shrugs, “I mean– I like the idea that something can help you find whatever strength or energy you need. Quartz gives you clarity, agate helps with stability, amethyst with intuition– you know, they’re quite empowering.”

“Still, why rely on something external to bring you those things?” He tilts his head, like he’s genuinely trying to understand, albeit a bit skeptical. “How can a stone give you that?”

Syran can’t help but chuckle. “Guess you could think like that. But they're supposed to help you find that in yourself, to bring it out. At least in my opinion.” She looks at the display again. “Plus, why not? If it helps somebody feel better, why take that away?”

She feels Ilya’s gaze on her for a second, before he turns to look up at the rest of the display. “Mh, that’s a nice take.”

Syran side eyes him. “Ah, men of science,” She sighs.

Ilya laughs. “Don’t you have a degree in biology? And– what’s that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head, picking up another crystal to look at it. Citrine. “Nothing, just– people in your field are often cynical of stuff like this.”

“Are you calling me closed-minded?” Ilya sounds offended, but it takes Syran one look to know that he’s joking.

“Mh– you said that, not me,” she teases.

Ilya smirks. “Okay, what does this one mean, then?” He picks out a random crystal and shows it to her with childlike gall. Syran looks at it. Moonstone.

Oh, great.

“Uh– it’s about hidden feelings? Helps to heal relationships and opening up– yeah. I mean, it’s written on the paper there.” She vaguely points at the box where the moonstones are, turning away from him. She doesn’t need to tell him everything about it.

Ilya laughs, then delicately puts the stone back. “Well, okay, okay.”

A man steps up to the display right by Ilya, trying to look at the rocks in front of him. Startled, Ilya steps closer towards Syran, apologising to the man.

She sighs, small and imperceptible, because of course he had to get even closer.

Syran moves her gaze to look at the necklaces at the back, pendants made with various crystals. There’s an aquamarine one, calming blue and really pretty.

“What is it?” Julian is so close he’s basically whispering in her ear.

“Huh?” She doesn’t dare look towards him.

“Which one are you looking at?”

“Oh, that one–” She points at it. “The light blue one.”

“What’s that?”

“Aquamarine I think– uh, it’s connected to water. Healing, moving on. Stuff like that.”

Ilya hums. “Looks nice. It suits you.”

“Uh, I do–”

Syran gets interrupted when someone pats her hard on the shoulder, startling her. Again. Ilya seems to feel the same.

“We thought we’d lost you guys!” Pasha’s voice doesn’t sound reprimanding, rather she has a wide smile on her face when they turn to her. Behind her, there’s only Muriel, piercing eyes on them.

“Where are the others?” Ilya asks.

“Nadi’s already at the skating rink with Asra,” Pasha grins. “So you better get going.”

Ilya gasps. “That’s cheating!”

He darts away towards the rink, Pasha hot on his tail, taunting him with predictions of his downfall.

Syran can’t help but laugh. She and Muriel fall behind, taking their time to reach the others.

“That’s nice to see,” Muriel says, breaking the silence.

“What is?” Syran turns her head up to look at him.

“The two of them– being on good terms.”

“Were they– not?” Syran asks, brows knotted.

“Well– ah, it’s a long story. Probably not my place to tell.” Muriel shakes his head. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She smiles, understanding. She can’t say she’s not surprised at the news, though. Ilya and Pasha seem to be really close, it’s hard to imagine them anything but.

Muriel smiles back, puts his hands in the pockets on his coat, shoulders rising up a little. “Yeah, I just– I wonder how it is. To have siblings.”

Right.

Muriel is an only child and he was raised by his grandma. Syran doesn’t know much about his life growing up, she’s always assumed he never wanted to talk about it.

She wonders if maybe he just never felt like anyone wanted to listen. That’s the case for her, anyway.

“It depends, I guess,” Syran says. “Everyone’s got their story.”

Muriel nods. “Yeah– do you– I mean, maybe I don’t remember but– do you have siblings?”

She thinks of her little sister back at home with her mother. Growing up without a second parent and having to mature early to help around the house, Syran never had the chance to get close to her sibling.

“I do. A younger sister, but–” Syran looks ahead as the skating rink comes into view. “We’re not like them. I rarely hear from her now. I don’t think she likes me very much. I mostly find out what she’s up to through my mother, so. Yeah.” She sighs. “Yvaine has always been a mystery to me.”

Muriel stops as they reach the edge of the skating rink. “Guess you can’t choose family,” he sighs.

“Guess not,” Syran smiles, bitterly. Then she looks up at Muriel again. “But hey, that’s okay. You got something better.”

Muriel frowns, looking at her with confusion. “Huh?”

She grins. “You got us.”

Muriel takes a second, blinks once.

Then he starts laughing. It rises slowly, his eyes crinkle up and his smile grows wide. He reaches out to ruffle Syran’s hair, affectionately. She’d complain, usually, but she can only laugh with him.

“Yeah– I do. We all got each other,” He says.

Then, Asra calls to them from inside the skating rink, leaning on the edge. “Hey, you two! Stop wasting time!”

🂱

Syran hasn’t skated in a while, but she quickly gets the hang of it again. She and Muriel seem to be the ones struggling the most, though. It takes a bit, but once she finds her pace, she starts going around the rink with more confidence, running into her friends now and then, sharing laughter, and throwing playful jabs at each other.

“You’re not that bad!” Ilya says as he comes up to her, starts skating by her side.

She shakes her head with a smile, “Please, I almost broke my spine earlier.”

“Not your most graceful moment, I’ll admit,” He teases.

“Hey, you’re supposed to support me!” She tries to playfully swat at his arm but ends up losing balance instead. Just when she thinks she’s going to fall on her face again, Ilya holds her steady. Close to him.

Too close, once again.

She can smell the musk of his perfume, she wonders if he can hear her beating heart.

It’s not a crush.

“Thank you,” She utters up at Ilya, words coming out in a puff of vapor.

“It’s okay,” Ilya smiles, still holding her. “Anytime.”

She looks away. “Hopefully not, I’d rather not risk falling again.” Syran laughs, still feeling the pain on her buttcheek from the last time she fell.

“Well, yeah.” Ilya laughs back.

Then it’s like he realises he’s still holding her, and– she remembers it, too. He slowly pulls away from her as she stands properly again. “Uh, hey, by the way–”

Asra skates up to them just then, interrupting Ilya. “You losers been still for too long, stop blocking the path!”

Syran gapes at him. “I wasn’t aware there was an ice skating police?”

Asra huffs, “There is one now! Move!” He goes to push her, but she slinks away with a laugh. He starts chasing her and Ilya yells back at them.

“Am I off the hook, then?”

Asra follows Syran, trying to get her, although he stumbles here and there. Differently from Syran, he finds his balance again quickly, laughing in glee.

It lasts only a moment, but she meets her gaze with Ilya’s across the rink. Wasn’t he saying something?

But before she can think about it Asra takes Syran for a spin, makes her twirl, holds her hand. It’s fun like this, and they properly start skating together. They enjoy their time and joke around– and sometimes still fall on their asses.

It’s great, but it starts to get a little taxing for her. “I think I’m done for now,” Syran heaves when they come to a halt in a corner of the rink, leaning onto the rail.

“What, giving up already?” Asra pouts.

“My face is going numb.” She puts her gloved hands on her cheeks, but it doesn’t help much– they’re all wet from falling on the ice.

Nadia comes up to them, perfect form and game face on her features. “Quitting so soon? You guys are hopeless.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Asra glares back. “We don’t claim to be professionals.”

“Not all of us see this as a competition, Nadi,” Syran smirks. Nadia almost looks insulted, but it’s all for show.

“Is that a challenge?”

“It really isn’t,” Syran laughs. Then, she notices Ilya coming their way. “Plus, looks like you’ve got your hands full already.”

Nadia turns just as Ilya catches up to them, breath heavy and hands on his hips. “What’s up Satrinava, ready to resign?”

“In your dreams, Devorak.” She glares. “Next one to touch the rail is out.”

Ilya squints at her. “You’re on.”

Syran smiles as they go off, skating away in the midst of the other people. Both of them look effortless, although Nadia is something else completely. She twirls and jumps, dares Ilya to do the same. He tries, but it’s not as graceful.

This is Nadia Satrinava we’re talking about, after all.

Eventually, Syran steps off the rink, finding Muriel already leaning outside by the rail, chatting to Pasha who’s still inside. They’re both acting like there’s no chaos generated by the others on the rink

“Done?” Pasha asks when Syran walks up to them, still feeling a little weird from having her feet back on normal ground.

“Yeah– it’s all fun and games until you get bruises everywhere.”

Muriel laughs, “Couldn’t agree more.”

“Aw, you guys need to believe in yourselves a little! The more you try the better you get!” Pasha’s encouraging words are sweet. “Plus, if Ilya can do it without making a complete fool of himself, so can you.”

“I don’t know, he seems to be struggling a little,” Muriel hums, nodding towards the others.

Pasha turns and Syran can see that Ilya looks definitely more tired than Nadia. There’s still resolve on his face, she can see it more clearly as they slowly approach their side of the rink.

“Go babe, show him how it’s done!” Pasha starts cheering.

A second before Nadia passes by them, she winks at Pasha and sends her a kiss, effortless and elegant. Ilya, hot on her tail, just sneers at his sister, raising up his middle finger. She gives back just as much.

“He’s gonna go down,” Pasha mutters. Then she turns to them. “Gonna do a few more rounds and see if Asra wants to do some stunts. See ya later!” She waves just before skating off.

Once again, Syran and Muriel are left alone, fondly smiling at their friends.

“This is quite the show, I have to admit,” Syran laughs. “Cheering from the sidelines.”

“Mh, I think no one is rooting for Ilya, though.” Muriel says.

Syran realises that’s kinda true. “Oops– well, hey. Maybe I’ll cheer for the both of them.”

Muriel side eyes her. “Mh. No preference at all?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean. We all know how Nadia can get, so I kinda feel bad for Ilya.” She chuckles, looking at Nadia as she expertly swings past a few surprised people, skating backwards to laugh at Ilya.

“Right,” Muriel says under his breath. Syran feels his eyes on her, so she turns back to him.

“What?”

For a second there’s a small smirk on his face, but then Muriel shrugs and turns back to the skating rink. “Nothing.”

Syran narrows her eyes, kinda weirded out.

Muriel is not the type to beat around the bush, he’ll usually say what he thinks and with as few words as possible, so it takes Syran a little by surprise.

“Not convincing.”

He huffs a laugh, ruffles Syran’s hair again. This time she pouts up at him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“You’re being weird,” Syran turns towards the rink as she adjusts her hair. “What about you, big guy? Any bets?”

“Oh, hundred percent Nadia. Pasha and I have some sort of bingo going on, though.” Muriel laughs again.

“Bingo?”

“Yeah, like everytime Nadia flips Ilya off, everytime Ilya apologises to someone for almost bumping into them, everytime Nadia winks at Pasha, stuff like that. Winner gets fifty bucks.”

“You guys are ruthless.”

Muriel smirks, “Maybe.”

“What’s the criteria for this competition anyway? It’s like they just make up rules on the spot.”

Syran says, a little confused. It just looks like a weird version of tag where insulting shouts are thrown across the rink as the other patrons turn around in shock.

“I’m not sure. I’m not even sure they know,” Muriel shrugs. “Ilya looks pretty confident, though.”

And yet, no more than a minute later, Ilya stumbles on his feet and spins around, trying really hard to stay up on his own. However, he puts a little too much energy in his step and that makes him haphazardly skate his way towards where Muriel and Syran are.

“Oh no–” Syran starts.

“Shit, fuck–” Ilya comes to a halt right in front of them, hands on the rail and torso leaning forward. His chin is just a few inches to the left of Syran’s cheek. “Uh– hey.” He says with a side glance.

“H– hey.” Syran answers. It’s okay, her heart is doing absolutely nothing right now. She’s not mad at the universe at all.

He really has a nice perfume.

Ilya slowly gets back up, smiling awkwardly at her. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Then, pushes himself off the rail, looking at his hands with eyes wide. “Oh no. Shit. Did Nadia see that?”

Muriel raises an eyebrow. “I think everybody did.”

As if on queue, cheers of victory rise from behind Ilya, making him wince. Pasha kisses Nadia and Asra claps vehemently– then, they all start skating towards them, clearly enjoying Ilya’s demise.

“You owe me a drink, Devorak. Again.” Nadia beams when she reaches the rail. Ilya just side-eyes her.

“Whatever. You got lucky.”

🂱

They end up in the big cabin by the rink that houses a cafè/pub. Warm drinks in hand and sitting by the fire, all of their frozen nerves from the ice skating start to melt.

It’s cozy and comforting, a nice relief for Syran after the cold of the ice rink. All of them are chatting and teasing Ilya for his loss. He laughs with them, but eventually they start reassuring him too, even Nadia, saying that he wasn’t that bad, after all.

Syran decides to buy him mulled wine, served in a ceramic mug with some cheesy winter phrase printed on.

“Consolation prize!” She cheers, coming back from the bar.

“Oh my, this is such a beautiful gift Syran,” Ilya says, theatrically. “I shall cherish it with all my heart, thank you.” He mock cries, playfully dabbing at nonexistent tears under his eyes.

Syran laughs under her breath as she sits back next to Asra, rolling his eyes.

The patrons around them die out and Ilya excuses himself to the bathroom. The moment he leaves, Pasha cozies up to Nadia, the two discussing the victory again. They all chat a bit, Pasha making fun of Asra’s odd faces while skating. Then, a moment of comfortable silence between all of them.

Asra’s eyes are immediately on her.

“What?” Syran wonders, feeling put on the spot.

“Nothing,” Asra smiles. It’s his coy smile that says everything and nothing. She has the urge to punch it off his smug face.

Syran decides to ignore him.

“So, Muriel, how’s the bingo going?” She asks him.

“Oh, I’m winning.”

He exchanges a glance with Asra, the two of them almost communicating telepathically.

“Ok, now I feel like there’s something here.”

“I don’t know, is there?” Pasha asks.

“Yeah, is there?” Asra adds.

“Could you stop being a gemini for half a second?”

Muriel laughs at Syran’s joke, but she keeps a serious face.

“Aw, I love you.” Asra side-hugs her, trying to diffuse the situation. “Also no, I can’t. Just like you can’t stop looking at Ilya like that.”

“I don’t–”

“Who’s looking like what?” Ilya is back from the bathroom, and he slowly sits down back in his chair, perfectly arched eyebrows raised.

“You, like an idiot on the rink! Ha!” Asra immediately changes the topic, leaving Syran hanging. She won’t forget, not this time.

Muriel sips his wine, side eyeing them. There’s another sly motherfucker.

Just as it arrived, however, the weird mood is gone, and all is back to normal. Once again Syran finds herself being grateful for her friends. No matter how tough things get, she knows they will be all there for each other.

Even though they are most definitely hiding things from her.

🂱

Syran’s Sundays mostly consist of catching up on shows, cuddling with Persephone, taking time to cook meals she loves, and doing some grocery shopping. She also takes care of her plants and, sometimes, gets a headstart on work.

Asra calls her boring, but she finds peace in it. It’s not that she doesn’t like going out, she loves a good party every now and then, but there’s a different kind of pleasure in taking care of the small things. Plus, now that she’s got the apartment to herself for the week, she can play loud music and karaoke as much as she wants.

Really, it’s a blast.

When her phone rings in the middle of the day, just as she’s moving her big potus out of the sun, she groans. Her hands are full, so she shifts the big pot in one arm and lodges her phone between her head and shoulder without checking– she expects Asra to be calling her to continue their previous text conversation. She has not let go of what he said at the Winter Market.

“For the millionth time, it’s not what you think!”

“Oh, it isn’t?” A deep chuckle resonates from the other side of the phone.

Shit.

“Oh– fuck– uh, thought you were Asra– ah, I mean– hi, Ilya.”

“Hi, Syran,” He laughs, all throathy and low. Ugh. “Am I bothering you?”

“No, not at all– just taking care of my plants– uh, give me a second.” She puts the potus on the kitchen counter, grabbing the phone before it slides down her neck.

“Okay, all set, what’s up?” She tries to act nonchalant. Well, she is nonchalant. This is just Ilya, after all. Her good friend, Ilya. Yep. Nothing to worry about.

“Well, as you know, Pasha’s birthday is coming up soon,” he starts.

“Oh, yeah, right! Damn, I almost forgot.”

Ilya laughs. “Me too, to be honest.”

Syran can’t help but chuckle too, then gasp dramatically. “Why, your own sister?”

“Shh– don’t tell her or she’ll kill me. I’ve been very busy with my research, ‘kay?” He sounds solemn, but she can tell he’s smiling.

“All right, I’ll cover for you– if you buy me a coffee,” She laughs.

A little voice in her head asks where is this confidence coming from anyway?

Then again, this is just Ilya.

“Deal,” he answers.

Ilya, who’s now just being quiet on the other side of the line. “Sooo, why are you calling me?” Syran asks, tapping her fingers on her kitchen counter.

“Oh, right, well– Okay, so. Well, I don’t know what present to get Pasha. I know it sounds lame, but I genuinely have no idea what she might want this year.”

Syran stops for a second, thinking of Pasha and what she’s like. She likes plants, but she’s got plenty of those. She likes pretty clothes and cute shoes, but those would be hard to get right. Syran finds herself coming up short of a sure answer.

“I see– have you asked Nadia?”

“I tried, but she replied with something vague, and then got competitive because she is going to get the best present anyway, or something.”

His answer makes her laugh again. Of course: Nadia is extremely kind, gentle, and helpful– except when she decides to win against everyone else.

“I assume the others weren’t much help either?”

Ilya sighs, “Well, Muriel just shrugged and pointed out that she likes flowers, Asra suggested a glow in the dark lava lamp, so– yeah, no.”

“So, I guess now it’s my turn to give advice?” Syran chuckles, padding to the other side of the kitchen, where Persephone is lounging in the sun. She scratches her fur.

“More or less,” Ilya trails off.

“Huh?”

“Well, I was– uh, I was wondering if you could come with me. To get her the present? Really I don’t know if you’ve already picked something, but. Uhh– maybe we could work on it together? Since you know her well, and all? And I’ll get you that coffee, too.” He huffs a laugh, almost nervous.

A day going around shops with Ilya? Just the two of them? That’s fine, Syran’s fine, it’s no big deal at all.

“She’s your sister, Ilya,” she can’t help but tease him a bit. “I’m sure you know her well, too.”

“Yeah, I know she’s my sister.” He scoffs, fake annoyed, “But– I mean, yeah, I kind of know what she likes– but every year is hard, and I’m not the best at presents– and you seem to be great at it, so–” He trails off.

Syran listens, trying to figure out where this is really going. If she were actually great at presents, she would know what to get Pasha in a heartbeat. But, regardless, she likes to think she’s got a good eye.

She doesn’t know whether to stop him and reassure him or let him talk. But before she can decide, Ilya continues.

“And. Uh. This year she’s throwing this big themed party, too, and it’s the first time I get to meet all her friends, n’stuff. I don’t even know what to wear–” He sounds really concerned. “Truthfully, I just want to make her happy. I feel like the last two years I didn’t do great, so. Yeah.” He sighs. “And– and, I don’t want to lose to Nadia, either.” He ends it like he’s confessing a deep, dark secret.

It makes Syran laugh, thinking him cute for worrying about his sister so much.

Then, she swats away the idea of Ilya and the word cute in the same sentence.

“I’m sure she’ll be happy whatever you get her, Ilya,” Syran smiles, hoping to reassure him. Persephone turns to expose her belly, meowing coyly. “Don’t stress yourself so much, you clearly care a lot and that’s enough to make a good present.”

“Thank you, uh. That’s. That’s nice of you to say.” He mutters, and Syran thinks she can feel him be a little relieved.

“Just saying the truth,” she wishes the smile on her face wasn’t so goddamn insistent. She and Ilya have this sort of mutual understanding, where not many words are needed to guess how the other’s feeling. Well, most of the time. Still, she lately realised how surprisingly similar they are.

And yeah, recently Syran has been feeling a different kind of pull towards Ilya, but she doesn’t need to think about that. She’ll be dead before she catches anyone thinking him cute anyway.

“So…” Ilya starts then, shaking Syran from her thoughts. “Is that a no? On the– uh, present hunting?”

“What– no, it’s a yes, I mean, yeah, no, I’ll come!” Syran replies before thinking, surprised, and a little too eager.

Fuck. She takes a deep breath.

“What I mean is: I’d be more than happy to help you pick a gift. I need to get one myself, anyway.”

“Ah, that’s great,” He exhales, clearly relieved. Then, he seems to regain his composure. “Are you free on Wednesday?”

#an writes #julianxapprentice #julianxsyran #Syran Elkas #Julian Devorak #modern au #the arcana fic #ilya devorak #asra alnazar #muriel #nadia satrinava #pasha devorak #the arcana #part 2 #ilya x apprentice #fic writing #things are gettin spicy and syran is not getting it #apologies #my daughter is dumb

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 34 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Adore turns 16. Courtney keeps reaching out.

Chapter 34: I Don’t Wanna Wait

Pearl tossed her bag across the basement floor, letting it fall as it may, momentarily pulling Willam’s attention away from his phone.

“Someone’s birthday is coming up,” Pearl sang, grinning at Adore as she quickly snatched the box of Cheez-Its from Trinity.

“Hey!”

Pearl flashed her a smile before shoving a handful of crackers into her mouth and then returning the box. She flopped onto the couch beside Adore and poked her in the side.

“So…birthday…ehhh?” she teased gently.

Adore gave her a small smile and nod; it felt like the millionth time she heard that line in the past couple days, and she was just about annoyed with it.

“Yeah! Are you excited? Bonnie make any plans?” Fame snapped her mirror closed, eyes lighting up in curiosity.

“Yeah, nothing too big. Angelica’s coming over and we’re gonna go out to eat. It’ll be nice.” Adore shrugged, playing with the loose thread on her jeans.

“Are we allowed to come or is it family only?” Trinity inquired, barely glancing up from her homework.

“If not, we’re gonna do something for her birthday anyway.” Violet shrugged, plopping down beside Trinity.

“Will it involve drugs and sex?” asked Willam.

“Do you know how to have fun any other kind of way?” Trinity rolled her eyes at Willam.

“I’m plenty fun!” Willam yelled, throwing an eraser at Trinity’s back.

“Ow, that hurt. You ass!” Trinity quickly scrambled to find the eraser to throw it back.

“Of course you guys are invited. Wouldn’t want to spend my birthday any other way,” Adore announced.

“So, we need to go shopping for a birthday outfit. I don’t have anything to wear,” Violet grabbed Trinity’s homework, copying the answers onto her own.

“Yeah, because it’ll be a shame if you didn’t look your best on Adore’s birthday,” Pearl joked.

“Exactly,” Violet replied with a smirk and a hair toss.

-

Courtney finished slicing tomatoes for the salad just as her mother strolled into the room. Thankfully, dinner tonight was just going to be the two of them, as Grandma Muriel was in San Diego visiting her cousins.

“Looks great, love!” Karen said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thanks. Do you want avocado?”

“Why not? I’ve been good today.”

Courtney chuckled. Only her mother would see something that grew on a tree in their backyard as an indulgence.

“So, how was school this week?” Karen asked, pulling their vegan enchiladas out of the oven.

“Alright.”

“Just alright?”

Courtney shrugged.

“Hey, isn’t it Dory’s birthday this weekend?”

“Uh...yeah.” Courtney set the salad bowls on the table and dropped into her seat, avoiding her mother’s curious gaze.

“Does she have anything exciting planned?”

“Um...I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? So she’s not having a party?”

“I don’t-I don’t think so.” Courtney stuffed a forkful of salad into her mouth. She knew that she should have told her mom what was happening, but every part of her thought that it would’ve blown over by now.

“Well, maybe you want to plan something for her here? It’s been warm, so you can use the backyard-”

“She’s not talking to me, okay?!” Courtney finally met her mother’s eyes, and the concerned surprise made her feel even sicker than she already was. “She hasn’t talked to me since before school started. So...I don’t know if she’s having a party, and if she is, I wouldn’t be invited anyway, so…”

Karen paused, placing her fork down. She could see the misery on her daughter’s face and for a split second, guilt rose in her chest. How could Courtney be in a fight with her best friend of almost 10 years without her mother knowing?

“Are you okay, love? Do you want to talk about it?”

Courtney shook her head, tears collecting in her eyes. She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together as her vision blurred. She’d cried so much in the last month that she was shocked she had anything left. Arms suddenly wrapped around her shoulders, as her mom hugged her tightly.

-

Adore and the rest of the girls wandered through the mall, floating from store to store, trying to find the perfect outfit for her dinner.

Little miss fashionista, Violet, pulled Adore away from every store she’d normally find herself going into. No ripped jeans, frayed skirts or 80s band shirts. Violet had a vision; elegant grunge, elevated chola. At least Violet knew her style, unlike Fame, who pulled her into every store she’d normally only enter if a certain green-eyed blonde pouted and tugged her in.

Adore tried not to think about her too much. Actually, she’d done a pretty good job not thinking too much at all.

The hardest part was just trying to fill that void that she left in Adore’s-

“Ooo, look, look, look at this! So cute!” Fame’s squealing jolted Adore out of her thoughts, as she grabbed a bright pink, thinned strapped, shimmery crop top off the racks, putting it to her chest for the girls to look.

“Uh, I think it’s cute for you,” Adore tried to keep her dislike for the brightly colored top off her face.

“You don’t like it?” Fame pouted slightly, looking in a mirror.

“Come on, Fame. You know that the only time you’ll find something like that in Adore’s closet is if Courtney-“ Trinity stopped short, quickly realizing her slip up.

She could feel Adore’s big hazel eyes staring at her and Trinity gulped, avoiding her gaze. In a haste to change the subject she quickly grabbed a dark green top off a rack.

“I think this is more Adore’s style.” Trinity finally looked over at her blue-haired friend, “Don’t you think, Adore?”

-

Bonnie started to climb into her car when a petite figure came darting around the corner, hissing, “Wait!”

She looked up and saw Courtney, eyes fearful, hurrying over to her with a small, wrapped box.

“Hey sweetie, how are y-”

“I’m sure you know that she’s mad at me,” Courtney said flatly. “I don't want you to take away from her day, so, don't give it to her tonight. But...maybe tomorrow? I don't want her to think I forgot.” She handed over the package, chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, putting a hand on Courtney's shoulder.

“You sure, babe? You know she can’t stay mad at you. Why not give it to her tomorrow yourself?”

Courtney's eyes filled with tears. She didn’t have the heart to tell Bonnie how long it had already been. Or how wrong she was, about everything. She just nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry to put you in the middle, Bonnie.”

Bonnie tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and smoothed it down, saying, “It’s okay, honey. And don't worry, alright? I'll give her the present first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Bonnie leaned in and planted a kiss on Courtney’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, hmm?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Courtney pulled away, turning and running back towards her house so that Bonnie didn’t see the tears spilling down her cheeks.

-

With dazed eyes, Adore watched herself in the reflection of Violet’s vanity. Everything was coming together nicely and her birthday had been going well so far.

She felt good about her birthday outfit considering the time and bickering it took for everyone to come to an agreement.

She liked the way the red tube top looked against her skin. Violet picked out the perfect faux leather pants that Adore thought flattered her shape nicely and she could wear with her favorite black laced ankle boots. Trinity had found the cutest oversized heart-shaped hoops and some black and red rhinestone bracelets in Claire’s to complete her outfit.

Adore had decided to get ready at Violet’s with the rest of the gang, with plans to meet her family at the restaurant.

Lately, she’d found herself becoming more dependent on the distraction of her friends to keep her mind off of Courtney. And today she needed that distraction more than ever.

Everything just seemed so off.

Her thoughts constantly wandered off, thinking about her bright green eyes and infectious laugh.

Courtney always made sure to be the first to tell Adore happy birthday; she’d stay over the night before so that when the clock struck 12, Courtney was always the first to do the honors.

The last three birthdays, Courtney had made a tradition of slinging Adore’s curtains open the minute the sun rose before climbing onto Adore’s bed, jumping around, sounding off with noisemakers and popping confetti all over her.

But this morning, Adore had slept in, not dragging herself out of bed until 12. As she scrolled through text messages, MySpace posts, and emails from family and friends wishing her a sweet sixteen she found herself bracing for Courtney’s usual grand entrance or call or text message or even some sappy post.

But it never happened.

And that was Courtney’s fault.

This all was, Adore had to remind herself, as she still craved for Courtney to call her, to sing her happy birthday or text her some sappy paragraph about growing old.

“I think it’ll be cute,” Pearl defended. She wanted to put a few braids in Adore’s hair and tease it, but Violet thought otherwise, wanting an updo and maybe giving Adore some bangs.

The two girls quarreled over Adore’s hairstyle as Fame took charge of her makeup.

“More glitter!” Willam ordered Fame.

“Willam! I know what I’m doing, give me some space.” Fame huffed, annoyed with Willam’s hovering.

Adore had hoped that the chaos of getting ready with them would keep her mind off Courtney, but she was wrong. Her eyes constantly found their way to her phone, waiting for the ring. Waiting for her phone to light up with Courtney’s number.

-

Walking into the restaurant, the gang followed the hostess towards the back where her mom and sister had already settled in. Adore’s face lit up when she saw that Adrian, who she was told wasn’t gonna be able to make it, stood from his seat. He rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug.

Adore laughed and squealed as she tried to squirm away from him. Mostly out of embarrassment, but with claims she didn’t wanna ruin her makeup.

“You’re just getting so big,” Adrian teased, “it’s right what they say ‘they grow up so fast.”

“Adore, you look so pretty,” Angelica complimented pulling her from Adrian into a tight hug. “I love these,” she commented on the earrings, “and your makeup looks incredible.”

“Thanks—“

“I picked out the earrings!” Trinity butted in.

“Yeah?” Angelica glanced at the girl.

“Yeah, they were on sale for five dollars.”

“I did her makeup,” Fame cut in, proud of her work.

“And I helped!” Willam reminded.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I said more glitter! Without me, the look would be trash.”

The clicking and flashing of the camera quickly stopped the bickering between the two as they posed for Bonnie.

“This is my good side.” Willam smiled as he shoved Pearl out the way, squeezing next to Violet.

“Hey!” Pearl shoved Willam back.

“The pretty ones need to be next to each other,” he gestured to himself, Violet and Fame. “Stand next to Trin.”

“How do you deal with them?” Angelica joked.

Adore shrugged “They’re fucking cool. Plus they always have my back.”

After a few more poses, Bonnie sat the camera down pulling Adore into an embrace.

“Oh, look at you, my little baby,” Bonnie cooed, leaving kisses on either side of Adore’s face. “Sixteen, sixteen years I’ve been blessed.”

Adore’s face was red with embarrassment but, her smile was bright, thinking about how lucky she was to be so very loved by her mother.

All month, Bonnie had been in a slight state of disbelief that her baby girl was nearly an adult. She was two years away from an empty nest, and was apparently facing her own mortality. Even though Adore’s height had surpassed her mother’s by the time she was fourteen, it hadn’t stopped Bonnie from treating her like anything other than her baby.

The days leading to Adore’s birthday, Bonnie had rambled on about all the missed days that she spent working and how she was should take a couple of days off to spend with Adore while she still could.

Just yesterday, her mother had climbed into her bed early in the morning, before she left for her shift. The two reminisced on the past and how fast time had flown. They talked about things like, was her favorite color still blue, favorite food still tacos. The type of music she was into now, celebrity crushes. She asked how the new school year has been going so far, and if Adore had any plans to keep the vibrant blue in her hair or change it. She even asked about Courtney, how she had been, where she’s been. Adore bristled and quickly dismissed the question. When Bonnie didn’t push, she was thankful.  

Adore was led to her seat, golden balloons in shapes of the number one and six tied to either side of her chair. There was a glittery gold ‘Happy Birthday’ sash on the back of the chair, which Violet helped her into, not wanting Adore to ruin her hair.

The waiter came to get everyone’s drink orders, and soon the table was engaged in a lively conversation.

Until.

“So, where’s Courtney?” Angelica asked, head cocked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Uh...”

The table suddenly came to an incredibly loud hush.

Adore’s stomach churned, her mouth suddenly dry. What the fuck were the only words going through her mind.

She had been doing so good. She’d nearly forgotten the lack of Courtney’s presence.; she was actually having fun and for once not thinking about her estranged best friend.

Or thinking about how much she couldn’t stand her. And how much Courtney had hurt her. How much she missed her.

“I’m not sure,” Adore shrugged.

Angelica’s brows furrowed deeper, ignoring the stop signal from her younger brother and the stricken faces from the others.

“What do ya mean? Courtney’s never missed a birthday. And I think your sweet sixteen is a pretty big one. What’s going on?” Angelica pushed.

As long as Angelica could remember, the two were inseparable. Never went longer than a day without talking. Courtney even came along on a couple of family trips, because the girls couldn’t stand to be apart. So, the idea that Courtney Jenek was not here on a big day like this was mind-blowing.

An assortment of reactions went around the table. Adrian buried his face in his hands, second-hand embarrassment too much for him to handle.

Fame nervously gulped down half a glass of water while Willam crunched loudly on ice cubes.

“Uh, does everyone know what they’re getting?” Bonnie spoke up.

“The Cajun chicken pasta looks good,” Violet commented quickly.

“Yeah, I’m probably just gonna get the tenders and fries,” Trinity added, trying to help ease the tension.

Adore stared down at her menu. Blinking to keep the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She jumped as she felt Pearl’s hand rest on top of hers under the table.

“Wait, is she planning to pop out in a cake or something? Because I’d like to see that!” Angelica chuckled.

“I don’t know, don’t really care,” Adore finally spoke up. She didn’t mean for the words to come out as harsh as they did. But fuck it, she thought as she reached for her pink lemonade.

She didn’t want to think about what Courtney could be doing on her birthday. She deserved one day that didn’t revolve around thoughts of Courtney.

“Are you guys ready to order?” The waiter appeared pad in hand.

“Saved by the otter,” Willam mumbled loud enough for the table to hear, enticing awkward chuckles from the group as the waiter smiled in confusion.

-

Adore’s hands covered her face as the restaurant employees made their way out of the kitchen, cake in hand, drawing attention with their loud rendition of Happy Birthday, her friends and family singing along poorly making it so much worse. Even some of the other restaurant-goers decided to join in song, everyone turning to see.

Violet and Pearl sat on either side of her, trying to pry her hands away from her face.

“Adore, come on, let me get a photo!” Bonnie reached over, swatting Adore’s hands away to get a good picture of her daughter.  

Face red and buried in her hands, she had no plans to look up until all of this was over. But even with the embarrassment, she was experiencing at the moment, her heart was filled with delight at the show her friends and family were making over her.

Adore could feel the warmth of the candles as the song came to an end.

“Come on, Adore. Blow out the candles and make a wish!” Bonnie encouraged.

Adore removed her hands, taking in the smiling faces of everyone around the table.

“Make a wish! We wanna eat cake, not wax,” Willam teased.

Adore closed her eyes and wished the only thing she could think of.

To go back in time, so that things could be different and that Courtney would be here with her. As the table erupted into cheers, she opened her eyes and smiled, doing her best not to look as devastated as she felt inside.

-

Adore entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“I really hope you’re not planning to judge me, because I’m having cake for breakfast whether you like it or not,” she announced.

Bonnie laughed and pulled a Tupperware with the leftover cake from the fridge.

“Anything you want, monkey. Still your birthday week!”

“Awesome,” Adore said, grabbing a fork and sitting down at the table.

“Oh, and, um...here, there's a present I forgot about yesterday.”

Adore’s eyes lit up as she snatched the gift from her mom's hands and unwrapped it greedily.

“Thanks, ma! Who wrapped it though? This is way nicer than how you normally-” she stopped short when she opened the box and glanced at the handwriting on the card.

As much as she’d been hoping to hear from her, desperately wishing things were different, seeing it was overwhelming. And of course, the card was inside the box. If the card was on the outside, Adore wasn’t sure she’d have opened it. But now it was too late, and she had a card in her hand, and sitting atop a cushion of velvet, a choker—the band was black leather, decorated with little cut-outs to make it look like lace, and dangling from the center was a beautiful, shiny Onyx star.

Hey Dory, It’s so crazy to be anywhere except with you today. But I know you’re still mad, and it’s your birthday, after all, so I guess I can give you a small break from relentlessly hounding you. But I ordered this 3 months ago and it seemed stupid not to give it to you. It's still your birthday, right? And even though I’m not your favorite person right now...well, you’re still mine. So Happy Birthday. I hope it was great. I love you. Always, C

Adore stuffed the note and the choker back into the box, furious with both Courtney and herself. It was, of course, fucking perfect. Something that, had she seen it in the store, she would have coveted immediately. Which made it even worse. And that note? Ugh.

-

Courtney couldn’t say that she was surprised, when she didn’t hear from Adore after her birthday. She was disappointed, though. A week later, she looked up from her history book to peer out the window. She’d been antsy all evening, waiting for Adore’s bedroom light to go on, and now, seeing it, she marched out her back door and through their backyards, tears stinging her eyes. This had gone on long enough. She was not about to let another week go by without her best friend. Adore could be mad, didn’t have to want her romantically, fine, but she was not allowed to cast her aside like she didn’t matter.

She rang the doorbell at the Delano’s back steps, hugging herself. Of course she’d gone stumbling blindly into the Autumn night without a sweatshirt.

“Adore! I see your light, open up!”

She waited and waited. Rang the doorbell again.

“Dory, please, come on!”

She waited some more. No answer. This again.

She began to pound on the door, trying not to cry, calling out, “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

Silence.

Tears began to leak from her eyes. She banged harder, so hard her fist hurt.

“YOU’RE BEING RIDICULOUS! ADOOOOORE!!! FUCK!!”

Still nothing.

Throat now raw from screaming, she continued, “IT’S FREEZING OUT HERE! ADORE!! OPEN UP!!”

-

Bonnie sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, irritated. What the fuck was going on outside her home? She’d gotten off a 24-hour shift at the hospital mere hours earlier, and she was simply trying to get some much-deserved rest. She let out an aggravated sigh and rose from the bed, tying a bathrobe around herself and padding across the hall to her daughter’s room, where she knocked on the door.

“Uh, hello?”

“Yeees?” came the sugary sweet voice from the other side of the door.

“Adore, why the hell is Courtney Jenek throwing a temper tantrum outside our back door?”

“No idea, why don’t you ask her?”

“Adore...you’re really grinding on my last nerve here…I had a long day and I’m trying to fucking sleep.”

“I have. No. Idea. And I have no desire to find out. So you’re welcome to tell her to fuck off.”

Bonnie sighed and padded down the stairs, shaking her head. She opened the door, saying, “Alright, kiddo, you know I love you, but it’s time to go home…Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Courtney stopped, lowering her hand, eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Bonnie. I was just...I’m so sorry.” Her face crumbled and she let out a wrenching sob.

Bonnie looked at her, a picture of abject despair. What the fuck was going on? She sighed, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh, honey, come here…” She smoothed her hair down, rocking her.

“Why does she h-hate me?” Courtney wept against her chest.

“She doesn’t hate you. Is this the same fight? I’m sure she’ll get over it soon. You know she loves you.”

Courtney nodded, sniffling, wishing with all of her heart that Bonnie was right.

“Okay. Thanks. I’m really sorry.” She pulled away, taking a shaky breath, and then pausing and saying, “Bonnie?”

“Yes?” Bonnie opened the door back up a little.

Courtney looked up at her, shivering, green eyes full of anguish. “Please tell her I miss her.”

“Sure, baby. Goodnight.” Bonnie smiled, touching her cheek gently before closing the door. Jesus Christ. She climbed the stairs and stopped at Adore’s room again, hesitating before knocking.

“What?” came the sharp voice from inside.

Bonnie sighed. “She seems pretty miserable, Adore. I don’t know what she did to piss you off, but maybe you could cut her some slack.”

Adore wrenched open the door, saying, “That’s right, you don’t know. I thought you said you needed to sleep.”

“Honey, I-”

“So why don’t you go to sleep and stay out of my fucking business?” She slammed the door in Bonnie’s face.

Bonnie stood there for a moment before shaking her head and walking back across the hall to her own bedroom, shaking her head, muttering, “Hormonal little cunt.”

#rpdr fanfiction #tree house kisses #scorpio #veronica #adorney #adore delano #courtney act #violet chachki #pearl liaison #miss fame #trinity k bonet #willam belli #high school au #lesbian au #angst #fluff

[pluviophile-bookworm]

Thoughts/ reaction to AWAE 3x8

I’m honestly afraid of what I might see in this episode. I have been crying almost all week at the mere thought of what last episode did to Anne and Diana and Jerry, and I’m 100% ready to get that all resolved - but I’m afraid it might not happen. Also, with the Shirbert on-off-on-off pattern that has been going on this season, my hopes aren’t very high for those two. Here’s hoping my worries are in vain.

Ka’kwet is back. Unfortunately, she’s not back, if you know what I mean. I hope she gets out of that place - the “White Man’s Burden School”, as I call it - sooner. 

That nun is not acting like a good Christian. Tragically, that is what people really were like - and in some places still are - to people of colour. This cold open is truly nightmarish. I’m starting to fear my worries were not in vain and that I, and the whole fandom as a community, have been set up for much more suffering than any one of us might have expected. 

Looks like Ka’kwet will be back after all. That girl’s really smart, but she’s been through a lot. I hope things might be better for her back at home. 

I see things are still awfully tense between Anne and Diana - and “tense” doesn’t even begin to describe it. I hope this hot mess is resolved by next week - at most. 

I should have been ready for the sight of the schoolhouse burnt to ashes. But I don’t think anything could have prepared me for Anne’s reaction to it. Now I’m crying. I know this is supposed to be a symbol for the end of their childhood or something, but it’s still as devastating as we feared it would be, and then some. 

Once again Miss Stacy proves that the world needs more teachers, nay, more people, like her. Managing to find a silver lining and turn the situation around when she was clearly just as devastated as anyone - that was a true heroic act if you ask me. 

Wait, where is Anne going?

But of course, she’s immediately holding accountable for the situation whoever she thinks should be held accountable - in this case, Rachel Lynde. Interestingly, she didn’t even know what happened. I mean, she was the only woman in a council of men who tried to speak for her fellow women, wasn’t she? Rachel did some good last episode and she is not at fault for that vile act of cowardice and whatever else Miss Stacy called it. 

How is Ka’kwet supposed to find her way back to Avonlea? Is she even going to get back home? I’m worried for my girl.

Everybody being just crammed at Miss Stacy’s is the type of atmosphere and environment that just calls for something bonding and intimate to happen... and Shirbert are there, sitting together, talking... this is like a direct continuation of the porch scene from last episode. I might be clowning, but I think the loop has been broken. Or we might be in for a bigger step backwards next time. I’m clowning. 

Bash’s mum seeing Delly warms my heart. We need more wholesome scenes and less suffering. But we’re probably not getting any of that.

Ok, Ruby really is over Gilbert, so much that it’s like she was never “under” him. The fact that she can now talk to Anne about him and Winnifred - right in his face, at that, is a huge step away from the years and years of crushing. Also, she’s totally right that a person can be studious and romantic at the same time. But I’m not sure our Gil here is the best example of it. 

I sense some parallels between the scene with the class at the Green Gables barn and this scene at Miss Stacy’s - teasing Gilbert about his “fiance” while Anne is listening reminds me painfully of the “does he have  a farm girl” comment about Jerry. And the Anne/ Diana parallel this creates is just pouring salt in the wound their fight gave me last week.

The framing in the next scene is beautiful and reminds me of Shirbert, but I think that’s the only beautiful and romantic thing about it. 

Jerry just won’t stop saying “I’m not good enough for you”, and, frankly, he shouldn’t. I just hoped he’d say more. What I really wanted from this episode was for him to give Diana a piece of his mind on the way she made him feel last episode. 

“Rude and aggressive”? Jerry? I don’t think so. I didn’t really blame Diana for the way she acted last time, but I do blame her for even thinking that. Is he not allowed to have his own feelings and express them? And what is wrong with telling Anne? If anything, it was wrong of both of them not to tell her sooner. She’s supposed to be Diana’s bosom friend and Jerry’s sister, for goodness’s sake! It shouldn’t have taken hurt feelings to finally let her in on the way things are; or rather were, as they’re certainly not anymore. I can’t believe I’m saying it. but maybe it’s for the better. Even if multiple hearts, including mine, got broken in the process. For something to be fixed, it first must be broken, some say. Then so be it. 

Aunt Jo is in Avonlea? Things just got better. And she wants Diana to take the Queens exam. I think she should, too. But it breaks my heart again that she’s apparently not brave enough to try and fulfil her potential. So she was bold enough to kiss Jerry at the fair, thus leading both him and herself on, but not to fight for her own future? I love her and I just can’t sit and watch her do that to herself. But why am I doing this to myself, then?

Mrs. LaCroix acting like a servant and calling Gilbert “Mr. Blythe, sir” was very awkward to watch - for me and Gilbert alike, it seems. But I sort of understand why she did that. Except it’s not making me feel better. It makes me feel worse, if anything. Because I knew she was acting that way because Gilbert is white and she’s not. And that’s not alright. That she’s lived in a society that thought that was alright, was wrong. I hope things get better.

“Uncle Gilby”... Bash has me rolling on the floor laughing once again. And Delphine is still the cutest - she can’t do much more than be cute yet, can she? But I hope she gets to hear a certain love confession about Anne soon. That is the wholesome content we need in these trying times.

Oh my, Ka’kwet, get off that rail! I feel like a worried young mother with this kid. One thing I sure am, and it’s worried. I hope she’ll be safe.

The contrast between the awkwardly stiff atmosphere at the Barry house and the high-level pressure of the class is starker than that between day and night. That’s poetic cinema alright.  

Wait, Diana’s doing it! Is my girl back? My girl’s back. I think. I don’t want to get my hopes up too high. 

So Gilbert never returned Anne’s pen? I can see why. But it put her in a really uncomfortable position. I’ve been there, and I don’t need to tell you what going into an important exam without the proper tools can do to a student’s psyche. But I know Anne knows better than to let that get to her in this very important moment. 

Last episode’s climax left a very big impression on both Rachel and Marilla, didn’t it now?

Are they trying to push Bash and Miss Stacy? I think it would be highly inappropriate. First of all because I don’t think Bash is ready to remarry at all - he might as well never be - and second of all because I don’t think Muriel Stacy of all women needs a man. And I ship her with Prissy now, but that’s another story. 

Now that’s another feeling I know all too well - finishing your exams and celebrating your freedom. And I’m glad Diana got to be part of that. I just hope she and Anne can make up soon. That’s pretty much all I can think of.

If Winnie loves Paris so much, let her go to Paris. She shouldn’t need a man for that. Certainly not one whose mind has been occupied by one girl since the day he first saw her. I ship Shirbert as much as the next person and then some, but I also don’t want Winnie’s heart to be broken at the end of all this. She’s a nice girl. She deserves better. Let her go to Paris. No need to drag Gilbert into this for too long. 

Let me tell you, Anne’s hair flying loose, lit by the fire, is pure  poetry. If I were Gilbert in that scene, I would propose on the spot. But we know that’s not happening. 

Anne’s not making any sense and if this were any other couple in a similar setting, this is where he would shut her up with a kiss... but I’m clowning, ain’t I?

“Will you marry me?” Shirbert, and the ring and the dictionary, and the parallels... I’m nearly speechless. Why can’t they just spit it out? Does Gilbert have to go through with the proposal for the final realisation to come?

And... here we are. Except - we’re really not. “My Aunt is visiting me”. That felt like a firm step back on Diana’s part. Will they ever make up? Or will I have to cry for another week straight at just the thought of everything that played out?

Leave it to Aunt Jo to dish out wisdom... hope she can help Anne in this situation, or else the entirety of Shirbert might be at stake. 

“Asked Anne”? You didn’t ask anything. You just made her more confused than ever and now she feels this great responsibility about her whole life and yours, too. You shouldn’t have made her feel that way. But I can’t blame you. You two are the two most confused individuals I’ve seen in a long time. But I love you both the way you are. And I know you’ll get there someday. 

“She said no”. Seriously, Blythe, were you and I listening to the same girl talk last night? Because I never heard her say no. Or yes. Or give any kind of cohesive answer to the big question you DIDN’T ASK!

Rachel and Marilla are really doing that, aren’t they? And Rachel all cool pouring water while serving one of the most delightfully ironic of ironic echoes I’ve ever seen... “No need to be hysterical”! Ha! #started from the bottom #now we’re here

My, my! Ka’kwet has been through quite the journey... but she’s finally home. Wonder what will happen when the “whites” find out, though. 

Goodness! Minnie May’s really had it, hasn’t she? Honestly, it was about time someone in that family said something about the lives they lead - it was time someone told it like it is, and... why did I actually expect it to be Minnie May? Why does this little girl have to do the grown-ups’ job? I guess it’s just the way of the world. I just hope this doesn’t end in disaster. 

Okay, I’ve been waiting for this all week, and it’s even more beautiful than I could have imagined. Far more beautiful.

Wow, that was some realisation! “I’m in love with Gilbert Blythe”. Took you long enough, Anne! Now go do something about it before it’s way too late. Gosh, we will be clowning so hard next week. 

To sum up what we saw in this episode: Ka’kwet finally escapes the “White Man’s Burden” school of nightmares and takes the long road home; lots of tension between Anne and Diana; the school is ashes and those responsible for it aren’t getting away; Gilbert thinks he’s sure about Winnifred; Derry is dead; lots of parallels, all heavy on Shirbert; Bash’s mum “knows her place” - or does she really?; Diana takes the exams with zero preparation (respect!); Rachel and Marilla tear down the patriarchy; Minnie May does the grown-ups’ job; DiAnne is back; Anne sets us all up for a lot of clowning.

#anne with an e #anne with an e s3 #anne with an e spoilers #anne with an e season 3 spoilers #awae #awae s3 #awae season 3 #awae spoilers #awae 3x08 #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #anne and gilbert #anne x gilbert #shirbert #diana barry #jerry baynard #ruby gillis #moody spurgeon #jane andrews #josie pye #muriel stacy #rachel lynde #marilla cuthbert #matthew cuthbert #sebastian lacroix #bash lacroix #ka'kwet #minnie may barry #aunt josephine #jnk watches awae

[dragonmaiden79]

How would the main 6 react to their MC being "betrayed" and left behind by their friends?

How would the main 6 react to their MC being "betrayed" and left behind by their friends?

Thank you anon! You're my first ask ever (*squeals in joy)!

Asra

*Immediately notices MC's change in behavior.

*Not going out much, being alone more, and being just generally sad. He starts to become concerned and asks questions, until eventually Mc breaks down crying in his arms, finally releasing everything about the situation.

*He'll hold them and wipe away every single tear, saying that only an ass who couldn't appreciate an amazing person would treat them that way.

*Surrounds them with warm blankets, pillows, and cuddles (squeezes from Faust too) after making some hot chocolate to settle them down so that they can tell him every single detail.

*And if they ever go out together in public and see those former 'friends', Asra makes sure that they never so much as glance at Mc again.

*He stands up to them, saying exactly what is on his mind and harshly warning them away, because he'd hate to make them sorry

*He's Mc's shield and that's all there is too it, so that is the one veiled threat warning that they get

Nadia

*The Palace servants love gossip and the information reached her before Mc had a chance to tell her

*Instantly, a summons and carriage is sent to the Shop to pick them up so that Nadia can console them

*Mc is greeted at the Palace with all of their favorite foods and snacks, assorted perfectly into a picnic basket, held by Nadia who has cleared her entire day to dedicate to their well being.

*As Mc explains what parts of the rumors were true or not, the Countess finds herself with a bad taste in her mouth, and by the end of the story she is having the guard serve each individual their 24 hour notice to vacate

*Makes it a point to have everyone in the Palace involved helping MC heal from the emotional trauma of being backstabbed. They will be catered to and cared for indefinitely or, at least until she is satisfied with their mood and level of happiness: They need to feel as loved and adored and amazing, as they are

*By the time Mc is ready to trust again, all persons involved in 'this abandonment debacle' have been banished and black listed from all Vesuvian and even Prakran properties, ensuring that Mc will never have to suffer the sight of them again

Portia

*She does feel bad for Mc, really. But she's honestly more than ecstatic that she gets more private time with them to cheer them up

*She heard the rumors about the friendships going to hell and marches right up to the jerks to confront them

*Unable to stop herself, she makes a scene confronting them in the Marketplace, calling them out shouting their bad deeds from the heavens

*She wants EVERYONE to know what jerks they are and how they treated Mc, so that the tables will turn and people look at them differently

*When she stops by the Shop, she brings a couple of loaves that legendary pumpkin bread to comfort Mc and let them know what she did

*They share a laugh about the way that those losers took off after she was done yelling at them and she assures Mc that she'll make up for all the friends that they lost by doubling- No, tripling the amount of time that they hang out together

*She invites them to everything she does, making sure they don't feel left out: Baking, visiting Mazelinka (who has an opinion on the 'friends' too'), keeping Julian out of trouble, and sleeping with Pepi- Things that keep Mc involved and engaged

Muriel

*He never wanted to meet these other friends to begin with, nor did he like what he saw of them while lingering in the background the 2 or 3 times that he did

*Inanna would growl whenever their scents got on Mc, so he already assumed the worst about them (aside from the general contempt he has for people as a whole)

*But it doesn't validate him in any way at all, when Mc shows up to his hut, distraught, looking unhappy

*They are welcomed in with open arms literally, engulfing Mc in a big warm hug after he closes the door to his hut

*Muriel listens silently yet, attentively, not missing a word, stroking their hair while they sit in his lap venting their shock, sadness, and frustrations

*When they're relieved and done letting everything out he's very tender and kind, giving them his best reassurances and dismissing the ones who hurt Mc as never worthy of their time anyway

*He offers Mc to spend the night with him so that they can have dinner and stay close during Mc's time of need

*He's not super certain on how he should be handling the situation, but he does his absolute best

* Perhaps staying more than just the night? Maybe spending a few days feeding the chickens, tending the vegetable garden, and napping together?

*Giving Mc some quality time to get their mind off of things is his goal

Julian

*After Mc tells him what happened, he enters an immediate state of disbelief

*Who could betray a person who's so beautiful, special, gifted, intelligent, amazing--

*The more he thinks about it, the more upset he gets on Mc's behalf. Cue Boss Julian™

*He knows exactly where to find the ones who hurt Mc and marches right up to however many people it is to make his point.

*"Listen here, you snake-tongued, yellow-bellied, pathetic-excuse-for-a-piece-of-rhinoceros-shit, filthy swine--" he says through gritted teeth, shirt collar of the offender in hand, other one jabbing a long finger into their chest

*"If you ever, EVER, so much as breath Mc's name in public, I'll make you wish that your meager shell of a body had withered away with the plague and burned at the Lazaret!"

* It doesn't end there though. Actually, that's where outpour of his love and adoration begins.

*He buys them a very thoughtful gift to start off

*He then talks Mc into coming with him on a very romantic night out even though he knows they're down in the dumps

*They go to an intimate restaurant by the docks where he tells them how they won't have to worry about such bullies anymore. He stood up to them and will do it again if he has too.

*He gives them the gift and spends the evening baptizing them in his most in-depth, compassionate complements and small kisses making sure that they feel completely valid and desired.

Lucio

*Mc starts to tell him what him what happened and before the conversation is over he's fuming and blowing up

*"They did what!? We'll just see about that!"

*He's suiting up and calling for his horse to be prepared because if someone thinks that they can harm or embarrass Mc in any way they have another thing coming, and just, just wait until he finds his sword--

*Has to be stopped as soon as possible because betraying Mc, is tantamount to betraying Lucio himself and, oh, that is not what you ever want to do

*Just few sentences have triggered this man, deleted all his progress as a person, and turned him from Upright!Lucio to Pre-Plague!Lucio

*In other words The Human Torcher™

*Yeah, Mc actually has to calm him down, ending up holding and petting him to soothe his anger instead of the other way around

*(Crisis averted) When his nerves settle, he decides that since he can't have his way, that they'll just have to rot indefinitely in the dungeons

*This would not go unpunished, "Just wait and see, Mc. I promise that will never happen again."

*In the meantime, to make Mc feel good he invites everyone else (the rest of the main 6 and Vesuvia) to a massive week-long party thrown in Mc's honor

*"I think I've got a enough friends to share with you, hm, Mc? Nothing to worry about now that they're all here for you!"

*He steps closer, whispering softly as he kisses their hand. "Of course, I'm here too and if you need anything else, just say a word and I can make it happen for you."

Here ya go, hope you enjoyed! 💙

#the arcana #the arcana game #ask #main 6 #mc #oc #hc #au #fan apprentice #the arcana mc #the arcana ask #the arcana game ask #hc ask #hcs that people actually asked for #dragonmaiden79

[aleapoffaithfiction]

VII.

"You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control." ― Megan Chance

“See, Jesus was crucified, just for me.”

While leaning over to the side, I slyly slid another piece of my usual Mentos Pure Fresh “Fresh Mint” flavored gum into my mouth and sighed in relief at the immediate jolt of energy I felt as my teeth broke its round shape apart and the flavoring hit my taste buds. I had to sneak it, because like the child she often thinks that I am, but mother would have held out her gloved hand and viciously eyed me until I defeatedly spit it. According to her, it’s not ladylike to chew gum and especially in church, but I’m going to chew it regardless and I doubt God is concerned with that minuscule vice in my life.

“Give me a piece.” Celeste leaned over and whispered in my ear as she held her hand out and I dropped the bottle into her lap. She didn’t have as much of a chance of being caught as I did because I was sitting in the middle of both she and mommy.

We’re members of Emmanuel Baptist Church over on Lafayette Avenue. It’s right on the corner of St. James Place in the Clinton Hill section of Brooklyn and is under the leadership of Reverend Anthony L. Trufant and his wife Muriel. We’ve been fellows of this church for as long as I can remember and my mother is a good friend of the family; as was my father when he was living. There was even a point in time when I had somewhat of a friendship with their daughters but it was short lived because in my younger years I had far less of a tolerance for people who I cannot relate to. Celeste and I were baptized in this church, daddy’s memorial was here, and Celeste wed her now husband Preston here two years ago. Though I dreaded it, we used to come here every Sunday bright and early so that I wouldn’t miss Sunday school. I was in the youth group for a while but eventually bailed out on having to attend it because I heavily got into sports.

Every holiday season, I was forced to participate in the Christmas Nativity play, where I would play Mary no matter how much I wanted to be one of the Three Wise Men. I met the first guy I would have a crush on here, though it lasted all of a week. I was even apart of the choir for a short run and I’m not even sure why, because I’m no vocal powerhouse. I’m not even a vocal power shed if you let me tell it. Despite my lessening attendance over these last couple of years, I still consider this place to be my church home and it is where I will come back to until further notice.

“Sing it.” I glanced over at my mother as she raised a hand in response to Lucinda Moore’s voice. After days of calling and convincing me to come to Saturday night’s service simply for this concert, I finally agreed for the sake of appeasing her and I can’t say that I’m mad at it. Lucinda can sing from the depths of her gut and never fails to take a praise moment to its highest peak. She’s been in between singing and preaching for about an hour now with a sermon that calls for us all to “meet God all the way” because half-way isn’t going to cut it for anything that we do in life.

“Look at Mr. Weston.” As Lucinda continued to belt her way through “The Old Rugged Cross”, my eyes followed the direction of Celeste’s head and I instantly snickered at the sight of the older man ogling over my mother and her glimmering chocolate skin. Mr. Weston’s been trying his hardest to take my mother’s hand in marriage and yet she won’t even give him enough attention for him to take her out on a Saturday night date. I don’t think it’s her internal yearning for daddy that causes it.

Mr. Weston doesn’t even have finesse within his aging bones to woo her into sitting next to him during Sunday service. Then again, it might be the trifling aspects of who he is. When he received the phone call that his wife had been rushed to the hospital after having a sudden heart attack, he’d been out with his mistress and had the audacity to drive over to the hospital with the mistress still in the car with him. Mrs. Weston passed away that day, but every damn body sat up in here side eying the hell out of him as he wailed over her during the funeral. If it’s up to me, he’ll never date my mother because of all of that nonsense.

Mrs. Williams is the one who wants him. Or is it Mrs. Davis? Maybe Mrs. Wright? I lost count after the third husband. And then there’s her sister Denise who is about the most judgmental person I know. The woman has something to say about everyone’s kids except her own, especially her daughter Tiffany, who has made it her business and life’s mission to snag a baller. She may have secured a couple of hotel stays for some middle of the night fun, but a ring? Not even a Ring Pop. Church is where you’ll find the most hypocrisy but I suppose it makes perfect sense why that is.

“We should grab a bite to eat at The Food Sermon after this.” I’m all for healthy eating but there are just certain dishes that I’m not having in a healthy manner and Caribbean food is that. I’ll be damned if I eat pan seared jerked tofu as a jerk chicken substitute. Celeste and Preston are suddenly super obsessive with their newly started vegan lifestyle and I’m not joining them. It’ll probably be temporary anyway. He’s only doing it because she wants him to.

“Or we can go to Glady’s. Mommy won’t agree with you about that one, because she prefers Glady’s too.”

“Fine, brat.”

“I’ll be that.” I could have chosen somewhere that wouldn’t be in consideration of her new diet if I really wanted to be a brat, but I didn’t. Glady’s has vegetable dishes that should work out for the both of them.

“Shhh.”

I knew it was coming. If her hands weren’t covered with gloves, she might have pinched my arm. I’m always sat in the middle just so she can keep an eye on me because I’m known to find ways to distract myself in church if my mind isn’t completely focused on the sermon or choir. The Lord knows me well. I doubt he have as much of an issue with it as my mother does.

While buttoning the front of my Alexander Wang loose fitting blazer, I couldn’t help but to regret opting out of putting on the wool trench coat that I had laying across the backseat of the car. The nearly end of October air is a lot chillier than I thought it would be. Despite not being someone who enjoys extremely warm or cold weather, I always look forward to the fall because it’s when fashion is at its peak. There’s nothing like a sickening jacket with nice pop of autumn coloring in it, all entirely black look that is sleek, or heavy denim. Oh, and a thigh high heeled boot? Don’t even get me started. Tonight’s dress is a long-sleeved calf length Lowe piece with deep tan, red-orange, and white stripes cascading down it’s form. What really sold me on it is the black lace accents. It’s church friendly and yet if I were going on a lunch outing with Taylor, I’d be just as fine in it.

“Sarai.” Quinton’s hand immediately grazed my shoulder as our eyes met and though I smiled, it was in no way as big as the one gracing his caramel face. Quinton and I went to school together and yet never had any interactions until his father died in the same war that mine did, nearly a year apart. I suppose us dealing with the same level of grief is what served as the foundation of the friendship that we formed. We simply didn’t harbor it as life went on. We barely speak nowadays but I’m sure he’ll say that it’s my doing.

“Quinton. How are you?” We shared an appropriate hug and the fume of his strong cologne instantly made me draw back. It’s not pleasant.

“I’m well. How are you? I see you doing big things.”

“I’m the same. And I’m doing big things? Is that so Mr. Councilman?” He was elected a year ago and is over the Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Crown Heights, Prospect Heights, and Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhoods. I definitely consider him to be a man of the people, because he could have run for a position within areas like Williamsburg, Dumbo, and Fulton Ferry and won. He’s that well celebrated within these streets.

“I’m not on ESPN though.”

“That’s nothing in comparison to the news coverage about you, the mentoring that I’m hearing you’re receiving from President Obama so that you can run for the Senate, and maybe even the Presidency later on down the line? I think you just want me to brag on you a bit.”

“I won’t stand here and pretend like I’m not flattered.” We shared a laugh that attracted the attention of a few others. I could see my mother eyes lighting up from the corners of my eyes. She’s barely paying attention to what Denise is saying to her.

“You know we’re all proud of you.”

“But you’ve yet to be proud of enough of me to allow me to take you out to dinner. You know we have history.”

That history he speaks of is not our friendship. The summer before we went off to college, we pity fucked one another after having had a conversation about our daddies that left the both of us emotionally drained. Though he wasn’t a virgin, he might as well had been because it was far more of an awkward encounter than it was anything else.

I won’t hold anything about that hot summer evening against him though. No seventeen-year-old boy has the stamina of a stallion and the skills of a veteran porn star within the bedroom. Quinton barely knew who he was personally, so how could he have known who he was as a pleaser? The same could be said for myself.

It was me who decided that we should go on as if it never happened. Hell, it still feels like it never happened. While Quinton is a nice-looking man, I’ve yet to have even the slightest interest in him beyond our occasional run ins.

“Here you go. It’s a timing issue more than anything.” See? I’m a hypocrite too. First, premarital sex. Second? I’m lying right here in the house of God. No matter what the circumstances are, a person will make time for who or whatever it is that they want.

“It can’t always be timing right? We should plan it out so that we won’t run into scheduling issues. I know you’re up there in Bristol a lot and your schedule can be just as crazy when you’re not and you know I’m quite busy myself but I’m willing to make the time for you Sarai.”

Whenever he asks me out, I find myself pondering if we share anything in common beyond what we already know or what we’ll speak about while sitting across from one another at some upscale restaurant of his choosing and I always draw a blank. From there, I snicker at the thought of whispered words about Brooklyn’s fiscal year preliminary budget or development with the deeper urban areas being his dirty talk or pillow talk within the bedroom. That aside, I’m not interested in being his First Lady. I don’t want to play that role, because that’s exactly what it is. Politics is full of actors with empty promises. I’m not saying that Quinton cannot be genuine, but even those type of politicians are just as good of liars as the crooked ones.

“You have my number. Call me. We’ll figure it out.”

“I will. Just make sure you pick up.” That was a cheap jab, but I’ll take it. Out of all of the women within this church who are vying for a chance to be Mrs. Quinton Jeremy Marshall, he constantly comes my way. Maybe that’s something? I don’t know. Only time will tell, but right now, it’s not saying much because I don’t feel anything.

“I will.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to convince you that we’re a good match before some NBA guy does.” And there it is; the assumptions about what goes on in my life pertaining to athletes beyond work obligations.

“I don’t date athletes.”

“I’m not saying that you do, but there’s no denying that they’re interested in dating you. Unfortunately, I don’t catch the show often, but sometimes I do catch a couple of those one on one interviews you conduct on YouTube and they usually feel like one big lust fest. Doesn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

“I don’t notice it. Also, I feel like people overexaggerate things. These days, you can’t sit a male or female of no relation in the same room without people creating sexual scenarios. That just shows you how screwed up people’s mentalities are.” And that includes you Quinton. I’m not sure if it’s jealousy or indifferent written all over his face, but it’s something. And this is yet another reason why we cannot date. He’s the worst version of an alpha male because there are plenty of sexist undertones within the way he thinks and what he says. He’d expect me to diminish enough of myself in order for him to feel like the man when he’s parading me around some fundraiser or while I’m standing in his shadow as if he gives some speech.

“Or maybe you’re downplaying things. I watched Odell Beckham Jr. stare at you like you’re some type of rare species. I know what those type of looks are about. I am a man after all.” Are you?

“Maybe I am a rare species. We’re not all cut from the same cloth, right Quinton?”

“Maybe so.”

“I’ll see you around though. My stomach is growling and my folks are waiting for me.”

“Don’t forget what I said”

“About timing? I won’t. As I said, give me a call. We’ll figure something out.” And with that, I left him to stare at me as I walked towards the back of the church.

I didn’t feel compelled to hug him again because it would have been lingering on his end and easily would have attracted more attention than I would’ve liked. Despite there being a number of women around here who would love to be claimed by him, oddly, there are people who advocate for us. Even Reverend Trufant snuck in a joke about being willing to officiate our nuptials when the time is right. I’d rather not give Quinton or anyone else any false hope tonight or any other.

Rather than taking three cars, I drove everyone from mommy’s house over to the church. While it may have sounded pointless to them, I insisted that we go back and get Preston’s car so that I’ll be able to drive back to Edgewater right after dinner. I’m tired, cold, and I’m not staying out here tonight. She may have convinced me to come to service but spending the night at either one of their houses can quickly turn into a night of aggravation. I’m so used to living on my own that personality clashes happen as soon as my element is interrupted.

“That Quinton sure is fine.” I knew it was coming. It’d been on the tip of her tongue the entire time she sat in the passenger seat of my car, but I purposefully drowned her out with a couple of classics from Richard Smallwood. I knew she’d quickly began to sing along and forget about hounding me about him, but I should have known she’d only briefly put the thought aside. I can’t even enjoy this peppered shrimp and side of plantains now. Within a couple of minutes, the know it all will add in her warped opinion.

“Isn’t he?” How can she agree with her husband sitting right there alongside her?

“Is he still running for the Senate?” Preston directed that question to me as if I should know. I’ve only heard the rumors and it makes sense. I’m sure councilmen is only a stepping stone for a long running career in politics.

“I’m sure he will at some point.”

“And he’s looking for this one here to be his Michelle Obama and yet she’s running from it.”

“I’m not running from anything. I’m simply not interested. Michelle Obama is amazing and I admire the hell out of her, but not to the point of wanting to mirror her life. I doubt she’d want that for me either. This is a woman who has advocated for women to work hard to be exactly who it is that they want to be.” Michelle was never caught up into the dated traditionalisms of a woman needing a husband in order to look proper in society. She was already a lawyer when she met her now husband.

“And yet here she is, pushing away the one man who actually wants her enough to continue pursuing her.” If I were some tacky reality show chick, I would have made a scene in this restaurant but I won’t for the sake of my reputation.

“The one man who wants me?” I had to made sure I heard her correctly.

“That’s not how I meant it and you know it. You barely put yourself into situations to find someone.”

“I’m not looking.”

“And that’s the problem right there.” As soon as my mother interjected, I dropped my fork into the plate and rested against the back of the seat.

“For who? You?”

“She lives in a house about three times the size of mine and yet she’s in it alone.”

“I live in a house three times the size of yours because it’s what I worked for. I didn’t have to find a man to give it to me. I wanted it and went and got it. It’s not my fault that you can’t relate.”

Initially, I didn’t want to take any shots at her because I respect her lifestyle. She has a career, but it’s no secret that Preston is the breadwinner in their marriage and it works for them. They’re settled, happy, and are beginning to work on trying to have a baby. I rarely if ever label myself with the feminist title, but if I did, I wouldn’t be the type to frown down on women who want to be in the boardroom closing deals or at home raising their children and keeping the house put together. For as long as it is a choice, there is no judgement from me. But Celeste? She takes me there.

“Well lucky for me, I have a man who loves me enough to want to give me amazing things and the best part of it is we enjoy it together. I don’t live in a house three times smaller than yours alone. I don’t go to bed alone. I don’t travel alone. I don’t celebrate my birthdays alone. I don’t have to do everything for myself, whether I’m tired or not, because I live my life without anyone else in it. I have a life partner here with me. Where’s yours? Or did you have hopes that dad would always be the man in your life?”

And this is why whenever people ask me if we’re close, I laugh it off and shrug. I don’t know what we are. After the tragedy within our lives, we continued to grow further apart from the once closeness that we used to have. Even with her gravitating towards mom, we didn’t clash as much then as we do now. Our clashes are typically started by her. It’s the manner in which she seems to pick apart who I am that instantly rubs me the wrong way. It’s not even constructive criticism. It’s simply her being a bitch.

“Your dependency on men has always been at the forefront of your life. If it wasn’t Preston, it would have been someone else. And if it wasn’t that someone else, it would have been another person. I don’t ever remember any point in my life when you were single. So, I’m not impressed. Ya’ll can have this shit, honestly.” I dropped my napkin into the barely halfway eaten plate and immediately stood to my feet. I’d already paid for everyone’s meal as a treat, so I didn’t have to wait for some server to come over with the checkbook.

“Sarai, sit down.”

“I’d rather go and I am. Enjoy yourselves.”

“And this is why I call you a brat. Whenever someone says something that you don’t like or calls you out on your shit, you run.”

“Goodnight.”

“Sarai!” Not even my mother’s stern summoning could influence me to turn around as I walked out in the night. My car served as my solace and the sounds of a Musiq Soulchild Essentials playlist from Apple Music was my soundtrack for my drive home. A blessing of no traffic at any point allowed my arrival time to be just a couple of minutes under an hour.

Let me ask you something. You really think I can come back from this injury? It’s not even a matter of getting back on my feet again because I’m sure that’s possible, but will I be the same player I once was? I’ve been thinking about it and the more I do, the more I really don’t know.

I hadn’t even gotten out of the car when his message came through and as I sat in my seat reading it, I immediately scoffed because I know that is nothing more than his own sulking with a couple of droplets of Scott’s ridiculously biased and purposefully controversial take about some players never being who they once were within their respective sports after surgeries that don’t exactly fix what may be permanent damage.

You’re going to be even better than you were before. We all know that everyone gets a thrill out of a good comeback story but this is more than that for you. You have something to prove to yourself more than anyone or anything else. Your determined spirit will carry you through this and next year, we’re all going to celebrate what you worked so hard for more than we’ve ever celebrated you before. You got this and you know you do. It’s what we’re all a fan of when we speak of Odell Beckham Jr; your keen awareness of who you are and what you’re capable of.

And just like that, I was starting the car. I hadn’t even gone inside to get out of the pumps that are now starting to cause my toes to ache.

Have someone open the door for me. I should be there in about twenty.

It took five minutes over the twenty I estimated because I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a hot chocolate. I wasn’t cold anymore because the heat in the car had already warmed me up, but I had a taste for it. I even grabbed Beckham a cup.

“Why are you the one answering the door?” I rang the doorbell about two minutes ago. No wonder it took so long for anyone to come and get it. As he leaned against the crutches, Khan and Blackjack were standing alongside him in a protective stance as Mowgli lingered around in the background.

“Nobody’s here but me.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re never home alone.”

“You’ll be surprised how much I actually am home alone.” As he crutched himself backwards, the dogs moved alongside him in unison to allow me entry into the home. I think they’re starting to get used to me and I’m not sure if it’s a bad or a good thing. I’ve found myself bonding with Eris, who is technically the lady of the house.

“I got you a hot chocolate from Dunkin.”

“Thank you.”

“Uhm.” I noticed we weren’t going downstairs as I trailed behind him. Instead, he made his way into the living room and flopped down on the couch. He’d been playing video games before I arrived.

“Why are you so dressed up?”

“I’m coming from Saturday service.”

“Church?” His eyes widened and he couldn’t mask the few chuckles that followed. What’s so hard to believe about that?

“Why is that so shocking to you?”

“It’s not shocking, but I just can’t picture you going to church on a Saturday night. Maybe Sunday service, but Saturday night? No one under forty is going to a Saturday night service.” Alright. He got me there.

“I went with my mother, sister, and brother-in-law.”

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Celeste.” I tossed my jacket on the arm of the couch right after placing the Styrofoam cup filled with hot chocolate on the glass coffee table.

“Lace? You sure you just went to church? Lace is more date night.” The lace is in places that most wouldn’t consider sexy. There is no cleavage on display; not even a bit of thigh. I would have been scolded endlessly had I done that.

“Why does lace have to be for a date night? Lace is universal. I used to wear white lace gloves to church when I was about five.”

“You’re certainly not five now.” Our eyes met and I took yet another sip of the warm sweetened drink. Suddenly, I wish it was a frozen hot chocolate.

“Someone did try to take me on a date though.” I’m not sure why I’m sharing this, but we’ve developed enough of a connection to the point where we share a lot of random and sometimes private information with one another.

“Who?” He hadn’t taken the game off of pause yet; didn’t reach for the hot chocolate either.

“Remember the friend who I mentioned to you? The one whose father died in the same war that mine did? Him. His name is Quinton.”

“I figured he was more than a friend when you mentioned him.”

“Why?” We were kids at the time. I didn’t emphasize much more than that.

“I don’t know. I just felt it.”

“Well, believe me when I tell you that we’re just friends. I’m not interested. There was a point in time when we crossed a boundary but nothing more came out of it.”

“Okay.” I was surprised that he didn’t question me about the boundary but then again, he’s just as intuitive as I am most times. He knows what boundary that was.

“He’s a councilman in Brooklyn now. He’s going to run for a seat in the Senate soon enough. Politics are his thing. He’s been trying to take me out for a while. For whatever reason, he thinks we’re a good fit for one another.”

“And you don’t?” As he stretched out his lengthy fingers, I could hear the sounds of a few of them cracking.

“No. I don’t think we relate much. We gel well as distant friends more than anything else. He’s looking for a wife. I don’t want to be that.”

“His wife or anyone’s wife?”

“I don’t know. Marriage isn’t something that I’ve made a part of my plans when I mapped them out. It’s not something that I’ve ruled out, but I’m not necessarily yearning for it either. It’s more of an it is what it is situation for me. You?”

“Initially, it was a big ass no. I wasn’t pressed for it. I watched my pop marry someone and I knew he didn’t want to get married. Ultimately, it didn’t work out for him. Now, I’m not against it. Whenever that day comes, it’ll come. I just want to do it one time when it does come. When I get down on one knee, I have to absolutely know that this is it and this person is going to be the one I’m growing towards wrinkles and diapers with. That shit has to work out.”

I’m sure everyone who stands at an alter and vows their life to someone feels exactly the same way he does. It’s supposed to be final; that moment to seal the deal between your soul and someone else’s. It’s tricky though. That honeymoon bliss eventually turns into tests of tolerance and plenty of trials and tribulations. In being around my parents, I was exposed to many of their friends’ marriages. Sure, they were in love, but I’m not sure if a few of them were genuinely happy.

“That’s fair.”

“So, this Quinton guy, he’s never getting a chance to prove himself? Not even one date?”

“Probably not.”

“What about me?” I didn’t expect it to go that route, but I know it’s been lingering on his mind since we began to bond with one another.

“Everything about us will never make sense and we both know this. Even what we’re doing right now wouldn’t go without question. I’m not supposed to be here or anywhere near you.” He sighed, not in defeat, but in disappointment at the words that I’d chosen as a response.

“How is that?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest. Did you think that I was speaking in jest when I said that the night, we all hung out after your game? Having a personal relationship with you will easily have me viewed as someone who has a bias towards you and all that you do. I already catch hell for what I said about you, so can you imagine what would happen if TMZ happened to catch up the two us leaving some restaurant or nightclub together? Do you understand what would happen if you were to post or say anything about me on social media beyond whatever it is that I say about you in a professional setting? I would not only be ripped to shreds, but I’d be fired. Why do you think I kept stressing you and the guys about not post anything whenever I was visiting you at the hospital? Why do you think I was sneaking in, so bundled up?” The pictures and videos that are on his phone and everyone else’s are for personal memories. I don’t mind that. I figured they’d be something to put a smile on his face whenever he needs one, just as they do for me.

“Does it say in your contact that you will be fired for any of this?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t against the ethical code and conduct of the company? I would be forced to resign. Not only that, but do you realize how hard it is to be taken seriously as a female sports journalist? If you let the public tell it, I’m screwing every single athlete that I’m standing within five feet of. I’m not supposed to know about sports. You know how many ‘get in the kitchen’ comments I get? Hell, the NFL fans are the harshest. They tell me that I don’t know shit and I belong on my back for a living.”

“Because they’re fucking ignorant.”

“And yet it’s my reality. I’m not trying to nag you about this because I know what I signed up for and I can handle it, but how do I handle standing in front of the president of ESPN and him telling me to write my resignation letter before they’re forced to publicly embarrass me by firing me?”

“Within all that you said, you know you’re also saying that we can’t be friends and yet here you are, sitting here with me. I didn’t tell you to come here tonight. You came on your own.”

“Because I figured you were a bit upset. It’s the vibe I’d gotten in the text messages.”

“That’s the excuse you’re going with? You could have kept texting me. You came because you care and because you wanted to.”

“I do care about you. I just have to wonder how much do you care about me if you’re okay with me jeopardizing everything that I have and everything that I am for you and only you.” Instantly, he turned his head in my direction and narrowed his eyes.

“Me and only me? So, I’m in this alone?”

“In what?” I had to stand up. Not only had the tension in the room thickened, but my legs refused to remain settled. I kept bouncing them in an anxiousness that I couldn’t comprehend.

“Sarai. Seriously? And I’m not asking you to jeopardize your career.”

“Then what are you asking me to do?”

“I don’t…” His ran his hands threw his blonde curls and tightly closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was only dropping by to check on you. I’m going to go.”

“Sarai.”

He frowned as I grabbed my jacket from the arm the chair and threw it over my shoulders. The quicker I leave, the better off we’ll both be in terms of riding ourselves of the steam. I’m tired anyway.

“It’s fine. I’ll give you a call to see how you’re doing soon.”

“You don’t have to go. That’s not what any of that was supposed to cause.”

“But I do. I need to go.”

Once my clutch bag was secured under my arm, I grabbed my keys off of the table.

“Sarai.”

“Be safe in here. Stay off of your foot.”

I was out of his door before we could exchange another set of words with one another and quite frankly, I’m not sure when I’ll ever walk through it again. I don’t have much, despite whatever people may see or believe. There are plenty of question marks next to a lot of the emotional aspects of life’s necessities but I do have my sanity and everything that I worked damn hard for. If that’s suddenly snatched away from me, then what’s left? A mother who doesn’t know much about me beyond what she assumes or wishes I were and an older sister who doesn’t take me seriously? Much like Beckham, I’m chasing a legacy and I have a lot more to do to make it eternally standing.

One date. We’ll do it somewhere around our old stomping grounds; it’ll feel nostalgic. Next week. I’ll get back to you with the day. Here’s your time.

If I have to choose right now, that’s the choice that makes the most sense.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic

[kateua]

Here is a new interview with Fabian Bourzat made by Ukrainian “Segodnya” (you can find a version in Russian here: https://www.segodnya.ua/…/francuzskaya-zvezda-figurnogo-kat…)!

Fabian Bourzat: “I don’t like sad people, they make me sad”

The French figure skating star talks about going solo in coaching, working with Ukrainians Nazarova and Nikitin, a possible collaboration with Nathalie Pechalat, and meeting Jean Dujardin, remembering Denis Ten, learning to let go, and also about his shoes and favourite programs and costumes.

– How did you decide to come to Ukraine with Sasha and Maxim? – We’ve worked together in Detroit for like three years. It’s a very interesting team, I love working with them. Their quality matches my vision of skating. They’re creative and original. They have a lot of flaws, but they want to bring something different to skating. And that’s what I love about them. So, when I quit my job in the US, they told me that they were moving back to Ukraine and they needed someone to get them ready for the season. I was on vacation at that time and said, “Why not”. And here I am.

– Do you want to go solo from now on? – I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do next year yet. But I don’t want to work with somebody else anymore. I think it’s time for me to choose my own path and not follow somebody else’s. I’ve done that for almost four years. It was interesting for me to work with Igor Shpilband, I’ve learned a lot, and I thank him for that. But right now I need to express myself way more through my teaching. So, I’m going to come back to France and try to develop what I can over there.

– Do you want to open your own school? – Yeah, that would be ideal. It’s difficult to find a full-time ice rink in France. Most people there work as freelancers, they work in camps and go back and forth between different places. If I can find an ice rink, yes, I will build a school. Right now I’m working with Sasha and Maxim. I don’t know what will happen in the next few months. But I would welcome them on my team. I also want to bring young skaters and help them grow, to make skating in France more competitive. We have a good history of ice dance in Europe. Right now it’s moving a little more to USA and Canada, and I want to bring it back to Europe.

– You’ve been to different countries. What difference do you see in the perception of skating? – In the US, it’s more competitive from the young age, and it’s something we don’t have in Europe. Here we’re trying to go to school first and then think about sports. And I want to try to balance that.

– You’ve worked with Shpilband both as a student and as a coaching partner. What have you learned from him? – When I was still skating, I loved the way he worked, because he gave me the opportunity to enjoy figure skating again. At some point of your career you start thinking only about competition, performing and results and you’re not enjoying yourself anymore. That’s what he brought me as a coach. As a partner, he has a strong work ethic, he is good at scheduling everything and handling a massive amount of work outside of skating. The structure, as well as the techniques, was really helpful for me. As a skater, I used to work with Alexander Zhulin in Russia, Muriel Zazoui in France, Anjelika Krylova and Pasquale Camerlengo in the US. They’ve all given me so much, and I was able to decide what I wanted to take from them and what I did not, depending on which kind of skater I wanted to be and which skills I needed for that. I think growing around so many coaches helped me to develop a different way of skating, and that’s what I want to give back to the kids right now.

– Is it your first time in Ukraine? What are your impressions? – Yes, it’s actually my first time. It’s really hot! Sasha and Maxim took me to so many different places, but I haven’t seen much of the city. For me, seeing different countries and the way people live is always a different way of approaching life... I love the food here. We had pelmeni, khachapuri, which is Georgian actually, we ate shashlik, cornichons. Borsch? I’m not a big fan of that. But there is a summer soup that Maxim wants me to try. We’ve also got pâté from my mom. The country is welcoming. It’s also because the guys make me feel welcome.

– How about our figure skating? Anything unusual? – There are lots of kids on the ice. I’m actually surprised there are so many boys. It’s difficult to find boys in figure skating. The more people you have to train, the easier it will be to develop something.

– Do you remember the first time you saw Sasha and Maxim? – It was at the 2015 Junior Worlds, the year they were third. I remember that I told Igor Shpilband then that this couple was really interesting, that they were trying to bring something more creative, which is difficult at the young age. They kind of matched the same way I did with my partner at the time, so I was really impressed of their work.

– You said they have flaws. Which exactly? – Well, they need to work a little more on the connection and the feel of the motion. They are powerful skaters with a lot of strength. They are able to get a lift of any kind of difficulty done. I’m here to teach them a different approach of skating, and I think it’s starting to grow into them. They are hard workers, they listen, they follow exactly what I say. I know it’s not easy, but they are committed and they want to succeed. How do we polish their twizzles? That’s my secret.

– What’s the most difficult part of coaching? – I think it’s managing different types of people. You can have young kids, teenagers or adults. And you need to be able to push them without breaking them. Managing and planning is still brand new for me, I need to keep learning.

– The Olympic season was quite rocky for Sasha and Maxim. You had some painful moments in your career yourself. How do you teach them to overcome those difficulties, to let it go? – That’s the exact process. They need to let it go and move forward. Because it doesn’t matter how many times you fall, what’s important is the way you’re going to come back on the ice and step up after that. They have really good skills and they need to be proud of it. Every big champion has made mistakes in their life. Some more than the others. You just need to swallow it, get your shit together and move on.

– How much time did it take for you to move on? For example, from the 2014, which was quite intense. – I don’t know, I don’t know… You just need to completely switch your head and keep going. It doesn’t matter, it’s not going to change. You can’t talk about the past forever, you just need to learn and forget.

– Do you get in touch with your former partner Nathalie now? – Yeah. She’s actually working in France. The fact that I’m going back there makes us get more and more in touch. I was talking to her like yesterday. We’ve never got along as good as now. I’d like her to come and work with me. I know her skills and what she’s able to do. I don’t think she’s ready to work full-time and I’m not sure I’m ready to work full-time with her, but it would be nice to have her input from time to time.

– What was the last time you met her? – At her wedding in May. It was nice, not too many people. It was emotional. She was crying, of course.

– Everyone’s probably asking you about her husband, the Oscar-winning actor Jean Dujardin. How is he like in real life? – He’s actually a really nice guy. I’ve met him a couple of times. And the more you see him, the less you see the actor and more, the person. I cannot say we bonded as friends, but I definitely understand what she sees in him. If he makes her happy, that makes me happy.

– Do you have a favourite program from your competitive career? – There were so many of them! The Circus program was really nice, also Cats, which was a long-long time ago, the flamenco program that we did with Antonio Najarro, Four Seasons. Mostly because we met and bonded with different people who choreographed for us. The Little Prince? It was not our masterpiece, more like a patchwork of what we did before. A part of Circus and Chaplin in the emotions, a part of Cats because of the storyline. It was a reminder of everything that we did throughout our career.

– Do you miss skating? – No. Why? I’m way older now. Skating is difficult on the body. The run-throughs, that’s what I don’t miss. I feel comfortable as a coach. I was listening to others for so many years, and I think giving is so much easier. Shows? We didn’t do that many with Nathalie, because I moved on to coaching right away. For me, the competitive career was the most interesting, because you were trying your best. When you skate in shows, you do everything for the audience, which is interesting, but you’re not trying to polish your skills, to evolve as a better skater. That’s what I didn’t like that much in shows.

– You were known for some iconic costumes. Which was your favourite or the craziest one? – Circus. Because of changing the costume in the middle of the program. And probably Cats.

– A few weeks ago we found out about the death of Denis Ten. There are different projects being made in his memory in Kazakhstan. Do you know if the international skating community plans on doing something in his memory, too? – I have no idea. For me, he was a friend, a great champion, he was a warm person. I think it’s really sad, and I give all my support to his mom. These are difficult times for her, I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child. And for Kazakhstan, too. They’ve lost one of the iconic figures and one of the most important people in the country. It’s a tragedy. If I have the opportunity to get involved in some kind of a memorial, I will definitely do that. But for me, to show all these emotions on the social media is not a way to pay tribute to him. The best way is to remember him and to try to be more like him, to be honest, always smiling and trying the best. He got a roller coaster in his life. He was on the top and then he got some difficulties in training and results, but he still fought back. And that’s something we need to remember him for.

– Was there anyone you looked up to? – It wasn’t one person. Because nobody’s flawless. More like qualities from a certain person. What I always notice in people, is if they’re smiling. I don’t like sad people, they make me sad. And I like fighters, like Denis.

– We’ve already talked about your costumes on ice, but you’re also known as a very stylish person outside the rink. How big is your collection of accessories? – Oh-h, I have a lot of shoes, like… a lot of shoes. Thirty or forty maybe. I like to dress differently when I can. When you’re French, you need to be haute couture. I also wear Italian costumes and Japanese shoes. Whatever I like, I just wear it. If people don’t like it, I don’t care.

– Do you watch football? – Sometimes, but I did watch the World Cup. I saw the final with Maxim. I told him, if he wanted to come he’d better root for France. I don’t watch football for football, it’s more about the company. And here, in Ukraine, we went to see Shakhtar Donetsk vs Arsenal Kyiv. Good game. Not that many Ukrainians on the teams though.

– And what about tennis? Have you ever been to Roland Garros? – I did once, a long time ago. I’m not so much into watching sports, I like to do sports myself, to play tennis, do outdoor sports like beach volleyball. I always loved skating on the ice, but after that I just wanted to go home and hide. Because of how media broadcasted everything. And if you’re on the court as a tennis player, for example, you have people who are going to cheer for one and root against the other. I don’t like this state of mind. Most of them are trying their best, and you need to cheer for both.

– Is it not like that in figure skating? There are some hardcore fans… – Not that much. But yes, there are always those kinds of fans. I saw those in Russia, in Sochi. When we were at the Worlds in Nice, the audience cheered for us more than for the others, but they were also cheering for everyone else they loved. It’s the same way in Japan. It depends on the people. That’s why I don’t like to be in the crowd all the time so I don’t have to see what people are like.

– What are your passions beside skating and shoes? – I love arts. I love to play videogames with my nephew. I have a dog. My passions are my family, my girlfriend, my people.

– To wrap it up, what are your goals for the near future? – I want Europe to be back strong again in figure skating. And I want to leave legacy as a coach and have someone who’s going to follow me up at my job and improve it so we could build a European style that will be recognized all across the world.

Kateryna Makarevska for Segodnya

Photo: Sergey Revera (Segodnya)

Source: https://www.facebook.com/kateryna.makarevska/posts/1782547921810355

#fabian bourzat #figure skating #nathalie pechalat #aleksandra nazarova #maxim nikitin #igor shpilband #alexandra nazarova #maksim nikitin #ukraine #france #denis ten #jean dujardin

[orangeoctopi7]

Stanswap AU Part 28

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Part 25 Part 26 Part 27

Fanfiction.net

And a couple of comics that inspired some things in this chapter.

Chapter 28: A Day on the Town

In the day or so since the government guys had left, things had settled down into what Dipper supposed would be the new normal, now that Stanley was here. Ford mostly stayed down in the portal lab, only coming up occasionally for food. That had actually become the norm over the past month or so. Stan was just exploring the house, although he seemed antsy. He didn’t seem ready to make himself at home just yet, like he was expecting he’d need to bolt any minute now.

Everyone could sense the tension in the house, even Mabel. Dipper had seen her plotting upstairs, with a flowchart and illustrations and everything. And she called him obsessed with planning; this was going to be even worse than what she’d done with Robbie, he could tell. Unfortunately, the boy thought, this was something not even Mabel could fix.

Speaking of Mabel, she came jumping down the stairs with a smile on her face and a notebook in her hand. On that notebook was a list of tv shows and movies, and at the very top, underlined twice, was Ducktective. She screeched to a halt in front of her brother.

“Hey bro, guess what? I figured out what Grunkle Stan needs!” She handed the notebook to Dipper, “I was just thinking how freaked out I’d be if I came back home after spending 30 years in space or wherever and everything was way different, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on repairing broken family relationships either! So I asked myself, ‘what’s the best way to teach Stan about how the world has changed?’ And at first I was like, ‘The internet!’ but then I remembered that most old people have a hard time with the internet even if they weren’t gone for 30 years, so then I was like ‘TV!’

“So I made a list of all the TV shows that would teach Stan about the present, and I think Ducktective is the best show for the job. The London setting is old-fashioned enough for him to be comfortable with while still using digital-age language and technology. Also, with the themes of family and friendship that run through the whole show, it might subconsciously persuade Stan to make up with Ford! Also also, the season two finale is tonight and they’re marathoning the whole series today so that’ll make it easy to watch and Grenda’s coming over to watch it with us.”

“Uh… ok.” Dipper said simply as his brain processed the word-dump Mabel had just babbled at him. When he actually thought about it, he realized it was a pretty good idea. Stan obviously didn’t want anything to do with Ford right now, but maybe if they took the old conman’s mind off things for a while his emotions would settle down. And watching a show all about unlikely friendships and family couldn’t hurt. “That’s a pretty good idea. Nice job, Mabel!”

They found Stan rummaging around in the kitchen again, which was no surprise, really. Since he’d arrived, he’d spent about 70% of his time in there. A room full of food seemed to be a bit of a novelty for him.

“Hey kids.” Stan greeted them without even taking his head out of the fridge. “Is this peach soda a new fad, or is it some sorta local thing?”

“You mean Pitt Cola?” Dipper asked. “It’s a local thing.”

“Huh. ‘S good.” He guzzled a can of the stuff. The young twins noticed a small pile of empty and crushed cans next to the garbage. “Any other good local foods I should try?”

“Oooh! We should take you to Greasy’s Diner!” Mabel suggested.

Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Ford, which was so surprising that they all actually gasped. It wasn’t meal time; they hadn’t been expecting him to emerge from the lab for another few hours.

“Oh, good, you’re all here.” The old scientist said, a cheerful tone failing to mask his nervous posture, like he was psyching himself up to speak in front of a large crowd.

“Are you having an early lunch?” Dipper asked, confused.

“No, I… I was hoping… I was thinking…” He stammered, “it’s about time we got back to our weekly game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.”

“Does this mean you found a way to keep the rift contained?” Dipper asked hopefully.

Ford flinched. “Well, no, not… not yet. I think I’ve made all the progress I can at the moment though. I… I thought it might be good for me to take a break.”

Mabel gasped again. She’d had to nag her Grunkle about taking a break constantly over the summer, and now he was deciding to take a break on his own!? This made her so happy, she didn’t even care that it got in the way of her earlier plan.

The younger twins seemed ecstatic to hear Ford’s proposal, but Stan still hadn’t pulled his head out of the fridge. He was pretending to ignore his brother, until Ford called on him directly.

“Stan, I… I was hoping we could all play together. You know, as a family.”

Stan was quiet for a long time. For a while it looked like he was going to go right on ignoring Ford, until he finally turned away from the fridge, slowly and deliberately. “You want me to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?”

“Yes.” Ford replied, trying very hard to sound confident.

“That ‘game’ that’s more math and statistics than actual gameplay?” Stan continued dryly.

“Er, yes.” The old scientist confirmed, surprised that Stan knew of it. “Have you played before?” He was pretty sure the game had been invented after Stanley’d left home, and he had a hard time imagining his brother playing it on his own.

“Yeah, I was forced to play by some actual Nerd-Lords in Dimension 26*^.” Stan said bitterly. “And I’d rather eat one of those flap-drassin’ 38-sided dice than play it again.”

“O-oh.” Ford stammered. He was momentarily crestfallen, but pulled himself back together quickly. “Well, we don’t have to play that, I’ve got plenty more games in--”

“Nope.” Stan cut him of.

“Bu-wh… you don’t even know what I was going to suggest!” Ford protested.

“Yeah, but I know I don’t wanna play with you, jitata.” Stan glowered as he stomped out of the room.

Ford glared after his brother for a moment before heaving a frustrated sigh and leaving out the opposite door.

“Dipper, go after him!” Mabel pushed her brother towards the door Ford had left through.

“What?”

“This is the first voluntary break he’s taken in over a month! He needs this!” Mabel pleaded. “You go play DDMD with him or whatever it takes to keep him out of the lab for a while, I’ll take care of Grunkle Stan.”

“Narfin Ford, wantin’ to play his narfin games…” Stan grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want to play with his brother. Nope. Not one bit.

He paced around the living room, trying to think of what he could do to blow off some steam. It was weird. He’d been longing for home all these years, but now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He hadn’t stayed in one place for more than a month in well over forty years. Of course, he reminded himself forcefully, he wasn’t planning on staying in Ford’s house for more than a few weeks anyway. But after that… the idea that he wasn’t going to leave this world was almost completely foreign to him now.

He should be learning more about this world, about what had changed, about what hadn’t… but he didn’t really know where to start. That and the fear that he wouldn’t like what he saw kept him from leaving the house and exploring the town. Or really do much of anything other than mope restlessly from room to room.

“Hey Grunkle Stan!” Mabel popped up from behind the couch, startling him out of his funk. He instinctively swung his staff at her. Luckily he realized who it was just in time.

“Yeesh kid, don't sneak up on me like that!” he barked. “That's a good way to get whacked upside the head!”

“It's ok.” She waved it off like a near concussion was nothing. “Hey, do you wanna watch the Ducktective marathon with me?” She didn't wait for an answer and immediately pulled him onto the couch.

“Uh, what?” Stan asked blankly.

“It's my favorite TV show!” She said, as if that explained everything. “I can tell you've been major-leauge stressed since you got here. You should sit down and relax for a while.” She sat down on his lap to close the deal.

“Look, uh, Muriel…”

“It's Mabel.” She corrected him cheerfully.

“Sure. Mabel.” Stan repeated, trying to remember her name for later. “I haven't really felt safe sittin’ down and relaxin’ in a long time.”

“But you are safe now.” Mabel assured him.

Stan chuckled wryly. “Yeah, but try telling my brain that.”

He sat there for a beat, waiting for her to get up and let him go. She just stared back up at him.

“You're not gonna move, are ya?” He groaned.

“Nope!” She grinned back.

Stan knew he could easily just stand up and send the girl toppling to the floor, but there was a glint of determination in her eye that told him it would be better not to try.

“Alright, so what's this 'Ducktrucker’ show about?”

Stan was surprised how quickly he was taken in by a cartoon about a duck that solves mysteries, but really, weirder things had caught his attention before. He felt like he'd just started when the doorbell rang, and Mabel got up to invite her friend Grenda in. The big guy from the other day, Soos, also joined them for the premiere of the season finale.

The incredible thing was that Stan was actually enjoying this! He was actually loosening up and joining the conversation with these kids, talking about theories of what would happen, favorite characters and how they’d developed over the course of the show, and jokes that had made him laugh sincerely for the first time in years. Maybe Mabel had known what she was doing, getting him to sit down and relax for a bit.

The finale itself was pretty fun, but listening to everyone's reactions afterwards was even better.

“He had a twin brother all along? That's the big reveal we've all been waiting for?” Mabel asked incredulously.

“What a rip-off!” Grenda yelled.

“The fandom came up with that theory over a year ago.” Soos said.

“Eh, I dunno if I buy it.” Stan said. “Speaking as an actual evil twin here, I wouldn't shoot my brother, I'd just go around disguised as him and make trouble. Y'know, just to mess with him.”

Mabel scoffed and punched Stan in the shoulder playfully. “Pfft, you're not an evil twin!”

Stan put on his best evil grin. “You sure about that, sweet-heart?” The others all laughed.

“Still, it was nice to watch the finale without any distractions or games or family getting in the way.” Soos said. “Can you imagine if like, some paranormal thingum showed up right before the show started?”

Everyone laughed again, relieved that, for once, it had just been a normal, adventure-free day.

Ford came up from the lab the next morning, not even attempting to stifle an enormous yawn. He was exhausted. After an admittedly much needed break playing DDMD with Dipper yesterday, he'd spent the whole night working. Now at long last, the portal was dismantled. After all these years, he could finally sleep without the dread of knowing that monstrosity of a machine was waiting below to swallow the world whole.

No, now he just had to worry about the rift. Which was really just as bad, if not worse. After all these years of working on it, the portal was a danger that Ford knew well. The rift was something he knew very little about. Could it be contained permanently, or would he constantly be working to keep the rift out of Bill’s clutches for the rest of his life?

Oh well, another morning had come, and the world had yet to end. He'd better grab some breakfast, or Mabel would be on his case. Ford wondered idly who he’d find in the kitchen this morning. Stanley emptying to fridge, giving him a contemptuous glare before ignoring him entirely? The kids, planning some sort of workaholic intervention?

It was Stan, idly sipping a cup of coffee and wearing a painfully bright red and gold Hawaiian shirt.

“Stanley, where did you get that?!” Ford asked. Surely he didn't get such an outfit beyond the portal.

“Found it.” Stan replied coolly.

“Just because you're hanging around the house all day doesn't mean you can dress like a street light.”

“I'm not hanging around the house, I'm going into town with Mabel. Think I'll tell her I found this in your closet, too.”

“You're going out?!”

“Yeah, can't stay cooped up in this shack all the time.”

“O-of course not… I just… got the impression you didn't feel ready for such a big step yet.”

“And what makes you think you're an expert on what I feel suddenly!?” Stan snapped.

Ford recoiled, like his brother’s words had physically stung him. “Sorry. I’m actually happy to hear you’re going to get a bit of fresh air, meet some new people.

“What do you care?” Stan grunted sullenly.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe I actually care about you!?” Ford asked in exasperation.

“Aw, gee, could it be the fact that you left me stranded for thirty krutacking years!?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have exactly been saving you if I brought you home just in time for the end of the world!”

“Or maybe it’s the fact that as soon as I got back you recreated one of the worst days of my life and told me to take the kids and go!”

Stanford felt his temper flare. “I will do whatever it takes to protect this family! That may not always match up with what you want, Stanley! Don’t go guilting me for trying to protect you and the kids!”

Stan didn’t seem to have a retort for that. He just left in a huff. Ford found some grim satisfaction in getting the last word, but it was a very hollow victory. The old researcher spent all day cooped up in his lab, wishing he could talk to his brother, and then the moment Ford actually worked up the courage to talk to Stan, it quickly devolved into a shouting match.

“What is wrong with me?” He sighed forlornly, and smacked his head against the kitchen table.

Stan had wanted to leave rather quickly that morning, but Mabel wasn’t bothered. She liked to get an early start on the day. They began their walk into town talking about Stan’s bold fashion choices. Apparently he’d rummaged through Ford’s old clothes and found the brightest, loudest, most over-the-top apparel he could. Mabel assured her Grunkle that it was very chic and fashion-forward. The conversation drifted to Mabel’s love of sweaters and where she got her design ideas from. The young girl found that Stan was a very good listener, always chiming in at the right moment with his own joke or opinion. Their humor and personalities meshed together well.

Once they got into town, Mabel started the grand tour of Gravity Falls, Oregon, hitting all the places where she and Dipper had adventures over the summer.

“Here’s the arcade! Dipper brought one of the games to life with a magic cheat-code!” Mabel said as they entered the darkened building.

“Uh Mabel, I’m pretty sure we had these when I left.” Stans squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

“Yeah, but that was back in the 80’s, when arcades were struggling to maintain relevance in the face of the increasing popularity of home consoles. These days arcades have found a niche market that brings together both oldschool nerdcore gamers and casual nostalgic gamers, both classic standing cabinets and cutting-edge AR.” A voice said to their right.

“Soos!” Mabel exclaimed when she turned and saw her friend holding a plastic toy guitar.

“‘Sup dudes.” Soos greeted them. “I’m here playing Power Chords of Death, how ‘bout you?”

“I’m showing Grunkle Stan around Gravity Falls, so he can see what it’s like living in 2012!” Mabel told him.

“Sweet! You wanna play a modern-day videogame?” Soos asked Stan.

Stan gave him a surprised look. “Really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well I’ve only got one arm, for starters.” Stan said dryly.

“No problem, dude.” Soos assured him. “We got a left-handed controller over here. All you really have to do with your other hand is hit the strummer in time with the beat, so if I just…” He got down on his hands and knees and started messing with the wiring, “...switch this bit from that doohickey… and move this here… oop, almost electrocuted myself! ...There!” he stood back up. “I rigged it so now you can use the foot-pedal from the drum instead of the strummer!”

Stan hadn’t actually been interested in playing (he’d never really cared for video games that weren’t gambling-related) but now that the guy had gone through all this trouble, he felt obligated to play. He was pleasantly surprised anyone would go to such lengths just to include him. He didn't want to seem ungrateful.

“Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

“Oooh, Grunkle Stan, you should play Danger-Lane to Highway Town!” Mabel suggested. “It’s the only song on this game I know all the words to!”

“What? I’ve never even heard of that song!”

“That’s cuz it’s from a movie that came out in ‘86. It’s ok if you don’t know the song, you just have to hit the same colored button as the one on the screen when it reaches the picture of the guitar at the bottom.” Soos explained. “This is a co-op game, so I’ll be playing the notes on the right side of the screen. This game has a thing where if your partner chokes, you can save them.”

“Uh… good?” Choke? What was he talking about? What was there to choke on?

The music started up, and Stan saw the colored buttons start scrolling down the screen. He pressed the corresponding button on the neck of the guitar as it reached the bottom, but nothing seemed to happen.

“You gotta tap your foot in time with the music!” Soos reminded him.

Stan started tapping the pedal Soos had rigged up for him, then looked back at the screen and watched the colored buttons scroll by again. This time, as he pressed the buttons, the toy guitar he was holding started to play music! The same music that was coming out of Soos’s guitar and the game console! Well, almost the same. Stan’s sounded a little distorted, and cut out whenever he missed a button. But he got better as the song went on. All those years of honing his hand-eye coordination with that paddle-ball were finally paying off! Mabel joined in singing once they reached the lyrics.

As they played, arcade-goers began to gather around and watch. It started with just a few, but news that an old, one-armed guy with a scraggly beard and crazy clothes was playing Power Chords of Death spread quickly.

“Whoa, he’s actually not terrible!”

“Look at him go!”

“His adequacy is amazing!”

“I am impressed because he is both old and disabled. But mostly because he’s old.”

“Soos, did you rewire one of my games again!?”

“This is gonna get so many views online.”

They had quite the crowd going by the time the manager threw them out.

They continued on with their tour to the library and the museum and the pool and the local newspaper. In each place Mabel told a story, sometimes assisted by Soos. Stories like putting together an epic sock-puppet show that was crashed by Bill, or the 8 ½ president lost to time, or her first kiss with a merman, or meeting a creepy reporter. In each place Mabel went out of her way to introduce Stan to everyone. And while she was doing this, Stan noticed a few things.

Everyone knew Mabel. A lot of people knew Soos, but they had yet to come across a single person who didn’t know Mabel. And she greeted each and every person like they were an old friend, even if as they walked away Mabel occasionally said something like “That’s Toby Determined. He’s messed up.” or “That’s Bud Gleeful! His son tried to kill us!”

“You kids come here every summer?” Stan asked.

“Nope! This summer is our first time coming here to Gravity Falls!” Mabel replied.

It was incredible how quickly Mabel had endeared herself (or at least introduced herself) to the whole town. Sure, Gravity Falls wasn’t exactly an overpopulated urban center, but it wasn’t the sticks either. They had a mall and a mini golf place, which didn’t really scream rural. The way she seemed to know everyone was an impressive feat.

The other thing Stan noticed was really driven home when they reached the police station.

“This is where me and Dipper broke Grunkle Ford out of jail from the government guys! You remember them! That was the day you got here!” Mabel pointed to the jail excitedly.

“Oh yeah, that was the day I had to throw down those agent dudes!” Soos remembered.

“Wait wait wait, lemme get this straight. You an’ your brother busted Ford outta there while it was crawlin’ with feds single-handed?” Stan asked incredulously.

“Well, we did get some help from Tyler and all the other guys at the bar to keep them from following us while we escaped,” the girl clarified, “But other than that, yeah!”

The look on Stan’s face was not just one of shock, but of a growing dread. This was lost on Mabel.

“One more stop to go!” She led them to Greasy's Diner. That lifted Stan’s spirits immediately. Mabel pointed out some local delicacies on the menu: Lumberflapjacks, beavertail steaks, roadkill ravioli, and of course, the waitress’ special: coffee omelette. Stan ordered the special out of morbid curiosity.

“Hmmm…” He chewed the rubbery omelette thoughtfully, “s’not terrible, once you get past the burnt coffee taste. Woulda killed for one of these when I was lost in the Hailfire Peaks on Raretania 2.”

“If you like it, you should go tell Lazy Susan yourself!” Mabel suggested. “Maybe if you two start talking you’ll get to know each other better! You could even ask her for her number!”

“What, the classy lady over by the cabinet? She seems way out of my league…” Stan trailed off, “Waaaaait a sec, you didn’t bring me here just to try and set me up with some stranger, did you?”

“What? No.” Mabel denied, “I just knew since you like weird local food so much you’d love the diner. And when I saw Susan I remembered she had a crush on Grunkle Ford earlier this summer, but he didn’t reciprocate. So I thought, since you guys look just alike, she might like you too.”

Stan nearly choked on what was left of his omelette.

“Are you ok?” Mabel asked in alarm, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything! I should have just left it alone! Dipper’s right, I do get too involved in other people’s romance!”

Stan thumped his chest with his remaining hand a couple of times and finally swallowed the food down the right tube. “Ha-hack, s’fine, just… just the first time I’ve ever heard of somebody havin’ a crush on Ford. Caught me off-guard.”

Mabel sighed with relief. “Good. So you’ll go talk to her?”

“Nope.” Stan grunted.

“Aw, come on Grunkle Stan!” the girl complained. “I’ve introduced you to half the town, and so far the only person you’ve hit it off with is Soos!”

“Don’t take it personally kid, I don’t plan on gettin’ emotionally attached to anyone in this town. ‘Cept you kids, course.”  The old con man said.

“Grunkle Stan, maybe if you just give some of these people a chance, you’d want to stay here in Gravity Falls.”

“Mabel, this whole town is quelfed!” Stan exclaimed.

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked in confusion.

Her uncle sighed wearily, and took it from the top. “My brother may not think so, but I do realize what a big risk it was to open the portal and bring me back. I know what kind of consequences we’re dealin�� with here. I know Ford’s workin’ on sealin’ that rift, but Bill’s comin’. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. And when he does… well, I’m not so worried about you an’ your brother, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you two are survivors. You’ll find a way to make it together.

“But these townspeople? They barely know up from down! They don’t realize they got monsters running around in the woods, they line up around the block just to get a look at a party thrown by shazbots who won’t even let them in when a ghost is threatenin’ them, and they couldn’t keep my stupid brother locked up for more than a few hours! I thought my only hope was gonna be to fight Bill when I got the chance, but now… now it looks like we’re gonna have to settle for survive.”

“We can still fight Bill!” Mabel insisted. “We’ve beat him before!”

“Yeah, but he keeps on comin’ back. I’ve been lookin’ for a way to beat Bill for good the last twelve years.” Stan paused a moment, debating whether or not he should tell this story.  “You remember that story I told you ‘bout the time I invited Bill an’ my brother into my dream at the same time, and I found out Ford’s portal was operational, but he wasn’t gonna open it? Well, after that, things got weird. Well, weirder. I’d let Bill into my mind, and he wasn’t about to let me forget it. He couldn’t take control of me like a lot of other idiots who’d made a deal with him, but he was in my head day and night, messin’ with me, makin’ me see things. I was already in bad shape, I couldn’t take care of my stump properly by myself, I was still on the run from the royals I’d stolen the star rubies from, and Bill messin’ with my head on top of that wasn’t makin’ things any easier. I would’ve been a goner if it hadn’t been for her.”

“Her?” Mabel asked.

“Some giant space chick called Jheselbraum.” While Stan’s words weren’t exactly reverent, his voice certainly was. His tone softened considerably, and he lowered his gaze as if momentarily lost in a memory. “She’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, if not the nicest person in the multiverse. She swooped in an’ took me to her super-secret lair in the mountains, fixed me up, set me straight about Bill and what the jerk wanted with me an’ my brother, never expectin’ a single thing in return. She even gave me a way to keep Bill outta my head, even if it meant I wouldn’t be able to talk with Ford in my dreams anymore. Honestly, that seemed more like an extra perk at the time.” He leaned over the table towards Mabel and parted the hair at the back of his head, revealing an irregular patch of white. “Put a frellin’ metal plate in my head. See where the hair’s gone weird? That’s from the scar. I started growin’ my hair out to cover it up.

“Anyway, where was I… oh yeah. Once Jheselbraum explained what Bill’s deal was to me, I figured out he was the reason my brother wouldn’t open the portal. It was pretty obvious I’d have to get rid of that monster if I wanted to get home. No Bill, no reason Ford shouldn’t open the portal. So Jheselbraum set me up with a robo-arm, gave me a few pointers on Bill, and sent me on my way.

“Right before I left, she told me I’d see my family again. It took so long, I started wonderin’ if she was messin’ with me the whole time, but… here I am. Never should’ve doubted her.”

“So wait, if you spent all that time looking for a way to beat Bill, you must’ve found some stuff that can help us, right?” Mabel asked hopefully.

The old con man sighed. “It’s hard to learn anything about someone like Bill. Anyone who ever did know anything about him is either on his side, driven insane, or dead. For all those years of searchin’, it seemed like all I ever found was dead ends… until…” He looked around surreptitiously. “Hey, is that cute waitress watchin’ us?”

“No.”

“Anybody else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’ll have to do. There a bathroom in this place?”

“Yeah, follow me!” Mabel led her uncle to the restroom. He gave another fruitive glance to make sure no one and nothing was watching, grabbed Mabel by the wrist, and darted through the door.

“Hey! This is the boy’s bathroom! I can’t be in here!” Mabel protested.

“Hey, keep it down!” Stan shushed her as he carefully inspected the bathroom graffiti. He found one that was vaguely triangle-shaped and slapped a square of wet toilet paper over it.

“And I thought Grunkle Ford was paranoid…” Mabel muttered under her breath.

“Ok.” The old man nodded, satisfied that there was no way they were being watched. He twisted the round end of his staff, revealing a hidden compartment. “Feast your eyes on this!”

The end of the staff glowed blue, until Mabel looked directly at it. Then, there was just a plain old chunk of rock. “Uh, this is just a pebble.”

“Not exactly. It’s like some sorta quantum thingy. Like Schrodinger’s Cat or whatever.” Stan explained. Mabel looked at him blankly.

“Uh, when you look at it, it’s normal. When you look away, it’s radioactive and junk..” He tried again.

“Oooooookaaaaaay.” Mabel said slowly. That made slightly more sense.

“So not too long ago, maybe second-to-last dimension I was in before I got back here, I ran into a parallel universe version of Ford, where he somehow managed to fix the portal so it wouldn’t work for Bill with some help from his friend/assistant guy. But Bill still had control of Ford. It was my brother’s dream come true, but he couldn’t even be on the same floor as the portal without that jerk monster taking hold of him. Obviously, they were pretty invested in gettin’ rid of Bill too. So assistant guy and I use the good portal to go lookin’ for some theoretical elements or whatever that could ‘disrupt Bill’s extradimenstional form’ or somethin’ like that. Honestly, a lot of what they were sayin’ went over my head. What I got out of it was we were gonna make a gun to blow up Bill.

“Anyway, me an’ the assistant guy went to some super-bizarro-paradox world where we found this.” He gestured with his stump to the plain looking rock sitting in the hidden compartment of his staff. “We were in the middle of arguing over what to call it when his parallel/bizarro version showed up an’ he had to split. The jerk left me behind! Luckily I already had my own resources for dimension-hopping by then, but still! I’d wanted to talk to them about what they’d done to fix the portal and pass it on to my Ford somehow, but I never got the chance. So I had a piece of quantum junk that might be the key to beatin’ Bill, and no idea what to do with it.

“But in the end, none of it mattered. I showed up here maybe a week later. Turns out I didn’t have to fight Bill to get home. I’ll just have to fight him if I want it to stay home. And so far, I’m not likin’ the looks of my allies.” He said gravely as he closed the compartment in his staff.

“Hmm…” Mabel was deep in thought. “This assistant guy… did he have a really big nose, talk like a crazy robot-obsessed Colonel Sanders, and play the banjo?”

“Uh, yes to the first two, not sure about the last one.”

“That must have been parallel McGucket! Maybe he and Grunkle Ford can figure out what their parallel versions were gonna do with it!” Mabel suggested.

Stan grumbled. “I was afraid you were gonna say somethin’ like that.”

Mabel took his hand gently. “Grunkle Stan, I know you’re really mad at your brother right now, but you both wanna stop Bill and protect your family, right?”

“...Yeah.” Stan huffed.

“And the best way to do that is to work together, right?”

“Alright, I get it! That doesn’t mean I gotta like it. Now come on, let’s get outta here.” He climbed on top of the toilet and opened the window.

“Why are you trying to climb out the window?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t have any money to pay for lunch, do you?”

It was nice and cool in the shade of the forest as they walked home that afternoon.

“Thanks for today, kiddo. I feel a lot better gettin’ that all off my chest.” Stan thanked the young girl skipping beside him. “Sorry to dump all that on you, though.”

“Pch, that’s what family’s for, dum-dum!” Mabel pushed him playfully.

“Eh…” the old man shrugged. “Oh, hey, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat any of that to Ford or your brother. It’s kinda… personal.”

Mabel made an exaggerated face of thinking it over. “Ok, but only if you promise you’ll tell them yourself!”

“Yeah, sure, I promise. Whatever.”

Stanley had to be going soft. He actually felt bad for lying to her like that.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanswap AU #Reverse Portal AU #Stanley Pines #Mabel Pines #My Writing

[itsfinancethings]

It started with a tweet. Philomena Wankenge, 22, wanted to organize a protest following George Floyd’s death. “Let’s make some noise,” she wrote on May 28, with a solidarity-fist emoji. She started a group chat, and those who were active on it became the board of directors for Freedom Fighters DC, a group that is less than two weeks old but has helped mobilize thousands of new voices into a renewed push for racial justice in the nation’s capital.

With a megaphone tucked under her arm and a Black Lives Matter fist buzzed onto the back of her head, Wankenge was among the organizers who led thousands of people in Washington to march against police brutality on June 6. They gathered on Capitol Hill and streamed past the National Museum of African American History and Culture, where they took a knee, then past President Donald Trump’s backyard. She was followed by thousands of chanting protesters chanting “No Justice, No Peace, Defund the Police” and “F-ck Trump,” while listening to songs like Childish Gambino’s “This is America.” Most wore face masks despite the heat.

“The level of aggression that the police invokes on people is inappropriate regardless of the race,” says Wakenenge. “But it’s just that it’s easier for them to bully black people and no one really says anything.”

More people are speaking out now. Floyd’s death has prompted an uprising against systemic injustice on a massive scale. From New York to Los Angeles, demonstrators continue to fill the streets to protest against racial injustice. In Washington, a long stream of thousands of people carried signs reminding the world — again — that black lives matter.

To many it felt like a watershed moment. The coalition of supporters is broadening, protesters say, and the coronavirus pandemic has made it harder to ignore systemic inequality in America.

“This changes everything because the whole world is involved and watching,” says Carmen Jordan, 39, a D.C. resident standing in the protest area near the White House. Around her was a summer festival atmosphere, with people handing out free T-shirts and food and drinks, blowing bubbles, and holding signs. Though in recent days the area surrounding the White House has become a flashpoint between law enforcement and protesters, on Saturday it was jovial.

The demonstrators’ demands go beyond justice for Floyd to ending racially discriminatory policing practices and dismantling systemic racism. In Washington, protesters called for reducing the police budget, blocking the addition of a new jail, banning stop and frisk tactics and investing in communities.

“I don’t think that police need to be operating on such a large budget. I don’t think they need to have militarized weapons,” says Taylor Jenkins, 29, holding a sign calling for defunding the police with military vehicles parked a couple of blocks away. Jenkins expressed optimism that defunding the police was achievable, noting that several major cities are already looking at slashing police department budgets.

Activists say the national outcry that’s come since Floyd’s death is finally making more white Americans see the ongoing racial inequities around them. “We’ve gotten a reaction I’ve never seen before,” says Alex Hagans, 30, of Mitchellville, Md. “We’re not alone anymore.”

Hagans, who works in tech and is studying business at University of Maryland, remembers going into the office after Eric Garner died following a police chokehold in July 2014 and feeling like he was the only one around him struggling with the news. “While you’re sitting there in the office and that’s all you think about, everyone else is having a regular day like nothing happened. A lot of times it’s kids that this is happening to, that are dying, and you just feel it when you think that could have been you,” says Hagans. “Corporations are now speaking out internally and externally. It’s a big deal.”

Many protesters also see signs that the coalition around Black Lives Matter is broadening. Protesters point to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell admitting the NFL was wrong in how it handled players’ peaceful protests. Polls bear out the idea that the cause has broadened: in a Monmouth survey released this week, 76% of Americans said racial and ethnic discrimination is a problem in the U.S., up from 51% in January of 2015.

Some who came out to protest on Saturday were guarded against expecting too much. They’ve been here before. Racial inequality was one of the biggest stories in America before Donald Trump’s election, sparking sustained protests but limited change.

“My hope is it’s not going to be a flash in the pan moment. We had so many black men – unarmed black men – killed unjustly,” says Chad Jackson, 49, a train conductor from Severn, Md., standing on a street in front of the White House that was painted with the words “Black Lives Matter” on the orders of Washington Mayor Muriel Bowser. Jackson served in the Army, as a cavalry scout and a drill sergeant, and he held a large yellow poster board that read: “When will this be the Land of the Free for me?”

Protesters are demanding more than symbolic gestures. Activists criticized Bowser’s “Black Lives Matter” mural and “Black Lives Matter Plaza” street sign, noting that her proposed budget doesn’t address their concerns and had cuts to community-focused initiatives but increases for the police department. Later in the day, protesters reportedly added the demand “Defund the Police” in yellow paint by the street mural. Organizers rebuked those who cheered at a recent protest when police took a knee, reminding them that Floyd had died because a police officer had knelt on his neck. “Why the f-ck would we cheer for police kneeling?” one protester asked the crowd.

But often, the mood was joyous, a marked change from recent days. As thousands of protestors marched up 17th Street NW, past the same gates that National Guard trucks had driven through on Monday before officers violently cleared protestors, the drivers of orange city trucks parked along the road blared their horns in support. Cheers went up. It may have been loud enough for President Trump to hear inside the White House on the other side of the gates.

#IFTTT #Blogger

[alltheshitiate]

My New Orleans Dining Guide

Updated as of: 4/5/17

Caveat: This is far from a complete list of the best restaurants in New Orleans. This is nowhere close to the complete list of New Orleans restaurants I’ve visited. However, this is my list of the New Orleans restaurants I’ve enjoyed the most, with the exception of a couple of places locals don’t want to be discussed publicly. (You’ll have to get those names out of me at knifepoint.) There are several notable places I’ve visited that for one reason or another, I didn’t completely love at the time (Bayona, K-Paul’s, G.W. Finn’s, Muriel’s, Antoine’s, Elizabeth’s, etc.), and it’s important to recognize the broad array of opinions when it comes to dining in New Orleans. Your opinion can easily be swayed by ordering the wrong dish, the amount of rest you’ve had before dining, a server/host rubbing you the wrong way, an annoying dining companion, a broken air conditioner (it’s happened to me), etc. Additionally, it’s important to realize your food is being cooked and served by human beings, and human beings occasionally make mistakes, especially when they’re tired. While New Orleans restaurants tend to be very professional establishments with high standards for cooking and service, even the most elite places can occasionally buckle under the intense pressure of serving a seemingly endless stream of customers during a major event like Jazz Fest. I make no guarantees or bold claims here, aside from the fact that I’ve had at least one very enjoyable meal at each of these restaurants. Your mileage may vary.

Note: Listed neighborhoods may not be perfect, depending on who you talk to, but they are in the general vicinity.

 *UPSCALE*

If you can, make a lunch reservation at Commander's Palace. It's an unbelievable experience at an absurdly low price at lunch. (You will pay through the nose at dinner.) The menu is constantly changing, but there are lots of prix-fixe lunchtime options, and martinis are only 25 cents! (It’s a three martini max per person.) I love Commander’s because the food is amazing, the service is excellent, but despite its surroundings, the vibe is really fun. Ask to be seated in the garden room with décor that is dated but glorious.  It’s loud and boisterous.  Men need to wear a jacket, although I believe this policy is slightly relaxed at lunch. Regardless, just suck it up and wear a jacket, bro.  This is my favorite restaurant in the world. http://www.commanderspalace.com/ (GARDEN DISTRICT)

Commander's Palace and August are often considered the top two restaurants in New Orleans.  August is great in a very different way.  It's quite refined, a true "white tablecloth" establishment.  While Commander's is also a white tablecloth place, they have a truly festive vibe that is a real 180 from the quiet and reserved August.  August does a nice, seasonal $26.00 three-course lunch on Fridays, but reservations can be tough to come by.  http://www.restaurantaugust.com/ (WAREHOUSE DISTRICT)

Peche - If you like seafood, go here. On paper, the menu doesn't look all that impressive, but if you love fresh seafood, it'll blow you away. After a couple of years, this is still one of the more popular restaurants in the city and a James Beard Award winner. You can have either lunch or dinner here, and some of the dishes (especially the whole grilled fish with salsa verde) are served family style.  Regardless, the smaller plates are quite good for a smaller party.  Definitely listen to the waiter's suggestions.  When I was there, he recommended some raw Alabama oysters that were shockingly phenomenal. Note that this restaurant has ridden a wave of hype, which has naturally provoked many haters, particularly bitter locals. Such is life. I still love it.    http://www.pecherestaurant.com/ (WAREHOUSE DISTRICT)

Toups’ Meatery - Very creative cooking here with lots of interesting dishes for the true carnivore. If you want things like house-made sausage, cracklins, or charcuterie, this is your place, but there are plenty of other good options on the menu, as well as solid cocktails. Ask for the off-menu beet martini. The chef/owner was on Top Chef, which is apparently very important to tourists. http://toupsmeatery.com/  (MID CITY)

Emeril's - It's somewhat cliché to recommend a place with a celebrity chef who is rarely in the house.  However, when I went here a couple of years ago, Emeril's was outstanding.  While I used to really love Emeril's Delmonico, and I had a great meal at his Nola last May, I think his original restaurant is still the best of his lot.  I love the stellar andouille-crusted drum.  They're also known for their unique preparation of Barbecue Shrimp. http://emerilsrestaurants.com/emerils-new-orleans (WAREHOUSE DISTRICT)

Upperline - This is one of my favorites. It's a little bit of a 1980s relic, but it still packs a serious punch. Upperline invented things like fried green tomatoes with shrimp remoulade, and they excel in Creole classics. They also offer a lot of sampler platters, and they're very flexible on substitutions. The vegetarian greens will have you swearing they used bacon, and the duck (with both sauces) is the best duck I've ever had. When I write this email for people, I usually tell them to order the duck five or six times, but I will spare you the lecture. Order the duck. This owner/hostess is a quirky woman whose whims often dictate the course of the menu with interesting specials. Every square inch of the place is adorned in art, which is both tacky and spectacular, or spectackyular. It's a unique place for a great meal. P.S. Order the duck. http://www.upperline.com/  (UPTOWN)

Brigtsen's - After having people recommend it for years, I finally took the plunge and visited. Amazing. Vibe is the key here. I've never experienced a meal quite like this. It looks and feels like you're eating a gourmet meal in someone's house. The hostess is the chef's wife, and she and the waitstaff just make you feel so damn comfortable. Eating in New Orleans is all about the experience and vibe, and you will find none better than Brigtsen's. This is not the place to go for a quick bite. This is a restaurant for kicking back to relax and enjoy a meal with friends. Don't get me wrong-- the food is also phenomenal. The duck is amazing, and the seafood platter is awesome and huge.  You'll need to take a 45 minute streetcar ride or a 15-20 minute cab ride to get there from the Quarter. If you're going to see music on Oak Street at either the wine bar or The Maple Leaf, you won't be too far away.  https://www.brigtsens.com/  (RIVERBEND)

Carrolton Market - Looking for an under-the-radar gem in the Riverbend? Look no further. Located around the corner from Brigtsen's, when I visited this bistro a couple of weeks ago, every dish was a winner, yet it was oddly empty inside.  Recommended items: Oysters Goodenough, Crispy Pork Belly "Banh Mi," and Roasted Duck Breast. If you want to drool, look at the photos on the site.  http://carrolltonmarket.com/  (RIVERBEND)

Palace Café - This seafood-centric restaurant on Canal Street is enormous and offers breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s not quite as pricey as its brethren, but the atmosphere is noisy. The crabmeat cheesecake is amazing. http://www.palacecafe.com/  (FRENCH QUARTER)

  *MID-PRICE*

MoPho - Kick-ass Asian-meets-New Orleans cuisine! I love this place, and I’m dying to return.  I can’t even tell you what to order. Everything I’ve tried has been so damn good.      http://mophonola.com/  (MID CITY)

Lüke - John Besh's ode to Alsatian cuisine. They offer these "express meals" that are a tremendous bargain for lunch. You can find some great German/French dishes here like cassoulet and flammenkuchen, as well as Louisiana classics like Cochon de Lait or Shrimp Etouffee. They also serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner. http://www.lukeneworleans.com/ (CBD)

Cochon Butcher - Everyone raves about its big brother restaurant, the adjacent Cochon.  However, I think Cochon is hit-or-miss, while Cochon Butcher is hit after hit after hit.  This is just a great, unorthodox sandwich shop, butcher shop, and bar.  I highly recommend the bacon pralines.  (Buy them as souvenirs for anyone whom you want to love you forever.) Pretty much anything with pork is a solid bet here.  Le Pig Mac is a play on the Big Mac, but it's made with pork, and it's friggin’ delicious. I also love the Buckboard Bacon Melt, Muffaletta, Marinated Brussels Sprouts, Duck Pastrami Sliders, Hot Boudin...Hell, I’d eat anything on the menu. I’d also probably eat the actual menu.  http://www.cochonbutcher.com/new-orleans (WAREHOUSE DISTRICT)

Jacques-Imo's - It’s a perfect place to eat if you're hitting a show at the Maple Leaf next door. The food is boisterous and over-the-top (Alligator cheesecake, anyone?), but it's really tasty. The vibe is like a raucous, chaotic party.  This is not a fine dining experience, although it's more like what would happen if a really good chef got drunk and decided to throw a big bash.  You'll need to take a 45 minute streetcar ride or a 15-20 minute cab ride to get there from the The Quarter. (Addendum: This restaurant is woefully inconsistent. Sometimes, the food is excellent, and other times, it's under-seasoned and not noteworthy. The service is generally terrible, which seems to be a perverse point of pride. Even though I have friends who've really enjoyed their recent meals here, my last one was not good, so I'm going to wait a while before returning.)  http://jacques-imos.com/  (RIVERBEND)

Three Muses - a small tapas and cocktail bar on Frenchmen with free live music. You can catch some great solos, duets, and trios here from really talented musicians. The small plates are very tasty, and the cocktails are quite good. This place is usually packed with little flexibility, so try to get your reservation in advance, especially if you hope to visit during Jazz Fest.  http://www.3musesnola.com/ (MARIGNY)

Boucherie - Prices have gone up since it first opened, but it’s still very affordable, and the food is excellent. This is the story of a guy who served killer food from a truck outside Tipitina’s and did so well that he was able to open his own restaurant. Take my advice and be sure to order Grit Fries, Thai Chili Chocolate Chess Pie, and Krispy Kreme Bread Pudding. http://boucherie-nola.com (RIVERBEND)

Atchafalaya - I’ve only been here for brunch, but it was an outstanding brunch. This may be the only restaurant I know of that serves brunch Thursday through Monday. They’re open for dinner 7 days a week, as well, serving “slightly elevated Southern cuisine.” The make your own Bloody Mary Bar is a thing of beauty. http://www.atchafalayarestaurant.com (IRISH CHANNEL)

This is a nice afternoon small plate doubleheader on Poydras and Canal:

Drago's - They have a big seafood menu, but everyone gets one thing: charbroiled oysters. Broiled with garlic, parmesan, lemon, and butter, this super rich dish is often considered the best bite in New Orleans. Just split a dozen with someone (or order a half-dozen by yourself) and avoid everything else because you'll follow this up with a ten-minute walk into the Quarter to...       http://www.dragosrestaurant.com/

Red Fish Grill - There are two things you must order here: Buffalo-BBQ fried oysters with blue cheese and double chocolate bread pudding.  There are other good items on the menu, but those two are a must. You won't need a reservation at either place and can usually walk in any time.  http://www.redfishgrill.com/

 *CHEAPER/DIVES*

Coop's - It’s a classic dive with notable fried chicken, but you need to know that they serve the best Jambalaya you'll ever try. I ate here on my first trip, and I try to return every time I'm in town. Must order dishes: Jambalaya Supreme, Lamb Ribs, Green Beans with Bacon sauce. (Yes, you read that correctly.) Smoked Duck Quesadillas and Shrimp Creole are also good, but you must order the previous three dishes at a minimum. I will share dishes here, but I will not share my jambalaya.  It's that good. This is a true dive. It is not what you or I would call “clean.” This place can be a haven for unsavory characters of both the two-legged and four-legged variety. (True story: I once ate here and saw the amazing Boobzilla lift a chair by only using her breasts, as the entire bar was treated to tequila shots for her birthday. It’s that kind of place. Leave your kids and nuns at home.) However, everyone I’ve brought here has been blown away by the food. Also, if you like the way your face looks, adhere to the “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign, or they will tear your face off. If you don’t like the way your face looks, have fun. http://www.coopsplace.net/ (FRENCH QUARTER)

Café DuMonde - If this is your first visit to New Orleans, you’ll want to go to this famous 24 hour place that pretty much only serves beignets, orange juice, and coffee. The beignets are pillows of fried dough that are buried under a mountain of powdered sugar. Everyone has eaten here while drunk at least once. Cafe Beignet in City Park does a better job of everything Cafe DuMonde does, but Cafe DuMonde has the ideal location.    http://www.cafedumonde.com/  (FRENCH QUARTER)

Buffa’s - a very old restaurant on Esplanade, very close to Frenchmen Street. The front bar is open 24 hours, and the restaurant in the back is usually open late.  If they have the potato chip-crusted gulf fish on special, get it. It’s damn good. They also have no-cover live music in the back, and I highly suggest you go here to see Tom McDermott and Aurora Nealand on Thursdays from 8-11. http://www.buffasrestaurant.com (MARIGNY)

Bacchanal - On a nice night, this popular outdoor Bywater winebar cannot be beat. However, expect it to be crowded and loud, as the secret is out. The wines are funky, interesting, and fairly cheap. The food is pretty good and the last time I was there, the prices were a steal. I had a steak with fries and whipped feta for something like $14. Helen Gillet plays here on Monday nights, and I love her solo cello work that can be jazzy, beautiful, or trippy. Unfortunately, it’s usually tough to hear he unless you’re up close. Plan on sharing a table with strangers. http://www.bacchanalwine.com  (BYWATER)

Mahoney's - a new school po' boy joint on Magazine, not far from the Garden District. The menu is big and delicious, but po' boys are the focus. They've got the full roster of traditional po' boys, served in full (massive) and half (still friggin' big) sizes, as well as lots of modern creations and good cocktails. The award-winning Abita-braised short rib po' boy with onion straws, garlic mayo, arugala, and tomato is insanely rich. With every bite, I felt myself contracting gout. I can't wait to eat it again.   http://mahonyspoboys.com/ (IRISH CHANNEL)

Domilese's - an OLD school po' boy joint Uptown. You'll need to get here by car.  The sandwiches are huge and tasty. The beer selection is terrible, but it's cold. They close by 6:30PM M-F, 7:00PM on Saturday. Make sure they’re open before you make the trek. Don’t blame me if they’re closed.   http://www.domilisespoboys.com/ (UPTOWN)

Killer Po' Boys - a new school po' boy joint in the Quarter. The sandwiches are small and delicious with high-end ingredients. They have two locations, but the original is in the back of the tiny Erin Rose Pub. http://www.killerpoboys.com/ (FRENCH QUARTER)

Tracey’s - It’s a pretty good sports bar, but the one thing to get here is the roast beef po’ boy, which is the best I’ve had in New Orleans. Don’t expect the red carpet treatment or great service. You’re in a New Orleans sports bar. It’s not Commander’s Palace. Remember that before you write your angry Yelp review. http://www.traceysnola.com/  (IRISH CHANNEL)

Crabby Jack’s - This is Jacques-Imo’s sister po’ boy-centric downscale restaurant. I’m of the opinion that po’ boys are the way to go here, and they’ve got some gems, served in massive sizes. I’m usually torn between the Slow Roasted Duck Po’ Boy, the Cochon de Lait  Po’ Boy (the meat is tastier than what’s served on the Fairgrounds, although it doesn’t have the same delicious mustard sauce), or the Fried Green Tomato and Shrimp Remoulade Po’ Boy. The Gumbo is solid. Note that they’re only open for lunch and closed on Sundays. Also, they’re just at the edge of the city limits. For me, this is usually a stop on the way in from the airport. http://crabbyjacksnola.com/

Liuzza’s - You’ll recognize the one that’s across the street from Jazz Fest because of the mob scene around it. However, if you can get through the line, they make good Bloody Marys, and their BBQ shrimp po’ boy is very unique. If you really like black pepper, you’ll like it. The Mid City location has a better menu and more ambiance, along with ice-cold shitty beer. http://liuzzasnola.com/  (GENTILLY and MID CITY)

Dat Dog - Hit it on Frenchmen, Magazine, or Freret Uptown if you need a quick something before or between shows. Their sausages are solid, and choosing the chef's preparation is a wise move. I’m a fan of the fries smothered in crawfish etouffee. http://www.datdog.com/ (VARIOUS LOCATIONS)

The Store - I go here for one thing, the Fried Shrimp & Greens Po’ Boy, which is a fantastic sandwich. They’re only open for breakfast and lunch, closing at 2:30pm. Don’t go on the late side or you’ll risk them being sold out of collard greens. You do not want the sandwich without the greens. BTW, the greens are made with pork, as the Lord intended. http://thestoreneworleans.com (CBD)

Verti Marte - Are you drunk? Is it late at night and you want something to eat near the Esplanade side of the Quarter? This bizarre 24-hour deli is your place. Don’t expect the finest clientele at this time of night. Don’t expect gourmet food.  Don’t expect anything involving logic. Certainly do not expect fast service. However, you can get a giant pile of booze-soaking food or a po’ boy to go. I’m partial to the Shrimp Philly (grilled shrimp, bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, Swiss cheese, American cheese, and “Wow” sauce).  Do you have heartburn already?  https://www.zomato.com/new-orleans/verti-marte-new-orleans/menu  (FRENCH QUARTER)

Bai Chi Canteen - cheap but delicious small plates of Vietnamese food in the Riverbend. Go for the "bacos," which are Vietnamese tacos.  https://www.zomato.com/new-orleans/ba-chi-canteen-new-orleans/menu  (RIVERBEND)

Kebab - no frills doner/falafel joint on St. Claude that also has good Belgian frites. I like to eat here, so I can pretend I'm having a healthy meal. The cocktails are cheap. http://www.kebabnola.com/  (ST. ROCH)

Hi-Ho Lounge - a St. Claude music club that usually has a cool, popup kitchen Fry And Pie in the back. They serve exactly what you think they serve, and everything is tremendous. http://www.fryandpie.com/  (ST. ROCH)

Cassamento's - head Uptown, not too far from the streetcar, for this mecca of fried seafood. The specialty is the "Oyster Loaf," which is a massive fried oyster sandwich, and instead of using traditionally sliced bread, they cut two enormous pieces from a butter-soaked loaf. They also do chargrilled oysters and serve fries with the chargrilled topping. (TOURO/UPTOWN)

Juan’s Flying Burrito - There are two locations for this Creole taqueria. Is it incredible Mexican food? No, but it’s pretty good, and the slight Nolafication of menu items adds another layer to the fun. Notably, you can actually have a healthy meal here, and there aren’t too many places where I can say that. http://www.juansflyingburrito.com/ (MID CITY and GARDEN DISTRICT)

 *SNOWBALLS*

Hansen’s Sno-bliz - They’re the granddaddy of snowball places, as they invented the ice-shaving machine in 1939 and created their own syrups for it. Despite its advanced age, this old shack still innovates with funky flavors, such as Thai Basil or Fresh Cucumber, and they’ll get crazy with toppings, such as Bananas Foster or Pineapple Habanero Relish. I’m not an expert in Snowball technology, so I can’t explain why it’s better than Hawaiian shaved ice, but it is better than Hawaiian shaved ice. More importantly, it’s cold and perfect for a hot day. http://www.snobliz.com/ (UPTOWN)

Sno-LA - Here’s what you need to know. They stuff their snowballs with cheesecake. I really shouldn’t need to explain anything else. http://www.sno-la.com/sno-la-uptown-menu.html (RIVERBEND)

  *COCKTAILS/WINE/BEER*

Bar Tonique - They’ve got a combination of vintage cocktails, as well as their own creations. In my experience, everything is mixed well by knowledgeable bartenders. More importantly, they have a few classic drinks that are only $5 at a daily happy hour that lasts until 5PM, as well as $5 daily specials. http://bartonique.com (FRENCH QUARTER)

Cane and Table - A recent discovery for me, this joint specializes in cocktails of the tropical persuasion, although you won’t find sugary margaritas and frozen daiquiris. It’s a bit more sophisticated. Some of these creations go down smooth and way, way too fast. Apparently, they also have solid food. I didn’t partake in any of that, which is probably why I spent my afternoon following around a half-naked woman painted like a minotaur. There are photos... http://caneandtablenola.com/ (FRENCH QUARTER)

Carousel Bar - Located inside the Hotel Monteleone, the old school, classy bar is actually a slowly rotating carousel. They often have great live music for no cover, and the drinks tend to be well made. This is an ideal spot for a classic cocktail, such as a Ramos Gin Fizz. http://hotelmonteleone.com/entertainment/carousel-bar (FRENCH QUARTER)

Orleans Grapevine - You’ll want to go here during their Bacon Happy Hour. (I will pause to let you read that again.) It’s from 4-6PM and 10PM-12AM, and they give you bacon with your drinks (I will pause to let you read that again), which may be the greatest concept since human rights. There are different wine and drink specials during happy hour, and if you order certain cocktails, you get to roll dice to determine the price. Land on 1, 2, or 3, and that’s what you pay. Make Drinking Fun Again! http://orleansgrapevine.com/ (FRENCH QUARTER)

The Avenue Pub - If you want to find the best beer selection in New Orleans, this is your place. Apparently, Boucherie’s chef has kicked up their food menu. The good news is that this pub is open 24 hours a day 7 days a week for 365 days a year. Finally, somewhere you can drink at 7am on Christmas morning! http://theavenuepub.com/ (GARDEN DISTRICT)

Nola Brewing Tap Room - You can find a lot more interesting examples and novel styles of their beer here than you will anywhere else. They’ve also got McClure’s BBQ in the house, although the Louisiana legislature may soon put an end to that. http://www.nolabrewing.com/ (IRISH CHANNEL)

Bacchanal - (see entry above)

Oak Street Wine Bar - The drinks are surprisingly inexpensive here, although the beer selection leaves much to be desired. The wine list is extensive. However, I really just like it because they often have live music, particularly at Jazz Fest. I like catching Andrew Duhon here. http://www.oaknola.com/ (RIVERBEND)

Bouree - The Boucherie people opened a wing, hot boudin, and daiquiri joint next door. I’ve not had the food, but I’ve become a huge fan of the Gin & Tonic Daiquiri. They have seasonal flavors, as well. http://www.bourreenola.com (RIVERBEND)

Happy Hour at John Besh restaurants - Most of the Besh restaurants offer some sort of ridiculous happy hour deal on both certain food items and certain drinks. I’ve been to some of these where I’ve been able to get drunk and stuffed for under $15. They don’t list the happy hour specials on their website, but if you call them, they’ll give you the 4-1-1. I do know that the happy hour at Domenica has become so popular that reservations are typically required. http://www.chefjohnbesh.com/restaurants/

  *MOST OVER-HYPED RESTAURANTS*

1) Mother’s - It’s exciting when you’re a tourist because you feel like you’re doing something authentic. After a couple of years, you realize everyone in there is a tourist, and you’re all paying way too much for slightly-better-than-mediocre food. On my last visit, breakfast cost me nearly $40. Never again....at least not until I’m surrounded by hungry drunk people at 7am.

2) Parkway - But Obama ate here! So what? I’m gonna guess Obama didn’t exactly have his finger on the pulse of po’ boy culture. Look how thin he is. Never trust a thin man when it comes to po’ boys. Following lunch, if you don’t have to undo your belt, better yet, the button of your pants, I don’t want to hear your opinion on po’ boys. Your opinion should be limited to kale. Regardless, this place is not terrible, but it’s certainly not worth standing in a long line when there are so many better options in town. Go here if you need to do something in the neighborhood.

3) Cochon - Yes, there are some big hits on the menu, but there are also so many swings and misses. Years after opening, the hype train still chugs at an unbelievable pace for this place.  Everyone has to go there because everyone has to go there because everyone has to go there. (Hint: You do not have to go there, but you do have to go to the vastly superior Cochon Butcher next door.)

 *MY PERSONAL PO’ BOY RANKINGS*

1)    Killer Po’ Boys - I can already hear grizzled New Orleanians ranting about how Brooklyn has ruined the po’ boy because New Orleanians blame everything that’s wrong with their city on Brooklyn. Good thing I’m from Queens.

2)    Mahoney’s

3)    Domilese’s

4)    Crabby Jack’s

5)    Tracey’s

13)   Parkway

 *MY TOP 5 PLACES I WANT TO TRY IN 2017*

1)    Meril - http://emerilsrestaurants.com/meril

2)    Rue 127 - https://www.rue127.com/

3)    Turkey and the Wolf - http://www.turkeyandthewolf.com/

4)    Katie’s - http://www.katiesinmidcity.com/

5)    Bevi Seafood Company - http://beviseafoodco.com/

*SAGE ADVICE*

Tom Fitzmorris is an old-school food critic with deep knowledge of the New Orleans culinary tradition. His site, http://www.nomenu.com is a bible for me, and I consult it not only when I choose a restaurant among the 1,550 he’s covered in the greater New Orleans area, but I also am sure to consult his site before I order at said restaurant. Fitzmorris tells you exactly which dishes you need to order, greatly increasing your chances of enjoying the meal. Unfortunately, his site is a bit of a relic with a bevy of broken or hidden links, and it’s been undergoing a bit of a laborious rebuild that’s taken a couple of years with no end in sight. He used to post really helpful lists (there were over 100 of them in various categories), but they have now been removed. However, I’ve found some of the links, so here they are:

500 Best Dishes in New Orleans - https://nomenu.com/?page_id=42494

Bucket List - A Dozen Best Restaurants: https://nomenu.com/?p=6606

Dozen Most Underrated Restaurants: https://nomenu.com/?p=39647

Bakers Dozen Best Restaurants for New Orleans Cuisine - https://nomenu.com/?p=51534

Dozen Best Breakfast Restaurants - https://nomenu.com/?p=4678

If you consult Fitzmorris’ recommendations, your odds of enjoying a great meal will increase exponentially.