#at a minimum she seems to have very sincerely loved his mother

[winepresswrath]

I wish jgy had got the lw treatment and was made to do paperwork for the rest of his life as punishment bc he was too competent at it to get rid of (also no one else wanted to do it)

In order to get the Ling Wen treatment you absolutely cannot kill Nie Mingjue. Nie Huaisang will never let you do paperwork for the rest of your life. You will die in ignominy. I suspect but cannot confirm that Sisi has a similar temperament and if Huaisang hadn't gotten him she would have. It's not actually a moral issue but there is a practical constraint.

#it's the he xuan problem #he's just not going to stop #and with Huaisang and Sisi there's the added element of #curdled love #honestly who knows exactly what's going on with sisi but #at a minimum she seems to have very sincerely loved his mother #and the affection seems to have been mutual because he did save her! #so I tend towards thinking that for her #what he did to both her and her colleagues #was a betrayal #because despite his background #at the end of the day their lives still meant so little to him #compared to his father's suffering #which is this hilarious and awful mirror image of what his father thinks #Jin Guangshan's life and feelings matter so much it's fine if a bunch of women die about it

[animeyanderelover]

Hello again! Can I have prompt 46 with Ash? Tnx

Recently I told my friend that I had a lot of requests about him and she laughed about it. She doesn't really like him, but she gives him credit since he looks good.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, extreme paranoia, isolation, desperation, mentions of kidnapping,overprotectiveness, mentions of self-harm, Stockholm syndrome

Prompt 46: "Can I...can I kiss you?"

It was nothing less than a miracle that someone like you existed, someone who was cleansed from all the sins of this world and the corruption of humans. You were radiating with everything Ash had wanted for this world, a world that he wanted to give to you. It was the minimum from what she should and would do for you, it was his duty as your very own guardian angel. A role he was utterly dedicated too, devoted to his very own angel who forgave him his sins every time.

It was true, you had forgiven him his crimes already a long time ago as everything around you had started to fade away and you had lost count of how long exactly you had been stuck in here. Somewhere around one and a half years would be your expectation, looking on how the seasons had changed through the large and closed windows which symbolized your loss of freedom. But you didn't mind anymore.

You only needed and wanted Ash, your guardian angel.

There was clear tension in his body, you could feel how he stiffened up under your embrace. He had never really received that sort of affection before from anyone nor would he have ever wanted it from all those worthless lives walking around freely. You were the only person he actually wanted any sort of touches from. That was how pure you were, even causing someone like him craving something and falling victim to his own desires. And it was his own fault for being so weak-minded. He didn't deserve you yet letting you perish outside would be an even greater sin. He had to keep you safe.

"My Queen...what are you doing?"

Being able to keep his composure was important in front of you, though he remembered to have failed multiple times in the past already. Severe punishment was the only thing he could think of to atone for his failures for not being good enough, for proving himself to be so incredibly useless. Even now he could feel some unhealed wounds aching a bit, but you didn't have to know about his weakness and incompetence.

You blinked slightly confused up at him when he asked you such an obvious question, but it soon turned into slight giggling that instantly plunged Ash's heart into painfully warm emotions and forced his eyes to get wet. It had taken a while until you had been able to look so happy after he had quickly rescued you from all the evil waiting to devour you. The distress he had felt back then could never be put in words and no burns, knifes and broken bones had been able to make up for what you had been suffering under. Even now it remained as a anxiety deeply stuck in his heart. But looking at you now, smiling at him and not staring with wide eyes filled with fear at him, was worth much more than his whole life could ever repay you.

"I’m hugging you. It’s just that you always look so worried and stressed over my safety and never appear to take a rest. Just now you did as well so I thought this might help you a bit. A strong hug can be more worth than thousand words after all. That’s what my mother told me at least when I was younger.”, you replied softly, pressing your face deeper into his chest with a content look on your face.

There was nothing Ash could think of for a few moments, instead he seared the scene in front of him deep into his brain, how you were currently buried into his chest, looking so happy and peaceful. So stunning and precious.

Tears were quick to escape his eyes only seconds later, his insides stirring up with warmth that stung him and yet baked him with something he hadn’t felt in so long. Comfort and peace.

This was exactly why he had to protect you with his very own life, no one was allowed to snuff out the light you carried inside of you and that was able to even share it’s warmth with him. You possessed too much kindness to understand, but normal humans only destroyed what they touched, ruining it with their greed.

He wouldn’t let them do the same to you.

He would kill everyone who would even do as much as getting too close.

He just had to guarantee that you would live.

But first of all he had to calm himself down or otherwise he might worry you even more than he seemed to have done already. The tears were quickly wiped away with his sleeves before Ash was able to look at you again, still feeling like he wanted to continue crying. His heart felt like it might burst at any moment.

“You have so much warmth and love inside of you that I don’t think I deserve any of it. You shouldn’t even be concerned about me, I merely do what I have to do as your guardian. If you were to fall victim to this damned place, I would perish as well. What use is an angel who can’t even protect their chosen one?”

Pain was twisting his voice and face a bit when he dared to imagine how a world without you would be, a world filled with grief and darkness for him. Letting his guard down would be a fatal mistake, he had seen the worst of this world and the humans and he knew that it would happen again. That was why he had to be like this for you were his heart beating outside his chest. If something were to ever happen to you...

The angel hadn't even noticed that he had already started crying again, fist tightened and body shaking whilst getting lost in fears of losing the one good and bright thing this world had still left.

"But for me you're more than just a guardian angel. You're my angel and I want you to feel happy as well. I want you to feel loved as well. You do so much for me, but I feel like I only cause you stress and uneasiness. Shouldn't you be happy because of me?", you asked him in slight protest, feeling sadness whilst seeing the man you had come to love like this again because of you. You had never seen him truly relaxed nor had you ever been able to show him your feelings. He wouldn't let you, not thinking that he deserved you.

His reaction was instant, suddenly falling on his knees upon hearing from what you had said that he had disappointed you yet again, the visible look of your sorrow only stabbing his fear deeper into his very soul.

"I-I am so sorry! I didn't know that you felt this way only because I was so selfish to only think about myself like this! I don't deserve your forgiveness and accept any sort of-"

When he felt the soft sensation of your hands cupping his stained cheeks, he abruptly stopped his rambling, trying to not choke on his own breath that had gotten irregular.

"You don't have to apologize to me. I don't want to hear you saying such things about yourself. Don't you understand? I am unhappy whenever you are like this, seeing yourself as so worthless and not deserving of my love. That's what hurts me so much. You're rejecting my feelings. I love you, Ash. And I want to know if you do too. Because if you do, please stop talking like this and behave so distantly."

Your voice conveyed every bit emotion that was going on inside of you in that moment, something that Ash noticed with widened eyes as well.

Silence was cut short by him when he realized that you wanted something crucial from him which he would gladly give you. He had never considered that you would ever consider his love as something you wanted, consider him as someone you loved. When had been the last time someone had been truly kind to him and loved him? He couldn't remember anymore.

"Of course I do. You should never doubt my feelings for you. I love you more than you could ever imagine. It's impossible to function without you.", he managed to reply with a shaking voice as he grabbed both of your hands in his own.

"Then why are you acting like this? Everyone deserves someone who loves them. Without love it's a very painful life, isn't it? That's why I am hurting as well. Let me love you and I promise that you'll be able to feel peace as well.", you muttered slightly embarrassed out, leaning your head down so your forehead could rest against his own.

Slight sobs were starting to catch up to Ash as he was staring in pure awe at you.

"Thank you. I'll be better and make sure that I won't cause you sadness anymore.", he pressed out, tightening his grip on your hands only the slightest bit so he wouldn't hurt you.

"I'm glad to hear that.", you replied with a sincere smile on your face, joy stirring your heart up just by seeing that for the first time since he had abducted you, Ash was looking relieved and less tense. He just looked extremely grateful.

"May I ask you for a favor then?", you requested with a certain idea in mind.

"I'll do anything for you.", Ash replied, sounding very emotional.

"I want to do something for you for once since you normally do anything for me."

Hesitation and clear dislike instantly shadowed his face, the thought of him asking something from you going against Ash's belief in all the wrong ways. You shouldn't have to do him favors.

"It doesn't have to be something difficult. It can be a really simple thing. Just...something that I can do for you this once. Please.", you begged slightly, seeing the angel already struggling. You knew how he felt about such things, he hated letting you do something for him and he had never done it before either. Ash saw it only upon himself to serve you which was another thing that sometimes made you feel guilty. You wanted to do more for him as well.

"Can I...can I kiss you?"

Maybe that had been more a slip of his tongue, but he had been slightly panicking since hadn't want to sadden you again nor had he wanted you to do physical work for him. It was supposed to be the other way around.

So when he had stared for a moment at your face, eyes locked on your lips, he had considered somewhere deep in his mind possibilities which he had been fantasizing about a few times before, but hadn't thought that they would actually have a change of happening.

In his opinion they were still sinful, it would take a while for him to get used to the idea that you wanted to receive physical affection and love from him. The first impulse when he realized what he had said was instantly apologizing, only to be interrupted before he could even start saying anything.

You had already leaned down to fulfill him his wish before he could take it back again.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere ash #yandere ash landers

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

the last of my thoughts on the homecoming au, the au where maedhros and maglor are taken back to tirion at the end of the war of wrath and proceed to be relentlessly abused by elves more interested in them being ‘normal’ than happy. it’s pretty much exactly as dark as you’d expect from that description, lots of medical/caretaker abuse towards the mentally ill, just a horrible situation in general. one last time, @sunflowersupremes wrote the original au this is an extrapolation from, and @outofangband listened to me blather on about this for ages and contributed lots of ideas of their own. part 1 is here, part 2 is here. this the last part, it isn’t quite as intense as part 2, but it’s a lot more hopeless. also there’s some off-screen torture

on the first post i made about this au, i got some comments to the effect of ‘oh this will only last until person x bails them out’

there were several suggestions - fingon, nerdanel, any of the ainur. it seems like there are a lot of people who’d want to get maedhros and maglor out of this nightmare

seems. these aren’t necessarily my usual interpretations of their characters, but for the purposes of this au i can easily imagine a finrod who already bore a grudge over the whole letting-their-younger-brothers-steal-his-kingdom incident and subsequently heard the version of the nirnaeth where the fëanorians left everyone else to die. he is the only other person in the palace who knew beleriand, and he loathes them so viciously he can barely stand to look at them. they’re lucky he doesn’t do worse

i can easily imagine a nerdanel who was already having trouble processing what her husband and sons did at alqualondë when eärendil and elwing told her every awful thing they’d done since in the span of half an hour. she smashed all their statues, burned all their gifts, and curled up sobbing in a ruined house, wondering why she was such a terrible mother her children grew into demons

and this isn’t long after that, that wound is still fresh. whatever vain hopes she held that the boys she loved were somewhere in there are shattered when she sees them, and they’re talking and laughing just like they did when they were young

like nothing had happened. like nothing had changed. like the monsters had always been waiting patiently for their chance to strike

(they just didn’t want her to see the things they’d become)

i can easily imagine a fingon who is blazingly furious with maedhros over the later kinslayings. he spends most of their only meeting railing at maedhros, and the apologia his caretakers offer up only makes him angrier

so does the fact that maedhros won’t defend himself, won’t even raise his voice. does none of this matter to him? did it ever?

(it does. but maedhros knows what will happen if he yells at his cousin, and he is just so exhausted)

fingon is eventually asked to leave. maedhros’ minders tell him that if he can’t keep his temper around their patient, they’re going to have to cut off contact until maedhros is in a better mental state. fingon snaps that that’s just fine by him, and storms off into the city, trying to hold back his tears

the ainur, now, the ainur would definitely drag them out of the palace and haul them up to the máhanaxar. finarfin’s managed to get as much out of eönwë

what would happen to them after that, eönwë refuses to say. finarfin suspects he doesn’t know, and none of the valar will until they’ve had a chance to actually, like, hold a trial

even so, it becomes pretty obvious to finarfin fairly early on that the noldor simply can’t give the brothers the help they need. it’s plain to see that they’re very unhappy and they’re recovering slowly if at all. whatever the valar decide to do with them, odds are good they’d end up in some permutation of elf afterlife therapy, with well-practiced carers and the family they’ve lost. for their sake, and the sake of the people around them, handing them over to the valar would clearly be the best option

except finarfin doesn’t. he keeps his nephews in his palace, where they break things and make messes and generally give their caretakers constant headaches. when asked why, he always talks about the soul-deep terror on maglor’s face when he asked him not to give them to the valar

he’s not lying about that. but he does have other motives

there’s lots of suppositions in finarfin’s reasoning. there’s every chance the valar would throw them into the deepest depths of mandos until the second music. there’s every chance maedhros would choose to disappear into the woods and never trouble court again

but if the valar do decide to send them to lórien with no limits on their movement, and if maedhros does still harbour nelyafinwë’s political ambitions...

the closest finarfin has gotten to admitting it, even to himself, is saying that the noldor have enough problems right now, they don’t need a succession crisis on top of everything else. sometimes he’ll joke about not wanting maedhros to set up another functionally autonomous military government out in the wilderness

but it’s hard to deny that a maedhros, free to act, with his head screwed on straight, could potentially be the single biggest threat to finarfin’s crown

not that he doesn’t want his nephews to get better! it’s heartrending to see the pain they’re in, he sincerely wants to see them happy

he’d just prefer them to be happy in a way that's... convenient

maedhros and maglor’s contact with the outside world is kept to a strict minimum and heavily monitored when it does happen. they’re only allowed to visit the public parts of the palace when their caretakers know exactly who’s going to be there and if they can be trusted to not make a fuss about the brothers’ presence

it’s all in the interest of keeping the peace, you understand. maedhros’ followers are difficult to handle at the best of times, if they somehow got it into their heads that the last of their lords were being held captive in the palace...

well, finarfin says over tea. maitimo can see the wisdom in not provoking a civil war, can he not?

(he will not bring death to the blessed realm again. not even if his last baby brother is rotting away to a shell, not even if he’s being smothered to death from the inside out. he will not, he must not)

(if he did, there would truly be nothing left but the monster)

and then, one day, maglor gets the chance to escape

his minders aren’t paying much attention to him, he’s been a lot quieter since they put the gag on him. he’s small and fast and good at sneaking around, by the time they notice he’s missing he’s already found a way out of the palace

he jumps out of a third-floor window, bites down the pain, and runs. he clears the grounds and disappears into the city

he makes for - he doesn’t know where. subconsciously, he navigates towards the craft guild districts, where his family’s staunchest supporters always were

except the city’s changed a lot since he was last loose in it, and before he knows it, he’s completely lost. he wanders the streets half in a daze, his raw nerves unused to the bustle and noise of it all. wherever he goes, people stop and start and turn away

finally someone calls him over. ‘hey, you want that collar off your neck?’

it’s a smith of some sort, he can tell that much. they’re smiling, welcomingly and without pity. he’s rushing over to them, nodding his head, before he can even think about

the trouble is, maglor doesn’t remember the faces of most of the people he saw in beleriand, but they all remember him

the trouble is, this smith was at sirion

back in the palace, who gets access to the brothers is very strictly controlled. which isn’t to say that nobody tries to hurt them; finrod tends to put the worst spin on things when he’s asked for advice, there’s all kinds of minor acts of sabotage, and they come across innocuous-seeming harmful objects more often than mere chance would seem to allow

but even their caretakers can tell that letting desperate revenge-seekers get near the brothers wouldn’t be particularly conducive to whatever recovery they’re hoping for. anyone who might randomly come across maedhros or maglor in a hallway is intensely vetted for ulterior motives, and while this process isn’t airtight it does filter out the most obviously malicious

and outside of that bubble, none of that applies. the smith does take maglor’s gag off, purely to hear him scream

soon enough, the palace guard tracks him down. they take him back to the palace, where he’s bandaged up and comforted and then, as a special treat, allowed to see his brother

(they’re kept apart more often than not these days. being around maglor makes maedhros agitated, being around maedhros makes maglor sullen. they’re just more cooperative when they’re alone)

maglor does the same thing he’s done every time he’s seen his brother for the past year, which is immediately bury his face in maedhros’ chest and shudder. it takes him a moment to remember he can speak now

‘we’re trapped’ he whispers. ‘we’re trapped’

because he was screaming for what felt like hours, and nobody came to help. as he was being carried back to the palace, he saw the scorn and the disgust in the passers-by’s eyes

there’s nobody who will shelter them outside the palace. there’s nowhere on this continent they can go

and that - that’s the end, in a way. maedhros remains stubborn and ill-tempered, never quite letting them forget he doesn’t want to be here and doesn’t like what they’re doing, but the fight goes out of him. he does what they tell him just as biddably as he did before they took his brother’s voice

maglor, surprisingly, takes a turn for the better. he starts acting cheerful again, doing everything that’s asked of him with a smile and a wink. he’s making excellent progress, his minders tell finarfin

(they don’t tell him what maglor looks like when the mask starts to crack)

finarfin is very pleased to hear that one of his nephews is finally starting to recover! it’s been a long, painful journey, but it looks like it’s all at long last working out

to celebrate, he decides to give maglor a gift he’s been holding onto for a while

he calls maglor into his office. the tension in his posture is a bit worrying, but his expression is all makalaurë, a casual, mildly disrespectful grin. he swans into the room, flounces into a chair, and asks what his uncle wants

finarfin praises him for all the progress he’s been making, and hands him a letter

it’s from elros

the first line is ‘how are you doing, you old bastard?’ it calls him a kinslayer six different ways in the first three paragraphs. it asks him how many people he’s stabbed since he got back. it closes off by wishing him some fun loud arguments with maedhros

finarfin was a little concerned maglor still not might be in the right emotional state for it, but the tightness bleeds out of his nephew’s frame as he reads. a couple of times he even bursts into snickering that sounds more genuine than any sound he makes in court

he finishes reading with a truly relaxed smile on his face. then he freezes, and looks up at finarfin

in a tiny, quiet voice, so unlike the way he talks nowadays, he asks, ‘may i write a reply?’

finarfin hates to take the wind out of his sails, but maglor deserves to know. ‘that letter is centuries old. i’ve been holding onto it until you were ready to read it.’ he shuts his eyes. ‘i’m afraid elros passed some time ago’

maglor’s head drops. the letter in his hands begins to shake. little whimpers escape his trembling body. finarfin walks over, places a hand on his shoulder. ‘i’m sorry, we -’

that’s not whimpering, finarfin realises. those are growls. his nephew’s head snaps up, face twisted with rage

maglor tries to tear finarfin’s face off -

and that’s all i have. these headcanons have been exhausting to write, i’ll clean them up and put them on ao3 in a bit, but not now, if for no other reason than it’s 3am. again. i hope these weren’t too incoherent. going to try to unbanjax my sleep schedule now

#homecoming au #maedhros #maglor #finarfin #fingon #abuse // #mental health issues /// #torture /// #my terrible fic #it is done. at last i am done #this is the most depressing thing i've ever written #i was kind of trying to get it all out in one go #or as close as i could get with how long it turned out #i wrote most of these at ass o'clock in the morning when i really should have been asleep #i'll try to make them less midnight ramble-y for ao3 #gah. i hope the characterisation is at least functional #these feel more disconnected than i'd like but this ain't a story it's a collection of headcanons #brain has nominated my maglor's wife oc for person who could actually get them out #kidnapping one's evil husband for fun and spite! #it's either that or elrond #or they fade first #or maglor attacking finarfin spells the end of everything #... if it does i don't want to write it right now #i've thought about this au too much #please come quick with the serotonin pokemon gold for the 3ds virtual console

[sweetcherrypie1967]

Narcissa’s Secret

It was a little known fact that Narcissa Malfoy was a skilled legilimens and occlumens, even more so than her sister Bellatrix. It was how she was able to be part of the Death Eater meetings without having a Dark Mark herself. It pained her that she wasn't able to save her son from the fate she was able to avoid. It pained Narcissa that her husband was foolish enough to jump into such a fate head first, damning the rest of his family without so much as consulting them.

She had begging Lucius to let their son choose his own fate, Narcissa would have begging the Dark Lord himself not to do it but it was her husband who insisted on it. It shattered her heart, hearing Draco's pain filled screams echo throughout the Manor.

Her baby boy, forced to be just like those monsters.

Narcissa tried talking Draco into leaving, run off to any corner of the world to get out and start over or even go to Dumbledore's group. In the beginning Draco had scoffed at the idea but the more she pushed, the more she could see him consider it. While he never went out and said it, there's been a definite change in him compared to when she first brought it up all those months ago.

Now she was standing silently, watching as they brought in the Potter boy, one of the Weasley's offspring and the muggleborn girl. Narcissa noticed a shift in Draco that no one else but his mother would catch, she began watching him closely. She tried to hide a smile as he lied about knowing their identity, Draco's ears always turned pink when he lied. It was a tell that she made sure no one else knew about, not even Lucius.

"Take them all to the dungeons...all except for the Mudblood,"

Narcissa could practically feel the anger radiating off of Draco. It confused her why his reaction was so strong, she knew he didn't want anyone to be harmed let alone someone he knew -he wasn't a monster- but he was always going on about how much Draco 'hated' Potter's pet.

Then it clicked.

The change in him, his reaction earlier and his now. They were all connected, it was because of her!

Just to be positive she cast a silent legilimens on the girl while everyone else was distracted. Her mind was very strong, but once Bella had her way..it weakened significantly. Narcissa didn't have to look to see how pained he was when the girl's screams began. Echoing throughout his own home while he could do nothing but stand there.

What Narcissa saw in her mind shocked her beyond belief.

She searched through her memories, looking for anything to do with her son, when she stumbled upon something no one was supposed to find.

It was Draco and Hermione...kissing! As if they'd done it millions of times before. It was the most prominent memory she could find with him in it, and it was only a few months old. But..too soon to be in Hogwarts. Narcissa's mind instantly went to one of the days Voldemort wasn't in Malfoy Manor, he had left the Manor to visit his friends at Zabini Manor. Narcissa had suspected he was leaving something out of his story, but allowed it. Now, she knew what he was really up to.

She went through what seemed like hundreds of other memories, them sitting together on a couch talking, in the Astronomy Tower after curfew watching the stars and laughing with many more. Narcissa has never seen Draco look as happy as he was in these memories. One in particular caught her attention, unlike most others she saw it was more sad than happy. It was in the Astronomy Tower.

"Please Draco, don't go," Hermione begged in a whisper through her tears.

Draco gave her a sad smile, he wanted to oh so badly. "We both know that I need to go, it's what's best for the Order," Draco said.

"You don't have too! It's too dangerous, please. Dumbledore will understand. Don't leave me," Hermione begged, looking at him with glassy eyes.

They stared at each other for a moment, both hearts breaking at what had to be done.

"Hermione, you don't know how much I wish I could stay. I'd never leave your side through all this rubbish, but you heard the Headmaster. The Order needs me to spy on them. If I can earn their trust, if I can prove to Dumbledore and Potter and even bloody Weasley that I've changed. That I can be who you deserve, then I have to do it," Draco said.

"I don't care what Harry and Ron think-" Draco gave her a disbelieving look, "ok yes I do but I'm going to be with you no matter what. If they don't think you're worthy of me then that's their own bloody problem because I know you are and..I love you,"

Draco's eyes snapped to hers, searching for her sincerity before his face broke out in a grin, "I love you too, Granger."

They both kissed and the memory faded.

Narcissa's son was in love with Potter's pet? Hermione Granger? More importantly, he was working as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix?! Part of her was ecstatic, her son found love and took her advice to get out of this life Lucius had lay out for them! Another part, however, was scared. Being a spy, let alone for spying on Voldemort himself, was very dangerous business. If one was spying on the Dumbledore, they wouldn't have the guts to kill them but Voldemort wouldn't think twice about it.

Narcissa's focus was abruptly interrupted by the whole ordeal with Potter and Weasley saving Hermione and escaping with Dobby. She wasn't expecting her ex House Elf to be their savior but as long as they were going someplace safe. Narcissa knew Dobby used to enjoy listening to Draco rant and rave about the Potter boy and his little group. It was plain that he became fascinated, she wasn't sure if he simply didn't understand her son's sarcasm or just read between the lines.

Once the whole ordeal was done she practically dragged Draco into a separate room and cast every silencing charm she knew on it. She rounded on him and she could see he was guarded and..scared? Draco's fists were shaking along with the rest of him, probably trying to gain enough self control not to go after Bella for what she did.

"Would you mind telling me what that was all about?" Narcissa asked him.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean with the Granger girl," she said and he set his jaw defensively, "I saw her memories, Draco. I know you switched sides..and I know you love her."

His shoulders dropped slightly but he was still on guard. Just because she knew doesn't mean she wouldn't tell, it pained Narcissa that Draco would even think she would put him in danger like that.

"What's there to tell if you already know everything?" Draco said.

"Well I didn't have quite the time to see everything, and I'd like an explanation," Narcissa said.

“How do I know you won’t go off and tell Father or the Dark Lord himself,” he said.

“Because I’m your mother, Draco,” she said softly, “I would never intentionally put you in any danger if I could prevent it. I love you more than life itself.”

He sighed in defeat, "Hermione, she caught me..in a vulnerable moment. I was overwhelmed by my task and the fact my plans never seemed to work. She offered for me to join their cause, even full immunity for me and you. After all you've said, I've been thinking about it and I accepted. I think it surprised her almost as much as it surprised me," Draco said with a slight laugh remembering, "we went to Dumbledore and he made a plan. It was decided that I was to spy in His ranks and give information back and forth, though only the bare minimum of members knew about my involvement. Me and Hermione began meeting secretly if I received any information and she would keep me updated with anything she was allowed to inform me. As time went on though, it wasn't always about the Order. I fell in love with her and she says she loves me too," he concluded with a warm smile.

"That settles it," Narcissa said sternly. Draco waited anxiously for her next words, "we're getting you out."

"Out? I'm a spy, I can't leave," he said confused.

"The Order already has spies in the Dark Lord's ranks, you don't need to be one of them. I'll even send information if that's what it'll take. You need to be there for your Hermione," she said. Narcissa expected an argument but he sighed and agreed with her.

Only on one condition, she wasn't to act as a spy. 'Too dangerous' he said, the little hypocrite.

They had snuck him out that very night.

Months and months went on without so much as a word from it about Draco. This was good. He was keeping a low profile, it would be dangerous for him to send her anything. But Narcissa couldn't help but worry. What if he hadn't found them? What if something went wrong with Potter or the Weasley boy? What if he got hurt?

So many questions that would have to remain unanswered until it was all over.

The Battle of Hogwarts had taken many lives, including her insane sister Bellatrix. She'd have to thank Mrs. Weasley later, Bella has always caused more harm than good.

Narcissa was especially thankful that when it was all over, her son was still standing and with the Granger girl by his side. Not a perfect ending, she thought, but at least it can still be a happy one.

#dramione #draco x hermione #narcissa malfoy #harry potter #narcissa ships dramione #Draco malfoy #hermione granger

[cloud9in]

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film 

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1- 

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

                                                   - Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this. 

 ...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine. 

 My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows. 

 ***

 ...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

 Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

 I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed. 

 Sincerely, your STD free son

 It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced. 

 Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life. 

 Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

 Song lyrics…

 That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

 If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

 Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest. 

 Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

 Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet? 

 ***

 The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her. 

 Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

 Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

 The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

 “6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.” 

 Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

 “Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

 “Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

 “Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

 ***

 Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

 “Hey!”

 He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

 “Hey wait up!” 

 The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

 “I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

 “No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

 “Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

 “I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

 It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

 Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

 “No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

 “Well you see it’s a letter..”

 “Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

 “I thought it seemed romantic..”

 “And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

 “I- I can’t help you.”

 “But if you just add a few more words-”

 “I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social. 

 Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!” 

 Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

 Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be? 

 But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

 ***

 “One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

 “Deal!”

 Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

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

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #I couldn't come up with a unique title #throw some ideas if you have #do share your opinion on this #it is valued #oblivious bea is a pain in the ass #but certainly fun to write

[june-louise]

The Telephone Call

Another drabble, Elizabeth/Philip. Set while Philip is away on tour in season 2 of The Crown. Might be continued. 

...

Elizabeth sat in the sofa; one leg crossed over the other as she listened to the reports coming from the television a few metres in front of her. Her mother was as per usual having her dinner next to her, joined by Margaret sitting across from them. Elizabeth had already had dinner, for once having shared the meal with the children who were now in bed.

Ever since Philip had left for the Royal tour, she had felt the need to spend more time with the children, surely to compensate for sending their father away for months on end. Philip had always been the more natural parent of the two, the one spending more time and playing with them. To Elizabeth, playing with the children had never been her favourite activity and with all her work she rarely spent much time with them during the weekdays.

Of course, she loved her children more than anything, but she had never felt like a natural mother as other women seemed to. With Philip gone though, she had felt the connection with Charles and Anne to be something of a comfort personally while she very much wanted them both to be happy and content. So, she had made it into a habit to join them in the playing room, listen to their talks and share more meals with them and help put them to bed. She even read books for them and tried to do silly voices as Charles called it. Because Philip usually did, and the children loved it.

“Your Majesty,” a voice said and interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see the court martial approach her. “A telephone call for you, ma’am. The Duke of Edinburgh.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow in surprise and felt the eyes of her mother and sister on her, they obviously surprised as well. She felt a smile spread on her face and could not help the excitement building in her stomach. She had felt quite low lately, finding herself missing the company of her husband more than she had thought she would. Ever since Philip’s speech on Christmas and the film from Antarctica, the emptiness she felt had grown worse. Laying eyes on him after so many weeks and reading his handwriting had made her heart ache for him, and it had not stopped since.

Quickly shrugging the surprise off of her, she spoke to the man. “Thank you.” Standing up, Elizabeth turned to the other women and excused herself. She tried best she could to not let the other two see her vulnerability, holding herself together and making an effort to contain her smile. She knew they both loved Philip, but they had never quite understood him like she did. And her feelings for him had therefore also many times made Elizabeth feel misunderstood, and she had found she sometimes had to act down on them in order to keep their comments to a minimum.

Walking toward her study, she felt the tightness and nervousness grow in her chest. She knew it was a slight anguish she felt, a fear of him not being there on the other line. The last time Philip called the reception had been bad and the line was broken before she had a chance to speak to him. She tried to prepare herself for the disappointment that it would happen again.

“Hello,” she said into the phone, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath to calm herself. She saw the doble doors close behind her and as she finally heard the voice of her husband on the other side of the line, she beamed.

“Hello, darling,” Philip said and she could almost hear his smirk and tried to picture him there on the other side of the world.

“Oh, it’s working,” she let out in surprise.

“Yes,” he said in his sleek voice and she imagined he was leaning against some kind of furniture where he was, making himself more comfortable. She did the same and rested against the wooden desk. “These bloody telephones actually do work from time to time.” He laughed and she chuckled, feeling herself relax.

“It’s so good to hear your voice,” she said and got somehow more serious, feeling her eyes water slightly. This small gesture, a phone call, had her feeling as if there was a huge weight lifted from her shoulders, warming her heart.

“Are you admitting to actually missing me,” Philip said in a lighter voice, always the one to lift the mood. Elizabeth did love that about him, how he could make her smile and how life was far from boring when Philip was with. Many times, people around them showed their annoyance at his sarcastic comments, and she sometimes felt that way also, but deep down she knew she could never live without any of it. And she had missed hearing his voice immensely lately, finding herself imagining in her head what his replies would be and smiling to herself while everybody around her was oblivious.

“What if I am,” she replied and soared as she felt their familiar banter come alive. “And what about you, having the time of your life in all corners of the world?” She asked the question in a somewhat playful voice, but also felt nervous about the actual answer.

Ever since Philip had left, she had not heard much from him at all. A failed telephone call, a few telegrams mostly including updates on their whereabouts and well-wishes for the children, but not more than that. Except from the footage from Antarctica, where he had been surprisingly heartfelt.

Philip sighed. “Well, even though parts of the tour is surprisingly interesting and the places we’ve been has been quite incredible, I, too, must admit to missing my wife.” He paused, and she desperately wished she could see the look on his face. “Lately, a bit more than I imagined, actually,” he admitted truthfully.  

“You have,” Elizabeth asked, her voice quite emotional revealing more vulnerability than she was comfortable with.

“Yes,” Philip started in a determined voice, “are you that surprised?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, but mostly happy to hear that I am not the only one feeling that way. Five months is incredibly long when all you want if for them to pass by, really. Did you get my letter,” she continued in an attempt to change the subject. 

“Oh, yes.” She could hear him smile into the phone. “Made me think that I should grow a beard more often,” he chuckled.

Elizbeth blushed and cleared her throat, finding herself feel a bit embarrassed. “Really? I wonder what the reactions would be it you came home like that,” she said with a smile as she imagined the scenario. Her mother would be beside herself; Margaret would find it incredibly funny and Michael would uncomfortably try to work out how best to convince Philip to shave. “They were all quite surprised to see it, whereas I thought you looked like an explorer.” She smiled and added, “a very handsome explorer.”

“Five months really is a long time,” Philip sighed, and she felt her fingers go to the pearls around her neck. His words made the conversation shift, and she felt her chest tighten, her pulse quicken. “Trust me, it’s not only the sharing of bed I miss, but I’d really do anything to be with you right now.”

“Philip,” she said in a surprised voice, while blushing more, suddenly very aware of her most private parts. She shifted on the desk, leaning one leg over the other.

“What,” he said innocently. “Can’t a husband share his desires for his wife? I am alone here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” she quickly said, voice shaky. “I’m alone.”

“That’s it then, good, no worries. Wouldn’t want anyone overhearing this conversation, now would we,” he smirked.

“Philip,” she whispered and felt the need to sit down. Her breathing quickened and she pressed her legs together as she sat on the chair by the desk.

“You sound tense, darling. If I was there, I’d give you a big smooch, but since I’m not, what can I do?”

Elizabeth swallowed, “Philip, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

Her eyes searched the room, even though she knew no one was there. “You know why not. And besides, I can’t.”

“You can,” he reassured her, like he so often had done when she needed help to escape her up tightness. “Now, if it’ll make it easier,” Philip said, and she could not help but roll her eyes at his determination. “Tell me where you are” he started. “And what you are wearing,” he added before, she imagined, leaning back into his seat and with amusement waiting for her reply.

Her face felt hot and she was sure there was a visible blush on her neck. Though she gave in. “I’m in my office,” she started and looked around at the familiar surroundings. She spent much of her time in here, and often had different people come to her with various notifications.  She sincerely hoped that no one would get the idea to enter anytime soon, hoping the call from the Duke would keep them out until she gave them a sign that she was finished. She continued to play with the pearls around her neck, a nervous habit she had. “And I’m wearing my usual clothes, in blue.” As she spoke the words, she felt quite dull. Not much surprise there.

“Oh, blue, one of my favourite colours on you,” Philip said, seemingly not finding her dull at all, and she relaxed a bit. Philip always made her feel more comfortable, somewhat making her feel sexy through her shyness and sometimes up tight behaviour. “Like those gorgeous eyes I adore.”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat and felt a bit braver. “And you? Where is that handsome husband of mine?” She raised her eyebrow and wettened her lips, eager to hear his reply.

“Well, I’ve abandoned the suit onboard Britannia where the bloody phone does not work. Now in the Falkland Islands, we have loaned a quite nice house with a big garden. I’m in my room, supposed to rest after a whole day of shaking people’s hands and cutting ribbons.”

Elizabeth chuckled and then questioned, intrigued. “And what are you wearing?”

Philip laughed and spoke with playfulness in his voice. “I am wearing my robe, sitting in bed.” She imagined he knew he was teasing her, knowing how she was one of the people who knew he secretly preferred to sleep naked, even though he rarely did it at home in Buckingham palace anymore.

“And you just decided to give me a call before going to bed?”

“I did have a dream about you, actually. And have been thinking about it the whole day.”

“Yeah, what about?” Elizabeth felt warm inside, happy to hear that she had been in his thoughts.

“Traveling together. Yesterday we were greeted into this house and I was reminded of the house we stayed at in Kenya, before your father’s passing. Where we visited Treetops.”

Elizabeth smiled, remembering the wonderful time they had had there. Before their whole world changed. “That was a wonderful trip, before, you know. I was so happy and so in love with you.”

“Me, too. It was just us there, our own special place of the world.”

“It was.” Elizabeth suddenly laughed. “Remember when you saved me from that elephant?”

Philip joined her laugher. “I did do that. It was quite terrifying.”

“It was,” Elizabeth concluded, and gave a sigh. “I miss that time.”

“Yes,” Philip agreed, and a quiet understanding consumed them both. It had been a time before life as they knew it now, with duty and obligations – a time where they could be more of a normal couple. As normal as they could be anyway, given their circumstances. Elizabeth still remembered the incredible loss she had felt, and guilt, for taking away her and Philip’s wonderful life even though she knew it had not been her fault. She seldom let herself think about the what if’s, or imagine what their life could have been. It was not constructive. And there was no going back. They had both signed up for this life together, and in many ways, it was also an incredible life. Only different.

“Philip,” Elizabeth said after a while, interrupting their walk down memory lane, and when he made a sound to let her know he was listening, she continued. “I know I don’t say it much, but I do still love you very much, adore you even. But you must know that, right?”

She thought she could hear his smile over the phone. “Yes, I know,” Philip said, his voice soft and reassuring. Elizabet had never doubted her love and adoration for her husband, she did not remember a time not loving him. The love had never been the problem, even though it might seem like it for anyone else. Maybe she should say it more often, she thought. Yet they were both not very emotional people, and they rarely exchanged words of affection. So, Elizabeth was glad he knew how she felt about him.

Philip continued, maybe also finding that the distance of the telephone made the words come easier. “I feel the same way. Even though I sometimes act like an idiot, I have always loved you, Lilibet. And I believe that it is my destiny that I always will.”

#the crown #queen elizabeth ii #duke of edinburgh #prince philip #philip and elizabeth #claire foy + matt smith #claire foy #matt smith #fanfic

[fantastic-rambles]

Shades of Love [3]

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Shindo Ainosuke (Adam), Ainosuke’s aunts

Warnings: Attempted emotional manipulation, references to former physical abuse

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: In which Adam decides to free himself from the control/influence of his aunts. :33 [Adam Appreciation Week 2021 | Day 3: family / competition / freedom]

"You cannot be serious, Ainosuke!"

"I assure you that I am." Ainosuke smiled gently at his aunts. "I appreciate everything that you have done for me, but I am an adult now. The incident with Takano-sensei has demonstrated that I can find the best course of action to elevate our family without your guidance. Furthermore, with Hitomi's support, we have been able to take advantage of and even benefit from that unfortunate event at our wedding. You can finally rest easy: my future and the future of the Shindo family are in very good hands."

"You're going to throw us out? Your own family?"

"Throw you out?" Ainosuke repeated, looking genuinely confused. "Of course not. You are my dear aunts, who have sacrificed so many years to raise me and protect the prestige of the Shindo name, especially after Father passed away. I merely wish to free you from the burden of those responsibilities so that you might have the chance to live out the rest of your lives in comfort and happiness. But so long as you live under this roof, you will inevitably end up becoming involved in conversations about politics, philanthropy, and other such matters that would only cause you concern. That is why I have proposed this."

He thought it was a perfectly reasonable suggestion himself, and he'd even been up half the night with Hitomi and Tadashi to work out the logistics. He would help them to buy a new house in which they could live comfortably, supported by a generous stipend that would ensure that they never wanted for anything. It was the least that he could do for them, since they had no transferable skills that would help them to find their own jobs and become self-sufficient, especially after they'd given the best years of their lives to the family. So their reactions truly puzzled him.

Hitomi and Tadashi had warned him that this might happen, but until this moment, Ainosuke hadn't really believed them. After all, as of late, his aunts had been taking a less active role in managing his life, allowing him more autonomy. In the political arena, beyond verifying that he had a plan to avoid being dragged down with Takano, they weren't involved at all. Of course, they had been quite busy with the matchmaking, but that was over and done with now, as well. So what other unfinished business could they have that was making them reluctant to accept a peaceful retirement?

"Ainosuke, dear, we really appreciate the thought, but after all, this is the family home, and we're simply used to living here," Masako explained, her voice sugary sweet. "And you know that we all consider ourselves to be like your mothers. Perhaps this is something that you will realize yourself after you have children, but it's the nature of parents to always worry about their children, even after they've grown up and become independent."

"Ah, I see. I apologize." His aunts seemed to relax, and then Ainosuke nodded decisively. "Then I will move out with Hitomi and Tadashi so that you can enjoy the full use of the manor. Of course, it will remain in my name, as the head of the family, but I assure you that I shall keep my intrusions to a minimum. Please excuse me; I will need to discuss this with them."

He bowed to his aunts, but as he turned to leave, a sharp voice arrested him.

"Ainosuke!"

It was a voice from his childhood, the voice of disappointment that always preceded some form of discipline. For a moment, he was six again, hearing that voice for the first time, feeling the sharp sting of wood on his arms. His hands curled into fists reflexively, conditioned to brace his muscles against the strike, before relaxing as he turned around again.

"Is there something that I have forgotten to address?" he inquired. For the first time since he'd known them, Hanako looked truly angry. She sat rigidly upright with her eyes shining, and the tips of her fingers were white where they rested on the handle of her teacup. There was something in that gaze that reminded him of the representatives of the construction lobby, loudly protesting all of his environmental proposals, desperately trying to cling to power in their greed, and for a moment, Ainosuke felt a sense of disdain for his aunt.

When he recognized that feeling, it shocked him. For all his life, he had looked up to and respected his father and his aunts, but now...

"Ainosuke, I forbid you to do this!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because it is simply impermissible! We're the ones who took care of you for so long, and yet, the moment that you think we're no longer needed, you'll set us aside? We're your family, not someone like Takano-sensei or Tadashi-kun. Aiichiro would be ashamed of you!"

Again, he felt an unfamiliar flare of emotion toward his aunt as she maligned his secretary: a brief flash of anger. Tadashi had done as much for him as they had, and in some cases, even more. He had taught him about fun when he was younger, about the freedom to be himself without worrying about how others saw him, about what it was like to have a friend who accepted him for who he was, not what he was. And through those lessons, he had eventually been able to befriend Kaoru and Kojiro, and with them, to found "S," where so many other people were able to simply be themselves. As far as he was concerned, Tadashi was a part of his family, just as much as his father and his aunts.

So like a woman who refused to accept that a relationship was over, Hanako's outburst struck him as fatuous and a little pitiable. He understood her fear of being abandoned, of the life which she had become accustomed to changing, but change was simply a part of life. It was long past time for him to cut himself loose from them and set out on his own, making his own choices and accepting the consequences of his actions without their safety net beneath him.

"I am very sorry that you feel that way," Ainosuke replied sincerely, meeting Hanako's eyes squarely. "But I have made up my mind. Again, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your patience and guidance."

He had to tilt his head to avoid the teacup that came flying at him. The delicate porcelain shattered against the wall and fell to the floor, and he glanced briefly at the brownish streak on the wall that stretched down to spreading puddle against the baseboard.

"I will call for a maid to bring you a new cup and clean that up. I wish all of you a good afternoon."

Inclining his head slightly in dismissal, he turned and left, leaving a stunned silence behind him.

#adamappreciationweek2021 #sk8 #SK8 the Infinity #skate the infinity #fanfic #fan fic #sk8 adam #shindo ainosuke #ainosuke shindo #mine

[themuffinbee]

Lore Olympus Novelized, Chapter 4

First Chapter - Previous Chapter

Hey, it's been a while. Life has been rough, so this took some time to finish. Since I'm having to play with the chronology of the chapters a little to fit a literary narrative format, the comic's Chapter 5 is LON's Chapter 4. It’s finally Pining Hades o’clock, my friends!

As always, this is merely an unofficial fan adaptation. All plot and dialogue belong to the talented Rachel Smythe. I'm just playing in her sandbox.

—————————————————

“I’m not into this.”

Silence.

“I’m not happy with myself,” Eros said, a little louder this time. Still, his mother ignored him as she flitted from car to car.

He glanced around the moonlit parking lot in the hope that there would be somebody, anybody around to put a stop to this nonsense. Of course, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

“I’m so uncomfortable right now.” What an understatement. Eros had that creepy-crawly sensation like a thousand bugs moving under his skin when he thought about all the rules of consent he had broken in the last two hours. Ugh!

He kept his eyes straight ahead as he shifted the dead drunk, unconscious goddess in his arms, attempting to make her more comfortable. After all, it wouldn’t do for her to have a cramped neck or pinched nerve after a night like tonight. He had to have some standards.

“Oh, stop fussing and hurry up. Serves her right for being so trusting,” Aphrodite said without even a glance in his direction. She stopped and cocked her head. “Eros, do you know how to pick locks?”

For crying out--

“Ma, what the fuck are we doing?” Yeah, okay. He probably should have asked that question a couple of hours ago, but whatever. “I left a perfectly good orgy for this, I thought you had an actual emergency. It's late. I'm cold.”

His mother finally looked him in the eye, and, much to his disappointment, she seemed far more annoyed than concerned at his insubordination. 

“Look at this girl." He held up Persephone, her head lolling to the side. “She’s like the personification of a friggin’ cinnamon roll! An adorable, pink cinnamon roll!”

Aphrodite only crossed her arms and glared at him.

Oh, my gods. What. Even.

“Why are you jealous of a cinnamon roll?!” Eros took a calming breath. Getting angry with his mother only made her more stubborn. He took on a more coaxing voice and said, “Let’s just take her back to Artemis and tell her you’re feeling a bit more deranged than usual.”

That got a reaction. 

“Check that sassy attitude, Mr. Man,” his mother said with her hands on her hips, using a tone she normally reserved for his younger siblings. She turned away and clasped her hands to her chest, eyes misting over far too quickly to be sincere. “You still owe me big time after that bullshit you pulled with Psyche.”

Then she glanced back towards him, her eyes now narrowed in a chilling gaze. “You want to see her, right?”

And that was that. Eros pressed his lips into a thin line and remained silent.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Now help me find his car.” Aphrodite flipped her lavender hair over her shoulder and continued down the parking lot, her fists clenched at her sides. “Stupid Hades!”

Why was she acting so weird tonight? Everyone already knew she was beautiful, especially when she wore a getup like she had on tonight. Iridescent white with her purple complexion? Always a winning combination. And, besides... “Since when did you give a crap about the King of the Underworld?”

His mother shot him a glare over her shoulder. “It’s about respect!”

Eros sighed. “I’m pretty sure that breaking into someone else’s car is a crime...”

“Listen--”

“...aaand it’s not very respectful.”

“Listen.” She spread her hands out to the side of her face and little sparkles of light shot out of her fingers. “Listen.”

The sparkles formed a hazy image of a cartoonish, disgruntled Hades.

“We’re gonna hide her in his car." Aphrodite gave a little twirl of her finger and the cartoon Hades flung open his car door to reveal an equally indignant Persephone. “Once he gets home, he’ll find her. She’ll be super drunk and do a buttload of embarrassing stuff. He will think she’s totally gross.”

The imaginary Persephone fell to the ground crying as the cartoon Hades shrugged. Aphrodite lowered her pitch to something exaggerated and rough and not at all like the King of the Dead. “I’m a big stupid idiot and Aphrodite is the most beautiful goddess ever.”

“And then!” His mother returned her voice to normal as the image of Hades pushed a judgy-looking Persephone off of his driveway. “Since he took her home drunk, she’ll think he’s a creepy, old man."

Aphrodite smiled and closed her eyes, looking so content that she may as well have spent the day at a spa. “That’s the plan.”

Eros stared at her and tried to make sense of the raving nonsense he had just heard. At least this was Hades and not one of his brothers they were talking about, so Persephone should be safe enough. But still, this was beyond messed up. Did his mom really think this would work?

Aphrodite’s smile dislodged a bit and one of her eyebrows crooked upwards as she looked up at him, waiting. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fresh hell, I am embarrassed for you.”

She tried to protest, but he kept talking, “Mom, you seem to have such a distorted view of people these days...when did you stop seeing the best in people?”

Aphrodite pinched her mouth shut and spun on her heel with a “Hmph!” as she continued her march through the parking lot. 

"When did you forget about kindness?" Eros followed after her, "When did you forget about love?"

Still, Aphrodite walked onwards. 

It was at this point that Eros realized he may have given his mother a complex. Gods, what a fucking mess.

—————————————————

Hades pulled his car into the driveway and proceeded to sit and stare out the window, not really finding the will in his bones to move. This was the worst night he had put himself through in a while, and he wondered just how much more scotch it would take for him to wipe it from his memory.

Not only had he somehow fucked things up with Minthe, but he had acted like a complete fool at his brother’s party, all for a pretty girl he had never met. Looking back, even his thoughts were embarrassing. ‘Like a rose in a snarling mess of brambles?’ Where had he come up with a phrase so disgustingly saccharine?

Just then, a small sound from the back seat cracked through his ruminations. He turned his head and saw…

What. What the...why...how???

She was there. Persephone. In his car. Somehow. 

She was curled up asleep in his backseat, covered in roses of all things -- because of course she was -- and she looked, she looked…she looked miserable. Pale and sick. There was a small slip of paper attached with tape to her thigh, and drawn on it was a delicate little heart.

Aphrodite. 

She must have overheard him at the party, but he didn't remember seeing her there at all...which was probably Aphrodite's problem. The Goddess of Beauty had always been a diva that never liked to share the spotlight, but when did her ego get so fragile?

Hades shut off the engine and walked around the car as quietly as he could. When he opened the rear passenger door, Persephone let out a small, whimpering groan at the sound, but stayed limp, one of her knees dangling so far off of the seat that it almost drooped to the floor. There was no way she would be able to walk in that state.

Deciding to look only at what his hands were doing, and not at the disheveled goddess slumped over in the back of his car, Hades half-knelt on the floorboard and began brushing Aphrodite’s signature roses off of the seat, their cloying scent filling the air. His gaze remained glued to his fingers as he peeled the little note off of Persephone’s thigh and crumpled the offending piece of paper into a ball.

Trying to be gentle, and most likely failing, Hades hooked one arm behind Persephone’s shoulders and the other under her knees, sliding her out of the car and doing his best to avoid bumping her into anything. Her head lolled against his shoulder and the smell of alcohol on her breath replaced the scent of the roses. A lot of alcohol. 

As he walked towards the house, an emotion between sadness and anger grew behind his ribcage. There was no reason for her to be here, no reason for her to be mixed up with someone as...volatile as Aphrodite. No reason except for--

Hades felt Persephone stir against his chest and she let out a little moan, now reaching out an arm as though she were attempting to grab hold of something. A small butterfly made of pink light appeared on her wilting fingers while another fluttered about between her neck and his shoulder. Hades finally let his gaze drift up to her face and...hell. Even in as pitiful a state as she was in now, with her brow all furrowed and her skin far too pale, he would still say Persephone was more beautiful than Aphrodite. Thank Gaia the little goddess was practically dead to the world right now, otherwise, she would be able to hear his heart beating a thousand miles per minute and--

Hades frowned and looked away, resuming his path towards the house. He was not one of his brothers and he was not going to act like them tonight. Staring slack-jawed at someone across the room in the middle of a crowded party was one thing, ogling an incapacitated woman you were carrying into your home was very much so another.

A low whine pierced through the silence as a shape made of darkness padded out from the shadows. One canine head split into three, all six ears standing at full attention.

“Settle down, you might scare her,” Hades said as he motioned with his hand to halt his guard dog’s advance. He held Persephone closer with his other arm, vaguely realizing that one of her hands had curled itself around the lapel of his coat. Cerberus whined again, but his ears and tail relaxed by a fraction.

Good boy.

With only the minimum amount of fumbling and jostling, Hades managed to get the two of them through the sliding glass doors and into his living room. He shifted Persephone in his arms and bent over to deposit her into the nearest chair. Before he could lower her so much as two inches, he heard her make the smallest whimper into his shoulder as she flopped one of her arms around the back of his neck. Hell on Olympus, she sounded so sad, so scared. And why was she clinging to him? Was she so drunk that she thought he was someone else? That had to be it.

Cradling the back of her head in his hand, he whispered, “I’m just - I’m just going to put you down for a sec, okay?”

She did not answer, but he felt her arm slide off of his neck. As he laid her down in the chair, he tried to ignore how much he didn’t want to let go of her either.

Tasks. He needed tasks. Tasks were going to be his best damn friends tonight.

Task one: water.

His feet took him from the living room to the kitchen without further thought, his hands on autopilot. Open cupboard, grab glass, close cupboard, place glass under faucet, turn on faucet, turn off faucet, walk back to the living room, and--

He came to a halt the moment Persephone came back into view. She still looked miserable, of course, but even with her sickly pallor, she positively glowed in the darkness. Seeing her splash of bright pink against the ever-present shadows of his home, a dusting of wildflower petals gathering around his chair, it dawned on him just how foolish his attraction to her was. The King of the Dead together with the Goddess of Spring? The very thought was laughable, absurd.

Hades sighed as he knelt in front of the chair and Persephone opened her eyes, half-lidded and unfocused. He held the glass aloft in his hand, shaking it a little in an attempt to get her attention. “You should drink some water.” 

Her expression remained blank, a slow blink being the only sign that she may have comprehended his words. When she made no move to reach for the glass, Hades leaned forward, placed a tentative hand under her jaw, and held the glass to her lips. Though a few drops did spill out the sides of the cup, he saw her throat make weak work at drinking. Good.

Now for task two: accommodations.

Once she had nearly drained the glass, he set it aside and again picked her up from the chair, heading off towards whichever of his abandoned guest rooms he thought most likely to be ready for seldom-seen company.

As he carried the inebriated goddess through the darkened halls, Hades felt her sink deeper against his chest with every step, until she had nestled her head against his cheek, her fingers toying with his bowtie. Nobody had the right to be that damned adorable when they were blackout drunk. He tried not to think of what would have happened if Aphrodite had dumped her in someone else’s car by mistake. Someone like Zeus, or Ares, or Apollo.

He crossed the threshold of a suitable room and a knot formed in his throat as he came upon the third and final task of the night: sleep.

“Sorry for manhandling you…” Hades said as he sat down on the bed and pulled back the covers, Persephone’s legs splayed across his own. Somehow speaking aloud made this feel less...creepy. He let go of her once they were settled, expecting the little goddess to lie down and bury her face in a pillow. Instead, much to his contradictory discomfort and happiness, she steadied herself by looping her arms around his neck and slumped her head onto his shoulder.

Wow...right. Okay. This was not going the way he had planned. He cleared his throat and reached towards her feet.

“If you sleep with your shoes on, you’ll get sores on your feet,” he said, deciding that narrating his actions to the silent goddess made him at least feel much more comfortable. Though taking her shoes off wasn’t nearly the same as, say, changing her into pajamas, it still felt like it passed some boundary of intimacy. As he slipped one stiletto heel off and then the other, he noted that they came off a little too easily, like they were half a size too large. Hades thought of all the nights he had crashed on his office couch, too exhausted to bother taking off his shoes. The ill-fitting ones had always left behind the worst blisters. He winced a little at the memory. “Trust me, I know.”

Lifting the covers with one hand and cradling her back and head with the other, Hades managed to steer Persephone’s legs under the sheets. Her arms, however, stayed outstretched and draped over his shoulders even as he laid her head on the pillow. Damn, if he didn’t know that she was too drunk to even sit up on her own, he would have thought she was trying to seduce him--

A shiver ran through Hades, electrifying enough he might have mistaken it for one of Zeus’ lightning bolts. So light that he could barely register the sensation, he felt the slight brush of her fingers skimming over his hair. It stole the breath from his lungs. One by one, her fingers traced over his ears and ran along his cheeks, her touch gentler than anything he could remember. But, the pads of her fingers were also somewhat...rough. Not the soft, downy skin he would have expected of the dainty goddess.

For a moment, he wondered if she were attempting to map his face through touch as each finger spread over his features. Some outlined his cheekbones, one of her thumbs glided over the side of his nose, and a few of her fingers, gods, slid along his jaw. Each digit only made the barest, most tantalizing bit of contact with his skin, and that alone was nearly overwhelming. It wasn’t until her other thumb grazed the corner of his mouth that he realized had been sitting spellbound this whole time, his eyes shut as he leaned into her touch. Practically a puddle in her hands.

…Would she want to map out the rest of him with those hands?

You are not your brothers. You are not your brothers. Snap out of it! You are NOT your brothers.

Hades sighed and brought his hands up to catch hers before they went anywhere else. “Now stop that.”

Looking down, he could indeed discern a set of calluses padding her rosy fingers and palms. The puzzle of Persephone only continued to grow. It was a good thing he still had his gloves on, otherwise he would be so very tempted to explore those callused hands with his own.

Who was he kidding? He was already tempted. Which meant that he needed to leave.

“I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, “ he said as he released her hands.

Yes. Good. Satisfied that he had done the correct, gentlemanly thing (to the best of his abilities at least), he headed for the door.

And then he heard it.

From behind him came one loud, giant sniffle. And then a small whimper. And then another sniffle.

Oh. 

Oh no.

She was crying.

Before he knew it, he was back at the side of the bed, kneeling on the floor. “I can take you home if you want,” he said, noting more of those luminous pink petals had formed on the dark sheets, “I just don’t know where you live.”

“Please don’t tell my mom how drunk I got tonight,” she whispered, her voice all cracked and warbled. Tears were already streaming down her cheek as she clung to the pillow beneath her. “She’ll make me move back home if she finds out.”

Hades nearly chuckled, “Your mother? Demeter and I aren’t exactly best buds. I may be a lot of things, but I’m no snitch.” Surprised to find his hands moving on their own, he wiped away her tears in an attempt to stem the flowing tide. “Sweetness, don’t get worked up. Everything will seem one thousand times better in the morning.”

With one last baleful look at him, a gaze reminiscent of her earlier flash of sadness at the party, Persephone closed her eyes. Hades pulled the covers up and over her bare shoulders. At least his reassurance had given her some kind of peace.

After shutting her door behind him, he wandered through the shadowy corridors, his feet finally leading him to the rooftop patio. Hades breathed in the chill of the Underworld’s eternal night. The cold air on his skin, however, did nothing to reduce the memory of Persephone’s delicate touch on his cheeks.

Damn.

She shouldn’t be here.

Sunlight and wildflowers and warmth had no business being in the Land of the Dead, especially when she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not that she would ever want to come here of her own accord anyway.

Hell, this entire night had been a new level of idiocy for him. Of course, Minthe was tired of his dour bullshit. Of course, Aphrodite would have been in the Olympian suite at the party. Of course, she would spite a less powerful goddess out of petty jealousy. Of course.

Hades gripped the handrail of the balcony as he surveyed his shrouded, dead kingdom, and had what he considered to be his most logical thought of the night:

This is all my fault.

#Lore Olympus #Lore Olympus Novelized #my fics #Persephone #Hades #not cr

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #401

“my love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses”

Do you typically do your makeup the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? IF I wear makeup, it's essentially always the same. Who is the last person you were in a room with just the two of you? What were you doing? Yesterday with Mom. We were trying to find the best deal on Eco Earth, a substrate we're getting for Venus. What was the last really good book you read, and what was it about? If we're talking REALLY good book, then The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. In short summary, it's a dystopian future novel where women are now basically just objects used only for repopulation, even having their names stripped from them. They follow very strict rules as society has returned to horrible misogyny. As a woman, the "oh my god, this is possible" aspect of it is terrifying, and it causes such a sense of disgust and urge to ensure women rights always continue to be fought for. Do you feel safe in your country? For the most part, I'd say. I guess. There are places I'd feel safer, though. How many meals do you eat a day? Three. Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No, but I was supposed to my senior year in high school; the seniors at my dance studio were always welcome to do a solo in celebration. Mine was a modern dance to "Coma White" by Marilyn Manson, wanting to tell a story about depression and how being medicated could feel, but I eventually decided like halfway through learning the choreography that I was just too nervous to do a solo. Have you ever sung a solo? No. When you go to McDonalds, what drink do you usually get? Coke. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? No. Do you own a designer purse? Definitely not. I'm not wasting that much money on something like that. What’s the weirdest rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself? Apparently, Jason and I had a baby in high school even though I was obviously never pregnant. To my knowledge, it was started by his ex. Who is now a good friend of mine lmaooo. Life is funny. What was your favorite Saturday morning cartoon growing up? Pokemon, of course. Would you ever have an affair? Nope. Would you ever have a one night stand? Nope. Where you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? No. What are your opinions on marijuana legalization? Legalize it, but treat it similarly to alcohol in that driving under the influence is illegal and punishable, and I believe you should be of a certain age. How about abortion? I am pro-choice. I was pro-life most of my own life, but now I am very firm about a mother being able to choose if she wants to endure a pregnancy or not. Like, that is a MASSIVE life event that almost inevitably changes - and sometimes traumatizes - people. I do believe a fetus is its own body and not part of the mother's, but rather in the mother's, but the belief that a woman decides what she wants in her body is her choice, too. I'm not very fond of people treating abortion as a simple, regular form of birth control, like it's nothing but an "lol whoops," but I still believe it is ultimately her decision, and she should always be free of judgment for doing what is best for her. Do you wear skirts or dresses more often? Neither. I wouldn't dare wear a skirt more so, though. What do you think about tipping at restaurants? There should always be an expected minimum, imo, unless the person was truly, sincerely, genuinely fucking awful. Waiters do not have an easy job, fight me about it, and they're just trying to survive while putting on a happy, jovial face, all the while dealing with hungry people who can be such assholes. I believe the actual tip should relate to actual service, but again, give them something. Would you ever get back together with any of your exes? One, absolutely. The other would take a shitload of consideration and proper communication on his part. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? No, because I don't like coffee. Do you usually befriend your coworkers, or do you prefer to keep work separate from your personal life? IF I had a job, I'd like to build a friendship with those I have to engage with almost every day. What is something you frequently forget? Dates, ages, names, what I was about to do five seconds before I forgot... Pretty much everything. My memory is frightfully poor. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? No. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? In my bed. Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? Both; my parents split when I was somewhere around 17, though, but I'd say there wasn't much more "raising" to do at that age. Have you ever stolen anything? If so, why? No. Have you ever plagiarized someone else's work? Hell no. What's your most-used mode of transportation? My mom's car. Have you ever taught someone else a useful skill? Not to my recollection. Does seeing everyone else's 'perfect lives' posted on social media ever bring you down or affect how you feel about yourself? It actually does, honestly. Not ALWAYS, but if I'm being honest, it does most of the time. I've contemplated deleting Facebook for that reason, but with is also comes things that make me happy, and I think I'd feel even more isolated without it. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? This is SO impossible for me to answer. I loooove Hostess and Little Debbie treats. I want to say honeybuns, but I also love those chocolate cupcakes with the white swirls on top, as well as Twinkies. Very few exist that I don't like. Do you/your family buy loafs from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? We just buy bagged bread. What’s the best news you’ve gotten lately? My APAP mask is definitively WORKING!!!!! :') Mom got an app that connects to the machine via Bluetooth that monitors the effectiveness of the mask, evaluating many factors of your sleep, and it's detecting a definite decrease in disruptive behaviors or something like that. It is so, SO encouraging to know that. ^And, the worst? Hm. Oh, probably some news on something serious a good friend is going through, but I don't feel it's my right to disclose what. It's just a very worrying and potentially dangerous issue that I wish I could help her with. Would you rather receive (or give) flowers, chocolates or jewelry? I'd appreciate any, but my fat ass is drawn to the chocolate, ha ha. What *I* would give would vary depending on what the person liked. How do you feel about coconut? Smells lovely, but is otherwise gross. ^ Ever cracked one open? No, but omg I've always wanted to, haha. What’s the best thing about being your gender? I guess the fact it's more "normal" and "accepted" to show our emotions. Fuck that generalization, though. I don't give a shit what your gender is, you experiencing emotions is NORMAL and welcomed to be expressed. ^ And the worst thing? The ability to be raped and impregnated by it. Do you do your part to save the earth? I don't do nearly enough. :/ We recycle, but that's about it. Well, none of us DARE to litter either, but I still don't feel like it's as much as the earth deserves from its denizens. Who do you think should have their portrait on a bill? I don't know or care. Why did you last feel exhausted? Yesterday was my niece's birthday, and I spent essentially ALL day playing with her and her brother. I have a very limited battery when it comes to kids, and I was running on empty for hours. My anxiety was SO high and I really needed a break from them, but they're too young to really understand that Aunt Britt can only socially run for so long before I'm completely burnt out, and TRUST ME, I was there for sure. I didn't want them to think they did something wrong, you know? I just had to keep going. I slept like a baby last night though for sure, haha. Have you ever used emotional blackmail to get your own way? Wow, no. Has anybody ever used emotional blackmail on you? No. Who did you last worry about and why? Sara for health reasons. Are you currently looking for a new place to live? Not actively, but Mom and I definitely want to move. We feel very out-of-place here in the suburbs. Which would you prefer as a view; mountains or the sea? Mountains. Do you have a mouse for your laptop? (Assuming you have a laptop) Yes. I canNOT play games with a trackpad. Do you apologize a lot? Extremely excessively. When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Do you mean like, for the wedding? In that case, probably the venue. Being a photography buff, I want a place I think is really pretty to have pictures taken. What’s something you complain about frequently? My legs hurting, my weight, and being hot. Do you have anything planned for the summer? Nope, and that's fine with me. I'd rather stay inside away from the heat. Who usually makes dinner in your household? My ma. Do you have a blog? Just on Tumblr. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? My mother does because of gerd, and at least when my father still lived with us, he snored super loud, too. Do you want to fix anything with anyone? Yeah, a few people. What shows do you watch? Right now, only Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Whenever The Edge of Sleep comes out, I will 110% be watching that, too, because Mark is a key actor in it. :') Plus the concept seems super cool. Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I don't know. Who was the last person you had a conversation with on the phone? Me mum. Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone specific? No, given it has like... one lyric, haha. Do you own any TV show soundtracks? No. Last thing you did that made you feel like an adult? I mean I guess sign myself in at the doctor's. What’s your favorite picture of your mom? Dad? Oh my god, there's a candid one I got of Mom laughing when she was posing as my subject for a photography assignment, and I cherish it with ALL my heart. I want to share it with essentially the whole world, but yeah, I'm not gonna put my mom's picture here. As for my dad, I like this one I took of us at Red Lobster for his birthday a year or two back. Last TV show series you finished? Fullmetal Alchemist with Sara. Favorite flavor of cream cheese? Regular. What US state would you like to visit? Alaska. Last meal you made yourself? I put a chicken pesto thing in the microwave earlier for dinner.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''whispers in the dark'' by skillet

[angelsswirl]

Vellichor

The One With Very Chaotic Pool Party

"Sugar, we're going down swinging."

Peyton knocked on the door harshly, "Ryland! Hurry the fuck up! Everyone's already here and I haven't even gotten to shower!"

A huff came from behind the locked door, "Go use the one in moms' room!"

"Oh! I can't believe I hadn't thought of that!" Peyton rolled her eyes, even though her older sister wouldn't see it.

"See, there you go."

"That was sarcasm, dipshit. Mom is in there."

"Peyton! Don't call your sister a dipshit!" Jisoo yelled from somewhere in the house.

"How did she even hear that?"

Ryland finally exited the bathroom a few seconds later. Her hair was tied back in a immaculate ponytail with a baby blue scrunchie that corresponded with the rest of her hot weather outfit.

Peyton glared at the young woman, "What were you even doing in there? You look exactly the same?"

Ryland gasped, terrified, she quickly backed into the bathroom again and slammed the door shut.

"Sleep with your eyes open." Peyton muttered at the locked door.

"Peyton! Stop threatening your sister!" Jisoo yelled again.

"What the hell?!" Peyton yelped.

You frowned as you left your bedroom, Kaleb sat on your hip, his swim trunks and rashgaurd coincidentally matching Ryland's baby blue outfit.

"Your mom's right. You need to stop threatening your sister with bodily harm when she does something you don't like."

Peyton's frown deepened, "It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion. I'd hate for it to be an unfair fight."

You just stared at your youngest daughter, "You know, when Lia dropped you on your head as a baby I didn't really think it would manifest itself into this."

Peyton pouted, "Lia dropped me?!"

"Well, technically it was Jisoo and you landed on the bed. Just..head first. In your mother's defense, she didn't know Lia was going to jump onto her stomach. You were on her chest. It was like those big air blob things you see at summer camp on a lake. It was actually kind of funny. You thought it was too while you were in the air. After you landed, not so much."

"And somehow I still love you." Peyton deadpanned. In all honesty, that story made a whole lot of sense.

"I love you too!"

Kaleb tugged on the collar of your shirt lightly, "Build?"

You smiled at your youngest, "Yeah, we can build. I think mama moved your legos outside, is that okay?"

Kaleb thought about it for a second then nodded. He didn't care where his legos were as long as he got to use them.

You urged Peyton along one more time, before setting off to the backyard.

~•~

"You're going to burn a whole through the poor kid's head if you don't stop staring." Sana said as she pushed the meat around the grill some more. She didn't know what she was doing really. But she was precariously watching a YouTube video with instructions. YouTube University to the rescue once again.

"She wants to defile my child. I know this as fact. That's all I was thinking about at that age." Jisoo said without breaking her gaze.

"And yet, you remained a virgin until 27. Funny how stuff like that works itself out." Irene spoke up, she shooed Sana out of the way of the grill and set about fixing things.

"If I lost my virginity at 27, how would I have had Lia? Oh, you were joking." Jisoo pouted.

"Got it in one." Irene's words dripped sarcasm, "I thought you got over that. Seulgi and I met at 19 and 18, you didn't seem to have a problem about that then."

"I was also 19 and neither you or Seulgi are my fucking daughter. How would you feel if Maya just suddenly walked into your house claiming your sworn enemy's kid was her mate?"

"I killed all my enemies back in the late 90's."

"Could you give me two seconds of sincerity, Irene? Please." Jisoo's shoulders slumped.

Irene rolled her eyes, "Is Maya happy in this scenario?"

Jisoo looked as though she didn't want to answer that question, "Well...yeah."

"Then I'd be happy for her. Like you should be with Ryland."

Sana nodded along with Irene's statement, "As far as I can tell, neither Rosè or Taylor are bad people. Ryalnd is happy. Shouldn't that be all that matters?"

Jisoo huffed defeatedly, "Fine. You're right. I'm going to go talk to the kid."

Jisoo practically stomped off in the direction of the teenager.

Irene looked on with a proud smile, "You know, Sana? I think our little girl is finally growing up." She wiped a fake tear from her eye.

"The ribs are burning." A voice stated from the side of them.

"Shit!"

"Oh hey, Jennie. When did you get here?"

~•~

"Ryland, do you mind if I scare the shit out of your girlfriend? Thank you." Before Ryland could respond, Jisoo dragged Taylor away by the arm.

Taylor stood up straighter and puffed out her chest, "Hello, Mrs. Kim. My name is Taylor Bae-Park and I-"

"Look, kid. I don't need all of that. I just need to know a few things. Do you love my daughter?"

"With every single breath I take."

Jisoo tried to keep her scowl to a minimum.

"Are you treating her right?"

"I like to think so."

"Are you pressuring her into anything she doesn't want to do?"

"Of course not."

Jisoo sighed, "That's...good to hear. Alright, if you end up going all the way with this thing then so be it. Just promise me this, if she ever starts acting like...well, herself and you can't take it anymore, just bring her back. Her mom and I are use to it."

Taylor nodded stiffly then saluted, "You have my word!"

"Did you just sal-you didn't-I'm not..whatever." Jisoo took a sip of the beer she had completely forgotten was in her hand.

Taylor began to walk away, but Jisoo stopped her, "Hey, Taylor? Tell Chaeyoung I said 'Hi'." Taylor nodded with a smile, then jogged back to the edge of the pool.

Jisoo stayed rooted to the spot, almost jumping out of her skin when arms encircled themselves around her waist.

"That was very hot." You practically purred into Jisoo's ear, "You being all protective mama bear. It's a shame we're hosting this little get together, because if we weren't I'd get down on my knees for you and-"

"Okay! Why don't you put a pin in that thought for now, while I go completely submerged myself in the pool for about 10 minutes, yeah?" Jisoo shuffled out of your arms frantically.

You only laughed hysterically as Jisoo awkwardly hobbled to the pool edge then jumped straight in.

"20 years later. Still got it." You gave yourself a mental pat on the back.

~•~

"Jesse Kim! You are way too old for me to have to tell you to stop standing on tables." Lisa shouted up at her son. He had always been a climber. He had given her and Jennie multiple heart attacks as a baby.

Jesse only smiled charmingly at his mother, then set about continuing to do what he was doing, "Friends, Family! I have an announcement to make!"

He had managed to catch everyone's attention, though most of them probably wanted to see if Lisa would throw a shoe at him to get him down.

"As you all know, I was going to go into my second year of college at Julliard, but what you don't know is that last week I got a signed a record deal with Columbia records!" He smiled brightly.

The rest of the partygoers clapped enthusiastically.

"But they suck."

"Peyton!"

"Not only that, but after talking with my 'rents, I've decided to say fuck college and I'm going to perform full time."

"You just couldn't keep it PG, could you?" Lisa took a long sip of her chilled wine. Jesse shook his head with a happy smile.

There's a scraping of a lawn chair against pavement and a dissatisfied huff. No one really notices accept for the people closest.

Jisoo moved to go talk to her oldest daughter, but stopped when a hand is placed on her shoulder.

Jennie shook her head subtly, "I think I have some aunting to do on this one."

Jisoo looked a bit skeptical, but let Jennie walk off in Lia's direction nonetheless, "Alright, but come get me if you need me."

"I got this, Chu."

Lia had stormed around the house to the front stoop. She sat on the step with a huff. An angry tear hit her cheek just before being forcibly wiped away.

"What's up, Li?" Jennie sat on the step next to her. She had a feeling she already knew what the problem was, but it wouldn't do her any good to assume and be wrong.

"...I was supposed to be like you and Aunt Seulgi. But no, I just had to get that stupid disease and it just had to ruin my fucking voice." Lia squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the oncoming spillage of tears. There's an idle throb in her throat as if to taunt her.

Jennie rubbed her back softly, "I know that this is hard for you, Kid. If I knew Jess had planned on doing that, I would have talked him out of it. You know how he gets."

Lia only shrugged and shook her head, "It's whatever. What's done is done. Peyton commited to SUNY. I should be used to it."

"I don't think you should have to get used to your life passing you by. You're not a failure. So, what? You can't sing anymore, but that's not all you are. You're a successful youth soccer coach. You just graduated college. You're completely independent of your parents. Those are all things to celebrate."

Lia nodded softly. Jennie did have a couple of points, "It's just...hard."

"I know, Li, but you're not alone. You've got me, your parents, your siblings, and all of your other family and friends to help."

"Yeah, okay." Lia nodded.

"Now, you want to get back to this party?"

Lia nodded resolutely, "Yeah. Mama said I have to beat Taylor in a game of Chicken Fight to assert my dominance."

Jennie only sighed, "Yeah, that sounds about Jisoo."

#vellichor #jesssica's fanfic #blackpink fanfic #blackpink #jisoo fanfic #jisoo x reader #kim jisoo

[theasteriae-arc]

THE INTERVIEW. 

( or, when sebastian met katherine. the discord thread between @epiitaphs & myself, feat. our muses squabbling over @diabolicaltendencies’ jim ) 

WHITEHALL, c. 2009. 

Her heels make an impressive racket on the tiles, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the corridor like there’s an army of interrogators on their way to sink their teeth into him. Sebastian Moran. The slick haired, sharp tongued politician she had never liked—not even before she’d found out Jim was screwing him. It was just a shame that the thick carpet in his secretary’s office—in his office—muffled the quick ratatat of those stilettos. Her war cry. “No. Excuse me, madam, you can’t- Have you got an appointment? You can’t go in there without an appointment.” Kate ignored her and opened the door to Sebastian’s office. “My name is Katherine Conway,” she said crisply to the man behind the desk. “You’ll want to see me.” And without waiting to be invited, she took a seat across from him, putting her handbag down, and folding her hands expectantly in her lap.

Sebastian is, as always, busy. Everything's manageable at the moment - neither the country nor the party are falling into the abyss, but that doesn’t mean that he's got time to rest. There’s people and policy to keep up to date on, and he can't afford to ever fall behind. Which is why he makes sure to keep a couple steps ahead of where everyone’s supposed to be. It's what got him through school and through the first years of his job. It's also what keeps him at the office late, though that's decreased over time now that Jim's around. Much more appealing to be able to come home to someone and not just the cats. There was a commotion outside, Sebastian looking up from his work just as the door opened. “An interesting opening statement, Katherine Conway,” he replied. The name seemed familiar but not enough to be someone he kept active tabs on. “Will I?” It seemed very much like he would, given that she had clearly decided to make herself home. A nod at the secretary in the doorway and the door was shut. “In that case, I suppose I'd like to know just what it is that you think is so important to require an urgent, unscheduled meeting. My time is valuable and I have later meetings, so brief is best.”

“Cancel them. I’m here to talk about James, and knowing him, that could well take all night.” 

And wouldn’t he just love that? There was a bitter twist to her lips as she continued, “He called me last weekend, told me about the two of you. How serious would you say it was?” He had a pot of pens on his desk, sleek and black with shiny gold hooks so that he could slip one into his pocket without fear of it falling out. She reached forward to take one, testing its weight in her hand, twirling it in between her fingers. “Serious enough for him to call, I suppose. But not serious enough for him to have told you everything, am I right? Didn’t want you to run a background check on him?” Her free hand disappeared into her pocket and came out with a card. Katherine Conway, Named Partner at Conway O’Kelly, an all-female chambers in Dublin. There had been a glint of recognition in his eyes when he’d repeated her name back to her and she was sure this was why; he knew of her work, not her history with his boyfriend. She’d enjoy telling him then. “Well, let me clear up some of the confusion. I used to be his girlfriend. And he wants to introduce you to the daughter we share. So, I wanted to meet you first, to make sure I was happy with that. Politicians, you know, they’re not the most trustworthy people.”

“James, you say? That sounds rather serious.” He made no move to cancel the meetings. He was fairly certain the first one could go on without him, though he’d miss out. But they'd cross that bridge if they came to it. If this was about Jim, he'd rather hear what she had to say, but he didn't intend to be pushed into any particular action. Jim had called her? What could he possibly be up to? “Quite serious, I’d say. I assume you read the news.” If she wanted details, she could refer to that. He watched as she took a pen, wondering just what her intentions where, what her connections to Jim might be. Sebastian didn't indicate an answer one way or another to the first question. “He’s told me more than enough and I have respected his privacy when asked to do so.” Jim’s privacy. Not that of others, but that wasn't something he was going to admit to. Not when she'd given him one small fact - that Jim had called. Fact 2: Sebastian hadn't known. Fact 3: Sebastian didn't know everything. 

She pulled out her card - as if that would give him much more information. It’d give him information that he could find, which was exactly what this meeting was not about. This meeting was about gaps in knowledge and Sebastian hated being on the wrong side of that. She was more than simply her job and title - if she knew Jim, that is. “Thank you for the clarification. It's much appreciated.” The thin smile on his face suggested otherwise. That she was the mother was a surprise, but she didn't have to know that. “I’d be happy to meet his child, should I pass inspection.” That information hadn't been as much from Jim. “Some might say the same for your profession. I’d know - did you look into me at all?” He really hoped so, or he'd be sincerely disappointed. She'd shown initiative so far and it'd be unfortunate if that ended up being a false lead. Time for a little bit more of a gamble. “He did mention you, by the way. As a detail. Youthful mistakes, you know.”

Nothing about her expression, her demeanour, changed. She didn’t miss a breath or move a muscle. Not quite relaxed, because from her posture it was clear that she meant business, but authoritative. Refusing to be riled. Did you look into me at all? Ha. She wanted to scoff—the Dubliner in her who’d grown up in the wrong part of the city wanted to spit—but she didn’t. Instead, she smiled. “Of course. Sebastian Moran, graduated top of his class from Magdalen College, Oxford. Fast tracked into politics, no doubt helped by his Daddy, who’s the Labour Whip in the House of Lords. Sebastian Moran who dislocated his shoulder climbing up the drainpipe of his family home during a scrap with a sibling.” The information about Oxford and his father, she could have got from anywhere. The more personal details, though, they’re not such common knowledge. She could feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to determine her source. “Your sister told me. Moira. Well, obviously. Alex doesn’t talk, does she?” Kate’s smile grew wider, more pointed. “Still managing to cause a lot of trouble up in Manchester though, I hear. Moira and I work the same cases occasionally—opposite sides, of course, but it’s always good to have a glass of wine and catch up. I’d heard rumours about you and James and she all but confirmed them, but he’s never been one for commitment, so.” The comment about her being a mistake more than stung, but she couldn’t let herself lose her cool just yet. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at his steadfastly across the wide expanse of his desk. “You’ll understand if I don’t want my family being dragged into the centre of a political scandal just for the sake of some fling?”

She didn't react, which told him only so much. Either it could be that neither of his hits had landed or that some of them had - and he wasn’t going to be able to tell which ones until she’d started on the offensive again. He didn't like her, but he had to admit she had at least done her research. Plenty of it, it seemed, given the much more personal anecdote tacked on the end. “A good summary of my CV. I’d keep the assumptions to a minimum, if I were you, though. I have an entirely different constituency from him - no handover there. Speaks just a little bit to his position on merit, wouldn't you say?” It was a blow that set him off each time he heard it, but Sebastian wasn't going to reveal weakness. “It's hardly surprising that it'd be easy to find inspiration in his work.”

An eyebrow raised as he stared, wondering just who she might have had access to - ah. Moira. Of course. No family loyalty - he should have known. They'd have to talk about that next time he saw her. In all, the story wasn't too damning, as long as no one looked too closely at how old he'd been at the time. The fact that Moira somehow approved of Conway was both a red flag and a promise that this would be interesting, no matter the way it turned out. “Oh, no, Alex simply has better judgement of who she speaks to.” The jab at Alex was another blow that landed. Conway really had done her research. A smile. “You know, given how close she and Jim are?” Just how far he’d gone since leaving Kate. He wouldn’t give her information that she didn't deserve - that Jim had been committed for far longer than the press knew. “I think he can be, with the right person. Maybe you didn't have enough faith.” The personal angle seemed a far richer vein for now. “I understand perfectly, though really it's up to you - when have I ever been implicated in a scandal, after all? It’d be awful to lose the reputation you've made, wouldn’t it? And I'm sure the scrutiny on the rest of your family would be uncomfortable as well.” It wasn't an outright threat. “All the same, I do understand the value placed on family - did Moira neglect to tell you about the times I've looked after her children?”

“I have plenty of faith, thank you. Actually, I found it was his that was lacking.” Tucked beneath the sharp collar of the severe white shirt ( court clothes; really, she should be at the hotel, prepping her closing statement for tomorrow ) was the battered gold crucifix her parents had given her for her First Communion. Her fingers tighten around one another in her lap so they don’t fly up to fiddle with it. No clues. “And reminding me about his lifestyle choices—" As if that was necessary. “—Won’t help you make your case, Mr. Moran.” Once upon a time, it had been James’s lack of conventionality that she had loved, the fact that he wore leather and make up and made her mother spit with fury whenever she saw them together. When had that changed? When she’d found out she was pregnant and the father of her child had fucked off to England, leaving her unmarried and in trouble and— 

Kate took a deep breath to calm herself, recentre her thoughts, and continued. “I’m sure you’re a fine babysitter,” she said stiffly. “But this is different. And the fact that you can sit there and threaten my family tells me everything I need to know. Unless you have anything else to add, this interview is over.” She pocketed his pen and bent down to retrieve her bag, getting back on her feet before she said, “You can give James my answer, and that is if he ever brings up introducing her to you—or attempts to do it behind my back—I shan’t let him anywhere near her again. We can take it to the courts if we have to; we all know who’s going to win.”

“A strong judgment, I'd say.” Perhaps not entirely unfair, depending on what sort of faith they were discussing, but still. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. But one of my sisters is willing to avoid gossip about the family, and it’s not the one you’re friends with.” He’d really have to talk to Moira about tattling like that. It was annoying, more than anything, but all the same. She took a breath and - clearly, he’d set her off with one his remarks - this wasn't really how he'd wanted this to go. “I don't see how it's different. In fact, I'd say it's even more low risk than babysitting, given that all Jim has asked of you is an introduction.” He considered asking for his pen back. With her standing, ready to go, he’d have to take this seriously - more seriously than before. He might have told her not to be so sure about the outcome, but that would drive the wedge further between them. For Jim’s sake, he shouldn’t. 

“I know the statistics of custody awards, Miss Conway. There is no need to threaten.” Really, there was no need to resort to outright threats. “You do realize a court case would bring exactly the sort of eyes you’d like to avoid?" He stood as well, finally. “I appreciate how much you're willing to do to protect your family and I won't tell you how to do so, but I do think it incredibly unfair of you to not tell him your decision yourself. Not because I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but because he - maturely - asked you for permission to do the barest minimum of actions and you're making assumptions based on a five minute interview that you began with no pretensions of civility.” She’d come in on the offensive and he’d replied in kind. "You don't have to like me - I hardly expect you would, but that doesn't seem like just grounds to punish Jim. Or your daughter, really, who I believe is old enough to ask questions. If I find that you've ever actually prevented him from seeing her because of me, then I really will take issue." Maybe a bit of a threat.

“Mrs.” She paused with her bag over her arm, glowering down at him until her got his feet, and then, even in heels, she was forced to look up. “I don't know what kind of woman you think I am, sir, but I'm not a single one, that's for sure. I've been married eleven years next month.” For their anniversary the year before, she and Richard had hoped to go to Italy. Perhaps this year, if they could find someone to mind the children for a long weekend, they'd actually make it to the art galleries in Florence, the catacombs under Rome. Maybe if Jim could take them ... There was no one else she trusted, but could she even trust him anymore? “You said you were short on time and I believe in getting straight to the point, so please forgive me if I didn't pause to make small talk; we're busy people and there's not a whole lot to say. I don't like to be threatened and that’s twice in five minutes you've threatened me and my family. I don't like you, and your attitude certainly isn't helping. How long have you and James been together?”

“Mrs. Conway, then.” They were past pretending to polite, but he might as well be correct. "Yes, that is what the records say, isn't it." Seb hadn't looked into Jim, but he had done some digging. Just to see what he could find. He'd looked less at her, still trying to keep from directly disobeying Jim's wishes, but the brother had been an opportunity. “I did, didn't I. It's still true, but at the same time you did say it could take a while. You seemed less bothered by time limits at the beginning of this.” Which meant most likely that he'd offended her. Which he'd been trying to do, to be fair. “Neither of those were direct threats, Mrs. Conway, but neither of us have time to argue semantics. You rudely marched in here, implied that I was courting scandal and have since mentioned cutting Jim off from his daughter as well as the possibility to take all of this to court. You're hardly innocent.” 

Here was the choice. They were at the rumor stage of the plan. Technically they'd been more or less together for a year by now, but no one else knew that. “You said you read the news - if they're to be believed, then I think you have your answer - that it all came together after his track.” A breadcrumb. “Moira would perhaps tell you that over a year ago, I was in charge of driving him to and from one of our family's gatherings.” And another breadcrumb dropped. If she wanted to pick them up, follow the trail, she could. Everything he'd said was true in its own way. The interpretation was up to her.

One of Kate's eyebrows went up. “If all I was interested in was second-hand gossip and the suppositions of the press,” she said coolly. “Do you think I'd be here? No. So, it doesn't take an Oxford-educated intellect to infer that what I would like to hear is the truth, straight from the horse's mouth, as it were. An alien concept to you maybe, but I’ll wait if I have to.” And so saying, she slipped out of her coat and sat back down, making a show of settling in for a long stalemate. “How did a politician and a musician who has publicly lambasted him on more than one occasion become a serious item?” Her tone was cold, but she was genuinely curious. Not so much in the how, though, more the, why this man, James? What the hell does someone like you see in him?

That had gotten her back, at least. Sebastian sat as well. “I haven’t lied to you, Mrs Conway,” he replied. He had perhaps misrepresented the truth, omitted, assumed, but he hadn't outright lied just yet. And sure, he'd threatened too, but only vaguely. “And did you ask Jim for the truth?” That was - though perhaps a bit of an attack - mostly just curiosity. “Or is he next? Making sure we can't coordinate our stories?” That was an unfair accusation, but he saw no reason to play fair with her. He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “Maybe it's the public lambasting that makes it fun,” he replied, trying to think of just what he could or should tell her. She didn't deserve the details of their relationship - certainly no more than the general public did. “As much as it may shock you, we get along well. I think we represent a bit of a challenge to each other, and that's what keeps things interesting.”

TO BE CONTINUED ... 

#epiitaphs #( i. drabble ) #( i. save ) #kate. | muse #the sun will come shining through. | happy verse ( musicians ) #( iv. kate & sebastian )

[remys-lucky-franc]

Mmmm, Cake - Sin With Me - Malakai x MC (Suzi)

Short lil fic based on the prompt from @simpsonjenna1 : Can you do a fluffy story please for LI of your choice using the prompt: "Wanna pretend we're getting married and go try some free cake?" "Obviously."

No warnings - just fluff really!

Word Count: 1700

—-

[MORE] [[MORE]]

“Malakai, please, I don’t want to do anymore... I can’t! Enough! Enough!” Suzi flopped dramatically down, flat onto her back onto the gym mat, one arm sprawled over her eyes as she gulped in air. She was sweaty, and she dreaded to think what shade of red her face was or the state of her hair. They had been training for almost two hours at last count: the problem with dating a strongman was definitely the amount of stamina he had. Suzi smirked to herself, the stamina wasn’t always a problem, in fact, the other night when Malak-

Her train of though was rudely interrupted by Malakai’s deep voice somewhere above her,

“Thirsty?”

‘What?! How?!’ Suzi jolted to a seated position!

“No!! Uh, what do you-?!”

She stopped in her tracks, staring at the water bottle in his hand.

‘Thirsty. Of course that’s what he meant, Suzi...’

She grinned sheepishly at Malakai as he quirked an eyebrow at her, pushing the cold drink in her direction.

Malakai smiled back at her before swigging from his own bottle,

“I think that’s probably enough for one day, your shoulders will hurt tomorrow, that was a lot of upper body work... Let’s hit the shower, then get some food. I’m starved.”

Suzi nodded gratefully, she didn’t think she could swing those battle ropes one more time if her life depended on it.

—-

An hour late, feeling much cleaner and more refreshed, Suzi and Malakai headed down The Strip hand in hand, with the intention of getting some lunch. However, agreeing on what sort of food to get was proving difficult: Malakai had declared he would eat anything at this point, but Suzi didn’t know what she wanted. They’d passed at least five places now and Malakai’s stomach was making an ungodly racket...

As they stopped outside yet another crowded diner, Suzi’s nose scrunched up disapprovingly, but she could sense Malakai’s patience was starting to wear thin. In a attempt to make her increasingly hangry boyfriend smile, she nodded towards a cake shop on the opposite side of the street as she quipped,

"Wanna pretend we're getting married and go try some free cake?"

Malakai snorted in surprised at the comment before answering,

"Obviously. I’m Gluttony. And right now Suzi, I’d settle for anything! Let’s go!"

Suzi couldn’t help but laugh and squeal that she was only joking as Malakai cajoled her across the busy street and straight into Stefanie’s Patisserie.

Standing at the counter with a winning smile, Malakai beamed at the woman serving,

“Good afternoon, my fiancée and I, we wondered if we could taste some of your wedding cakes?”

Suzi felt her cheeks start to burn : FIANCÉE...

The red-headed woman behind the counter nodded enthusiastically, a look of faint recognition on her face as she took in Malakai: she definitely knew him from somewhere...

“Of course, Sir. Usually we do tastings on an appointment basis only, but you’re in luck. A slot has freed up this afternoon, very last minute, something to do with the groom being caught in a compromising situation with his future mother-in law... Messy business. But! The back room is all set and the samples are all ready to go.”

Malakai turned to Suzi, a gleam in his eyes that resembled a kid on Christmas morning, smirking,

“Wowww, what are the chances? Seems like it’s our lucky day... What do you say, Darling? Shall we?”

Suzi nodded her head vigorously. This was probably still somewhere near the bottom of the list of the most ridiculous things she’d did since she met Malakai: screw it, why not?

Following the red-haired woman, who subsequently introduced herself as the eponymous Stefanie, through to the back of the patisserie, Suzi tried not to laugh as Malakai nudged her with his hip, a gleeful look of mischief dancing all over his handsome face: this was totally insane! What was she doing? What was she even going to say whenever Stefanie noticed she didn’t have an engagement ring on? Stealthily she slipped her left hand into Malakai’s back pocket, earning her an approving wink.

Stefanie grinned at them both as she busied around the small, pastel-coloured backroom, bringing a photo album, napkins, china plates and silver dessert forks to the small coffee table, gesturing for them to sit, opening her notepad, beaming,

“Ok, so! DJ Gluttony? I know! It took me a few minutes! What is your actual name? And yours, hon? And how far out is the wedding? Congratulations!”

Malakai laughed,

“I’m Malakai, this is Suzi, and we don’t have a date set yet, we’re looking at next year.”

Stefanie nodded, jotting the points down on her pad,

“Ok, getting some ideas before you set the date isn’t a bad idea. You have no idea the amount of people I see coming in, four weeks before their wedding thinking that there should be no issue getting a cake. Basically, the sooner you put your order in the better, your slot’s secured, even if you aren’t entirely sure of exactly what you want twelve months in advance, the time to bake the cake is blocked off for your special day.”

Suzi bit her lip, she was starting to feel bad about this, this was the woman’s livelihood and she and Malakai were just here to score some free eats...

“How long does it take to bake a wedding cake, Stefanie?”

Stefanie started to tell the couple about the various different sizes of cake, the different flavours, icings and decorations, and how all of those things could have an impact on how long the finished product would take to create, only to be rudely interrupted by Malakai’s stomach growling! She started to laugh, passing them the photo album as she got to her feet while Malakai’s face turned a hundred different shades of red,

“I think we better get you some samples, and fast! You can have a flip through and see if there’s anything that catches your eye, style-wise.”

Stefanie disappeared from the small room as Suzi whispered to Malakai that she felt dreadful about conning the woman,especially with how nice she was! Malakai nodded thoughtfully, and was about to say something back to Suzi, when Stefanie reappeared with a large silver tray, covered in dozen little squares of cake. Placing the tray in front of Suzi and Malakai, she clapped her hands enthusiastically,

“Dig in, each one has a little description on it, I’m going to leave you both to try them all, see what you like taste-wise, then when you’re done, you can tell me about what you’d like the cake to look like, Bon Appetite lovebirds!”

Malakai shrugged at Suzi as he picked up a square of something called ‘Vanilla Caramel Latte’ and shoved it into his mouth whole, mumbling,

“We won’t leave her out of pocket, don’t worry. Just enjoy... Oh, oh. Try this.”

He swiped a forkful of the matching cake square, presenting it to Suzi with a look of utter delight on his face. Suzi took the bite, realising very quickly why he looked like he’d died and gone to heaven,

“Wow - it can’t be legal for, mmmm, cake, to taste this good?! What’s in it?!”

Malakai dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head,

“I don’t know Suzi, but I need another piece! You chose?”

Suzi giggled, pointing at a pale pink slice,

“Let’s try that one next?”

Malakai was only too happy to oblige, melting back into the small sofa as he chewed,

“Champagne and candy floss? Damn...”

Before Suzi knew it, she and Malakai had been tasting cakes for an hour, and every slice was more delicious than the last: Sicilian lemon and caramel, rum and red velvet, dark chocolate, ginger spice, strawberry and pistachio... And finally, the impossible was done: Gluttony was full!

When Stefanie reappeared with a hopeful expression on her face, she was delighted to see that all the squares had been polished off! Malakai and Suzi delighted in telling her their favourite flavours, and how they didn’t expect some of the combinations to work, but how good they were. Then the question Suzi had been dreading came.

“So, would you guys like to book a date?”

Malakai squeezed Suzi’s knee as he answered, giving her a very sincere look,

“Stefanie, when we set a date we absolutely will book a slot: because this is the best cake I ever tasted. Don’t tell my mom I said that. But since we don’t have a date right now, would you accept a booking for a random future date, if I pay for a cake upfront, then if it’s any more, when the time comes, I’ll pay the balance? I promise that we will give you an absolute minimum of six months notice too?”

Stefanie agreed happily and took his payment, before waving them off.

Walking back towards the penthouse, Suzi looked up at Malakai as he wrapped one arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead,

“That was a really nice thing you did, Malakai.”

He shrugged,

“I told you we wouldn’t leave her out of pocket. And, I’m definitely going to need more of that cake in my life...”

Suzi scowled as she dug him in the ribs with her elbow, teasing

“You’d actually marry me just to get some more of that cake?”

Malakai stopped and pulled Suzi close to him,

“No, I’d marry you because you’re amazing and I love you, the insanely good cake is just an added bonus!”

Suzi shrugged, as she met his warm, dark eyes,

“You did really like that cake... Maybe I shouldn’t make you hold out for too long before you get some more of it...”

Malakai’s jaw dropped ever so slightly as Suzi’s words settled over him,

“Does that mean? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Twining her arms around his neck, Suzi bit her lip and answered,

“I’m saying ‘yes’... Let’s do it! Let’s get married!”

Malakai let out a ‘whoop’ that seemed to echo around The Strip as he lifted Suzi, twirling her around and around, grinning as he drew her into a tender kiss,

“Seems like we have some planning to start on, Mrs Collins...”

#lovestruck fic #sin with me #malakai x mc

[ladywynneoutlander]

Hi guys. So I am writing a little story for the holiday season. It is very fluff-tastic, mostly family and love with a minimum of plot. I very much hope someone enjoys it!

Heart’s Abundance

Part 1 - Giving Thanks

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6

Bree and I are sitting in the kitchen, enjoying my own special blend of “Liberty Tea,” a mixture of dried strawberry leaves, lemon balm, and chamomile. It is hot, fragrant, and delicious. As we sip, the afternoon sun warms the whole room, giving the feeling of a golden cocoon in the midst of a particularly cold November day. Adso is with us, basking in a windowsill, and we are all practically purring with contentment. Then the sound of dried leaves crackling underfoot reaches our ears. We have visitors. Brianna and I sigh slightly but smile at each other. She opens the door while I take a honey cake from the cupboard.  

It is Young Ian and Rachel. I smile warmly at them. Ian is dressed in particular native splendor today, owing to a visit from a group of prominent Mohawks passing through. His head is freshly plucked and spiked, with metal ornaments and turkey feathers hanging from the back.  Over his pink calico shirt is a vest decorated with astonishing beadwork, and his buckskin trousers are fringed. Next to him Rachel’s Quaker attire is a contrast. She is in a gray wool dress with plain white cap and kerchief. As she enters the sunny room, she unwraps her shawl to reveal the newest Murray, snuggled in a sling against his mother.

Brianna closes the door behind them, then her face lights with a smile, “Why, you look like a Thanksgiving pageant!”

The couple look at each other in incomprehension. “A what, cuz?” Ian inquires.

“You know! When the Pilgrims and Indians ate together. At Plymouth? It was a long time ago…” Her voice becomes more hesitant as the faces of our guests remain blank.

I understand the difficulty. Thanksgiving isn’t celebrated now, even though the famous harvest meal happened more than one hundred years before. I’m struggling to salvage this time-travel faux pas when Jamie steps through the door leading to the front of the house. He bends to kiss my cheek then crosses to wiggle a finger at the newly freed baby. “And what’s that then?” he says, turning to Brianna. “Is thanksgiving not something you do, no a meal?”

“Well…” she hesitates, then boldly rushes on. “Where I grew up, in Boston, some people take a day near the end of November to give thanks for their blessings. They celebrate with a feast and invite close friends and family.”

“It sounds lovely,” Rachel says kindly, “though oughtn’t we to give thanks every day?”

“Of course,” Brianna agrees, ‘it’s just nice to take a special moment for it now and then.” She looks wistfully at me. “Right Mama?”

Suddenly I recall craft-paper feathers, Macy’s parade on the television, and the taste of a cranberry jello salad in perfect vividness. I move to stand by Brianna and take her arm, smiling softly in understanding. “Yes, darling. It is.”

Jamie looks at us and his own face grows tender. Rachel still looks confused, but Ian, who has been watching carefully exclaims, “Sounds like a fine idea! We should have our own thanks meal, aye?”

I look at Ian gratefully, thankful indeed for his enthusiastic spirit. I also see Jamie’s face. It is creasing slowly into a smile. “Aye. We should.”

Brianna’s hand tightens on my arm in excitement. “Great! We’ll have Thanksgiving on the Ridge!”

-o0OOO0o-

A few days later I pull Brianna’s turkey out of the oven and baste it well with drippings, butter, and thyme before pushing it back inside for another half hour. It is nearly time to eat and the bounty of the Ridge is spread throughout the kitchen. It will be a delicious meal (if I do say so myself). The smell is heaven, and by the discreet peeking and increasingly frequent visits of men and small children, they think so too.

Jamie and Brianna brought down this large tom the day before. Even with ten people there would be plenty to go around. I had also dug the last of the fresh vegetables and emptied the pantry. Fanny had spent the entire prior afternoon baking. It would be a feast indeed.

The table is set and festooned with colorful dried leaves and pinecones. Roger even wove a clever cornucopia from twigs and filled it with gourds. Perfect. The turkey has a chestnut mushroom stuffing. There are also yams and brussels sprouts and onion gravy, and (elegance indeed!) yeast dinner rolls rather than corn bread. Crocks of butter and honey and jam round out the meal. My mouth waters just setting it all out.

Soon everyone gathers and we ceremoniously present the pièce de résistance on a platter. Looking from face to face around our large farm table I see Fanny’s eyes widen and smile happily to myself. We are all here, Brianna, Roger, Jem, and Mandy. Germain and Fanny. Jenny and Ian and Rachel with the baby sleeping peacefully in a basket. Jamie takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, then leans over and whispers, “I often think your time strange, Sassenach, but this is fine, aye?” He kisses my lips softly.

The others, used to us, are chattering away. Jamie straightens, clears his throat and waits for quiet, then looks to the end of the table, saying formally, “Ieremiah, an toireadh tu taing?“

Jem, sensitive to the honor thus bestowed, sits up straight as an arrow, “Aye, sir.” He folds his hands before him and I am suddenly reminded of my first dinner at Leoch, when young Hamish said grace. Jem has the same red hair. I add Hamish to my prayers as we all bow our heads together.

“Dear Holy Father. Thank ye for the food before us. Thank ye for our family and friends. Bless us, O Lord, and help us to do good always. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen,” the table echoes.  

Jemmy peaks at his father, and at Roger’s nod of approval relaxes happily in his chair. Jamie carves and wafts of fragrant steam are released. The table makes noises of appreciation all around. We fill our plates and enjoy the meal.

“You know,” Roger says, buttering a roll. Since we are giving thanks today, maybe we should each say something we’re thankful for. I believe that’s something they do in Boston, aye Brianna?” He smiles at his wife and she nods.

“Oh yes, it’s a tradition.” When no one volunteers she goes on, and looking directly at Jamie and I, “I’m thankful to be home.” Brianna then turns to Mandy on her right. “And what about you sweetheart? What are you thankful for?”

Mandy turns up a honey-smeared face and smiles. “I thankful for Esmeralda!”

Everyone chuckles and Roger goes next. “I’m thankful for family, for my wife and bairns.”

Jem says, “I’m thankful for Grandda. And Grandma,” he adds hastily.

Germain is next. “I’m thankful for my friends.” He smiles at Fanny and Jem.

Fanny answers in a small voice, “I’m thankful to Mr. and Mrs. Fraser for keeping me.”

“Oh Fanny,” I say gently, “We want to.” She blinks quickly and gives a small smile and we continue.

Jenny, Ian, and Rachel take their turns.

“I’m thankful for our new wee bairn.”

“I’m thankful to have my mam here, and my wife.”

“I’m thankful for the peace we enjoy here.”

Jamie says simply, “I’m thankful for ye, Sassenach.”

I look around the table slowly and finally turn my face up to Jamie, the man who is my heart, “I’m thankful for each of us. For love and family. For every moment.”

“Amen,” he says, and kisses me.

-o0OOO0o-

Soon afterward the table is cleared, and dessert brought out. We have apple tansey, clootie dumpling, and for Brianna, pumpkin pie. There is also custard and sweet cream. I am just setting coffee to boil when a solid thump sounds on the front door. Everyone freezes in surprise for a heartbeat. Visitors are nearly unheard-of this time of year. Then, just as chaos breaks out, Jamie rises. He walks to the front of the house, myself close behind. He seems unhurried and calm, but I notice he carries the carving knife in his left hand.

Jamie opens the door, letting in a blast of frigid November air. What greets us looks like nothing so much as a bear covered in deer hide. Albeit a bear with merry blue eyes glinting above his beard.

“Myers!” Jamie greets the mountain man warmly, discreetly passing the knife to me. I stash it in my deep pocket. “Welcome! What brings ye here so late in the year?”

The bristles part with Myers’ grin. “Well, I’ll tell ‘ee sir. I’ve come wi’ company. Found ‘im near frozen on his way up from Cross Creek.” He steps aside to reveal a second figure in the dooryard, just as tall, but more solidly built.

Peering around Jamie’s shoulder my mouth falls open in shock. The last person I ever expected to see on the Ridge is the Ninth Earl of Ellesmere.

For once I recover more quickly than Jamie, and step around my husband. “William!” I say in sincere pleasure.

The young man looks up a bit uncertainly, then seeing my happiness recovers himself. “Mother Claire.” He might have said more but is prevented by a blur of yellow homespun that comes hurtling through the door and crashes into his middle. William teeters precariously at the impact before coming solidly back to his feet, Frances Pocock clinging to him in perfect imitation of a baby opossum on its mother’s back.

“William! Oh William! I thought I might never th-, see you again!”

William gingerly pats the capped head. “It’s good to see you again too, Fanny.” He smiles gently down, a slight shadow passing briefly in the depths of his slanted eyes. He gently disentangled Fanny and turns to Jamie. “I hope our arrival isn’t a cause of inconvenience to you sir. I…”

Seeing him hesitate I break in as politely as I can. “Of course not! You are both most welcome! Come in and warm up. We are just about to have dessert.”

I usher the newcomers and the gaping crowd back into the kitchen. In a few moments of flurried activity William and John Quincey are greeted by all and settled at the table, the children relocated to stools.

“We had a fine harvest this year so we’re having a wee meal to celebrate and give thanks for it,” Jamie explains, smiling.

“Judging from this bounty, indeed you have!” Myers exclaims as he unabashedly fills his plate with apple tansey, sweet cream, and one of the remaining rolls covered in honey and jam. Jem and Germain looking on in fascination.

I pour him coffee, hiding a smile. “We’re pleased to share it with you.”

William eats more sedately, but with evident pleasure. Watching him, Fanny on one side and Brianna on the other, I wonder suddenly why he has come. Then I look at Jamie. He is watching the boy as well, and though his face is expressionless, to me his eyes reveal the joy he takes in the sight. No. The reason doesn’t matter. I slide my arm around Jamie’s and lean against him, expressing without words my own joy in his happiness.

#outlander #heart's abundance #Thanksgiving

[moonbeambucky]

Spills and Drills

Pairing: Dentist!Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU] Word Count: 4862 Warnings: fluff

Summary: Although you love sleeping in you learn that sometimes good things come to those who wake up early.

A/N: This is my submission for @teamcap4bucky Teamcap4bucky’s 2k Celebration Writing Challenge! My prompt was “Why are you staring at me?” Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading, I love you 3000! 💕 gif not mine

Hushed are the voices around you as the movie theatre lights dim to make way for the bright screen illuminating the upcoming releases. You’re comfortable in the red leather seat, with your hand digging into the bag of popcorn in your lap. The melted butter makes the salt stick to your fingers but you don’t mind at all, sucking them clean into your mouth after each handful.

Your name is called, no, shouted over the heavy thwong of the music in the movie trailer. You nearly jumped in your seat wondering why Shuri is practically screaming your name. As you turn to face her everything seems wrong. She’s wearing the same white dress she wore for her sixteenth birthday party, the white one with the fishnet collar her mother thought was a little too casual for the celebration. Shuri would always be her little princess even if she didn’t dress like one.

“What are you doing?” you questioned as she continued to shout your name. “Stop. No. Shuri, stop it!”

With a gasping breath you’re jolted awake, squinting one eye open to see Shuri standing above you, her palms are still pushing against your shoulders.

“Y/N wake up!”

Oh, it was just a dream. The tension in your body relaxes as you nuzzle your face back into the softness of your pillow. “Shuri stop, lemme sleep, it’s Saturday,” you groaned.

“I know it is, I was sleeping too until your alarm woke me up. That thing has been going off for twenty minutes. Don’t you have an appointment to go to?”

Your eyes shot open. “Shit!”

You get up, throwing the blankets off yourself as fast as possible to get out of bed. Why you decided to make your appointment at 8am you’ll never truly understand. If I get up early I’ll have the whole day to be productive, you mock yourself in your head.

With a wide yawn Shuri leaves your room, saying she’s headed back to bed. Your own bed looks so inviting, it’s calling out for you to come back. It was very tempting to cancel the appointment and go back to sleep but you wouldn’t.

Your dentist is a really nice man who worked with you a few years ago during an emergency visit when you didn’t have insurance. He reduced his fees to the bare minimum and even then let you pay him off over the course of a few months. He had a small practice in Brooklyn he ran with his wife and in the world of cheap deals on Groupon you knew he was struggling a bit.

In less than a minute you were dressed and rushing in to the bathroom to wash the sleep from your face and give a thorough brushing to your teeth. Morning breath was still heavy on your tongue so you made sure to scrape that well too. Checking your phone for the time you realized you might be cutting it close to your appointment, so you grabbed what you needed and headed out.

The subway ride was quick but you still had a few blocks to walk once you got out. The street was a lot busier than you expected especially for so early in the morning but that was mainly due to a new popular cafe that recently opened. The lines were crazy long and as much as you wanted to try their Instagrammable treats you figured you’d wait a little bit for the hype to die down.

Checking your phone once more you realized you had one minute to go and two long blocks to still walk. You picked up the pace and turned the corner at the cafe, looking down to secure your phone back in your bag and not paying attention to the person coming out of the door.

You collided with a solid frame, getting knocked back a bit but thankfully not falling. A dentist appointment is enough, you certainly didn’t need a visit to the emergency room. Something did fall however, the two cups of coffee the man was holding.

“I’m so sorry!” you blurted out, looking down at the mess on the ground, with coffee spilling out from the overturned cups.

Glancing up you saw the man standing there, still holding the now empty coffee tray in his hand, with his mouth gaping open in shock. Your own mouth dropped open while staring at what was possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

Tall and well built, looking unfairly good in a sharp black suit with a simple white button down, casually left open at the top. His rich brown hair was cropped short with perfectly groomed stubble covering his jawline.

Realizing you were gawking at him you shook yourself free from his handsome aura and prompted yourself to actually speak.

“I’m so sorry, please let me pay you for them,” you offered, digging your hand into your bag to pull out some money.

“No need, it was my fault,” he replied, with the words falling from his perfectly pink lips like silk. “Did I spill any on you?”

You were definitely sure this was your fault but the sincerity of his tone combined with the sweetest look those incredible blue eyes were giving you would make you believe anything he said. In response to his question you shook your head, not knowing if you were even telling the truth since you couldn’t bother to pull your gaze away from him again.

“I’m glad to hear that. Could I buy you a coffee for your trouble? Although it might take a while with this line,” he chuckled.

Yes is what you wanted to say. You would have waited in a month long line if it meant you’d be with this incredibly handsome man but you were definitely late to your appointment by now and you simply wouldn’t cancel on your dentist like that.

“I’m sorry I have to go,” you quickly trailed off as your feet began to carry you in the direction you needed to be. “Again, I’m so sorry about the coffee!”

You really wished you had woken up earlier, maybe then you would have had a spare moment to actually talk to the hot guy and try your luck at getting his number. He did offer to buy you a coffee so that seemed promising but then you remembered the two cups spilled on the ground. Two cups of coffee for one person didn’t seem completely unlikely but a guy as hot as that is definitely in a relationship. Oh well.

By the time you reached the office you were slightly out of breath after deciding that you should speed walk the rest of the way there to make up for lost time. It didn’t help that you picked the wrong jacket to wear on the awfully sunny morning.

It took a moment to steady your breathing before you rang the bell and were buzzed in.

“Dr. Barnes!” you exclaimed, not expecting to see him behind the reception desk where his wife usually is. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“That’s alright Y/N, it’s a just a few minutes,” he confirmed, checking the watch on his wrist.

You followed Dr. Barnes down the hallway whose walls were lined with posters of people smiling, showing off bright white teeth that advertised all kinds of dental products and procedures.

“My next appointment actually cancelled,” he said, turning his head back a bit as he continued to take you to the examination room. “Turns out they didn’t want to get up this early on a Saturday.”

“I can’t imagine anyone that would,” you remarked with light sarcasm while sharing a smile.

The exam room had recently been redecorated with beigey-grey wood running throughout the floor. The former textured blue wall paper was gone, replaced by a fresh coat of light grey paint on all but one wall that was a deep teal blue. Dr. Barnes’ old desk and bulky computer were replaced by a modern floating desk and a monitor that was clearly a touch screen, though a wireless keyboard and mouse were on top of the polished surface.

You knew Dr. Barnes wasn’t comfortable with new technology. His flip phone made you laugh every time you saw it but it only added to his endearing charm. His wife Winnie adapted faster to her new phone though she has asked you the occasional question or two.

“The room looks great,” you said, hanging up your jacket on the small hook on the wall. “Did Winnie do this?”

His lips were pulled into a smile as he shook his head, “No, my son actually.”

You sat in the dental chair getting yourself comfortable as Dr. Barnes pressed a button for the automatic cup filler beside you as he continued, “He’s been back for a while now.”

Dr. Barnes would often talk about his children as he made small talk during the exam. His son James had gone to college in Indiana and also studied dentistry. Dr. Barnes had hoped James would eventually work at the family practice.

“…If only he learned to be on time,” Dr. Barnes sighed.

He glanced over at the frame on his desk, an picture of his family from over a decade ago when the kids were younger. From your angle you could see bright happy faces and James smiling with mouth full of metal. The poor kid ticked off all the boxes that made up an awkward teen, braces, acne and a lanky body with long stringy hair that looked like it needed a good wash. Rebecca, his daughter, thankfully didn’t look like she had any of the problems her brother did, and Winnie looked as radiant then as she did now.

“Where is Winnie anyway?” you wondered.

Dr. Barnes smiled at the mention of his wife’s name and you found it endearing to see how clearly in love they were. “Sleeping in this morning. Rebecca’s asked her to come along later while she looks for a wedding dress. Knowing my daughter, Win’s gonna need as much rest as possible!”

His fingers slowly clacked away at the keyboard, making you smile as he used both index fingers to slowly type out your name.”

“With Becca engaged I keep telling James he needs to catch up.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it,” you chuckled.

Dr. Barnes pressed the backspace key a few times, clearly unable to have a conversation while he was concentrating on typing. He let his hands rest in his lap for a moment, running his thumb along the gold band that has long since settled in the groove it created on his finger all those years ago.

“I just want to see him settle down with someone nice,” he said, pressing his lips together to form a tight smile.

You know he meant well and having had similar conversations with your own parents you can only assume the conversations are just as awkward for James as they are for you. A few times you’ve tried to explain to your parents how dating is much different today from their time but they don’t always understand. The conversation about why “nice guys” on the internet don’t actually exist seemed to have gone over their heads so you definitely understand James’ suffering.

“If it makes you feel better my parents say the same thing.”

Dr. Barnes’ sparkling blue eyes lit up at you words, as a smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, can I interest you in my son? He’s much better looking than I am and not a single cavity!”

“No cavities you say? That’s the first thing I look for in a man.”

The crinkles surrounding his eyes were prominent as Dr. Barnes gave a bellowing laugh. After finally pulling up your chart he briefly went over your medical history before taking x-rays. He placed the lead vest on your body and positioned the arm of the machine in place so he could begin. The sound of an ancient ringtone stopped his actions and Dr. Barnes excused himself to take the call in another room.

The weighted vest was comforting against your still sleepy form easing your eyes to gently shut. It would have been very easy to fall asleep but the dentist’s office was not the place for a nap. Instead you forced your eyes open, with a gasp caught in your throat as your jaw dropped in shock at what you saw.

Standing in the hallway in front your exam room was the man you bumped into outside the cafe, holding another tray with two cups of coffee. All thoughts about his looks went away because no matter how blue those eyes were or how chiseled that jawline was he was clearly a crazy stalker.

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Your mouth hung open in shock as you continued to stare at him. “I asked if you wanted me to pay for the coffees and you said no so now you’re following me?!” What a psycho!

He stood there silently, gazing at you with a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why are you staring at me? You need to leave.”

The man did nothing but continue to stand there, his mouth hanging open in what you perceived as happy recognition. Who knows how many buildings he went to before finding the one you entered, and now that he was here what was he planning on doing to you?

Without thinking of the ramifications you shoved the lead vest off and grabbed the nearest dental tool on the tray. You wished it was the drill but instead it was one with a curved end. You’re not sure what it’s called but you know it’s sharp and you hoped it would do some damage to this lunatic if he tried to come closer.

The stranger’s mouth pulled into a wide smile as he dipped his head forward and let out a chuckle. His actions only made you more nervous so you gripped the tool even tighter and pointed it towards him in the most threatening way you could be with an instrument that scrapes tooth plaque.

“If you don’t leave right now I’m gonna call the cops!”  

You knew it was a stupid thing to say, since technically if you did call 911 it would take some time before any police arrived, and realistically you should have called for Dr. Barnes instead.

“I– ” he begins before he turns his head to the side seeing a figure walking towards him.

“James!” Dr. Barnes proclaimed from the hallway.

James? As in pimple-face braces James? As in George’s son James? Oh no.

A metallic clang rang out through the exam room as you dropped the dental tool back onto the tray and jumped back into the chair. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you quickly pulled up the lead vest and replaced it across your body, trying not to look like you just threatened your dentist’s son with a pseudo weapon.

“Hi Dad,” James responded in that beautifully smooth voice you heard not long ago.

Dr. Barnes came into your line of sight and seeing the two together made you want to kick yourself for not realizing it earlier. Their eyes were identical as was the little dimple on their chins though James stood taller than his father, and where Dr. Barnes was lean James was obviously muscular. The integrity of that shirt was put to the test the moment he got dressed and you found yourself growing hot at the thought of the younger Barnes in a state where his body would not be covered with clothing.

Dr. Barnes folded his arms across his chest, frowning as he huffed, “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I was bringing you coffee and then…” James stopped to share a knowing look in your direction, your own eyes flared with panicked anticipation wondering what he was going to say.

“... I bumped into someone and knocked them right out of my hand, totally my fault. Had to wait back in line again.”

Dr. Barnes swiped his hand down his face as he let out an expected sigh, “My son, the klutz.” He turned his head towards you, seeing the small curve your lips were pulled into. “See Y/N, this is why he’s single,” he joked.

James turned a few shades pinker with embarrassment at his father’s comment, especially when he locked eyes with you, seeing your own crinkling with unspoken laughter.

“Well it was kind of you to bring coffee but I’d rather you show up on time,” Dr. Barnes remarked.

James followed his father into your exam room as Dr. Barnes officially introduced his son. “Y/N, this is my son, Dr. James Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, extending his hand towards you.

“N-nice to meet you,” you replied, unable to contain the nerves in your voice.

Once again Dr. Barnes shook his head at his son’s actions, mumbling under his breath about how “Bucky” is not a professional name. It was all in good fun however as you could see the love they had for each other.

Turning his attention towards you again Dr. Barnes asked if you would feel comfortable with James finishing the exam and cleaning. “That call was from Winnie. She locked her keys in the car. So much for sleeping in.”

Your veins carried fear throughout your body as panic rooted itself deep into your bones. It’s not that you didn’t trust James or whatever he wanted to be called, in doing his job and Dr. Barnes would never steer you wrong but the fact that you would be alone with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen as his fingers probed your mouth made you feel more than awkward.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you lied through your ready to be examined teeth.

George smiled as he said goodbye, joking that he was going to call you later so you could let him know the truth about how James did during the exam.

The younger Barnes followed his father out of the room, telling you he would just need a minute to get ready, leaving you time to mentally prepare yourself.

You can do this Y/N. He’s just a hot guy. There are plenty of hot people out there. He’s just a normal guy with extraordinarily good looks. Don’t stare at him like he’s got a metal arm or something. Be cool.

Shrugging your shoulders you tried to physically shake off any lingering awkwardness, well as best as you could while still wearing the lead vest. With the morning you had you were glad you remembered to put on deodorant, especially now as you’re sweating in the chair, hoping the sweat stains under your arms that were definitely starting to form were not visible.

Footsteps echoed closer on the new wood flooring alerting you to sit up a bit more as you anticipated James’ arrival once more. He looked even better somehow, forgoing the suit jacket for a white lab coat.

“Time to get you out of that vest,” he said, scrunching his face up adorably as he corrected his words, “I mean, time to take the x-rays t-then you won’t need to wear the vest, heh.”

Responding with an awkward chuckle you felt slightly comforted by the fact that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous with the situation. You focused your eyes on the teal wall ahead, ignoring the way his deft fingers assembled the piece for the x-ray that would go in your mouth, holding a tense breath as he asked you to open your mouth and bite down.

Your mind was not helping you keep cool as it imagined his simple request in a more seductive scenario, hearing that smooth voice giving commands was not something you were turned off by.

You managed to make it through the rest of the x-rays with minimal squirming in your seat, as you combated visions of ripping his clothes off with thoughts of Shuri and her obsession with watching pimple popping videos. That girl may be a genius but there is definitely something wrong with her.

James’ fingers brushed against your arm as he finally took off the lead vest. “You’re hot,” he said causing your eyes to widen. “I mean from the vest,” he quickly mumbled.

Bucky was thankful his back was towards you as he hung the vest back up on the wall, rolling his eyes with embarrassment by his poor choice of words. It’s true, your body was feeling warm when his fingers gently skimmed across your skin but Bucky thought you were hot the moment you ran into each other outside the cafe.

He kicked himself for choosing to stand in line for coffee again instead of trying to talk with you before you left to give you his number. It took all the strength in the world not to drop the tray of coffee again when he saw you in the exam room. He’s truly never been happier to have been at work before.

Though Bucky had been practicing dentistry for quite a few years now being around you made him feel as nervous as he was during his first day of clinicals. He attempted to make small talk with you as he began the exam, an onerous task on your behalf as you could only communicate with a few sounds as your mouth hung open.

It was difficult not to look at James as he checked and cleaned your teeth. The bottom half of his handsome face was blocked by a mask but through his safety glasses you could still see those beautiful blue eyes, as clear as the ocean surrounding a tropical island.

Apparently you were lost in dreamy thought, unaware your tongue had strayed from where it was supposed to be during the cleaning.

“Stick your tongue out further,” he asked and you complied, focusing on the ceiling tiles above instead as he continued. “Okay, you can sit up and rinse now.”

Bringing the small cup to your lips you swished the water around your mouth and spit out a mess of saliva and blood.

“I never know what to do with my tongue,” you said, referencing your earlier action although hearing the words out of context you’re not sure if he knows what you mean. “D-during the exam!” you quickly added. “I know what to do with it.”

You heard a chuckle from behind, realizing your extra comment made things worse and you should probably never speak again.

Your mouth still felt unclean, though you couldn’t tell if it was leftover residue from the exam or the stupidity of your words. As you pressed the button to refill the cup you focused on the fact that in a few moments you would be getting your new toothbrush, paying the bill and leaving forever.

James spoke just as you began to pick up the cup, “Well, I’m happy to say your oral is good.”

The shock of his words caused your fingers to let go of the delicate cup, spilling water all over the floor.

“Health!” he shouted, catching his mistake. “Oral health!”

Bucky’s cheeks burned hotter than the sun and he didn’t need a mirror to know he was currently a deep crimson shade to match the level of embarrassment he felt. He wanted to disappear, magically teleport himself back to Indiana where he was not a bumbling idiot.

A gasp pulled his attention towards you as your hands simultaneously covered your gaping mouth while apologies spilled from your lips faster than the water.

“No, it’s okay, it’s my fault,” he apologized.

Bucky left the room, internally chastising himself for the ridiculous thing he said. He was thankful his father was not here to watch his descent into complete incompetence. There was something about you that made him act like a fool. He wondered if he could blame it on laughing gas, claim there was a leak in the nitrous oxide tank.

He opened the supply closet letting his shoulders slump as he exhaled a deep sigh. There was no way he could come back from this.

James returned with a large roll of paper towels in hand. Getting up from the chair you offered to help clean the spill but he insisted you didn’t have to. Instead you stood to the side, and despite how tempting it was to look at him bending over as he cleaned the floor you shut your eyes, pinched the bridge of your nose and wished you were still dreaming, hoping Shuri would wake you up from this nightmare.

His foot stepped on the pedal of the garbage as he dumped the saturated paper towels, pulling off his gloves to dump them as well. You still stood silently, inching your way out of the room, knowing you’ll have to find a new dentist because you could never face James or Dr. Barnes ever again.

Bucky rummaged through a drawer before turning towards you, “Do you want green or blue...or…. uhh, I’ve got orange,” he spoke of the toothbrushes.

“Doesn’t matter.” Get the toothbrush, pay the bill, leave forever.

James handed you a blue toothbrush and you wondered if it was a conscious choice, a reminder about his eyes even though this basic color falls short in comparison to the beauty of those sparkling sapphires.

Following him to the front you nodded quickly when he spoke about scheduling another appointment in six months. It didn’t matter, you would be cancelling it as the time neared. With the bill paid you gave him an awkward goodbye with a stupid wave that was immediately added to the long list of regrets for the day, and quickly ran out of the door.

A few hours later you were feeling better. You told Shuri everything the moment you got back to your apartment and even though reliving the disaster that was your morning made you feel embarrassed all over again, when she rolled off the bed from laughing so hard it allowed you to let go of everything and laugh along with her.

The buzzing of your phone on the table woke you from a nap you didn’t know you had taken. Seeing Dr. Barnes’ office number you remembered he said he would be calling you to check how things went.

“Hi, Dr. Barnes,” you said cheerily.

“Hi Y/N, this is Dr. Barnes. Not that Dr. Barnes though, it’s Bucky.”

“Oh, hi.” All of the nerves came rushing back as your heart raced with fear, wondering why he was calling you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just you left your jacket in the office.”

You completely forgot about your jacket until you were nearly home and a gust of wind caused goosebumps to erupt all over your bare arms reminding you about the poor jacket you abandoned in the office. It was too late, the jacket was a lost cause, an innocent victim as a result of your awkwardness, now homeless because you were not going back for it.

“Oh… yeah,” you responded, trying to sound casual.

“That’s not the only reason I called.”

Bucky cleared his throat, forcing himself to say the apologies he’s been repeating in his head all day but this time to the person who needed to hear it.

“I wanted to apologize for today. I’m normally not…” He ruminated on his words, trying to think of something professional before settling on the truth “… a mess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his admission and the sound eased some of the tension he felt immediately. If Bucky was being honest you thought you should do the same.

“Me too. I’d like to think I’m a lot more chill than I was today.”

“So threatening people with a sickle probe isn’t a normal part of your dental experience?” he joked, pulling more laughter from you. “In all seriousness, I’d like to return your jacket and maybe I could buy you that cup of coffee?”

Bucky’s voice went higher with uncertainty as he silently hoped you would say yes to his offer. The momentary silence was deafening as he waited for your answer.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

Bucky’s heart sunk to the floor. He was wrong to think you felt the same about him. Clearly you wanted to keep things professional, something he was clearly incapable of.

“…I heard coffee stains your teeth.”

Relief washed over him quickly, helping to slow the rapid beat of his anxious heart. His lips stretched wide across his face as he said, “Maybe it’s another excuse to see you again.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you chewed on your bottom lip to help contain the smile that threatened to spread all the way to Brooklyn. You decided to meet at a coffee shop in the middle, leaving you just enough time to get changed and attempt to look presentable again.

“I’ll see you soon Bucky,” you said, getting up and eyeing your closet for something to wear. “And I promise I won’t knock it over.”

“I hope not because it was definitely your fault this morning!”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

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[eirenare]

Okay, soooo *rubs hands together* Now that I have the TLJ junior novelization, let's get to something very important:

it reveals the origin of the “Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise”

First of all, I have to say that I found out that reveal accidentally little ago before getting the novelization, thanks to this lovely Reylo art post over here , and it totally hyped me up (and made me cackle because I was writing a highly speculative fic piece that could kinda fit with this)

For those who don’t know, both in the TFA junior and non-junior novelizations, when Rey touches (or gets close to it, depending on the version) the legacy lightsaber and she sees the vision, what we see in the movie isn’t 100% what happens in the novelizations: in the books she also hears a familiar voice, described in interesting ways, telling her “Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise”, among some other changes

The TFA non-junior novelization has this, and the TFA junior novelization describes it too, but it also has minimum another moment where Rey thinks of this (I haven’t fully read the novels for now, so there might be more I’m unaware of as of now)

And this is where TLJ makes things interesting: there’s no mention of this in the movie, just like in TFA, and as far as I’ve read on the TLJ non-junior novelization there’s no mention there either—but the junior TLJ novelization has, at least, FOUR scenes where these phrases and Rey’s past appear

Sounds interesting? Well... buckle up guys, because this is going to be long (like... very long, because there are lots of paragraphs from the novelization, and then some discussion/speculation/theorizing) and it’s gonna end up in much feels for Rey (also, I’ll highlight some important or curious things):

CHAPTER 7

“The island was haunted. Rey was sure of it.

She stood outside Luke’s hut and watched the fog roll across the village. The haze was thick and held an eerie pre-dawn glow. She had the vague impression that something lurked within those mists. Specters whispering secrets from a long-lost time.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

The voice startled her. Those words were the same she had heard so many times in her drams on Jakku. Yet this was not Jakku. And looking around, she saw she stood alone.”

CHAPTER 10

“Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

The star freighter’s hatch closed, and its engines warmed. Rey tried to run toward it, but Unkar Plutt’s meaty hands held her back. No amount of squirming or wriggling would release her. She was only a small human child, while Plutt was an overweight, overgrown Crolute.

“Come back!” Rey shrieked at the ship. “Come back!”

Her cries caused Plutt to squeeze her arm so tightly it hurt. But that pain did not compare with the heartbreak of watching the freighter lift off. The ship roared toward Jakku’s sun, never to come back as promised.

Rey woke to the sunlight of another world. Dawn streamed through the doorway of the hut in which she’d taken shelter to escape the night’s rain. Fortunately, the rain had ended, as had the nightmare of her parents abandoning her on Jakku.

She blinked and the afterimages of the bad dream faded away.”

CHAPTER 21

“She didn’t want to listen to him. She wanted him to stop the charade and return to Leia. But she also wanted to know.

“Let it go”, he said. “You know the truth. Say it.”

She knew only what she feared. And what she feared was the truth of the voice from her dreams—the dreams that had haunted her since the day her parents abandoned her on Jakku.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

That was not the voice of her mother or her father, as she had long convinced herself.

The voice was her own.

She had imagined that voice and repeated those words over and over as a child until they became part of her reality, even her dreams. They had helped her fall asleep on a hungry stomach and pushed her to persevere when the future seemed bleak. When the years went by and her parents never returned to take her back, she never gave up the hope that someday soon they would and the nightmare of her youth would be over.

It was a false hope.

Was that what Luke had tried to prompt her to confess in the library? The truth she had locked in her heart and had never let herself admit? The truth that her parents were not hardworking space merchants trying to scrape enough together to make a better life for their family?

“They were nobody”, Rey said at last.

“They were filthy junk traders who sold you off for drinking money”, Kylo Ren said, spitting out the words. “They’re dead in a pauper’s grave on Jakku, like all the other junk buried there.”

Rey hadn’t known those details, but she had no doubt what Kylo Ren said was true. Her whole life had been one giant lie of her own making, a castle of dreams and echoes that had no foundation.

She shook all over. She might have survived Snoke’s mental thrashing, but this self-admission could break her for good.

Ren stepped toward her. “You have no place in the story. You come from nothing. You are nothing.” His tone became tender. “But not to me.”

He deactivated the blade. “Join me. Please.” He held out his hand to her.

She looked at him, pale and ghostly in the starlight of the window. His request was sincere. He wanted to teach her. She could learn great power from him. He could help her attain her true potential in the Force. Her past didn’t matter. All that mattered was her place in the future.

Rey reached out to Ren. He smiled.

Their hands never met.

Rey could never join with him. Not as he stood before her now. For he, too, had tried to erase his past, reinventing himself in the mold of his grandfather. The difference was that he had lost hope in his parents, while she had kept hope in hers, however false, alive.

Perhaps that was the very meaning of hope. It seemed false until it happened.

And if she wanted to save Ben, she would have to stop Kylo Ren.”

CHAPTER 23

“Rey saw stars. And lights. And more stars.

But the stars in the viewport began to fade away, as did the lights on the console. Everything was fading—even the sound of her breathing—into a quiet, dark nothingness.

Stay here. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I promise.

Jarred by the voice, she sat bolt upright in the cockpit of Snoke’s private shuttle. Of course there was no one else in the ship. Those words were just an echo in her mind. Something she had repeated to herself to stay alive on Jakku. A truth about herself with which she had reconciled.

Those words had just saved her, drawing her from what could have been a deadly slumber.

— — —

"Those words had just saved her, drawing her from what could have been a deadly slumber”

The absolute  s e r v e

* “Sleeping Beauty” vibes intensify*

Also, the reflection about how her past doesn’t matter, but that her future does? All the while she’s considering joining Ben? The fact that she can’t stay by Ben’s side specifically then, as the situation was in that moment?

And the fact that Rey, at that exact point between after the revelation and before the battle of Crait, clearly thought she wanted to save Ben— I’m—

*cries in Reylo*

But well, going back to the main point of all this...

Yep. That was Rey’s own voice

Not Ben from the future, not her parents, no one but herself—trying to shield herself from the pain and the truth to walk forward. I have to say this surprised me, but it’s interesting and it has me full of feels for Rey

Now the thing is, translations can be very interesting... and whereas in English you can probably just assume that Rey is saying “come back!” in plural, in Spanish (Castilian) it gets more interesting because the “come back!” is in singular

Worth to note how Rey doesn’t doubt Ben at all, she fully believes him. And honestly, I don’t think he lied either. But... could Ben had been mislead on accident by what he saw? Could have he seen something that, while true, wasn’t the whole truth, so he had an incomplete view?

I mean, that happens constantly—and we know how visions can be tricky things (something that, in fact, Snoke thinks about for a good while during a certain chapter of the TLJ non-junior novelization)

Also, another thing worth to note is that the TLJ novelization (both the junior and non-junior ones) expands on what Ben tells her in the turbolift about her turning. Here’s the TLJ non-junior version text (Ben’s words don’t differ, but the non-junior highlights in cursive some words—which is why I chose it, except I’m going to highlight them in bold for better visibility), starting from when Rey reveals her vision of Ben’s future:

“When we touched I saw your future,” she told him. “Just the shape of it, but solid and clear. You will not bow before Snoke. You will turn—I’ll help you. I saw it. It’s your destiny.

She watched the emotions chase themselves across his face, echoed by jitters and spikes in the Force. Anger. Confusion. Pain. Loneliness. Longing. Sorrow.

Then he lifted his eyes to hers.

“You’re wrong”, Kylo said. “When we touched I saw something, too. Not your future—your past. And because of what I saw, I know that when the moment comes, you’ll be the one to turn. You’ll stand with me. Rey, I saw who your parents are.”

Rey stared at him, but there was no lie in Kylo’s eyes. And a terrifying realization bloomed in her mind: Kylo’s churning emotions weren’t just about himself. They were also about her.”

So, what Ben saw wasn’t a part of her future, but her past—and we know what Ben told Rey about her past, about her origins, but as I said: what if the picture was incomplete?

With incomplete I don’t mean that we would be getting Rey being related to someone important, nor inheriting powers—I do think there are ways for Rey to keep being a no one chosen as a “vessel” of the Force, to keep her origins humble, while making something really dramatic and shocking with her past

I mean, think of that... while Ben told Rey that her parents are dead and buried in a pauper’s grave in Jakku, Rey is shouting “come back!” in singular, so either the devil’s in the detail and the parents didn’t die at the same time, with one leaving Rey behind (or dying trying to do so *looks sideways at the theory of Rey accidentally killing her parents*), or after her parents died someone who could’ve taken her out of Jakku but didn’t (or couldn’t) do so

Regardless of what we see in TROS, though—reading Rey realize the truth behind those words is so sad. This woman needs: a hug

And it makes me sad too that we’re probably not going to see anything about it in the TROS movie because it hasn’t been mentioned in TFA or TLJ outside the books *sigh*

But well, if the TLJ novels adressed this when the TFA and TLJ movies didn’t, I think there’s a high chance that the TROS novelizations will do, too

#Reylo #TROS speculation #TROS theorizing #TROS theory #TROS theories #TFA novelization #TLJ novelization #TFA junior novelization #TLJ junior novelization #TFA #TLJ #The Force Awakens #The Last Jedi #The Rise of Skywalker

[harrieatthemet]

Kids II

(Part I)

in which it’s Anne’s birthday and Harry causes a scene. 

yes there’s going to be a part 3 relax.

It was the most he’s said to you the past two weeks. 

“Don’t say anything about it t’my mum,” his tone is flat, uninterested and almost like it was emotionally draining to say a complete sentence to you, “s’her birthday, no need t’upset her.” 

The posture was stiff, his face stoic while his gaze remains bitter and unfriendly. You could tell he was struggling with his tie, and he’d have asked you for help if he wasn’t still keeping the interaction between you two at a one word minimum. 

“Wasn’t gonna say anything.”

And if there weren’t a decently sized amount of guests halfway to your home, you’d come back at him with a quip or a snarky remark. But you can hear a car door shut outside, so you find it in both of your best interests to keep things amicable for the time being.  

“Good,” he sighs, “’least that’s one thing we’re on th’same page about.” 

He’s eager to remove himself from the room, like he has been as of lately. It’s blatantly, and uncomfortably, clear to you that it’s become difficult to even stand near you. It’s even harder to look you in the eye and, telling by the stiff silence that rung throughout the confines of a once gleeful home, it’s impossible to speak to you, too. 

Two weeks. 15 days, to be completely exact. 

It’s how long he’s taken it upon himself to sleep in the guest room down the hall. It’s how long he’s eaten dinner in his office instead of the dining room. It’s how long he’s left the house before you’ve woken up. It’s how long he’s answered your questions with a nod of the head or a shrug of the shoulder before slinking off to the opposing end of the house. 

15 days is how long he’s gone without speaking to you. 

You were hesitant to have Anne’s birthday here. A few nights had been spent upright in bed, glancing every so often at the empty side where Harry usually slept, phone in hand as you readied yourself to apologize to Anne for surrendering your hosting obligations. But you never went through with it, simply because it dawned on you that it would surely add more fuel to the fire that was disintegrating your relationship. 

“Are we doing the happy couple bit tonight?” You hiss, hands running along the bottom of your skirt, “Or are you gonna ignore me like you have been?”

“Quit it.” his tone is harsh when he snaps at you, hand going for the doorknob to invite his mother in, “s’pointless trying t’make me feel bad.” 

“I’m making you feel bad?”

What would have cascaded into a red faced screaming match is abruptly interrupted at the hands of your militant husband. His hand twists the knob as he flings the door open, revealing an eager-grinning Anne with a bag in her hand. 

“Hi mumma.” 

You’re on edge for majority of the night. The energy in the house is that of a drastic shift, going from 0 to 60 in under an hour. 

It’s the most conversation that’s been had under this roof in a while. A few of Anne’s friends are scattered amongst the living room, drinks in hand as they snicker and cackle with each other. And Harry’s more than willing to talk to them, it’s the most you’ve heard his voice, aside from the yelling or bickering. It’s the first time in two weeks he doesn’t scramble away from you when you go to stand beside him. 

“Two of you make a lovely couple.” Anne’s friend compliments, admiring the perfect exterior Harry is portraying.

“Thank you,” 

And though it’s forced, you’re doing best to be sincere, trying not to cringe when Harry rubs your arm as a way of forcing the lovely couple compliment. 

“Aren’t they?” Anne’s smile is glowing, her eyes affectionately studying her son and his wife.

“Gonna have some beautiful grand babies, Anne!” 

“Mm,” Harry scoffs, and you can feel a lump in your throat begin to concur, “you’d think.” 

The way his eyes are glazed over is enough to clue you in on the number of drinks he’s consumed throughout the night. His hair is a bit disheveled, expression not completely there. And you know him well enough to know he’s got no problem getting reckless with the words out of his mouth, it’s evident in the way he’s side eyeing you. 

“God willing,” Anne’s tone is sweet as her friend clanks her champagne flute, “can hardly wait for ‘em.” 

“Gonna be waiting forever, mum,” he smiles, but it’s sinister and bitterly insincere, “oh, cheers!” 

Anne’s friend knits her eyebrows together, a bewildered look blessing her eyes as Harry mockingly clanks their glasses together, polishing off the rest of his drink before smiling at the gaggle of older women standing in front of him. 

Embarrassment hits you like a vengeful title wave, your knuckles growing white as you try to remember how to breath while clinging to the glass of wine in your hand. There’s a hallow feeling in your stomach as you feel the weight of several different eyes fixate on you. He’s gone and put you on the spot, made you the center of attention. 

“Think you’ve hit your limit, no?” you murmur, pursing your lips before gently shimmying the glass from his hand. 

“Hit m’limit long before I even had a drink.”

A flush of red washes over your face as the two of you make eye contact. His gaze is still hardened, cold and you can tell it’s an unforgiving one. And while the rest of the woman, his mother included, can’t seem to understand what he means, you do. Quite well. He raises his eyebrows at you as you stand in front of him, his barren glass still in your grasp, finally letting you know where he comes out on all this. And you receive his message as clear as ever. 

A very unsteady breath is sucked in through your mouth before wavering out of your nose, nodding your head so he knows you understand his cryptic remark. And the glass in your hand is the perfect excuse to make a subtle exit into the kitchen without causing more of a scene. 

It’s in your best interest, and Anne’s as well, that you keep him at arms length for the remainder of the evening. You stand on opposite sides of the rooms, partaking in different conversations and entertaining different people. He gets to stand beside Anne when she blows at all the candles lining her vividly decorated sheet cake, leaving you stood at the far end of the dining room table. 

It’s rude to open presents in front of guests. It’s what Anne had said once or twice each time a someone would hand her a box wrapped in decorative paper or hand her a small envelope. And she had placed them all in the sitting room, waiting until now to open them, with everyone gone and the house returning back to quiet. 

“We got you something, too!” you beam at Anne, her face mimicking yours as she gives you a wordless expression gratitude by the genuine look in her eye. 

Your hand flies to the small stack still sitting on the coffee table, rummaging through to find the small box with the earrings inside to gift your mother in law. But you come up empty handed, and a bit embarrassed, when it wasn’t where you assumed it to be. 

“Harry do you have it?” 

He peers over at you from his spot on the sofa, looking at you with a blank stare in response to your question. It’s then that you realize he didn’t have them, and he hadn’t even gone to get them like he was supposed. 

“M’sorry Anne,” you sigh, “thought Harry had gotten them but maybe I was supposed to get them.”

She insists that it’s nothing, that holding her party here was enough of a gift in itself. And even through all the insisting and thanking she delivers amidst cleaning up torn wrapping paper, you can still feel the tears scratching at the back of your eyes as your chest tightens. Not because of the stupid fucking earrings, but mores because this living situation is starting to take it’s toll on you. 

But he’s just getting started. He’s listening with his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth as you apologize to his mother, his hands balling to fists and eyes rolling. To him, he thinks you have a lot more to be sorry for than just the fucking earrings. 

“Could buy her all th’earrings in th’bloody world,” he exhales, standing up from the couch, “won’t make much of a difference.” 

“It’s not a good time, Harry.” you scold, but he’s not interested in heading your warning. 

“How’s this fo’ a gift,” he locks eyes with Anne who, understandably, is caught a bit off guard, “(Y/N) doesn’t want a baby! Doesn’t want kids with me. Not now, not ever!”

It’s like your entire body, every single limb, is encased in stone because you seem to forget how to move. Or breath, as all the breath hitches in the back of your throat, along with any word or sentence that tries to release itself. There’s a tear or two threatening to spill over, and a sudden tightness in your chest before you can almost feel your heart drop into your stomach when he takes it upon himself to get one last word in. 

“One hell of a birthday gift, innit?” 

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