#wisher - the muse of life

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Six: Lover's Games

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: You feel a need to follow up with Ernest Lawrence, much to Robert's dismay, and also uncover buried information that makes you turn rather rebellious.

Word Count: ~7,592

Warnings: Martial angst, infidelity, age gap, unwanted advances, slight physical violence, period stereotypical gender roles, clothed sex, some orgasm denial and sexual humiliation

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy. It is essentially very much a dramatization and AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman, etc. from the film only while other characters are my own entirely made up ones!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86, @lacontroller1991, @kishie8, @anime-lover-forever-1127

If you'd like to be added to the list, let me know please.

June 1943

You waited a couple of weeks after the party to move past the point of just taking actual action only in consideration in the sense of springing a scheme by meeting up with Lawrence, keeping Robert under the radar all the while and he himself was certainly distant, (distracted by work of course) but also deliberately choosing to give you space. It was fine, but it made you uneasy of how much he was extracting his emotions and you were starting to feel as if you were on a carpet of thin eggshells every moment you and him were alone together, which was usually only at night sleeping in the same bed.

Weekday dinners were a polite affair as well and you mostly ate for yourself, him eating a portion of his plate before he went to shut himself in his designated office room and came to bed hours into the wee morning. He was gone longer now during the day and one early evening, you found yourself cleaning the house alone with no company or pressing responsibilities to attend to, and you went into his office, rearranging his paperwork and dusting the bookshelves when you decided to take a peek into his desk, knowing he kept many personal writings there. Perhaps a poem or musing that could give an indication of what was happening inside his brain and why you were hitting a cold patch in the marriage.

After sifting through many documents, discarded calculations, and correspondence letters, you finally found his dearest belongings buried in the bottom drawer. You knew several of these, for they were cards - birthday, anniversary, well-wishers from the wedding - and some of your own (love poems, really) that you had exchanged with him and even simple notes of wanting to meet for dinner, a party, vacation at his Perro Caliente ranch, anything that merited invitation. You grew teary at a few, oddly nostalgic even though it was only a couple of years ago. But this project had somehow changed everything out of alignment.

A thin stack of folded papers wedged in-between a Valentine's Day card from you last year and inside an envelope that had a wax heart the color of dried blood stamped on it caught your attention and you carefully peeled the corners back to extract the papers, which looked to be three separate pieces creased into halves. You took the one on top and unfolded it to reveal a letter. It had no formal or informal greeting and you blinked, reading the words in your husband's scrawling cursive handwriting. The first few lines seemed more like a diary entry than anything else until you read further...

Well, I am wearier lately than anyone could possibly guess because I have grown adept at adopting a mask of confidence and optimism. But it is a foolish man's desire to remain unchanged and hopeful in his situations that require more than words to express... I know you understand the moody tides well, my love, and I often wonder if you are feeling the bluing void edging on again as you often do, verging on the whole of complete consumption. Though it would be more appropriate to call it black as death itself; blue has been wrongly shamed in this case, although you could drown in my eyes.

Safe to say, I very much miss your presence and touch, the way you find comfort in me as if we are beyond mortal man and woman. Naturally, there are other parts of me that yearn for you as well, but I'm sure you could pinpoint exactly what. It wouldn't be proper to state it here, although I will never be sending this to you Jean. I sincerely hope you never read this because if you do, that means the war is ongoing and I have not evolved past this spout of melancholy. It is hard to determine the future when oneself is so pegged on the past and present... I feel as though I am stuck between the slides. How do I let myself be with you and yet here all at once? You feel light years away from me, though it is only a mere thousand miles, isn't it? I feel closer to the dying stars than compared to my active obligations here on Earth.

"Don't be an idiot, Robert, and alienate the few people who most understand you because one day you might need them." I can hear you say it now and I'm afraid I did exactly that to you but for reasons more monumental than myself. I thank you for being understanding over the phone, but I must remain in this slide while you are busy in your own microcosm of the world and it is easier to miss you, but I should place a bet against myself to see exactly how long this separation lasts. If you'll have me, I look forward to loving you in two or three year's time. I hope by then I do not fall out of the concept of love entirely and with an expiration date instead because that would be a tremendous dissatisfaction if you found another bull who could never match my (nor your) intellect. He would never deserve such a naughty angel as yourself and I myself won't let you linger past my mind too much longer, I promise.

Forever yours (or not, though I hope the prior),

Robert

He had added a postscript, written in original Sanskrit from The Bhagavad Gita and you squinted, seeing familiarity. You jumped up and went to the bookshelves, seeking out his copy and thumbing through the pages, finding the scripture that matched his handwriting and you recognized the passage as he had shown and translated it to you once.

And now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Why the fuck would he add that in as a PS in a pining love letter to his ex-girlfriend?

You put the book back and went to sit down on the floor beside his desk with the letter and other ones, which you dreaded opening in case they were more in the tone of lovesickness about Jean. You felt stunned and yet at the same time, unsurprised as if this was to be expected and maybe it was. It further proved that Robert hadn't completely emotionally filed Jean away as you'd thought and was planning on loving her again someday... Or he had just been really, really drunk when he composed this, but you highly doubted it.

Hands shaking, you set that letter aside gingerly as if it contained a deadly chemical and picked up a second folded piece of paper. When you opened it, you audibly gasped.

My Kitty,

I do hope you are well and pursuing a better life for yourself in the useful field of biology. Forgive me, I must be ridden with a fever, but wouldn't it be fortuitous if we perchance crossed paths in San Francisco one summer day? My flamboyant impossible imagination has flooded me again, so I'll indulge here: I'd see you out shopping and hopefully you would be with only female company (I take it your husband would be working, unless you have divorced) and we could strike up a conversation that led us to my Cadillac parked in the shadows of the shade, and I'd let you take refuge from the heat as my passenger and then I'd take your beautiful hand...

He had deeply scratched out the rest, but you could definitely make out a few lines of erotic poetry. In reaction, you bit your bottom lip so hard you nearly drew blood, and then reached for the last one, which was not a letter in the traditional sense, but more of a hastily scribbled note on an index card.

I need to see you soon. From one 'R' to another, you always have me at my truest regards.

You angrily swore aloud and started crumple this note, but paused. If you confronted him about it, this could blow up for both of you and you couldn't have that right now in the midst of life here for the project. No one was or could get divorced, that was not an option. No, you had to keep this secret and try to get back at him more stealthily. Robert clearly loved other women too much, that was it, and this was tangible of that. Enough was enough and it spurred on you to see the fellow you'd been avoiding since the party.

The next day, you went to Technical Area 1 and walked towards one of lab buildings, immediately noticed by the soldiers on guard and they came over, shaking their heads at you and your security clearance button, lower than permitted in such a site. You'd had to sweet talk your way just past the fencing to get to this point, but these particular hardened men didn't look swayable.

"I need to speak with my husband, it's urgent. Please," you begged dramatically, wringing your hands, and the men glanced at one another.

"He's preoccupied with his colleagues now, but we'll be sure to let him know about whatever it is, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

You pursed your lips, realizing they weren't going to let you just waltz into the building without an extremely good excuse, which you couldn't say.

"Fine. Good day, sirs." You walked far away from them and they went back to their business as you glanced around inconspicuously for an alternative entrance, going to another side. You found an unoccupied back door and hurried towards it, heart picking up pace.

"What are you doing?" a male voice called shrewdly from nearby behind.

"Shit," you muttered, whipping around to see a very suspicious Officer Nichols standing several feet away. Thankfully though, he was solitary.

"I'll have to report this, you know," he warned as you backed towards the shut door, forcing a big smile.

"Or what? You'll shoot me for finding my own husband?"

"Depends on the context. Dr. Oppenheimer is a very busy man and I'm sure he has much better to do with his limited time than to entertain his diligent token housewife."

You flushed angrily, feeling for the doorknob and of course it was locked.

"I swear to God I'm not doing anything else but speaking to him. I hardly know squat about quantum mechanics and the nature of his work," you lied, trying to appear absolutely innocent.

"Then what is so important you need to interrupt proceedings?" Officer Nichols asked sharply, coming closer.

"It's a highly urgent personal matter."

"I see." He paused, darting his eyes up and down the length of your body for a second before he spoke curiously.

"You haven't physically left The Hill since your arrival, is that correct?"

"Yes...?" you replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

Nichols stared at you for a moment through his glasses glinting in the midday sun and you looked back, locked in a strange thirty second unnerving silence of equilibrium. Finally he moved, stepping forward and nodding.

"I'll personally make sure that you never do."

"But no, I... I was planning on going shopping for supplies with some of the ladies this weekend in Santa Fe?"

He was silent and you were surprised when he took out a ringlet of keys, going to unlock the door.

"We all must make sacrifices, Mrs. Oppenheimer, and I'm sure your husband would agree. This is your reward for the loss of such a privilege, so go now before I change my mind and report you to General Groves."

You quickly darted inside without a backward glance, heart thudding in aftermath of the interaction. Did he really mean that? Would he get in trouble if someone found out? Or more importantly, would you get in a tight spot for sneaking around?

You strode through the maze of hallways past lab rooms, offices, and the like until you heard dull voices up ahead and saw Robert's back, face to the chalkboard, through a half-cracked door. The scientists turned to stare when they heard your heels come to a halt in the doorway, looking away from their paperwork and the blackboard. The awkward silence was deafening; a pin could drop at any moment and a man coughed, just to relieve the stagnant air. The lone female physicist of the group, Dr. Lilli Hornig, gave you a curious look with a quick polite smile as she scribbled something on a piece of paper. Robert froze with a cigarette in one hand and a piece of whittled chalk in the other, his blues boring into your face out of sheer shock.

"Y/N, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I merely need to borrow that man right there for a moment of time. It's a personal matter," you announced crisply, pointing straight at Ernest Lawrence, whose expression morphed from surprise and to utter bemusement.

"Excuse me, then," he muttered and stood up, shuffling papers self consciously before making his way to you, moving down the hallway. You randomly led him to an empty storage room and opened the door, lightly pushing him inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked empathically as you faced him in the middle of the room, steadying yourself as you looked up at him, unaccustomed to being so close to a man considerably taller and bulkier than Robert's physicalie.

"Remember a couple weeks ago in May at last month's party?" you asked briskly and his brow furrowed in realization.

"Admittedly, not as much as I should. Oppie jokingly mentioned the next day afterwards about needing to restrict the amount liquor we're consuming at the house when you're hosting because we're not frat boys," he replied with an honest shrug.

"Do you recall that kiss you gave me out of the blue?"

His face flexed, eyebrows shooting up as his mouth twitched in guilty humor and you narrowed your eyes.

"Yes, perhaps a bit of it. In my defense though, I wasn't quite all there and there was talk going around, silly talk. I was dared into doing it, actually."

Now your own eyebrows mimicked his at this confession and you stepped closer, toe-to-toe with his shoes.

"Who dared you?"

"Promise to keep it to yourself?"

"Sure."

"Richard was the instigator and then the rest of the guys coaxed him on. Absolute ridiculousness we never would have done otherwise, I swear to you it's the high altitude of this place having an effect on our immature raucous behavior combined with alcohol."

"Feynman? The rascal, I could've guessed," you rolled your eyes disapprovingly and he sighed, shifting slightly on his feet.

"I really do apologize for the regrettable behavior, I sincerely promise it won't happen again," he told you seriously and you cocked your head slightly, giving him a once-over.

"Do you find me attractive?"

Lawrence immediately grew reserved and reluctant, making a grimace.

"Oh, I... I, oh no, I don't think it would be permissible to answer that."

"Go ahead. I dare you."

He swallowed nervously and came close with intimidation, making you stagger back all the way to the wall behind you, where he placed a hand up on it by your head, leaning in intimately and his warm breath tickled your cheeks.

"Yes, I suppose. But I'm happily married and certainly not looking for trouble or to wreck your own marriage. You must think I'm a very lousy friend," he admitted quietly.

"I think you underestimate me, Doctor," you whispered, nearly a purr, as you moved close and brushed his cheek with your fingers. He tried to speak, but you shushed him and gently removed his glasses, letting them dangle in your grip as you tilted into him, pressing your other hand firmly to his broad chest, squeezing the fabric of his vest.

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall outside, so you made it fast, giving Ernest a fast peck on the lips, just in time as then the door briskly yanked open and Robert poked his head in dubiously. You leaned back, still holding the glasses and Lawrence fumbled for them, accidentally interlocking fingers as your husband stared in confused disbelief.

"Y/N? What is the meaning of all this? We have work to do, why are you taking up his time?"

"Oppie, it's fine, we were just..." Ernest paused, readjusting rims of the glasses back on his face and he turned to you, a bit breathless.

"What were we talking about exactly?"

"All your great achievements, including the Nobel Prize, in contributing to the advancement of science, most notably your famous cyclotron and I was inquiring about the exact mechanics of how such a thing works. Something along the lines of high energy particles and acceleration...?"

"Right, because you were going to write to your father, who is curious about it," he caught on, proliferating this cock-and-bull conversation.

"And why do you need to interrupt our work about that? Aren't you supposed to elsewhere?" Robert asked, not hiding annoyance in plain sight. You could feel Ernest staring, gaze locked on you and your stomach butterflied, but you gave a brave face.

"You mean my womanly duties at home?" you snapped back.

"Yes, or however you may call it. Now, we need our physicist back if you'll pardon me." He beckoned Lawrence urgently and the man reluctantly pulled himself away from you, clearly ashamed and flustered. Once he was out of the room, Robert stepped inside and shut the door closed with snap. His face was taunt and irritated, fingers habitually fiddling for the ghost of a cigarette.

"What are you playing at here?" he demanded, already hurt without any explanation.

"Just a follow up to our last meeting," you said causally enough to anger him. He crossed to meet you in two strides, catching your wrist and lifting up your arm, interlacing his fingers very tightly with yours as he spoke lowly, intensively.

"What is the matter, am I not giving you enough? Do I not provide enough for you? You feel an urge to court my best man and colleague all of a sudden because you are bored of your humdrum domesticity? Is that what you love about Los Alamos, the fine selection of like-minded substitutes once you tire of me? Am I not enough?" His voice raised before he caught himself, releasing a shaky breath. He was genuinely upset and you felt rotten, but only for a second. It's not like he was clean in this either.

"Don't be ridiculous. I swear, you always assume the worst of me," you scoffed in response.

"Well, I certainly know a cheat when I see one," he said bitterly, twisting his fingers out of yours and dropping his arm.

"Yes, you would know indeed. But Jesus, Robert, he's only a friend, your friend I might add, and it was only a bit of fun, nothing serious. You said it yourself, it's good for him to loosen up. What else are parties for?"

"Right. Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly it," he replied sarcastically.

"He started it, you know, after Richard dared him to kiss me apparently at the party."

"Then I'll be speaking to both of them. But you need to stop it, quit acting so childish and inappropriate over this. You're smarter than this shtick and there is too much at stake to be partaking in silly juvenile romantic games."

"You do realize I'm at least fifteen years younger than you, right? You can't expect me to be, well, whatever it is called to be at your age. Old, is it?" you mocked and normally that would've sounded very rude in any other situation, but he knew your sharp side all too well to take it too seriously, especially when delivered with a teasing smile.

"You couldn't think of a worse slander than 'old'?" he scoffed, unimpressed, and you snorted, tapping the knot of his tie affectionately.

"The point is, I am indeed younger than you."

"So? I have no issue with that and you have proved yourself very capable of co-existence so far, I think you are quite mature for your age actually, at least until now... But I don't think biological age matters in love."

"I was just over eighteen when you began courting me and you used to flirt with your few female physics students that were no older," you reminded him and he diverted his gaze, tapping his foot anxiously and he distractedly flicked out a cigarette from his pocket pack, lighting it in a second and puffing in response. You stepped back from the plume of smoke, glancing towards the window and crossing your arms. He exhaled loudly and jerked his hand to point the cigarette at you and then spoke with ultimatum.

"I don't want to see you enter this laboratory with the intention of unnecessary interruption ever again. I will tell the officers outside to stop and restrain you if you do. Hell, I'll take these matters to the General if I have to, you hear me on that?"

"I certainly do as a matter of fact and I also know for a fact that you'd be wasting his time. Petty marriage squabbles isn't a high priority or forte for a high-ranking military man like him. But as for you, well, now you know what it feels like to be jeopardized over another human being," you countered.

"My ties are very different and I would never think to do it so publicly! I am discreet about such internal, highly private business," he exclaimed, getting frustrated with this discussion and this made you laugh humorlessly.

"Bullshit and you know that. I saw you a week before our wedding walking hand in hand with Jean down Shasta Road and what about that time afterwards when our friends saw you dancing with-"

He quickly talked louder, running over your words heatedly.

"No, no, no. You are just feeding into this ridiculousness and fabricating a relationship that isn't there!"

"Maybe so, but I thought it would be a good lesson, or test, for you and if this is any indicator, you've been bothered. I take heart in that you must love me so that it has unnerved you to see me with another man."

"There was never any doubt that I love you. Christ, if that's what this is all about..." He sighed, rubbing his creased forehead briefly before walking backwards to the door, opening it up and you could hear the dull chatter of voices from the other room.

"Well?" you asked when he didn't do anything, just standing with hands on his hips.

"I want you to do whatever it is that pleasures you, just as long as it doesn't happen to be luring my top physicist and close friend in a back room during the middle of a workday. Have some standard decency for God's sake," he spat, the words stinging, and you crystalized, uncrossing your arms and shaking your head at the hypocrisy.

"I never noticed it until we came here, but Ruth sure has your attention, doesn't she?"

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"You heard me."

"Ruthie has nothing to do with this and how dare you drag her name through your muddled mood today."

"Ruthie?" You rolled your eyes at clear affection underlying his tone.

"Listen to yourself Robert, you have feelings for her, you've always been close."

"She's a very dear friend, one of the few people I can truly confide in and share my emotions with, nothing more," he insisted.

"Am I part of that select number of confidants?"

"Of, of course. Has our entire marriage been for naught? I cannot believe your attitude over this, it's deplorable."

"It must be very nice to be you, Robert. No one here in Los Alamos casts open judgement upon you," you commented bitterly and he cringed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before staring back at you.

"Not yet, anyway," he answered with a tone of cryptic ominousness and you only frowned, shoving past him to exit the building.

A full twenty four hours passed without further incident until you haphazardly ran into Feynman on the street, just the man you were looking for.

"Richard?"

"Yeah?" He stopped and gave you a familiar cocky smile which dropped at the narrowed eyes and serious expression you were giving him.

"Oh, is this about the party? I didn't think he'd even do it, I apologize for our frivolousness that night. Clearly very unacceptable." He cleared his throat awkwardly and you leaned close, speaking in a low murmur.

"Do me a favor?"

"Uh, sure...?"

"I have an assignment for you: Find me a single man - preferably scientist - in this town, anyone remotely attractive will do, but no close friends or direct colleagues of Robert's, it has to be at least second or third tier from his inner circle and single - I'm not crossing into some other woman's territory - and arrange me a date with him in secret. Think of it as an experimental equation: One attempted devoted wife plus one all-but-labeled womanizer husband plus unsuspecting stag. It's time to give someone a taste of his own sweet and sour medicine."

"Oh, you feel like causing a scandal, do you? It won't take a mathematician to see what it'll will add up to." He chuckled in disbelief but then dropped his voice, casting wary glances around at passing residents, or civilians, as everyone who was non-military were officially called.

"Are you quite sure about this?"

"If I let my conscience speak, then no. But if I let every other fiber of my being, then yes. Will you do it?"

"I... I can't, no, this is beneath us," he protested, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

"It's one event at a casual party, it's quite another outside... Well, you know. Real tampering with people's lives has consequences and I'm not sure I'm the man for this job, I think if maybe, it-"

"I'll pay you," you interrupted quickly and he quirked an eyebrow and leaned closer.

"How much?" he whispered curiously.

"Twenty?"

"Make it 100 and you've got yourself a deal. I'll do it and you can pay me later at your convenience. Now excuse me, but I have some business elsewhere."

He hurried off and there was no further word until one early morning you came into the kitchen as Robert was dressing his toast and brewing coffee, and you were surprised to see a bouquet of long stemmed red roses on the table. Naturally, you looked to him as his habit of flower gifting was infamous, but he was staring just as confounded as you were. He seemed positively rattled, in fact.

"Did you...?" he asked and you echoed that same question.

"Did you?"

"No, I haven't been flower picking as of late," he replied dryly with a taut closed smile and then it dawned on you. Could it be from the mystery date you'd sent Feynman to set up?

"I'll put them in the living room, shall I? They'll get the strong afternoon light that will illuminate their velvety rouge petals," you expressed and he nodded emotionlessly, turning back to the toast and grabbing the pot of coffee.

Once you were alone in the lounge, you carefully inspected the flowers; they were beautiful and fairly fresh, only one or two were curling at the tips from the heat and as you held it up to admire, there was a small square piece of paper taped on the bottom of the skinny glass vase: It was a thin note, reading of a scrambled code of some sorts. You smirked, knowing it had to be Feynman who did this; he was always writing letters in code to his ailing sweetheart stuck in Albuquerque.

"Y/N, have you seen my badge? It's gone missing!" Robert called anxiously from the kitchen and you quickly tore the note off the bottom and tucked it into your pajamas.

"You probably left it on the dresser," you called back to him absentmindedly.

Once he left for the day, you sat down and worked to crack the code, which wasn't terribly hard considering it was predictable; boiling down to an address, date and time. You'd hoped for a name of the mystery gentleman, but didn't seem to get one.

That evening, you dressed in one of your finest silk dresses, red in color as the roses, and made your way to the bachelor's dormitory on the other side of town. You technically weren't allowed to be transversing around here, especially at this hour, and you cringed at a couple of catcalling whistles from young drunken men loitering outside. You ignored them, hurrying up the stairs to the mystery man's dorm and knocked once. The door opened, almost cautiously, and a decent looking young man stood there, his short brunette hair combed back and he wore a well pressed suit but with a blue tie slightly out of alignment.

"Good evening, Ma'am," he greeted in a pleasant voice and you automatically blushed, staring into his eyes which were a very watered-down literation of Robert's own blues; if his were the ocean, this man's were a lake on a grey skied afternoon and it made you feel a tad sad about doing this. Of course no man's eyes could ever quite compare.

"Hello...?" you trailed off, needing a name to this blind date of yours.

"My name is Anthony, Mrs. Oppenheimer."

"Pleasure to meet you and please, that makes me sound old and tethered. Just call me Y/N."

He nodded, stepping aside and you went inside, closing the door behind you as you surveyed the somewhat neat living quarters consisting of basic furniture and scattered paperwork and magazines.

"I apologize if this is rather awkward, but I take it Richard gave you the details?"

"More or less," Anthony answered and the way he was ogling at you wasn't so much like piece of meat, but out of respect and disbelief that he had actually had a date with the wife of the top dog scientific director of Los Alamos.

"Would you care for a drink? I just have, uh, scotch if that's alright. Probably different from what you're used to," he murmured the last part and you assured him quickly it was alright.

"Yes I would, thank you."

He handed a half filled glass to you gently and you noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"You don't have to be nervous, I'm really not all that remarkable. I may have my husband's name, but I'm certainly not him, you know. We all bask in the long reaching shade of Oppie, don't we?"

"Right, of course," he chuckled, offering you a seat on the sofa and taking a sip of his own, regarding you impressively.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" you asked tenderly and he shrugged, still rather timid.

"I was dating a girl back in college but we broke off right before I signed onto the project."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty four," he answered.

"Good, not younger than me; I suppose we are perhaps compatible then in that respect. You don't need to hear my life story, but I was a year in studying medicine at Stanford until this and now I suppose I'm just another housewife at the moment." You sighed, taking a small sip and nodding at him pleasantly.

"So what do you do here, generally? I take it you aren't one of the boys in Oppie's so-called cult?"

"No, I'm an engineer actually. I work in one of the labs, hands on, none of that theoretical bunch."

You nodded approvingly and there was a lapse of silence until he gestured with his glass, sloshing the liquid slightly.

"So I take it you're quite unhappy with... with Dr. Oppenheimer if you wanted to meet with another man?" he asked cautiously, disguising excitement.

"No questions, if you don't mind. I'm not here to talk about him," you replied seriously and he nodded fervently, setting the drink down on the side table.

"Yes, right. I apologize. I guess that doesn't leave much formalities then." He paused, swiping his tongue across his lips.

"I'd like to kiss you if that's not rushing too much," he proposed politely, but with a tone of urgency.

"Go right ahead." You braced as he leaned in, inches from your lips and you shared air for a second before he plunged forward, groping your mouth fast and lightly. But it felt all so wrong. You lightly pulled back, his hands not even holding your face like Robert always did so there wasn't much real intimacy, and glanced to the floor self consciously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you murmured guiltily. Maybe it wasn't even your conscience; maybe he just wasn't the right guy.

"But I thought you wanted it...?" Anthony's brows furrowed in hurt confusion and offense, so you quickly backpedaled.

"Not here, we can't do anything here. How about... Do you want to come over to my home?" you blurted out abruptly and he swallowed.

"But is-isn't your husband home?"

"That's the point."

Gathering courage for the both of you, Anthony then stood and took your hand to walk you to the door, leading you out down to the street level and the two of you walked all the way to Bathtub Row together. You could tell he was in awe of these homes that were larger and much better constructed.

"So this is how the other side lives." Anthony gave a low whistle and you laughed, bumping his side gently.

"Don't worry. We use the same water, electricity, and plumbing as you do, it's just a little more glamorous and I promise you anyone living in Los Alamos to work on the project is not substandard or lower class, even if the military may be rather degrading at times. It's all just a socially constructed hierarchy."

He squeezed your waist affectionately and you led him to the house, telling him to wait by the shrubs as you walked around to peer into the windows to see if Robert was still up, which you'd be surprised if he wasn't, and indeed he was: reclining in an armchair by the fireplace, reading and puffing on his pipe.

You signaled to Anthony to come closer and he crossed the yard to stand by the side of the house, appearing wary. He mouthed 'do you see him?' and you nodded, turning your back to the window and beckoned to him to move close. He carefully did so until he was a few inches from your face and you swallowed at the intimacy, the daring nerve to kiss a man right in front of the windowpanes where your husband sat in the living room.

"Kiss me, but passionately this time, no holding back. Just pretend it's only the two of us, okay?" you whispered and he breathed in, parting lips.

"Is this a dream?" he whispered and you giggled lightly, straddling his body and cupping the back of his neck, hairs bristling your fingers.

"Only if you want it to be, but no telling anyone when you wake up, understand?"

"No one would believe me... I feel as though I'm about to commit a great sin against the Oppenheimer unity, I can't believe I'm going to do this," he admitted with a dark chuckle.

"I can," you breathed and before you knew it, his lips connected to yours and the kiss was actually amazingly passionate indeed for two people who just personally met tonight. You breathed in his musky scent and intertwined tongues, smooshing noses and you felt him push you up against the window, arms embracing you whole and you secretly hoped it would eventually catch Robert's attention. Your intention was just one full kiss, but now this man had you, he seemed reluctant to let go as you began to lean back from his mouth, head lightly conking against the window. Anthony groped your breasts hungrily and you felt his hard-on pressing against your thigh as your bodies rubbed, the kissing becoming sloppier and for a moment, you completely forgot what you'd done this for. A faint yell came from somewhere and Anthony grew more attached, tightening his grasp on your frame, kissing harder and you started to feel a slight wetness in your panties.

"Stop! Get off of her! Please, that's my wife!" Robert's voice called in audible distress and you realized this must look a lot worse than it was, and you had to admit this man was getting a bit rougher as his more primal desire came to fruition and you grunted, turning your head and trying to wriggle out from underneath his locking embrace.

"That's enough, enough," you murmured anxiously, but he wasn't stopping.

"You said this could be my dream, can't ya let me finish first?" Anthony growled in your ear, but you were done, having successfully alarmed your husband. This wasn't meant to go further and quite frankly, you were unnerved how quickly it had escalated. He wasn't quite the shy gentleman scientist anymore once he was aroused, but you supposed these types of adventures did bring out the animalistic behavior in most after all.

Simple souls, Robert had said once of human beings.

Unfortunately, he was now witness to such a 'simple man' about to take you right on the windows of his stone and log cabin style house.

"STOP THAT NOW!" Robert yelled off to the right and you felt Anthony being forcefully tugged away, his arm flailing out and trying to grasp, catching your hair and you winced as he accidentally yanked painfully.

You were suddenly released and you gasped, sidestepping and watching in shock as Robert tried to jump on the man, his belt removed from his waist and gripped tightly in his hands as he wrestled it aggressively around Anthony's neck, constricting with enough force to make him gag and choke.

"Robert, no!" you shouted, rushing forward and attempting to pull him away, but it was as if he were deaf to the wind.

"I demand you to LEAVE my property at once and to NEVER see my wife, or this won't end on civilized terms," he threatened loudly and you'd never seen such a fire in his piercing eyes before. It intrigued and frightened you, considering he was not a brute in any sense. Anthony pleaded through his choking, whimpering pathetically, until Robert finally backed off, snapping the belt and huffing.

The other man stumbled up to his feet and held up his hands in surrender as Robert squinted in the dark, trying to fully identify him.

"I'm terribly apologetic Dr. Oppenheimer, sir, I won't bother you or the Mrs. anymore, I'll be right on my way!"

Anthony ran like a bat out of hell from the property and once it was silent, Robert turned to you with heavy breaths, the belt hanging limply at his side. You took one look and then rushed inside in the house, kicking off your heels in the hallway and dashing into the bedroom, slamming the door, heart pounding a sprint.

Moments later, you heard his clodding footsteps and anxious voice calling out desperately, the door bursting open.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he gasped as you shrunk away from him, still feeling Anthony's hands all over you and the whole guilt imploded, resulting in a sudden overflow of tears.

"Fuck, Robert! It's all my fault, I told Richard Feynman to set us up and I told Anthony to come here as a show to make you jealous and it advanced, I promise he meant no harm, we just wanted-"

"You did this on purpose?" he interrupted, betrayal lighting his features and you wiped messily at the tears streaming down your own.

"Yes! I kissed him on purpose! I wanted to spite you, I'm sorry but I cannot handle this anymore! I wanted to hurt and infuriate you like you do to me with your blatant love of other women! I bribed Richard $100 for a date with a single scientist, I didn't know what I'd get, but I'm glad you saw us together, it is only fair when I have to read love letters to past girlfriends... or are they just current 'friends'?!"

His mouth gaped and the frown lines appeared, creasing his forehead in prudent anger.

"The audacity... I suppose I indeed underestimated you, my sweet Aphrodite," he said lowly, voice a low rumble and despite everything you actually felt a shiver of arousal in your core.

In two strides, he met you at the foot of the bed, grabbing your head in a vice and in a bizarrely dominant twist, pinned you down to the bed, trapping you underneath him and yet you saw the uncertainty flicker. He was pretending to be so dominant, but couldn't take the reins fully.

Oh, Oppie.

"Roll over," you ordered sharply and he did, collapsing onto his back as you unbuttoned his pants and yanked them down hastily, staring at his cock straining against his boxers. You placed your palm on it, teasing him and he moaned softly, shaking his head at the deviousness on your face.

"No, please. Please, let me out, please don't do this, please..."

Begging. He was actually begging. After he just had attacked a man outside and was reeling from your confession, he was here at an embarrassingly burgeoning erection.

"I'm so close that I don't need you inside me, but I think you need a bit more help, is that right?" you whispered condescendingly and he gulped, eyes wide dilated marbles.

"I'm sorry about all of it, I never meant t-to-" he sputtered off as you clapped a hand to his mouth and you straddled his body, legs quivering with anticipation.

His penis grew harder and a clear wet stain bled through the fabric, causing him to squirm underneath you and you smiled, bumping up and grinding against clothed erection. You yelped at the sudden rush of internal pleasure and his hands gripped your dress at the hips, gasping along with your heaves and whines, but he himself was yet to peak. He seemed mortified as you then sat back and placed firm hands down on his crotch, holding his bulge tightly. He groaned, mortified as you wouldn't let him go, and after stretching him out to his limits for too long, a single squeeze brought him to a full climax, absolutely soaking his boxers and he threw his head back on the pillow, reveling in the orgasm.

Panting, you climbed off him and he weakly sat up, holding out a hand with the other on his wet crotch in sheer humiliation. You left the bed, gathering your appearance and catching breath.

"No, don't... Don't leave," he requested desperately from his spot on the bed and you shook your head, tousling hair as you glanced over at him.

"Clean up your own mess, darling," you told him firmly, a metaphor as much as a literal one.

He sighed, swinging legs off the bed and hobbling off to the bathroom as you began to undress, slipping out of the dress and into a bedtime robe.

He came back in, clean but utterly naked, and his dick was still dripping a smidge at the tip.

"You very much ruined a good pair of my underwear," he complained and you merely shrugged, patting the bed as you crawled in and he joined, scooting under the sheets and pulling you close, resting his forehead at yours, speaking in a mutter.

"You just had to stoop low with that male 'catch' of yours, didn't you?"

"That's not very nice, darling. Anthony seemed like a nice man and he's an engineer, I'll have you know."

"He isn't a third of the man I am."

"No one is you, Robert. That's why I went to another man in the first place."

"I truly wanted to suffocate the life out of him, I would have maimed him quite seriously had I lacked control. I haven't thought of doing such a terrible action since my Cambridge episodes, my terrible fits of jealousy... I suppose I expressed protection over you," he mused grimly.

"It's the thought that counts," you commented darkly.

"I can be so impulsive and erratic... You and everyone knows quite well how I was going to poison my tutor; I had injected potassium cyanide in the body of that innocent apple and left it on his desk..."

You remembered it had been Jean who had offhandedly first mentioned this story to you and she had assured you it was only because he was going through a very difficult phase in his life and actually all he needed to feel fulfilled was to just "get laid" as she aptly put it. Funnily enough, 'getting laid' was the least of Robert's problems now.

He took your hand at the moment and grasped too hard, squeezing your fingers, leaning towards you anxiously and speaking urgently.

"Listen, and I mean this very much: Don't ever see another man, I don't think I can do this again without gravely spraining my heart."

"And your enormous ego," you added the obvious with a small smile and he returned it, also giving you a light kiss on the cheek and cuddling in close.

"I love you," he offered gently and you shot him a glance, unable to hide the blushing smirk.

"Touché."

#oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #j robert oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer au #ernest lawrence #ernest lawrence x reader #josh hartnett x reader #richard feynman jack quaid #j robert oppenheimer x you #oppie #oppenheimer smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy smut #robert oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer film #oppenheimer x y/n #don't like don't read #don't like don't interact #part of a series #part 6 #my writing #winnie's writing

[aalissy]

Modeling

Day 8 is doneee!! It’s a short, fluffy lil chapter for today as per usual haha. I hope you like it! Lemme know what you think :)

AO3

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city of Paris, Adrien Agreste, the famous teenage model and son of renowned fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, found himself in an unexpected situation. He was about to don the latest creation from his father's atelier, but this time, it wasn't for a high-end fashion show or a glossy magazine spread. No, this time, Adrien was modeling for none other than his classmate and best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She had just gotten an internship with a high-end designer and had been so proud of herself that he couldn’t help but feel just as pleased with her work. Even if a small corner of his mind was displeased that she was even more busy than usual. 

But when Marinette had come to him the other day, an adorable pink flush to her cheeks as she asked him if he’d be willing to model one of her designs, of course, he said yes. 

He had always admired her talent for fashion design. Her unique sense of style, combined with her creativity and attention to detail had earned her a reputation as one of the most promising young designers in Paris. So, he couldn't resist the opportunity to support her and see her work come to life on the runway.

“An opportunity to model a Marinette original. How could I say no?” He had winked, feeling a slight sense of satisfaction at watching her pink flush turn just a shade darker.

As Adrien slipped into the first outfit that Marinette had designed, he was struck by the precision and craftsmanship of the garment. The attention to detail was remarkable, with every stitch and seam carefully executed to create a stunning piece of artwork. Adrien couldn't help but marvel at Marinette's talent as he adjusted the collar of the jacket.

As the lights dimmed and the music began to play, Adrien stepped onto the runway, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. He had walked countless runways before, but this was different. This time, he was showcasing Marinette's designs, and he was determined to do them justice. After all, this was her first big show. He had to make certain that this was his best show yet!

As he strutted down the catwalk, Adrien could feel the eyes of the audience on him, and he knew that Marinette's collection was a hit. The gasps and whispers of admiration from the crowd confirmed what he had known all along, that Marinette had created something truly special.

With each outfit change, Adrien was amazed by the range and versatility of Marinette's collection. From chic and sophisticated evening suits to funky and bold streetwear, her designs were a reflection of her own unique style and vision. He could see her personality shining through in every piece, and it made him admire her even more.

Throughout the show, Adrien couldn't help but steal glances at Marinette backstage. She was a flurry of activity, adjusting hems, pinning fabric, and giving last-minute instructions to the models. Her passion and dedication to her craft were evident in every move she made, and Adrien found himself falling even more in awe of her talent.

As he got dressed for the final look of the night, he couldn't contain his emotions. He clapped enthusiastically, along with the rest of the audience, as Marinette took her bow. Her smile was radiant, and he couldn't help but be utterly captivated by her beauty and grace.

After the show, Adrien rushed backstage to congratulate Marinette. She was surrounded by well-wishers, but when she spotted Adrien, her face lit up with delight. She approached him, and Adrien found himself at a loss for words, surprised to find himself turning pink as she gazed up at him with a pair of sparkling sapphire eyes.

"Adrien, thank you so much for modeling for me," Marinette said, her voice filled with gratitude. "You were amazing out there, and I couldn't have asked for a better muse."

Adrien scratched the back of his neck, feeling a surge of pride at Marinette's compliment. "It was my pleasure," he managed to say, finally finding his voice. "Your designs are incredible, Marinette. You're truly talented."

Marinette's cheeks reddened at Adrien's words, and she looked down bashfully. "Thank you," she murmured. "Coming from you, that really means a lot.”

Putting his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed them gently, causing her to look back at him. “I mean it, Marinette. You did such a great job tonight. All of Paris was looking at your designs. Someday soon you might even surpass my father.”

She giggled, her face lighting up with amusement. “You should watch yourself, then, Agreste. I might be putting you out of business.”

He threw his head back in a loud laugh. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Adrien then leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, but don’t worry,” Marinette said after he moved back with a wink. “You’ll still have a job as my most treasured model.”

“I can’t wait,” Adrien said, a beam growing on his face as he imagined days of working with Marinette instead of his father. That would be the dream. 

Her mouth opened to say something else, but before she could, a voice frantically called her over. “Marinette, there’s someone who wants to talk with you!”

She winced, her gaze darting back and forth between the two of them before she sighed sadly. “I’m sorry, Adrien. That’s my boss. I have to go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course.” He nodded, watching with fondness as she gave him a grateful smile before moving over to talk with her fellow co-workers. It was absolutely awe-inspiring how motivated she could get. It honestly reminded him of a certain superheroine...

Stepping out of the building, Adrien shivered slightly as the moon slowly rose over the Parisian skyline. Luckily, his bodyguard was waiting outside and he got to climb into the limo before he could get too cold. 

Leaning his head against the window, his thoughts drifted back to Marinette once again. He couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow. Hopefully, now that the last day of her internship had finally concluded, they would be able to hang out with each other more. 

Maybe... maybe he could take her to go get Andre’s ice cream this weekend. Yeah, that sounded really nice. With a plan settled in his mind, he straightened up, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his chest at the thought of this weekend.

#adrinetteapril2023 #adrienetteapril2023 #adrinette #adrienette #love square #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #ml fic #fanfic #fic

[i-did-not-mean-to]

V - Voices

So, here is the last one of the April Alphabet stories until later this month.

Worry not, there will be other stories from me in the meantime :D

Words: 663

Characters: Daeron x Maglor (x Finrod?)

Warnings: I came up with this abomination on my own. Maglor and Finrod are half-cousins. Do with that what you will...

Daeron seeks Maglor’s eyes over the golden head of the one who had once been known as Felagund.

Upon returning to the fold—ages too late—they had avoided those who had resettled in those weirdly sterile lands before them as much as had been possible, but—this much Daeron had always known and foreseen—Maglor’s siblings and kinsmen had eventually managed to corner them.

To their surprise, the expectations and demands had been of an often petty and seldom truly disagreeable nature, and they had complied easily enough, in the name of their new-found and fiercely defended peace.

One day, when the unceasing flood of well-wishers and detractors had almost run dry, another very unexpected visitor had appeared on their humble doorstep.

“Could you talk to my son, please?” a stunningly beautiful and undeniably sad matron begged them, hovering on the threshold of the small cottage they occupied as if afraid that the lines of savagery and misery graven into their ever-young faces would rub off on her doleful dignity and mar it. “He’s been so quiet since he’s returned.”

“Aunt,” Maglor replied fitfully, a crash of drums that was followed by a hollow silence as the words he wanted to speak evaded him. “Yes.”

Daeron easily discerned the truth in his lover’s eyes—his cousin had set forth with nothing but his faith and a song and he had not returned.

“Maybe your voice might bring his back?” Eärwen, who had gotten both her children and her husband back and whose hand still felt so terribly empty and cold nonetheless, whispered, and Daeron had to admit that the hope, rustling like a bird’s wings, in her voice was more terrible and devastating than her sadness could ever have been.

“I’ll try,” Maglor promised earnestly; the words slipped easily from his tongue for having been spoken—and betrayed—so many times before. “I’ll see what I, what we can do for my beloved cousin.”

Instantly, Daeron’s eyes flew up—he knew that note of tenderness and of wistful longing that had woven itself into the theme of Maglor’s words. Naturally, hee had heard rumours about the strange proclivities and peculiar moral codes the Ñoldor observed within the safety of their homesteads, but he had never thought that he’d ever witness them in person.

“Finrod…” Maglor bit his lip as he tried to explain a whole life in the span of a much too short walk to the outskirts of the city. “Let’s not talk about my brothers, or the wretched necklace, or my father, or your king, let’s not bring up Beren or Lúthien…”

“Got it. No word about our lives or death,” Daeron agreed, touching Maglor’s tense fingers as they clenched and unclenched around the small harp he was carrying. “We’ll just sing and hope that he’ll remember his own voice—if only to spite us.”

With a shivering sigh, Maglor gave him a thankful smile. “He’s never been a spiteful person though,” he whispered in an adagio of lost love and knocked on the beautifully carved door of his cousin.

“This is not working,” Daerons slightly panicked gaze says.

“I have an idea,” the wicked twinkle in Maglor’s bright eyes replies.

“Cousin,” he purrs, turning to Finrod whose eyes no longer seem veiled by layers of compounded grief but alight with curiosity. “How would you like to hear the awful song Fingon—former High King—has written for my brother—also former High King?”

At that, Finrod cocks his head. “He always had a good voice,” he muses dreamily.

“Ah yes, so do I,” Maglor pounces on the tiny gash in the veil of emotional distance, “and dear Daeron here surpasses us all. Nonetheless, let me regale you with our cousin’s subpar lyrical talent—he literally rhymed ‘red’ with ‘dead’ at some point.”

Again, Daeron and Maglor exchanged a long look—ablaze with hope and ambition now—before intonating the bawdiest, clumsiest, sweetest ballad of the present age.

@fellowshipofthefics here's another one.

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #DaeMags #tolkien writing #jrrt #April Alphabet #fotfics april alphabet #fellowshipofthefics #Silm #Daeron #Maglor #Finrod #V #Voices

[universal-legacy]

❝ i wish you good heart and good health. ❞ Clover (pick a muse)

"Well, I don't think I'll need the good wishes. But, thank you anyways, and I wish you the same. And may the light in your life continue to shine brightly for you." Zayn smiled lightly as he looked over at his well-wisher, mildly amused by the idea of someone wishing him good heart and health, but still appreciating it all the same. After all, who knows if things could ever suddenly go to hell and back.

#the acts and whims | zayn meza #kitxkatrp #clover | kitxkatrp

[little-red-rabbit]

23, 42, 62, 96 for any you want to answer for :3

23. Is love about convenience or something more? Can it be about both?

To Marcel love had always been something for something else. Something to look upon with longing from his wallflower of a life. Then a half elf like a warm summer eve came into his life, and finally all the poetry on love that filled his lonely nights made sense to him. There is nothing convenient about love, love is something that blooms within you and must be tended to or it will wisher on the vine.

42. Is freewill an illusion?

"Ah a age old question of philosophers in stuffy rooms and tyrants on plush thrones" Niphorbis mused as he shifted his ancient form, stretching out a great wing as it cast a nightscape across his body. "In my long life the only ones who believe freewill is an illusion are those who want absolution from their actions, or are invested in making you believe you have no freedom."

62. Would you want to meet a clone of yourself? Would you like them?

Molycap looks at Molycap, and pushes one of their pseudopods against an out scratching pseudopods. Sound of sniffing filled the air before a pair of guttural shirks could be heard threw the old swear, followed by the sound of wood hitting two soft mushroom heads.

96. Is your perception of yourself similar or the same to how others perceive you?

After a long pause Segara rested his beak upon his folded hands, his elegantly plucked brows pulled together in troubled thought. "I do not know, for I do not fully know myself." The great peacock mused seeming lost in thought "Do they see me as some great charlatan, conning mages out of their hard earned magics or as something pitiable like a young rabbit squirming in the jaws of the fox."

#asks #mtg #mtg ocs #fanwalker #magic the gathering #mtg oc #niphorbis #Molycap #marcel #Segara

[tiffanylamps]

from this post

i associate you with the color cream like old book pages or the light blue glow of a computer screen. that shel silverstein quote If you are a dreamer come in, if you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar… if you’re a pretender come sit by my fire. the calming sound of rain and lists written on scrap paper.

i think i associate you with a lot of this because i enjoy your writing and your long posts. you also make me feel welcome, like i could randomly write you or send an ask or reblog a billion of your posts and you would be just as excited as i was about it all.

Oh my goodness!!!! This actually made me feel so emotional and soft and gooey! 🥹🥹 I love these associations, they feel very true to who I am; I am often surrounded by the beige pages of a notebook filled with scribbles and the soft blue-white glow of a laptop screen (a maddening concoction of chaos and peace). The sound of rain is one of the most beautiful things in this world! I'm so honoured to be associated with it!! 😩 Also, I've never heard of that quote before and oh MY GOD! I LOVE IT!! Thank you for introducing that into my life. You are a kind person, I appreciate you! This is genuinely so kind of you. Please, never stop replying to my silly little musings, I will always respond in kind 💛

I took a pic of three (out of... I don't know how many) notebooks I have on the go. Just to prove how correct you are 😊

#thank you <3 #this is honestly so sweet! you've made my night!!! #answered #ask game

[humanitysong]

Vash found himself standing at the foot of a chapel. The church was a familiar sight, a warming echo of his past, yet it bore a chilling silence. The wooden doors creaked open as he approached, revealing a beautifully decorated interior.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood Wolfwood, looking strikingly handsome in a suit, his usual cross replaced by a bouquet of vibrant wildflowers. The sight brought a smile to Vash's face. He took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest, yet he felt an odd sense of comfort.

Walking down the aisle, Vash could hear the faint whispers of well-wishers, their words of congratulations and joy. He reached the man he considered more than a friend, more than a companion. Looking into Wolfwood's eyes, Vash felt a surge of happiness. This was the ending they deserved, a peaceful life together. He reached out to take Wolfwood's hands, relishing in the warmth and life they held.

The priest - a vague figure, obscured by the brightness of the scene - began to speak, his words echoing softly in the dimly lit chapel. He declared their vows, and Vash found himself uttering them in response, each word resonating with a deep sense of truth.

At last, the moment came. "You may now kiss the bride." The crowd erupted in cheers, their joy a deafening roar in Vash's ears. He leaned in, ready to seal their bond with a kiss.

But as he closed his eyes, the warmth of Wolfwood's hands turned cold. The joyous noises around him faded into silence. Vash opened his eyes, and the dream shifted.

The chapel was gone, replaced by a familiar room. The cheerful crowd was replaced by a haunting stillness. And Wolfwood, once full of life, sat lifeless on a couch. His eyes, once filled with laughter and warmth, were now peaceful yet devoid of life. The vibrant wildflowers lay wilted on the floor, their beauty faded.

he has been here so many times. at this point vash does not scream, he does not beg a mouth for forgiveness that will never speak again. he simply stands there, staring down at the corpse.

...wolfwood and him had never been married, had never even talked about it ( did the other know that vash had loved him? truly and utterly? with all that vash heart was he had loved wolfwood, beyond romantic feelings, he had simply loved him ).

but in this dreams of his they get close to a happy end they never dared mentioning but hoped for. it used to hurt, he would wake up screaming with bile rising in his throat ( he could always smell the blood and still taste the bitterness of the last drink they shared ) nothing had been able to help.

until he stumbled into this world. until he had made the choice to adopt these two kids in the hopes of keeping away all the horrors and pains that would otherwise come for them.

"...a little bit" he mumbles towards the body on the couch. "then I'll rest with you" but he still had something to do and while he does not know how long his life would last - there is after all no blond left in his hair - he would cling onto it for those boys.

eriks wakes up without a gasp... his eyes still sting however and he takes a moment to compose himself. tomorrow night the nightmare would get better, hopefully.

'smile' it had been wolfwood's last request and though it might still be a bit forced, eriks obliges and the corner of his lips lift.

he sits up, not bothering with styling his long black hair. walking outside of his room he sees that nico is already up, setting the table. eriks walks over and with a yawn ruffles his hair "morning, little pipsqueak" he can see the words slowly drifting through the sleepy fog that still clouds the boys mind, how his frowns deepens and eriks just laughs - earnestly this time -.

"c'mon, I'll show you what we got in the fridge and you can decide what we are having for breakfast" once they are done prepping that he would need and wake up livio ( or at least carry him outside of the bedroom, usually the smell of food helped with the rest ).

send my muse a nightmare ( accepting ) .

#anonymous #❝ ˡᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳʸ ❞╱ ic asks . #death cw #long post cw #verse tbt #[ i still know who is to blame !! for this angst :) ]

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

5.2.23 Tuesday

2:53 am

I feel bitter!!! Still,have the windblow trap...

8:50 am

Uncle Jun is still here... In the kitchen now...

Me? Waiting for the rice cooker that we ordered, me and John...

8:56 am

I feel bitter... I have a windblow trap and they reverse my life.... I feel bitter!!! I FEEL FAT AND UGLY!!!

I wanna have some collagen on my feet and I need money... I wanna buy starbucks everyday... I need a self-fulfillment...

9:44 am

Uncle Jun went to the forest and hating that Georgia'z gang for going up....Why, only them...

Why, not me here... I'm a college graduate and I feel bitter! I have a windblow trap for nothing... I feel bitter...

10:07 am

I have the windblow trap and I feel bitter...I feel fat and ugly...

I hate judgemental people on me...About my life, about my beauty and about the situation...

About my life? I'm on a flat tire and I don't have any guilty emotion. I didn't remember harming people or old friends from the past years. People are harming me unfairly...

About my beauty? I just realized and I know though I feel fat and ugly now. I know I have a cute face since I was a lil, I always had the muse position or able to have pretty face award coz I was angelic and purely nice from deep within. It is just that there were times that I blackned myself accidentally and sometimes intentionally. But now? I don't wanna blacken myself, I wanna be american looking just like "brooke shield".

About the situation now? I'm not guilty! I'm not lazy. There are wicked women who just stole my thunder and my college diploma and worst my xfactor and charm on cute men that I can probably like...

I feel hurt angels! I know I have a cute face!

10:36 am

Neko is crying angels... I feel pity on Neko coz she doesn't know anything but being attacked by unfair rituals as well, coz she is known as dog of Uncle DD.... Neko is feeling something a negative vibes... Or probably Neko has a bad wisher on her....

11:26 noon

Not my ideal life with Uncle Jun... He is here now cleaning his stuff... Flat nose here....They flatten my nose as well...

I wanna leave the hometown... I'm self-pitying for 16 years...

I wanna be the hometown...

2:57 pm

An hour ago Uncle Jun went out...

Me? Still,waiting for the rice cooker.

It says "Shipped"-- Your order on the way!!!

3:10 pm

Uncle Jun is here again...Weird act....

I still have the windblow trap and I hate women who are putting me down that they are greater than me coz they are well-fixed and they have rituals...

I still have the windblow trap and I feel bitter and frustrated...I wanna leave the hometown...

6:35 pm

Kinda stress coz there is no rice cooker for today, I wonder why...

I just cleaned the bathroom coz John needs to shower after we eat our dinner, coz tomorrow his new vet on the list will be visiting him for his KC update... Good luck tomorrow... Plus, our issue on our electric here...

I'm having slight headache coz the scent of zonrox is still lingering on my nose,going to my head....

6:55 pm

I'm smelling here the drip coffee brought by Uncle DD and Aunt Karen last week to neutralize the zonrox scent on my nose... It is headache... Argh!!!

I have so many things in my head and I feel bitter... This is not what I wanted....I need more coffee... I wanna buy starbucks everyday... I wanna join dog show... I feel self-pity... I wanna buy John expensive leash...

One of my fears is to be taking advantage of some new fake men... My greatest fear... A man who will target me that he didn't even know me at all...

I can't see my old friends and my old partners just to give me protection... I have a windblow trap, it is kinda scary in my part...

I wanna have collagen on my feet... My exes were Doctor, Business Men and Seaman....It was all had love...

Now, I wanna have a new journey where I can grow...

I still wanna leave the hometown...

7:21 pm

Cooking rice manually is not easy and it depends on the rice structure! The new rice that we have here is difficult to cook on manual...

9:45 pm

Done,showering John...Preparing for tomorrow...

10:35 pm

10:40 pm

Feeling fresh... Sleeping already....

10:56 pm

Our aspin here... Late dinner heheh... But always a fresh rice...

#Youtube

[captain-josslett]

Broken Melody - Part Thirty Three

Masterlist

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 8.8k+ (DANG IT! I tried not writing as much... Ah well.)

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, PTSD moments, smut...ish more mentions of?

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers x Sam Arias

This Part: A week before the surgery and Emma sees Alistair for an appointment.

Ek! So close! Please, please, please, let me know you thoughts and opinions. I literally have no anons 😅 @aznblossom thank you for always leaving a comment!

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: @finleyfray, @life-is-hella-unfair, @natasha-danvers, @supergirl-writingz, @camslightstories, @thinking1bee, @aznblossom

A Week Before The Surgery

Emma’s feet pound the pavement as she runs along the waterfront by the city, with Robyn’s partly completely album blaring in her ears.

Emma can’t help but feel pride with how good everything sounds as she passes unsuspecting members of the public. Weaving around the couples and families going for a gentle stroll in the warm April, Saturday sun.

Her face starts to feel slightly uncomfortable from the sweat rolling down her face. The face modifier causing a strange sensation and a tightness due to her heated skin. After finding this happening whenever she exercises with the modifier on, Winn and Brainy decide to develop a new model, one that will  hopefully be more lightweight and comfortable for the wearer. Including more options and will be able to change the wearer's hair and colour.

But, Emma hopes the time will come soon where Lucy gives her the go ahead where she won’t have to wear it anymore. By Doctor Hamilton’s assessment it should be another month or two before that can happen.

Emma had ventured out without it on, but that was under Lucy’s strict orders and guidance. The lawyer had organised a little outing where Emma sat in a wheelchair with a nasal cannula, giving the impression she was getting oxygen and sat with her sisters at Noonan’s. Bruises and prosthetics were applied around her face and neck to create the illusion that Emma was still healing.

Emma did query whether it would be a good idea but she had been reassured it was. Emma even asked if she still needed the prosthetics but Doctor Hamilton explained that with the severity of the trauma done to her body, she suspects the swelling would have stayed around longer than normal.

As soon as Alex rolled Emma through the restaurant's doors it spread like wildfire that Emma was out in public. Social Media lapped it up and soon a crowd of paparazzi, well wishers and fans gathered outside the restaurant. Emma stiffly waved and played her part but was grateful when they left and she could get rid of the itchy makeup and prosthetics.

Lena was meant to have joined them at the outing, but per usual, Lena had been too busy to attend.

Emma lets out a heavy breath as her heart clenches at the thought of her girlfriend. The Sunday after Nia’s party had been utter bliss with Emma waking up in Lena’s arms. The raven haired beauty had already been awake and kissed Emma’s forehead as she greeted her. The couple then laid there for a while, planting soft kisses on each other's lips until Emma needed to pee. The blonde had come back expecting Lena would want to start the day. However the raven haired beauty had not moved.

“Didn’t you mention about spending the whole day in bed?” Lena asked in a husky voice, dripping in sex. She pulled the covers back and revealed she had removed her pajamas.

Emma didn’t hesitate in flinging off her own clothing and jumping right back into bed. That day had been magical while they moved as one, the feeling of-

Her watch bleeps, pulling Emma out of her thoughts and alerting her to another mile she’s completed and calculating what her pace is. She glances down at it to check but notices the time instead, her eyes widen and immediately she turns towards Alistair's office.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Emma screams in her head as she starts running faster and berates herself for being in her own little world. Not realising she had gone further then she originally planned.

Currently she was twenty minutes away from Alistair’s office and her appointment was in ten minutes. She’s going to be late and Emma hates being late. The blonde pumps her arms and wishes she could call out for people to move or apologies when she makes people jump as she sprints past.

Finally Alistair’s building comes into view but Emma doesn’t slow down until she slides in front of the building's door and presses the buzzer four times to alert the alien she has arrived.

“Come on up Emma!” Alistair’s warm voice calls through the speaker and the buzzing of the lock follows, allowing Emma to push the door open.

The blonde races up the stairs two at a time, putting her wireless headphones in their case and turns into the hallway towards Alistair’s office door. Finding that the red headed alien was already standing in the doorway and gently smiling at her.

‘I’m so, so sorry! I’m so late! Time got away from me and-’ Emma’s mind screams out as she quickly approaches the therapist, automatically reaching up and deactivating the modifier.

“Emma, it's okay! You’re actually right on time!”

The blonde halts and frowns, immediately lifting her arm up to look at her watch. She notices the running app is still on and quickly ends the session before looking at the time.

Alistair was correct… She was right on time.

‘Huh… I must have read it wrong.’ Emma muses as she tries to visualise what she saw as she was running.

“Possibly.” Alistair agrees and moves out of the way to let her in.

As soon as she enters the office the patter of paws makes her look up from her watch as Lily excitedly trots over to her.

‘Lily!’ Emma drops to her knees and affectionately strokes under Lily’s chin. The snowy white german shepherd greets her in kind with many licks to her face and arms, lapping up the light sheen of sweat covering them, causing Emma to release a few voiceless laughs.

“She’s always happy to see you.” Alistair says cheerfully and moves towards his chair, motioning for Emma to sit on the sofa.

Straightening up Emma makes her way over with Lily right beside her.

“The water is for you as well. Did you have a good run?” Alistair asks, as Emma sits down, takes her trainers off and sits crossed legged. Lily instantly hops onto the sofa next to her and rests her head on the blonde’s lap.

Emma glances at the coffee table in front of her, on it was a box of tissues, a few books and a glass of water with a lemon slice and a few cubes of ice.

‘Thank you and yes it was good.’ Emma thinks gratefully as she carefully leans forward to get the glass, not wanting to jostle Lily too much. Seeing this, Alistair helps by getting the glass first and holding it out for Emma to take.

“Great and thank you for being willing to move your appointment to today. I am sorry about having to rearrange our time together.” Alistair says sincerely.

‘It’s okay.’ Emma shrugs, she normally sees Alistair during the week. ‘Not like I had much planned for today anyway.’ A small twinge hits Emma’s heart.

“Okay, how’s the last few days been?” Alistair asks as he leans back against the leather armchair and studies her. Emma takes a few gulps of the cool water as she thinks.

‘Yea, it wasn't too bad.’ Memories of the week flashes through her mind, who she saw, the smells, her heart clenching whenever she’d wake up in an empty apartment-

“Ah, I take it Lena is still working a lot?” Alistair asks with a sympathetic smile.

‘Yea.’ Emma answers softly in her mind, her shoulders slump and Lily licks her hand, making the blonde slowly stroke her head. ‘I understand these new investors are important, I know how important her work is but-’ Emma stops her thoughts and looks out of the window at the sea in the distance.

“You miss her.” Alistair finishes for her and Emma lowers her head.

‘Yea.’ Emma thinks weakly and can’t help but visualise their early relationship. How excited Emma was to get back to her hotel room to spend some time with her girlfriend, no matter how exhausted she felt after a gig. ‘I love her so much, I’d give my life for her but I just miss what we had when she wasn’t so busy. I mean we made it work when I was on tour and I’d call her even with the different time zones and it would be early in the morning for me.’

“That is understandable.” Alistair comments as he rests a finger beside his cheek as he ponders what Emma revealed. “You have both been through some major changes. Has she given you a time frame for when things look to be getting back to normal?”

-- -- --

During the week - Lena and Emma’s apartment

Emma checks her phone for the umpteenth time as she gets ready for Lena. On Sunday they had planned to have a date during the week and go out for dinner. Something they haven’t been able to do recently.

Emma voicelessly sighs while putting the finishing touches on her makeup, thankful that her hard work transfers through the modified face.

Standing up from the dressing table the blonde heads towards the walk-in wardrobe and takes the dress, she had spent hours deciding on, off the hanger. The dress was teal coloured, elegantly pleated and Emma had fallen in love with it as soon as she saw it. Also finding she was loving the dress even more when she zipped herself up and admired the way it hugged her toned body. She then steps into her trusted black high heeled shoes and opens her jewelry box.

For a moment she looks for her layered necklace her sisters got her. Only to feel a devastating pang when she remembers Kara crushed it.

‘No… Not Kara.’ Emma shakes her head and closes the lid. She heads out into the living area and glances at her phone again.

No new messages from Lena.

Emma flops onto the sofa, ignoring the dull ache in her head that hasn’t disappeared since leaving the DEO. Naturally when anyone asks her about it the blonde shrugs it off, not wanting to worry her friends and family anymore then she already has.

Laying down on the sofa Emma opens her phone and scrolls through social media to pass the time. She yawns and starts to feel her eyes grow heavy and eventually they close as she falls into a deep sleep.

So deep that even when the apartment door opens and closes, Emma doesn’t stir. Or when heeled shoes click over to her.

What does wake her up is a hand gently shaking her shoulder. Emma jumps, her eyes fly open as she takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry love.” Lena apologises softly and strokes Emma’s cheek with the back of her fingers.

Emma nuzzles her face into Lena’s hand and kisses it before sitting up. Which causes her to become face to face with the raven haired beauty as Lena sat next to the sleeping blonde.

Emma smiles and goes to kiss Lena, until she sees the time on the oven clock. Her eyes widen and she pulls back.

“Em?” Lena pouts at the halted kiss.

“The reservation! We’re late.” Emma moves to jump off the sofa but Lena places a hand on her shoulder, halting her movements.

“I cancelled it.” Lena says hesitantly and Emma blinks at her. “I’m sorry, it got so late and you weren’t answering your phone and-”

Emma places a finger on Lena’s lips, sensing the rising guilt and panic in her girlfriend. Reaching out she unlocks her phone, noticing the messages but instead goes into Hope’s app and turns the lights up from a soft glow.

Lena’s eyes squint at the sudden light and Emma studies her properly.

Despite the make up Lena was wearing, Emma can see the dark circles under her tired, reddened eyes. Emma opens her arms and Lena immediately falls into the hug and kisses her cheek. Slowly Emma leans back into the corner of the sofa, pulling Lena up with her.

“Emma!” Lena giggles and Emma feels Lena settle on top of her and snuggles in. The blonde slowly rubs circles into her girlfriend’s back and eventually feels Lena twitch, signalling she’s fallen asleep.

Carefully grabbing her phone, Emma opens UberEats and decides to get Lena’s favourite food. Seeing that it will be delivered in half an hour, Emma rests her head back against the cushions and enjoys the feeling of holding her girlfriend. Grateful that even though they haven’t gone out on a date, Lena has still come home and given Emma this time with her.

When the food arrives Emma carefully lifts the snoozing CEO off her and quietly runs to the door. But no matter how careful Emma is at keeping quiet, when she turns around Lena is sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Em?” Lena’s husky voice calls out.

Emma lets out a huff of frustration as she wants to tell her dinner is ready. She wants to speak the words of love she is longing to say.

Instead Emma strides over to the sofa and places the bag on the coffee table.

“Hmm, you know me so well.” Lena smirks at the sight of the logo on the bag.

The couple settle on the sofa and listen to a playlist of soft acoustic music as they eat.

“I-” Lena starts and hesitates. Turning her head Emma gazes into regretful green eyes and watches Lena swallow before she continues. “I just want to apologise for ruining our date tonight. Time just got away from me and… there's no excuse.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it's not.” Lena tries to implore Emma to listen. “Just- this won’t be forever. I promise you that. I’m taking time off for the surgery and afterwards to look after you. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been working nonstop, so my sole focus will be on you.” She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear.

Emma beams at her, taking Lena’s hand and kisses it.

“What have you been working on?” Emma asks and Lena explains the many projects she’s been developing with the investors and her team. Emma’s eyes widen at how complex it all sounds and nods along.

Soon they finish their meal and despite how tired they both are, they head to bed for a different reason than sleep.

-- -- --

Emma comes out of the memory before she shows anything risque to her therapist. But she cannot help but smile softly at the feeling of Lena’s arms wrapped around her.

“Interesting. So there wasn’t a set time frame, just that it won’t be forever?”

‘Yea.’ Emma looks down and runs her fingers smoothly through Lily’s fur.

“Have you tried asking Lena further?”

‘She apologises and says the same thing she’s been saying for a while. Now isn’t forever.’

Alistair nods and looks down at his notes as he jots down a few more. “How are you sleeping?”

Emma hesitates, causing Alistair to look back up at her. Feeling an unease emit from the blonde.

“Emma?” Alistair asks, his eyes imploring her to be truthful with him.

‘I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m finding I-’ Emma pauses, not wanting to admit what's been happening. Taking a deep breath her mind shows him instead. Horrible nightmares that have Emma jumping awake in a panic, drenched in sweat, only to find she is alone in bed.

“You’re still experiencing nightmares?”

Emma nods.

“More than usual, less or about the same?”

‘I-’ Emma lifts her head as she tries to remember. ‘It feels about the same.’

“Okay, that is something that we will still work on and honestly I’m not surprised you are still having them.” Alistair says compassionately, trying to help Emma see she is doing nothing wrong.

“What about your sisters? How are things going with them?”

‘It’s going well. Things almost feel back to normal.’

Emma’s mind brings up the memories of Alex chasing her around the beach, laughing as she tries to catch her until she finally jumps on Emma’s back.

And memories of Kara come forward where she’d fly into the apartment bearing gifts of Emma’s favourite food, like Cadbury chocolates from the UK. The pair would snuggle up on the sofa and watch a film while they gorge on the treats.

‘I know she still feels guilty, but she doesn’t flinch when we hug or touch anymore.’

“That's a good improvement for sure. But it seems Kara is still not as open as Alex yet?” Alistair enquiries, causing Emma to pause as she reflects.

‘No?’ She answers unsure. ‘I mean, Alex still holds back in certain areas. I still catch her looking at me with such a sad expression. They both do.’ Emma plays with her hands as her sisters’ mournful faces fill her mind, that is until Lily nuzzles her nose into her fiddling hands, allowing Emma to stroke her instead. ‘Maybe it's due to Kara’s trauma?’

“Most likely.” Alistair nods in agreement. “The thing is, each of us are different, we have different likes, different dislikes and our brains are wired uniquely. Therefore we can react differently to the same events, depending on who we are.”

Emma nods and rests her head against the back of the sofa as she thinks. ‘That makes sense. So, for Alex, she has trained to be a soldier, her natural instinct is to fight and follow orders. To lead and protect. But for Kara she grew up on another planet, with a particular upbringing, she witnessed that planet being destroyed, all she had known, gone in an instant.’ Emma’s heart pangs in sympathy, remembering how shell shocked Kara had been when Clark brought her to the Danvers. A new family and a new way of life. ‘She had to be so careful, even when walking, to not put her foot through the floorboards or hurt any of us.’

“Like a god among mortals.” Alistair nods in agreement. “From what you’ve told me before, it sounds like fear was instilled in her as soon as she arrived, that she could easily hurt anyone she came in contact with.”

Emma nods.

“So, Kara broke that promise when she hurt you-” Emma immediately interrupts in her mind but Alistair holds his hand up, halting her. “To Kara, she did hurt you and I know you keep repeating that she didn’t, but from Kara’s point of view it was her hand that crushed your neck and broke your bones. She hurt someone she cares deeply about and using the powers she had sworn would protect people.”

Emma lowers her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. Feeling the pounding in her head intensify.

“Like Supergirl, you can’t protect and save everyone.” Alistair says softly, imploring for Emma to understand.

‘I know.’ Emma admits sadly, she feels Lily move and nuzzle her head against Emma’s cheek, as if sensing her pain.

The pair sit in silence for a while. The ticking of the clock being the only noise in the room.

“How are you feeling about the surgery next week?” Alistair looks up at the clock. “You’d have just gone into the theatre.”

‘Honestly, I can’t wait for it.’ Emma thinks softly and the familiar sense of butterflies start fluttering around her stomach.

“How are you feeling about that?”

‘Nervous. Excited. Terrified.’

“Terrified? About the procedure?”

Emma hesitates. Lily, seemingly sensing her tension, lovingly licks Emma’s cheek and nuzzles her head into Emma’s hand. Causing Emma to continue stroking her.

“Emma?”

‘I am terrified about the operation not working, that it's going to make things bad again.’

“How so?”

‘It seems to be a constant reminder when I have to sign or when I go to laugh or make any noise, but all that comes out is breath.’ Emma thinks mournfully and glances out the window, memories of her sisters’ guarded eyes fill her mind. ‘I know this will take time before things can go back to normal. I just don’t want the progress we’ve made to be destroyed because the op didn’t work.’

“And if that happens?”

Emma’s stomach drops at the thought. But her mind focuses on those around her. Her family, friends and Lena. How would they react?

“Emma.” Alistair softly sighs, placing his book on the coffee table and leans forward. “You need to focus on yourself. Which you have been doing and I am pleased with our progress with your PTSD. We both know this isn’t a quick or an easy road. But you need to focus on how you feel about your voice not returning right away or, possibly ever.”

Emma swallows deeply at Alistair’s words, her throat feeling like it’s going to close over. ‘I understand.’

“Good.” Alistair picks his notebook back up and settles back into the seat. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

Emma pauses and focuses on Lily as she runs her fingers through the soft fur.

‘There is something else.’ Emma admits quietly. Almost as if she’s too scared to present it.

“Which is?” Alistair asks kindly, but Emma keeps her mind closed off. “Emma, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to-”

Images start filling his mind, of the world blurring and morphing around Emma. How one second she’s at one end of the apartment and the next she’s at the other end, normally crashing into something or stumbling. How she easily lifts items others seem to struggle with, lifting Lena and Alex like they were light as a feather. Her headaches and heightened senses, especially her sensitive hearing and being able to hear a whisper across a room. How overwhelming the noise can become when she’s in a crowded place.

Alistair also feels fear and confusion pour off the young woman.

“Emma, you have nothing to fear here.” Alistair implores the blonde. “And thank you for showing me. How long have you noticed these- moments?”

‘Only recently when… erm.’ Emma’s cheeks colour in an intense blush as she remembers the moment she heard a crack from the headboard during an intense orgasm on Sunday while she rode Lena’s strap. Looking down she noticed the wood was splintering and cracking under her hands.

Once Lena was asleep Emma had sat up and felt the cracks again. She stayed there for a while as pieces started to click into place. Something was wrong with her.

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Alistair says firmly, his eyes imploring Emma to listen. “Can we test this theory that something is happening to you?” Alistair asks as he straightens up.

Emma nods and watches as he gets up and goes to one of his many bookcases. The redhead picks something up and strides back over to her. In his hand is a small, shiny ball.

“Squeeze this as hard as you can.” Alistair says while handing her the ball and moves her empty glass to sit on the coffee table in front of her.

Lily sits up, intrigued by the object Emma is holding.

‘Okay.’ Emma starts squeezing and applies more and more pressure.

Nothing happens.

“Keep a hold of it but look at me.” Alistair instructs and Emma lifts her eyes and focuses on his kind crystal blue ones.

“Have they gotten any closer to finding those responsible?” Alistair carefully asks, his eyes searching Emma’s hazel green ones.

‘No.’ Emma’s face and eyes darken and she clenches her jaw.

“Are Kara and Alex putting up the right precautions to not get taken again? I imagine they are prime targets as they are close to you? Maybe someone like Winn or Lucy or maybe your Mom or even Lena could be taken next?”

The thought of her family, her friends, her loved ones being forced into what Alex and Kara have already gone through fills Emma with a powerful rage.

She grits her teeth and her hold on the silver ball tightens.

Alistair’s eyes flick down to her hand. “Emma, look.”

The blonde lowers her gaze and gapes at the hand imprint she has made on the now disproportionate ball.

“This is a ball of titanium.” Alistair says as he picks the metal up out of Emma’s hand. “Or was.” He mutters as he turns it around in his hands.

‘What’s happening to me?’ Emma thinks, terrified at what this could mean.

“I don’t know.” Alistair truthfully admits. “Maybe it’s to do with the serum they gave you?”

‘But it was a healing serum? Not a super soldier thing!’ Emma’s mind shouts, her panic starting to build.

“That may be the case, but you need to communicate with Lena, Brainy or Doctor Hamilton about this.”

‘Do I have to?’ Emma apprehensively asks.

“Yes. Because this-” Alistair holds up the distorted piece of titanium. “Is not normal.”

Emma nods but her face scrunches up in emotion.

‘You always like being the center of attention! I hate you!’ Alex’s teenage words scream within Emma’s mind, causing her to hide her head in her hands.

“Emma?” Alistair tilts his head and Lily nuzzles her nose into the side of the blonde’s face.

‘I’m just Emma, plain, simple Emma.’ Her thoughts come out weak and feeble.

“Emma, there is nothing plain or simple about you. You are one of the most talented people I know. Your voice reaches and touches millions of lives and gives them hope.” He says passionately and before Emma can respond a buzzer goes off. “And that’s the end of our session for this week.” He says apologetically. “But we’ve made some really good progress. Emma-” Alistair says to get Emma to look at him. Slowly she lowers her hands and lifts her head. Her eyes swimming in anguish. “I really recommend that you tell someone what is happening. Anyone you feel comfortable sharing with. Maybe Lucy or Sam?” Alistair gently offers. “Just don’t keep this to yourself.”

Emma nods and gets up, making Lily jump off the sofa and trots with her to the door.

“Did you want to meet up on Wednesday like usual? Or did you want to come here on Friday instead?” Alistair offers as he follows behind her with his diary.

‘Yea Wednesday sounds good.’

“Great! I’ll see you then! Have a good weekend and remember what I said.” Alistair opens the door and smiles at her.

Emma nods but feels slightly frustrated that the appointment ended just as they were getting somewhere. She quickly rushes through, feeling like she has more questions than answers.

What’s going on?

Did she have powers?

How could that be?

Over and over these questions cycle through her mind as she makes her way down the stairs.

She passes a mirror and suddenly remembers to put the face modifier on. She chooses the face with the Marilyn Monroe beauty mark that is quickly becoming one of her favourite to use.

As she exits the building Emma starts to get her headphones out and plans a route to run home. That is until a car quickly pulls up beside her and honks loudly. Causing Emma to jump high into the air.

“Get in loser we’re going shopping!” Alex yells across Kara who beams at Emma from the open passenger window.

But the blonde momentarily stays frozen, trying to process what just happened and her sisters’ beaming faces.

“Em?” Kara’s smile fades and a frown replaces it, making Emma quickly open the back door of Alex’s car and dive in.

“Seatbelt.” Alex orders as she turns to study her baby sister. ‘She must have had a hard session.’ Alex thinks and her eyes snap to Kara’s who looks to be thinking the same thing as she bites her lip in worry.

Once Emma is belted in Alex pulls back into traffic. “Hope you didn’t mind us picking you up?” She calls back to Emma and watches her shake her head in the rearview mirror.

Kara twists around so she can see Emma properly. “We thought we could have a sister’s day and have a movie marathon?”

“Sounds good.” Emma signs and tries to smile convincingly.

“Plus it's your turn to choose!” Alex says trying to sound more upbeat than normal and wants to remind Emma. Normally her blonde sister would clap loudly and take a while to choose. Going back and forth between many classics and their favourites. Even discussing pros and cons between the choices she has.

Instead, Emma simply nods in response before gazing out of the window. Making Kara and Alex exchange worried glances as they continue towards Alex’s apartment.

Soon they are parked in Alex's parking space and the sisters get out. Emma goes to walk towards the elevator when Alex stops her.

“Do you mind giving us a hand?” Alex asks while she pops the boot open. Bags upon bags of food are revealed, causing Emma to raise an eyebrow at her sisters.

“I know! I was hungry!” Kara whines and immediately grabs a donut from one of the bags and chomps on it.

“Kara!” Alex yells and swats at her.

“Sorry! Do you want one?” Kara says with her mouth full and offers Alex a donut.

Emma can’t help but smile at the pair and reaches down to take a few bags.

“Wait! Em they are-” Alex pauses as Emma effortlessly lifts them up. “Heavy… Guess not.”

Emma momentarily freezes and remembers what she had Alistair had discussed, instead she shrugs and smiles at the red head instead.

“I got these!” Kara announces and takes the rest.

“You left me with one.” Alex says unimpressed while closing the boot. “Emma, give me a few.”

The blonde looks down and hands her sister the bags full of light goodies.

“I can take a few more.” Alex raises an eyebrow at Emma and holds her hand out. But Emma responds in a shrug and strolls towards the elevator. Alex turns her head towards Kara who repeats Emma’s shrug and follows.

As soon as they enter the apartment Emma places the bags on the island and quickly disengages her face modifier. Silently sighing in relief as she massages her cheeks.

Kara places her bags on the island and pulls out a small USB drive from her jean pocket. “Winn kindly let us borrow his drive with all the films past and present. Wouldn’t let me borrow films of the future though… Especially those based on real events.”

“Wonder why?” Alex laughs and places the last of the bags on the island. She looks to see Emma’s response, but the blonde is too busy unpacking the bags. “Em?”

Hazel green eyes shoot up and an unusual blank look accompanies Emma’s face.

“You okay?” Alex asks with a frown and takes a step towards her baby sister. But Emma takes a step away from her and around the island.

“Can I have a shower? I still feel a bit gross from my run.” Emma signs while barely looking at her sisters.

“Sure! You know you don’t need to ask!” Alex utters and watches Emma nod before zipping into the bathroom.

“Shall I get you some clothes?” Kara calls out while giving Alex a concerned look, the redhead mirrors it with a frown.

Emma pops her head around the door and nods, giving them a grateful smile before quickly disappearing again.

Kara approaches Alex’s closet. “Kara, wait!” Alex yells but the blonde has already opened the door.

“Huh, Alex-” Kara tilts her head and slowly turns back to her sister. “Why are most of your clothes not in your closet?”

“Er, laundry day?” Alex says not too convincingly and can tell by Kara’s face, she doesn’t believe her.

“That’s a question.” Kara places a hand on her hip and studies the redhead.

“Okay I can explain, but I want to tell both of you. Together.”

“Okay.” Kara grins at her sister and turns back to the closet to find something for Emma to wear.

“There should be a bag of Em’s things by the right?” Alex says while getting glasses and bowls for the drinks and snacks for the marathon.

“Found it!” Kara hollers, takes the bag out and places it on the bed. She opens it and tries to find the comfiest clothes for Emma to wear.

“Do you need any help?” Kara asks after getting Emma’s things ready.

“Can you move these to the coffee table please?” Alex asks and then gives Kara a hard look when she grabs two huge bowls filled with treats. “Do not start eating until we are all sitting on the sofa.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kara deadpans and starts transferring the stuff over from the island to the coffee table, while Alex gets the microwavable popcorn ready. Finding they all prefer fresh, hot popcorn to normal bagged ones.

Kara hears the shower turn off and super speeds over to grab the clothes she has chosen for Emma and practically skips to the door, knocking on it in a quick rhythm.

“Hey Em, I got some comfy clothes for you to change into.” Kara calls through the door and hears Emma moving around the bathroom. The door opens and Emma’s hand appears to take it. “There you go!” When the door closes again Kara heads to Alex sitting on the sofa. Her sunny attitude fading as her face morphs into one of worry. “Do you think she had a hard session today?”

“Yea maybe. I mean she hasn’t seemed the happiest the past few days.”

“Mhmm, do you think it's mainly due to Lena? She’s working way too hard.”

“When doesn’t she?!” Alex takes a sip of her drink. “Shall we order or wait for Em to decide?”

“Let’s wait.” Kara nods and sits back into the sofa cushions.

“But how is Lena, like, have you gone to see her recently?”

“Yea, I saw her last night on patrol. Actually had to forcibly remove her from her office but we had a good chat. She just holds onto what her damn family says too much.”

“Yea.” Alex says softly in agreement. She’s grown to really care for Lena, despite the rocky start. “But she’s taking time off soon for the- you know.”

“Yes, that's the plan.” They both ignore the word surgery and both feel their nerves bubbling up about it. “Are you taking any ti-”

The bathroom door opens, making the sisters drop their conversation and look at their baby sister.

Emma feels more relaxed after the warm shower but the sudden stop in her sisters’ conversation when she leaves the bathroom fills Emma with an uneasy feeling.

“Were you talking about me?” Emma signs with a tilt of her head as she continues to dry her hair with a towel.

“Just about what food we fancy.” Kara smiles too brightly. “And as usual we want the complete opposite and I was asking Alex what she thought you would want.”

“Yea and I didn’t get to answer cause that’s when you came in.”

Emma stops drying her hair and looks between her two sisters, her eyes darting back and forth. She doesn’t believe them but decides to go along with their explanation. “So what are the options? I mean, we can get different things right? Not like it will go to waste?”

“Now that is an excellent idea.” Alex nods in approval and gives Kara a bright smile as she unlocks her phone to open UberEats. “So Kara you wanted-”

“Potstickers.” Emma signs at the same time Kara enthusiastically yells the word out.

“You know me so well little one!” Kara laughs, making Emma pause, realising Kara hasn’t called her that in a while.

But she carries on drying her hair before flinging the towel towards Alex’s hamper.

“Em-” Alex starts to complain, thinking the towel would flop part of the way there. But the screwed up towel lands perfectly in the laundry basket. “Ma- huh, good throw.”

Emma bows and approaches where she normally sits in the middle of the sofa.

“Peanut, what do you fancy?” Alex looks up from her phone after putting in her order too.

Emma shrugs and grabs a handful of popcorn.

“That’s for the film!” Alex hollers and slaps Emma’s hand, causing her to jump. “Which you also need to choose what you want to watch.”

“I’ll do it!” Kara super speeds to where she left the USB, plugs it into Alex’s tv and hands Emma the remote to scroll through.

“But first I need to know what you want to eat.”

Emma shoves the rest of the popcorn in her mouth to sign. “What have you already ordered?”

“Chinese and pizza.”

“I’m happy with that. Not feeling overly hungry.”

“What?” Kara blinks in shock especially when Emma can eat a decent amount of food.

“What have you eaten today? Did you have a big breakfast?” Alex enquiries, also knowing it was unusual for Emma not to demand her own food.

“Yes Doctor Danvers, I have already eaten something today.” It was only a banana but Emma wasn’t going to admit that. Her session with Alistair has unsettled her stomach.

“Yea but what was it?” Alex presses but Emma ignores her by focusing on the tv and trying to decide what to watch. Making Alex narrow her eyes. “Emma.”

But her eyes move from Emma to Kara when her other sister motions for her to stop by signing. “Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I know but I want to find out what!” Alex tries to sign out of Emma’s peripheral vision.

“Leave her alone Alex.” Kara warns, making Alex huff which causes Emma to look over at her and Alex gives her a soft smile.

“So, any idea what we are gonna watch?” Alex asks casually and Kara rolls her eyes.

“Lord Of The Rings Extended Editions?” Emma signs hopefully, knowing the full run time is nearly twelve hours long.

“I’m up for that!” Alex beams at the TV as the menu screen for ‘The Fellowship Of The Ring’ comes up.

“Me too!” Kara claps and settles back into the sofa. Emma smiles at both of her sisters and grabs the blanket draped over the back and places it over their laps.

“Thanks Em.”

The sisters watch the opening scenes fold out, explaining the lore of Middle Earth, the darkness and the moment all things were almost lost.

When the whistle of the Shire plays, Emma’s eyes well with tears and she sniffs. Always finding this piece of music touches her. She feels a hand on each thigh as her sisters reach out to comfort her at the same time and Emma hesitantly takes each hand. Warily to not harm them and being frightened to do so.

‘Rao, is this how Kara feels all the time?’

But Emma tries to push her earlier discovery away and gets lost in the film again.

The loud ringing of the apartment buzzer makes Emma almost jump out of her seat.

“Food!” Kara yells as she flies to the door and down the stairs to grab it from the delivery person.

Emma pauses the film and turns to Alex to sign with a raised eyebrow. “Do you think Kara is secretly a Hobbit?” Emma signs, causing Alex to almost spit out the drink she was sipping. “I mean, she has what, four breakfasts?”

Alex cackles loudly and Emma smiles at the sound.

“What are you laughing at?” Kara asks as she super speeds into the room with the food perfectly balanced in her hands.

“Oh, we were just comparing you to a Hobbit.” Alex teases and grins at the blonde.

“Alex!” Kara looks outraged. “I do not have big, hairy feet!”

“It was Emma’s idea!” Alex motions at Emma.

“Emma!” Kara shifts her focus to her baby sister but Emma shrugs and grabs her pizza off the pile.

“I mean, she’s not wrong.” Alex says as she opens a tub of potstickers for Emma and her to share.

“Alex!” Kara yells outraged.

“Kara!” Alex yells mockingly back.

“Emma!” The blonde signs and the trio start laughing. Alex rests her forehead against the side of Emma’s face. Emma turns her head to nuzzle Alex’s and smiles when she feels Kara lean over and hug both of them. Emma twists to place a kiss on Kara's shoulder.

Alex clears her throat and pulls away. “Shall we press play?”

Emma nods and grabs the remote, continuing the film.

The sisters watch the first film and immediately go into the second one, which to Emma, is her favourite. Especially the scenes with Arwen in.

When they get to the scene with Arwen talking to her father, Emma swallows deeply.

“There is still hope.” Arwen whispers back.

Emma’s stomach clenches at the words. Hope.

“Little one?” Kara turns to look at Emma, hearing her heartbeat changing.

Alex immediately grabs the remote to pause the film when she sees tears fill her sister's eyes and how Emma is desperately trying to hide them.

“No, I’m fine. Please continue the film.”

“Actually I need to use the bathroom!” Kara zips up and Alex pauses the film anyway.

She watches Emma closely as she rubs her eyes, trying to force away the tears. “Em? You know you can always tell me what’s going on? Right?”

Emma nods but doesn’t look Alex in the eye, knowing she’d break. “It was a hard session today, sorry.”

“Oh Em, please don’t apologise.” Alex says and pulls her sister into her lap, hugging her close. She feels Emma stiffen but slowly relaxes in her arms.

Kara comes back and Alex gives her a sad look.

“Everything okay?” She asks while sitting down next to them.

“It was a hard session.” Alex answers softly.

“Oh little one.” Kara places a gentle hand on Emma’s back and Emma can’t hold the tears back anymore as she buries her head into the crook of Alex’s shoulder.

Alex and Kara sadly gaze at each other, unsure what they can say or do as they listen to Emma’s hard breaths and sniffs.

Kara swallows and shuffles closer, hugging Emma’s back. “We got you little one, you're safe.” Kara feels Emma shift and move her hand over her shoulder to grab a hold of hers.

They don’t know how long they stay in this position but Kara and Alex do not move until Emma feels ready. They whisper words of love and encouragement and hope she hears them.

Suddenly Kara’s head snaps to the apartment door as she hears two sets of footprints approach. The door opens before she can do anything as Sam and Lena walk through. They both halt at the sight of the sisters.

“What's wrong?” Sam whispers quietly as she places the takeaway food on the coffee table and goes to Alex’s side, perching on the edge of the sofa.

“Hard session.” Alex answers softly and kisses Sam’s lips.

“Has she mentioned anything else?” Lena asks quietly and watches as Emma immediately lifts her head up and twists her neck to find her. Lena swallows as she sees the tears streaming down Emma’s reddened cheeks, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. “Oh love.” Lena says brokenly and goes to comfort her girlfriend, but halts as she doesn’t know where she can go.

Kara immediately moves out of the way, allowing Lena to sit next to Alex and hug Emma’s back. But Emma has other ideas as she twists and moves her upper body onto Lena and holds her close, burying her head into Lena’s neck but her lower half stays on Alex’s lap.

“We got you love.” Lena soothes while stroking Emma’s damp hair and back. She feels Kara scoot close and Lena signals that Kara can join the hug. Immediately Kara wraps an arm around Lena and places a hand gently on Emma’s lower back.

The four women quietly console the broken woman in between them and each other. Wishing nothing more than to heal Emma’s pain.

In time Emma loses steam and slowly lifts her head from the crook of Lena’s neck and sniffs heavily.

“Hi love.” Lena says gently and Emma nuzzles their foreheads together and breathes deeply.

Emma feels truly exhausted, not having cried like that in weeks, well, since she found out about her paralysed vocal chords.

“Is this the time though?” Emma’s ear picks up Alex quietly whispering to Sam.

“Maybe it will make her happy?” Sam offers back, making Emma turn her head towards the couple.

“What will make me happy?” Emma sloppily signs and Kara shifts so she can see the couple too. A small smile gracing her lips.

“Well, erm…” Alex pauses. “I’ve found I’m not really living here anymore because I’m mainly around Sam's apartment.”

“So, we’ve decided that Alex will move in with Ruby and I.” Sam finishes with a huge grin.

Emma blinks and her eyes dart around Alex’s apartment. She had noticed little trinkets and items missing but thought nothing of it.

“Congratulations!” Kara yells happily and jumps to her feet to hug her sister and Sam.

“Thanks Kara.” Alex hugs Kara back and turns back to Emma, who still looks like she’s processing. “Em?”

She watches as Emma’s eyes refocus and a small smile tugs at the corner of her right lip. She lifts her hands and holds one hand with the other and firmly shakes them. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks Em.” Alex smiles back.

“And, you can totally come crash at ours anytime, use the spare room and have sister nights.” Sam smiles at Emma and Kara.

“Well, not ANY-time.” Alex burrows her nose into her girlfriend’s cheek and Sam blushes and bites her lip.

Emma raises an eyebrow and smirks at Lena. She takes a shuddering deep breath as her body calms down from her breakdown.

“Do we want to finish the film and watch the third one another time?” Kara asks while looking through the takeout bags.

Missing the way Emma whips around to gape at her.

“But then it's not a movie marathon!”

“Kara.” Lena says to get the alien’s attention out of the bag containing burgers and french fries.

“Hmm?” Kara’s eyes are wide as she looks to see what her best friend wants.

“Emma was signing to you.”

“Sorry little one.” Kara says apologetically.

“But then it's not a movie marathon.”

“I agree!” Kara nods and shoves some french fries in her mouth. “Shall we get comfy?!”

“I need to pee.” Emma signs and carefully moves off her sister and girlfriend. But as she takes a step away from them the world morphs around her.

‘Please! Not now!’ Emma’s mind yells and she tries to halt her step, ultimately causing her to trip over her own feet.

“Wow careful Em!” Alex laughs. “Rao you are getting more clumsy than Kara!”

“Hey!” Kara yells back offended, making Lena and Sam chuckle in response.

Emma smiles back at them but moves cautiously to the bathroom door.

“Did she mention anything else?” Emma hears Lena ask as soon as she closes the bathroom door.

“No, she’s been quieter than normal.” Alex sighs heavily, making Emma’s heart clench.

“Like she wasn’t here.” Kara agrees.

“Well therapy sessions can be tough sometimes and it’s good Emma is obviously opening up.” Sam tries to reassure the group while plating up everyone's food.

Emma tries not to listen but her ears can’t help but pick up her loved one’s voices. She finishes what she is doing and washes her hands. Briefly pausing and leaning against the sink.

‘Should I tell them?’ Emma wonders and her eyes lift her to her distressed expression. Immediately she wipes her face and adopts a more neutral expression. ‘They have enough to deal with anyway.’

Suddenly she feels a piercing pain in her head. So severe that if she had her voice, Emma would have screamed out as she scrunches up her eyes. Emma then feels a droplet fall from her nose and her eyes shoot open. Her nose is bleeding. She quickly grabs some toilet paper to stem the flow. But, finds nothing more comes out, the nosebleed seemingly stops before it had even begun.

Confused, Emma repeatedly wipes at her nose a few times to make sure it had indeed stopped.

‘Weird.’ Emma mutters in her mind as she stares down at the blood on the tissue. Her head tilts as she assesses the colour and her eyebrows knit together.

“Emma?” Sam’s muffled voice calls through the door, making Emma recoil away from it. “Are you okay in there?”

Throwing the bloodied piece of tissue into the toilet, Emma flushes it, quickly washes her hands and moves towards the door, opening it to a concerned looking Sam.

“You okay?” She asks as her warm brown eyes seemingly studies the blonde in front of her.

Emma nods and gives her a small smile before moving past her to get back to the sofa.

Sam follows, watching Emma closely and sits on Alex’s turquoise chair. Emma hesitates, not sure where she can sit due to the sofa looking full with her sisters and Lena already on it.

“There’s room for you on here too, it will be a tight squeeze but I think we can manage.” Lena pats the small gap between her and Alex. Emma carefully wedges herself between the two and gratefully takes the plate Kara hands to her. Already feeling a bit hungry.

“Ready?” Alex asks while grabbing the remote.

“Ready!” Sam and Kara yell back and the room is again filled with the sights and sounds of Middle Earth.

-- -- --

Later that night Kara, Emma and Lena glide through the air towards Lena’s apartment.

“I mean, why couldn’t Gandalf have just got the Eagles to fly Frodo and the ring to Mount Doom?” Kara argues with Lena while Emma listens and smiles, enjoying the debate between the two.

“Because they are their own beings plus Sauron had the Fellbeast and the Nazgûl would have seen the eagles coming!”

“Huh, I guess. But! Then why didn’t the fellowship prepare for that? Have a few more elves firing arrows? Problem solved!” Kara declares as they touch down on the balcony.

“If you say so, Kara.” Lena beams at her best friend as Kara gently places her feet on solid ground and Emma lets off her sister.

“Well, goodnight.” Kara opens her arms and hugs Lena tight before turning and giving Emma a hug too.

“Night.” Lena yawns out and opens the balcony door with Emma following behind her and waving goodbye to Kara.

They get ready for bed together and Lena can’t help but notice the far off look in Emma’s eyes. Like her girlfriend was somewhere else.

When they slide into bed, Lena gently takes Emma’s hand and lies on her side to fully look at her girlfriend.

“Hey.” Lena gently whispers.

Emma slowly turns her head and her eyes focus on concerned green ones.

“Are you okay?”

Swallowing deeply Emma turns to lie on her side to face Lena. Her mind races with what to communicate. Should she tell her everything?

“Love, please don’t lie to me.” Lena says, seeing the clogs working in Emma’s mind, and the worry within her eyes. But suddenly Lena is yawning again. “Sorry.” She blinks and widens her eyes more to keep them open.

Emma gives her a small smile and watches her closely. ‘She’s exhausted. Tell her a half truth.’

“I’m nervous about next week.”

“That’s understandable. But we are all with you.” Lena nuzzles her forehead against Emma’s and gently kisses her lips. Her hand slowly trails down Emma’s body.

But Emma pulls back and her smile widens slightly. “Time for sleep.”

“But I want to make you feel good.” Lena yawns out, even though her eyelids start drooping from exhaustion. Emma slowly reaches out and softly runs the back of her finger down the bridge of Lena’s nose.

“No sleep.” Lena whines but feels her eyes closing anyway and a tender kiss being placed against her lips. “Lve yu.”

Emma squeezes Lena’s hand three times and watches her girlfriend fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. She stays there for a while, admiring how serene and stunning the raven haired beauty looks.

Slowly Emma rolls over, picks up her notebook and pencil and faces Lena again. She sits up against the headboard so she can sketch Lena, wanting to capture the moment and take in every detail of her love.

Once her task was done Emma places her things on the bedside table.

“Hope, can you turn the lights off please?” Emma signs and carefully slides down the bed to lay back down. Emma closes her eyes and breathes deeply, willing herself to go to sleep.

But in the dark, sinister voices start playing through her mind. Digging up her fears and dread.

Emma blows a frustrated breath through her nose and turns back towards Lena, opening her eyes to focus on the raven haired beauty. Emma’s breathing becomes heavy as she tries to stay calm, but ultimately her stomach clenches and thoughts begin pouring in of what will be happening this time next week. What will the outcome be of the surgery? Will it succeed?

As if sensing Emma’s distress in her sleep, Lena shuffles closer to her girlfriend and latches on. Unknowingly calming Emma down and relieving the ache in her heart. Emma gently kisses Lena’s head, pushing aside her fears and worries before closing her eyes, to fall into a peaceful sleep.

(Part Thirty Four)

#supergirl #supergirl tv #supergirl baby danvers #supergirl imagine #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fanfic #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor #lena luthor x baby danvers #alex danvers #alex danvers imagine #alex danvers x baby danvers #alex danvers x sam arias #kara danvers x baby danvers #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers #b!d #baby danvers

[pinkoptics]

Would You Catch Me If I Fall?

aka Cherik Fallen Angel fic

Part 2 of Chapter 2

(Previous parts now on Ao3)

Erik is going to do everything he can to make sure Charles is taken care of. Charles saved his life. That’s why. Right… right???

*

“Mr. Olsen, I believe you will do exactly as I’ve asked.”

Mr. Olsen opened his mouth, to protest most likely, but Erik was well practiced in speaking in a way that left no room for interruption. “You will, because you are aware of the exact amount my firm has donated to your hospital this year and every other before it.”

Mr. Olsen was turning an interesting shade of red. It had nothing on Azazel, but the flush beneath his skin was making a concerted effort.

“You are also aware of what it would do to this hospital’s reputation for being at the forefront of mutant medicine if my firm were to very vocally withdraw its support and place it elsewhere, say... Johns Hopkins?”

“Mr. Lehnsherr—“ Still red, but now also sputtering. “You do not have the authority. Shaw would never—“

Erik smiled in such a way that Olsen cut himself off. Erik’s smile, though the word hardly applied, very early in his career had earned him the nickname ‘The Shark.’ Only used when he knew his prey was very much backed into a corner of their own making and it was time for the kill.

“If The Incident were to suddenly appear on social media again, with a narrative much closer to the truth...”

Red became purple. “We have an NDA! You can’t—“

“When information is out it is out, Mr. Olsen. Non-disclosures only hold weight if the parties involved care about the consequences. I could give a fuck. Besides, whether this hospital is guilty or innocent, reputations once ruined are terribly hard to salvage, aren’t they? Once, tried in the court of public opinion...”

“Shaw would— you’d be—“

Erik simply raised an eyebrow.

Olsen was right. Erik didn’t have the authority to stop donations, Shaw would have his job and his ass if he ever went to the public about any of the firm’s cases. Moreover, he would probably lose his license to practice. None of those things mattered however, not because Erik truly didn’t care, but because Olsen only needed to believe he was serious. If Erik couldn’t sense the man’s weaknesses, and couldn’t exploit them, he would hardly have been the best lawyer at his firm (no matter what Emma said to the contrary). The seed of doubt, once planted in a weak mind, was notoriously difficult to weed out.

“Fine,” Olsen ground out. Looking like he was very much sucking on a lemon.

Erik levitated the paperwork he had prepared by its staple. It was accompanied by one of the disgustingly expensive fountain pens the firm utilized to perpetuate its reputation. It hovered in front of the sour countenance and Erik felt the same sense of satisfaction he did after a particularly shrewd cross examination.

Threatening Olsen in this way was beyond overkill.

However, Erik knew of nothing else that would resolve Charles’ situation as swiftly. As Olsen scratched out his signature nearly hard enough to tear paper, Charles’ need for insurance, identity, and anything else he did not have, vanished.

Besides, he’d never liked this man or this hospital, so if he got to have a little fun while getting Charles what he needed, all the better. The faster he could get Charles out of here unscathed the better. He owed him that much, possibly more. There were few people insane enough, selfless enough, to throw themselves in front of a car for a stranger. Erik had made it his life’s work to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Charles had more than earned that same protection until he was back to his former self.

T’s crossed and i’s dotted, Erik left Olsen to fume, so he could share the good news with Charles. The words that had been leaping forward died on his lips when he took in the state of Charles’ room.

“. . . Did you rob a florist?”

Charles graced him with a much less hysterical, much more pleasant sounding laugh than he had any time previously.

“Aren’t people just lovely? This one is from the nurse on call, Ben. He has the most adorable little boy. Teething at the moment, which is trying of course, but he’s so precious one can hardly be cross. I’m sure Ben would be happy to show you the photos too. This one is from Dr. Yousef, whom you’ve already met. She detests flowers, personally, as she’s never home consistently enough to care for them properly. This one is from Saima...”

While Charles no longer appeared to be in a state of hysteria, it appeared to be Erik’s turn, and he became suddenly, hysterically deaf. Had he misplaced a day? Or two? More? Was he the one with the head injury?

“Did you— I mean, do you know them?”

Charles cut off his still in-progress monologue about his sudden and inexplicable well-wishers.

“Oh no. We’ve just met. Nancy would like to get coffee when I’m better though. I believe that is a cultural expression of friendship, is it not? Or does coffee equal sex? It’s so hard to keep track of these things as humans rarely say what they truly mean. Why do you lot insist upon speaking in code? A code that changes every generation no less. Regardless, I’ve never had coffee. Given how utterly obsessed with it you all are I’m rather excited to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Erik didn’t know what part of that to address first, if at all.

Ben, Yousef, Saima... who the fuck was Nancy?

Sex?

Never had coffee?

“Oh Erik, I’m sorry. You look so confused again. I forget myself. I would much rather have coffee for the first time with you of course. At that diner you speak so highly of. I believe diners generally serve coffee.”

Erik blinked. Did that mean Charles wanted to be his friend or have sex with him? Or, did never having had coffee actually mean never having had sex? No. Wait. What in the fuck were they talking about?

What came out was, mercifully, “You make friends quickly.” This was something he and Charles certainly didn’t share.

“Do I?” Charles shrugged. “I love people. All people. They’re so fascinating.” Something else he and Charles certainly didn’t share. In his experience, most people were dull or cruel or both. Except Charles. Charles had been the exact opposite of dull or cruel right from the first. Crashing headfirst into Erik, literally and figuratively, and smashing all his expectations of what people did or didn’t do for one another. It might have also been the head injury/amnesia mitigating the dullness, making him say the most ridiculous things that Erik had ever heard and couldn’t even begin to sort out, but Erik didn’t really think so. He read people extremely well and Charles intrigued him. No one intrigued him.

Shoving the friends/coffee/sex equivalency conversation aside, Erik patted his briefcase. “I’ve sorted out everything with hospital administration. You won’t have to worry about insurance, bills... if there’s anything you need, just ask. They will be sure you get it.”

“I won’t ask how you managed it.” Charles’ look became conspiratorial. Almost as if he did know Erik’s methods. There was no way, of course, that he did unless he was a telepath, which Erik had already briefly mused on. “You really needn’t have troubled yourself, though I appreciate it, you, all the same.”

There it was again. The strange gravity his words seemed to possess. Erik flushed, not something he ever did, feeling that appreciation to his core. Charles’ smile deepened and somehow held the same weight as his words. Looking at it was almost too much, like looking straight at the sun, it warmed parts of Erik he hadn’t even realized were cold.

“You can stay with me,” Erik said, apropos of nothing, then flinched, his own words surprising him. It wasn’t the offer he had intended to make. The Firm put people up all the time for various reasons, and Erik had planned to slip Charles in to one of his current cases with no one the wiser. The doctor felt certain it wouldn’t be long until his memory returned, based on her previous experience of such cases.

Charles’ astonishment seemed to match his own. “Erik, that’s too much. You’ve done so much already.”

Erik rubbed at the back of neck, avoiding Charles’ eyes, which were comically, anime-wide. While he hadn’t meant to make the offer, he also found now that he had, he also had no sense of regret. His flat was large, he practically lived at the firm, so it would hardly be an inconvenience and the less he abused his position, the less tracks he had to cover.

He coughed, “There’s always Nancy.” Erik hoped the joke would break the sudden tension. “You could take her up on her ambiguous offer.” Charles laughed. Success.

“Coffee, and whatever else it may suggest, is a far cry from living together. Besides, I don’t even know Nancy.”

“You don’t know me either. You may have unwittingly saved a sociopath the world would be better without.”

Charles shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. You’re a good man, Erik. Better than you know.”

Everything about this was absurd.

“It’s settled then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me until we figure out who you are.”

Charles’ face, which Erik was already beginning to realize was nakedly expressive, came over suddenly unreadable.

“I—“ Charles hesitated, eyes flicking away from Erik to the window. Erik supposed coming to live with any stranger was enough to give anyone pause, especially someone who was as disoriented as Charles must already be. He was about to shift back to his original, much less awkward, plan when Charles’ gaze focused back on him. “All right. Until... until then.”

“Until then,” Erik echoed and they both fell suddenly silent.

He was inviting someone to live with him when he had never lived with anyone besides his mother his entire life. Roommates? Please. Erik had never had to, but would have rather lived in a squalid apartment than have to share a living space with anyone, even when putting himself through the extraordinary expenditure of american law school. Yet, here he was. Here they were. It felt right. Perhaps he had an overabundance of gratitude and quid pro quo to sate. It was the only thing that made any sense in the face of something that made absolutely no sense.

He’d probably regret it the instant Charles was in his space, but he also wasn’t someone who went back on his word, so he was taking in this stray whether he came to regret it or not.

Mama, at least, would approve.

*

Now on Ao3

Thanks for reading!!

#cherik #cherik fanfic #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #fallen angel fic #pinkoptics fic

[pennamesmith]

Return of the Skeletor

A family reunion. Find more Skeletor stories here! 

*

Micah remembered the other world. 

Most people could, in fact. The whole planet was affected. They’d all lived a life they thought was perfect. They’d all imagined something intangible. The memories were faded and fragmentary, like the recollection of a dream, but everyone was certain it had really happened. 

Even if nothing that had happened was real. 

At first Micah didn’t realize anyone else had shared in the dream. He’d lost track of time on Beast Island long ago, and when the collapsing portal closed around him he only assumed it was one of the despairing wasteland’s many tricks. He never had long to dwell on the matter, either. Soon after finding himself returned to reality (he could remember shouting to Angella, reaching for her, trying to tell her “I’m not dead!”) Micah had met the loud and unusual Princess Entrapta. And after her there came…

“She-Ra! It’s She-Ra!” a nasally voice shrieked. 

Micah was startled out of his reverie by a sudden clattering of hooves. The door to his Bright Moon office burst inwards and he was presented with the sight of a breathless Swift Wind. Sitting astride the rainbow-winged unicorn was one of Entrapta’s bots, a lanky drone she’d named ‘Skeletor.’

“The time has come!” Skeletor said. 

“It’s true!” Swift Wind confirmed. “I felt the sacred bond return just a minute ago. Adora and the others are back from Eternia! Darla is over the Whispering Woods right now!”

“What?” Micah jumped to his feet, abandoning his desk without a second thought. It was covered in a mountain of paperwork: royal records, his regent’s duties, and the calendar pages where he’d marked off every day since Glimmer and the rest of the Princess Alliance left for their dangerous mission to another universe. He rushed to the door where Swift Wind was standing. 

Skeletor reached out and helped Micah onto the horse’s back. “Join hands as we bring together our mystic powers!” the robot cried. Once Micah was settled, Swift Wind turned and leapt out the nearest window. They sailed through the skies. 

“What’s going on? Are they all right?” Micah asked, with undisguised worry. 

Swift Wind banked, soaring over the tree line. “I’m not sure! The ship is under control but — look, there it is!” 

Darla, the rebuilt First Ones ship, was descending rapidly from the sky over the treetops. Her flight was steady, but parts of the hull were damaged, and smoke trailed from one wing. Suddenly the ship lurched and plummeted into the trees, vanishing from sight. A plume of vegetation went flying as it plowed to a smouldering stop. 

Micah felt his stomach twist. “We need to get closer!” he called out in a panic. 

“I can take you there!” Skeletor declared, urging Swift Wind toward the ground. They touched down by the edge of a long path of smoking destruction that stretched deep into the woods. 

“They must have landed near here,” Skeletor deduced, observing the massive trench in the ground. He hopped off the horse’s back and ran ahead, making anxious utterances as he went. 

Micah dismounted and walked beside Swift Wind. “I hate this,” Micah confessed. “The staying behind, I mean. At least on Beast Island I was the only one I had to worry about, and I was in control of my own survival. But having to stand by while Glimmer goes into danger? I’m so proud of her, yet I’m also so scared.” 

“I know what you mean,” Swift Wind answered. “I trust Adora, but I also worry about her, like, all the time. Whenever we’re apart I get so restless. I just feel powerless!”  

“Sometimes letting them find their own way is all we can do,” Micah mused. 

They came into a clearing in the woods. Darla was there, sparking and steaming but generally intact. Skeletor hammered on the door. 

“Here, let me try to get you out!” he called. 

Something inside the ship made a noise. There was a hiss and a jet of steam, and Skeletor tumbled backwards, landing with a squawk at Micah and Swift Wind’s feet. They all stared at Darla, holding their breath expectantly.

The front hatch of the spaceship popped open. Entrapta erupted out of it, tumbling down the landing ramp in a ball of frizzled hair. She pulled her goggles up. 

“Aha! We made it!” she crowed, taking in her surroundings. “All in the right dimension and everything!” 

She reached into the recesses of her hair and emerged with a haggard Hordak. “Your piloting saved us! I knew you could do it!” she told him proudly. 

Hordak squinted through half-lidded eyes. “Is it over?” he muttered. “Are we still alive?”

“Yep!” Entrapta wobbled to her feet and gathered her partner up in her ponytails. “Now, let’s get you a checkup and some rest. You’ve had a stressful voyage!” 

She suddenly seemed to notice the gathered onlookers. “Oh! Hi Skeletor. Hi Bird Horse. Hi Micah. Guess what? You’re gonna love this!” Entrapta turned back to the ship. “Safe to disembark, crew!” she yelled, before trotting off with Hordak.

“Now we’ll see how clever you are!” Skeletor said. 

Mermista peeked around the door. “Ground!” she cried, throwing herself across the dirt in relief. “I never thought I’d miss you so much!” 

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad a flight,” Sea Hawk cajoled, helping her to her feet. “Why, I can think of a dozen — no, two dozen more harrowing trips I’ve taken in the Dragon’s Daughter XXVIII.” 

“You fishmonger,” Skeletor scoffed. 

Frosta was the next one out, followed closely by Perfuma and Scorpia. “Eternia was amazing!” the teenaged ice princess announced, brandishing a pair of frozen fists. “I got to punch so much stuff!” 

“Come on, it wasn’t all violence,” Perfuma pleaded. 

“Yeah, we learned a bunch about friendship and responsibility too,” Scorpia agreed. 

“Punch! Punch!” Frosta said. 

“You’re becoming evil, I can sense it!” Skeletor hummed approvingly. “Excellent!” 

Catra and Adora came next, and they were accompanied by a young man Micah had never seen before. He had a pink shirt, bobbed blond hair, and bore an uncanny resemblance to Adora herself. A sword hung on his back. He blinked as he emerged into the light. 

Swift Wind’s jaw dropped. “Adora! Is that…?” 

“Hey guys!” Adora grinned sheepishly. “So, funny story. You remember how when I was a baby I was taken from a hidden First Ones faction that nobody has ever been able to find since?” 

She held her hands out, presenting the newcomer. “Well, uh, we found ‘em! This is my twin brother, Adam!” 

Adam smiled and waved. “Hello everybody,” he chirped. 

“Brother?” Swift Wind sputtered. 

“He-Man!” Skeletor bellowed. 

The group fell into a chattering commotion, but Micah was hardly paying attention. Glimmer and Bow had appeared at the top of the ramp, holding each other as they looked out. Emotions that went beyond words swam in the young queen’s eyes. 

Adora saw where Micah was looking and quickly pulled her brother away. “We’ll tell you the whole story later, sir! Trust me, it’s hilarious. Now come on, I gotta show you around Etheria, bro.”

“Sure thing, sis,” Adam replied, grinning hugely. They pounded their fists together, adding their own sound effects as they did so, and marched off laughing. 

“They have been doing that the entire. Trip. Back,” Catra groaned, following close behind the pair. “Somebody save me.” 

“You furry coward,” muttered Skeletor. 

At the entrance to the ship, Glimmer and Micah hugged each other fiercely. When they finally broke, the old king could see that his daughter was smiling through her tears. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Glimmer sniffled. “So much happened. You wouldn’t believe how scary things got! Oh, but I totally had everything under control.” 

“I know you did,” Micah smiled back. But he could tell there was more. 

Glimmer’s face turned serious. “Dad,” she said shakily, tripping over her own words. “Listen. Entrapta’s theories about the other dimension were right. When we — I mean, didn’t know if…” 

Bow stepped in. “Your highness, I think there’s someone you should see.” He beckoned gently. Still at a loss for words, Glimmer nodded and took her father’s hand, leading him inside the ship. 

Micah’s heart was racing even before she rose from the chair and turned to face him. His breath caught when he saw the spreading wings, the shining light, the smiling face that he remembered so clearly. 

Their eyes met. It was a miracle. 

Just like on the island, a part of him couldn’t believe this was really happening. But it was. 

They both reached out. They’d mourned each other once. Their hands met. 

“Micah?” she asked, hardly believing it herself. 

“Angie?” 

*

Outside, both the princesses and their well-wishers had gathered around Adam, excitedly showing off the wonders of their planet. He gazed with delight at everything, marveling in the magical light of Etheria. His laugh brimmed with kindness. 

Skeletor elbowed his way through the crowd. “I can’t let any of you delay me! Out of my way, now!” he jabbered. “This is no time for jokes!” 

He made it to where Adora stood with her brother and glared. Adam turned in surprise, not sure what to expect. They stared at each other. 

Skeletor held his arms wide. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment!” he cried. “Take this, He-Man!” 

Then he lunged forward, and wrapped Adam in an enormous hug. 

“He-Man, I am your friend!” 

#spop #she ra fanfiction #skeletor #King Micah #Queen Angella #micangella #glimmer #prince adam #adora #swift wind #princess alliance #smith stuff

[riversofmars]

Something slightly heart breaking for Day 20!

Promot: Lost and found

Fandom: Last Tango In Halifax

Characters: Gillian Greenwood/Caroline McKenzie-Dawson

Rating: G

Summary: Gillian and Caroline deal with the recent passing of their parents. At Alan's wake, they sit and talk, just the two of them, remembering the past and wondering how they should go on.

Lost and Found

“Gillian?“ Caroline’s voice drew Gillian’s attention and the sheep farmer quickly stumped out her cigarette on the wall. She wasn’t a smoker, not really, but today she felt like she needed it. It had been one hell of a day. One hell of a month actually.

“Hi Caz…“ She gave Caroline a weak smile as the headteacher climbed onto the wall next to her. The sun was setting and the view of the valley was as magnificent as ever. Only to the two of them, the golden sunshine and mild breeze did nothing to warm them. Grief surrounded them like a shadow. It engulfed the entire farm and Gillian had found it so suffocating, that she had excused herself from the guests. Caroline kicked off her black heels and dropped them next to Gillian’s flatter pair that lay abandoned by the wall.

“How are you doing?“ The headteacher asked after a while.

“Similar to you, I’d expect…“ Gillian hummed thoughtfully. Now that she had given up on her cigarette, she started fumbling with the skirt of her black dress.

“Never thought it would be this way around…“ Caroline mused, looking out into the valley.

“Nah, me neither…“ Gillian mumbled, as her thoughts, too, turned to their parents. As if she hadn’t been thinking about her dad all day anyway. It had been his funeral today. The wake was carrying on inside but she wasn’t able to face the pitiful looks and well-wishers right about now. She wanted to be left alone with her grief instead of being pestered by people who didn’t understand. Caroline, however, was the exception, Caroline understood exactly what she was going through. “You know you can die of a broken heart… happens a lot with elderly couples, once one of them is gone, other doesn’t hang round and…“ Gillian’s voice trailed off as tears fell from her eyes again.

“I’m so sorry, Gillian…“ Caroline was quick to pull her into a tight hug as the sheep farmer shook with sobs. Gillian wrapped her arms around her and rested her head against her shoulders. She didn’t like people seeing her weak or upset but for this Caroline was the exception too. She knew she wouldn’t judge her and she always gave her comfort she so dearly needed. The headteacher stroked her back and whispered reassuring words to her as they sat for a while, lost to their grief.

“At least they’re together again I guess…“ Gillian pulled herself together at last, taking a deep breath. She sat up and wiped her damp cheeks awkwardly.

“Yeah…“ Caroline nodded in agreement and looked back into the valley thoughtfully. “And they had a long time together, considering, didn’t they?“ She gave a soft smile and looked at Gillian again who was still trying to sort out her tearful face.

“Yeah… it was a really wonderful thing for them…“ Gillian agreed, mirroring her expression.

“For us too,“ Caroline carried on, she reached out and took the sheep farmer’s hand to stop her fidgeting. “I mean, we would never have got to know each other if it hadn’t been for their late-in-life romance.“

“True… we would have had absolutely no reasons to ever cross paths in our lives,“ Gillian chuckled as she regarded their intertwined fingers.

“And I’m really grateful for that. I can’t imagine my life without you in it now,“ Caroline gave her hand a squeeze and Gillian took a deep breath, trying her best to keep a tight grip on her emotions.

“Same,“ she nodded as a single-syllable word was all she dared saying for fear of getting choked up again. They stayed like that for a while, holding hands and taking comfort in each other’s presence as they looked out into the valley, thinking about their parents and the funny twists and turns their lives had taken to bring them here.

“Do you want to go back inside?“ Caroline asked after a while when the sun had nearly set.

“No.“ Gillian shook her head, then looked over to her. “Do you?“

“No.“ Caroline shook her head as well, then carried on: “Do you want me to leave you to it?“

“No.“ Tears returned to the sheep farmer’s eyes and she hung her head as her emotions overwhelmed her once more. She didn’t want her to leave as she didn’t feel up to facing her emotional turmoil alone. Rationally, she knew their parents had been very old indeed, they had lived well, loved a lot and been happy, but it didn’t take away from the gap they left in their lives.

“Oh Gillian…“ Caroline’s heart broke for her, she reached out, cupped her face and kissed her cheek, in hope of soothing her.

“How are you always so calm and collected?“ Gillian sniffed, almost embarrassed.

“I’m not, not always,“ Caroline gave her a gentle smile, the sheep farmer had witnessed her losing herself too.

“Most of the time then,“ Gillian gave a shrug.

“Practice. Lots and lots of practice,“ the headteacher sighed.

“Well, yeah you would have had a lot of that with your mum, she knew how to push your buttons,“ Gillian found herself chuckling, despite the sad situation.

“Yes,“ Caroline could only agree, laughing a little herself. “While you… your dad, he was always so supportive, he accepted you for who you were, you never had to learn to control yourself the way I did, I guess… I envy you for that…“ she confessed. There had been a lot of pressure in her life. Expectations and disapproval. She had had to learn to moderate herself.

“I miss him so much already,“ Gillian sobbed.

“Me too. He was a wonderful man, your dad, I was really lucky to have known him,“ Caroline agreed, tears welling up in her eyes as well now.

“Your mum wasn’t half bad either, she had her heart in the right place and she made my dad so happy,“ Gillian carried on and Caroline smiled:

“They made each other happy.“

“They did,“ the sheep farmer nodded in agreement.

“And you make me happy,“ Caroline added before she could stop herself or think better of it.

“I do?“ Gillian’s voice was small and unsure and not without surprise. It always hurt Caroline to witness how little she seemed to think of herself.

“More than you know,“ the headteacher took a deep breath and forced a smile, trying not to get carried away. She reached out again and tucked a strand of Gillian’s hair behind her ear. Gillian took hold of her hand and brought it to her lips, kissing her knuckles. The gesture made Caroline’s heart flutter and her breath catch. When Gillian looked up from her hand to meet her eyes, they didn’t need words to understand each other. It was the sheep farmer that took the plunge, she dropped her hand and cupped her cheek instead as she leaned forward and kissed her. Caroline acted on instinct. She wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close, returning her kiss with eagerness that surprised both of them.

“Your mum would turn in her grave if she knew…“ Gillian mumbled, resting her forehead against Caroline’s.

“While I imagine your dad might be quite pleased for us?“ The headteacher hummed, a little breathless.

“Not sure his tolerance level would have stretched to me shagging my step sister,“ Gillian gave an apologetic smile but it didn’t stop her from pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Technically… we’re not step sisters now…“ Caroline pointed out, unsure whether to laugh or cry about it right now. She couldn’t deny how light her heart felt all of a sudden for having Gillian so close and a willing participant to what she had wished for for a long time.

“You make a good point Dr. McKenzie-Dawson,“ Gillian chuckled.

“I just… I guess part of me was always scared that once our parents are gone, we would have no reason to see each other anymore…“ Caroline confessed, stroking her fingertips down Gillian’s cheek, warm to her touch.

“Caroline, that’s silly…“ the sheep farmer retorted but the headteacher interrupted her, as she hadn’t finished.

“When what I really want, Gillian, and I have wanted for a long time, is to spend even more time with you. And yes, maybe it was our parents' inevitable disapproval that stopped me from saying something sooner but…“

“Caroline, stop…“ Gillian tried to interrupt softly but Caroline carried on:

“No, I need to say this, I want to -“

“You don’t have to, I already know and I feel the same way,“ Gillian cut her off.

“You do?“ Caroline’s eyes widened. Maybe it shouldn’t have been all that surprising as they had just kissed but hearing her say it was something else entirely.

“I mean, we’re both emotional, we’ve both… lost something, the people that were… closest to us but… maybe we’ve found something too?“ She gave her a hopeful look and Caroline found herself nodding, trying her best not to get overcome with emotions again.

“I couldn’t stand losing you too…“ Caroline lowered her gaze, as her vision blurred with tears. She had been terrified that with their parents gone, their families would pull apart again. Not in her wildest dreams would she have expected Gillian to accept her feelings for her, never mind return them, yet here they were.

“I’m not going anywhere,“ Gillian promised, pulling her into a tight embrace.

#Whumptober2021 #no.20 #lost and found #last tango in halifax #fanfiction #gillian greenwood #caroline mckenzie dawson #caroline x gillian #femslash #hurt/comfort #grief #post-canon #whump

[kazimakuwabara]

A Name (part 6)

Previous chapter can be found HERE

Kurama sat back down in his seat, and sagged into it with a sigh.

“It is long... but I will try to explain the last mission we had together,” Kurama said, his voice uncertain, “If there are parts you don’t understand... just ask, and I’ll explain it best I can.”

“If I’ve been forced to accept that demons are real, that people can have magical powers, and that there’s a girl who cries jewellery... I think I can handle whatever you’re about to tell me,” Kuwabara said, shrugging his shoulder.

Shrugging, seemed to have become his favorite gesture. Though according to Shizuru, he had been much louder and expressive before. The person he was now was a little quieter, and more reserved. She did say he had a bit more quick-witted sass in him though, and had smiled when she told him.

Kurama for his part, laughed, looking surprised by Kuwabara’s tone, “I guess you’ve had to accept a lot!”

“It’d be easier to accept it easier, if I could still do the things that people say I can do, but as far as I know...” Kuwabara waved a hand in the air, “I’m just normal.”

“You’re never normal,” Kurama said with clear affection. He smiled, straightened his back and began to speak.

“There was a demon woman name Dilandu. She had been captured and sold into slavery by a human with far too much money. Her race of demon... when they suffered enough, they went through a drastic and painful shedding of their hair, which was more like fur. The quality was... above anything else in the normal fur trade, and could be sold for an exorbitant amount of money.

“She was one of many, but when freed... was the only survivors. She had been a child when taken, and only knew her torturers. They were other demons, and so she mistakenly blamed them for her suffering... when really they were slaves themselves. The true people, the true people she should have been mad at...”

“It was humans,” Kuwabara said regretfully, his face setting in a frown. “Ironic we get called humans if we’re capable of being such monsters.”

“Demon or human, it doesn’t matter who, anyone can be a monster,” Kurama mused seriously, “If anything can be taught from what I’ve seen, it’s that the rich are the monsters in any culture, any race, any species.”

Kuwabara nodded, and after a heavy pause, Kurama continued speaking.

“Dilandu when freed, was awarded a sum of money by the spirit world, and offered a chance for a better life and recovery. She accepted all help... but therapy. She used the resources she received to find out about two objects. Áine’s Sovereign blade, and a small green mirror, known as The Path.

“The Path, at the cost of years of your life, could show you the steps you needed to achieve in order to reach whatever goal you had. Áine‘s blade is rumored by some, to belong to a Goddess. Wielding this weapon gives one the right to rule or choose who shall rule.

“When the mirror is shattered by the blade, the right to “rule,” and the Path’s abilities, change into a wish. If you offer all of yourself to the mirror, and then cut them down with the blade you can get a wish. And Dilandu, had a wish.”

At the mention of mirror, Kurama kept looking at Kuwabara as if he kept expecting him to say or ask about something. When Kuwabara didn’t, Kurama deflated a little, and then added, “The Path is one of three mirrors that can grant wishes at the cost of life force, Although the Path is considered a little more dangerous due the fact it has an evolution when combined with something else.”

Kuwabara held up a hand as he absorbed this rush of information. Kurama remained quiet, but fidgeted in his seat. Kuwabara shook his head. This was so much

“Okay... that was a lot. But this Goddess Áine, is she... was she real? Like Koenma?” Kuwabara asked.

Kurama smiled a little wistfully, “All stories such of these are based in some truth. From my understanding, her story is a true one, and a sad one. She was not so much a Goddess, as she was a young skilled blacksmith who was ravaged, and stolen from. Despite the atrocities done to her, she stole her blade back, and took her revenge against the one who had hurt her, the king of her land.

“After she killed him, she presented her blade to who she believed to be the rightful ruler... and died. She was honored by... things we don’t, and by we I mean researchers, and even spirit world--that even they don’t understand, and the blade became... gifted. Magical, might be a better term,” Kurama was gesturing now his green eyes getting lost in thought. “The swords could do extraordinary things, and then when paired with the mirror, could grant a wish.”

Idly Kuwabara wondered if Kurama was a form of scholar. He seemed exceedingly intelligent and-

“I’d often dreamed of stealing the Áine Sovereign blade for myself... the legend alone makes it an item worth snatching up. And I imagine the resell I would get on it would have been great!” Kurama sighed, startling Kuwabara so bad, Kuwabara’s mouth fell open.

Kurama laughed at Kuwabara’s expression, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and rather than explaining his previous comment, cleared his throat, and began anew, “But as I was saying... the blade seemed to be blessed. On it’s own it was a decent weapon. Tremendously usefull with a will of it’s own for vengeance and bloodshed. If it accepted the user as it’s owner, it was said to be even greater, turning into a sword of light. According the legend, the sword has never accepted an owner.”

“Do you know how the sword accepts someone?” Kuwabara interrupted.

Kurama shook his head, “I don’t... But, as I was saying, while the Áine Sovereign blade is actually useful, the mirror is more of a monkey’s paw. It does give you something, but of course at a high price. And that cost of course is much worse when paired with the sword. But it’s not just a simple death.”

“You are destroyed. You cease to be, and are forgotten. There is no where you go, not hell, heaven, spirit world, limbo... no where. You’re just... gone. The world changes to fit the wisher’s desire, and the wisher is just gone. The Path, once destroyed, immediately reforms, and can be used again if someone happens to be nearby. I could only imagine what would happen if a cult got a hold of these items. Because of the danger of The Path, it is kept locked up in Spirit World.”

“Did they not keep the sword as well?” Kuwabara asked, a brow cocked in confusion.

Kurama smiled at Kuwabara, a tired and aggravated, ‘I know!’ expression written on his face.

“The sword,” Kurama explained, “Was kept by the ruler Áine had chosen before her death. Or ascension into Goddess hood, whatever may be the case. It traveled down the line, and remained in the country of Ireland, the origin of this story. Or at least, pieces and parts.”

Kuwabara was slightly confused, and was starting to get a headache. This was a lot of lore to absorb. “Alright, cool ass lore besides... Dilandu actually went out to get these items, and I’m guessing got them? Or got close?”

Kurama nodded, “She learned of them, and decided it was worth stealing these items to get her wish.”

“And what was her wish?” Kuwabara asked, head really throbbing.

“That all demons died,” Kurama answered seriously, his expression grim as he stared at Kuwabara’s face, “We... You, me, Hiei, and Yusuke reached her just as she destroyed The Path. The affects... were immediate.”

Kuwabara felt a chill crawl up his spine. “Immediate?”

“Dilandu began to unravel, slowly unwinding like string as she made her wish. It was not a fast process. As she fell to pieces, the air began to suck out of my lungs, and an unbearable pain swept through me.  The same seemed to happen to Yusuke, and Hiei. We were crippled by the pain, and fading fast. Hiei and I kept to our feet for several minutes but... Yusuke, who was already injured, fell down first... and I can’t confirm this... but I think when he hit the ground, he was already dead.”

Kurama looked away, looking pained to be explaining this to Kuwabara.

Kuwabara hadn’t properly met Yusuke yet. To his understanding, Yusuke was the one who violently grabbed him when he first woke up and asked who everyone was.

Kuwabara’s head hurt, and suddenly felt violently sick.

“I believe I passed soon after... Hiei was shouting at you before I went-”

But Kuwabara did not hear the rest of Kurama’s story.

He stood up, nausea crawling up his stomach and into his throat. He lurched as if to vomit, and then a dizziness swept through him, and he broke out in a cold sweat. He pitched forward, looking to steady himself, but only caught the edge of the table. It sent him and the table off balance, ad he fell, Kurama crying out his name as Kuwabara landed painfully on his bad arm, the table crashing with him.

As his vision exploded in white, he remembered very clearly of someone with slicked black hair looking back at him. He was a little dirty, and bleeding from battle, but the wounds weren’t that serious. Or at least they shouldn’t have been. But his brown eyes, while fixed on Kuwabara, slowly dulled. The light leaving his eyes in a heartbreaking speed.

Kuwabara heard himself suck in a painful breath, and then heard a shrill laughter. Distantly, Kurama and Shizuru were shouting his name, and his arm was throbbing with pain while he struggled to latch onto something stable to pull him out of this memory.

The white pain faded away, ad then it went blessedly dark.

#kazi fanfic #KuwabaraBirthdayWeek #yyh #yu yu hakusho #kuwabara #i don't think i'll finish this in a week XD #ah my plans #torture mention #slavery mention #rape mention #None of those things happen to Kuwabara so #don't freak?

[cowperviolet]

For Gods and Gold - mega excerpt

'No one will disturb us here', Mathilde vander Welde says, shutting the door of the library behind her. Her sister’s distraction tactic worked perfectly.

‘‘I hope so, juvrow vander Welde’, Jochem Meier, who came in with her, comments. ‘Otherwise they’ll accuse you of both forfeiting your virtue here with me and of being heartless enough to discuss business on the day of you father’s funeral’.

As often, it’s impossible to say whether his remark is meant as a joke or a serious warning. Mathilde decides in favor of a warning whose absurdity she may laugh about, but whose crux she better heed.

‘This is most like to be the last moment when we can discuss matters in any privacy to speak of’, she says, the terra cotta panels of red and white bright under her feet. ‘As soon as tomorrow’s sun is up, every minute of my life is going to be devoured by my new well-wishers’.

That, and the walls of her house are going to grow many curious ears. She doesn’t spell it out because he understands it, and understands that she does. This is one of the reasons she values his counsel so: his quiet quickness of mind, otherwise veiled of necessity in the presence of those whose fortunes are bigger and lineages purer.

‘What was it you wished to discuss, juvrow vander Welde?’ Jochem Meier asks patiently. His attire, despite the occasion, reflects the same studious understatement as his tone: the black tunic of a minor merchant, the unadorned fingers, the high collar at his neck.

‘I wished to discuss the project of Shashtre, and its future’.

‘It was my understanding that the project is completed. The Armizi dynasty has gained their throne back, thanks to your esteemed father’s generous loan. The only thing left to do seems to be to wring a reduction in tariffs or a monopoly on pepper from Alessandro Armizi before the festive incense clouds his mind too much’.

‘I propose a different strategy, and I need to know if you are going to support it’.

‘I am a man with a stained family name and three wool workshops, juvrow vander Welde. I cannot imagine my support, humble as it is, would matter to you much’, he says drily.

Mathilde sighs inwardly – so, he has probably guessed what it is she thought up. Still, the only way she has now is to soldier on.

‘Father has already made us kingmakers. To use it for a pepper monopoly would be like using Ilerdian silk to wipe these floors. This a chance of a century. I am not going to pass it up’.

‘A chance to do what?’

‘To gain Alessandro Armizi’s trust enough to become, in essence, his own treasurers, the shapers of his kingdom. His court is young. He needs trusted people around him, even if some of them are going to be foreigners. No one on Ilerdian peninsula would be shocked at the notion of a foreigner in such a role, in truth – some states there even choose men from other principalities on purpose, to have someone free from the local factions’.

‘Men from other principalities on the same peninsula; from the states that are heirs to the same broken empire. Not those they perceive to be Northern barbarians’.

Mathilde kneels unceremoniously by a reading seat and narrows her eyes, making out the letters on the book list; ah, the candlelight here is so much dimmer…

Jochem Meier is looking at her almost suspiciously, as if from the pile of heavy, chained tomes she could spring upon him a curse.

She cannot even blame him. Her father had been a known, well-studied figure to him – to everyone - for decades; she, his heiress, is a yet-untested thing, wild as quicksilver.

‘There is so much more at stake’, she whispers, opening a leather volume, wishing her fingertips could become light feathers, unable to harm the treasure beneath. ‘If I succeed – if we succeed – who is to say what we cannot achieve? We could reach Alessandro’s uncle the Great Mowbed, help him manage his affairs. Bankers to the Holy Throne. It doesn’t sound too bad, does it?’ Mathilde smiles radiantly, the way she knows she is prone to when she gets overexcited.

‘The Great Mowbed, the Priest of Priests, His Truthfulness’, Jochem Meier muses, stepping closer to Mathilde and looking over her shoulder. ‘So many hallowed titles, but such a precarious position in the world. I suppose few would question his spiritual authority, but when it comes to the worldly leadership…’

‘He is the master of the capital of the former empire. That doesn’t seem to be the kind of worldly leadership to complain about’. Mathilde opens a page at random - she doesn’t have to seek out a particular illustration; every miniature is exquisite – two armies fight on the field of pale blue snow. One side is stiff in long, luminous chain-mail, the other’s armour is covered by flowing robes of porphyry.

‘Just look at it’, she whispers. ‘Isn’t it worth its weight in gold? It was a stroke of luck that my grandfather managed to find it. This was a part of the series of manuscripts commissioned for the last emperor in Janab – can you imagine? They were stolen, lost, dispersed throughout the peninsula during the wars afterwards. And this one surfaced in Esfan just when grandfather was there bargaining for a saffron consignment – we didn’t have a permanent company there yet. We’ve got the second and the fifth tome here, too, but they are of a later production’.

‘If you are trying to seduce me into supporting your enterprise by dazzling me with the glories of Ilerdian land, I’m afraid it isn’t working, juvrow vander Welde’.

Ah, but Mathilde can hear his voice growing softer.

I am not stupid, she thinks. I know that Janab is long since hollowed out, a place of magnificent ruins. I know that there had been princes holding Great Mowbeds hostage, and even more young dynasties tumbling down. But I want to take this risk. I cannot stop, cannot slink back to the cozy fireside. It is simply not my nature.

‘Think about the recent assassination attempt’, Meier murmurs just above her ear. ‘Can you imagine if it succeeded? With the Armizi Great Mowbed dead, his nephew in Shashtre won’t reign for a day’.

‘But it didn’t succeed. Besides, I thought your version was that the Great Mowbed simply cooked up this story because he wanted to cull the dastwars from the oldest families’.

'My version was that he merely used the situation to cull the mighty old guard in the Circle of Dastwars. It was too big a great stroke of luck, that all five conspirators belonged to it. I never said the actual knives in the dark weren’t genuine’.

The armies are meeting in battle – a graceful, orderly battle of a miniature. Even as the horseman in bright chain-mail slashes across the thighs of a porphyry-clad enemy, one’s attention is drawn more to the fluid lines than to the flowing blood.

‘I have not just called you here to receive your blessing’, Mathilde says, trying her best to keep the exhaustion and the nerves out of her voice. ‘I called you here because I want to entrust a lion’s share of this enterprise to you’. She turns around to face him and whispers: ‘I want you to go to Shashtre as the ambassador of the Republic of Gronsveld’.

This time, Meier does not reply. Finally, he is listening, looking down at her intently.

‘I want you to go’, Mathilde continues, ‘and to represent our interest and the Armizi court as well as the Republic’s. But, most of all, I want you to look out for any dangers to his rule or his life, and inform us about it’.

‘Or deal with them on site, should the situation allow, I take it’.

‘There is no one else, even among people who were loyal to my father, whom I could have trusted to be capable enough to manage it’.

There is also no one else who could be seduced by such a blatant promise of social climbing. The men and women who gathered in her father’s parlour to drink hippocras and discuss the price of fustian have long since climbed the ladder of power – indeed, their great-grandparents did – and would be likely to view such an offer as a dangerous distraction rather than an honour.

Jochem Meier is a different story.

Mathilde continues to smile. She is supposedly asking it of him as favour, not offering it as a gift - she doesn’t want to be seen as someone who secures people’s acquiescence with bribery, least of all by herself.

‘It’s a dangerous favour to ask’, he murmurs, his eyes keen.

Very well.

‘I promise to cover the costs of your embassy if the Chancery would fail to do so’.

‘Which it inevitably will. There only remains a minor question on whether the Council will vote to grant me the embassy’.

She had secured his help. Mathilde lets out a cautious breath.

‘This year’s Council is full of father’s old allies’.

‘They all have their own interests, Mathilde’.

A flush lights up her cheeks.

‘I wonder’, Mathilde says as levelly and lightly as she can, ‘if you used to call my father Walter’.

‘Forgive me, juvrow vander Welde’. A small, servile smile – the smile he could always put on like a cloak – is back on his lips. ‘Doubtless the mourning has addled my brain. That, and the rapture over the honour you’ve promised me’.

Promised. Not given.

Mathilde silently chastises herself for the outburst. The last thing she needs now is alienating her allies. But his slip of a tongue felt like he clutched her already broken arm. So many people, friends and enemies alike, are circling around her now, pillorying her with their stares, whispering about her uncommon youth – at twenty-one, they have all been dutifully gathering experience in the far-flung branches of their families’ banks and firms, not standing at the helm. One thing they are all sure about – some with pity, some with glee, but sure nonetheless – is that she is an easy prey, a lamb to the slaughter. Something much, much lesser than her father.

Her father. For the first time in the evening, the pain of loss clutching at her throat is threatening to overwhelm her and spill over into tears. Her father could have died a hundred times from a conspirator's blade, a rival's poison. But what toppled him was a simple kidney stone.

The surgery went splendidly; the physician priests were, as ever, proud of their ancient expertise. Their prowess made sure the process was quick; their draught eased the patient's suffering. But they had no power over the fevers that could follow, bringing swelling and delirium and deadly, morbid heat.

In death, he had been garbed as ostentatiously as he had rarely been in life, his shoulders swathed in a cape of cloth of gold embroidered with horses. The same animals were engraved on his brooches; the ends were bent - no living man will unclasp or wear them again. One cannot be too careful when seeking Aetrele's goodwill. In life, he prayed to her to ease the passage of his ships over the stormy waters. In death, her fabled horses should aid his final journey, carry him to the pale shores swiftly and soundly.

Mathilde bites her nails into her palms. She’ll weep later, with her sister for company. Right now, she must be her usual self – bright and hunt-ready.

‘Your father used to complain that men in his employ only bother to use double-entry bookkeeping if he is there to threaten them with a metaphorical stick’, Jochem Meier notes. ‘His allies on the Council are only different insomuch that they wear better cloaks’.

‘What are you suggesting?’ Mathilde can guess what he is getting at, but wants to hear it from his lips nonetheless.

‘There is going to be an out-of-time election for meester vander Welde’s vacated place on this year’s Council. I am suggesting that it would be a good use of your time to make sure you are elected to it’.

‘I am too young. They don’t welcome anyone below the age of twenty-five at least on the Council’.

‘They would have no choice if your name is to be drawn from the leather purses. The rule of the chance is the rule of gods, and the rule of gods is sacred’.

Mathilde is not a pure ewe of spring to be ignorant of the grease that kept the Republic’s wheels running. She knows how his father made sure the Council was stacked with his sympathizers this year, and she knows how much it costs to make the keepers of the purses add a certain name thrice, or even read aloud a different name than that on the piece of paper they’ve drawn. Desperate circumstances needed desperate measures.

Still, there is that, and then there is brazenly violating the law and hoping that whatever aura of sanctity still clung to the proceedings would help.

‘I don’t want to start my leadership like this’, Mathilde says. The cold of the onsetting winter is drawing in from the great library windows, and pricking her skin into goosebumps.

‘It’s better than starting it with a defeat’, Jochem Meier responds pragmatically.

Few candles are burning here, and the friezes running along the walls are shrouded in murk. They are depicting the labours and the joys of every season – a simple, understandable topic, requiring no reading and no fine eye to enjoy. They have been commissioned by her grandfather in the days when this room was a bedchamber, not a library; the figures are stylized as dolls of clay, and their colours are cheap hues of the earth.

Behind Mathilde’s back, the first tome of the Song of Emperors in breathing with gold.

This is what her father wanted when involving himself in these great campaigns down in the Ilerdian south, she knows; more than money, more than lucrative contracts. He wanted to bring back home the beauty and the knowledge of the empire that had been great when his homeland was still slumbering in savagery.

Desperate circumstances, Mathilde decides, sometimes need desperate measures indeed.

#writing #amwriting a novel #amwriting lgbt #amwriting fantasy #amwriting novel #amwriting #writeblr #lgbt writers #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #original writing #writing community #for gods and gold

[karmathecat]

Firewhiskey is not the best mixer.

So I actually wrote something for the first time in years? Talking on Jily discord about the dream of Lily Luna and the gang meeting her grandparents. So I wrote the possible first bit of a time travel fic!

Lily Luna Potter stood, hands on hips, glaring across the room at her unsuspecting brother. In the centre of the dance floor, she had an interrupted view of her brother’s bent head discussing something with her cousin Fred. She swung her head from side to side, attempting to get a better view of him between the crowds of dancing people surrounding her. Her snooping was interrupted by a well wisher touching her shoulder and thanking her and her family for coming to the event, she forced a smile at the ministry official she was sure she was supposed to recognise, and by the time she turned her attention back to her brother, he was gone. Sighing in annoyance, Lily made her way towards to drinks table where she could see Teddy stood surveying the variety of chocolate cakes with an interest that was better placed combatting a difficult crossword.

“You haven’t spotted James plotting have you?” Lily glanced to her left to see Teddy smirk before consuming an eclair in one bite. He swallowed before looking at her directly.

“You know I want nothing to do with this ridiculous feud the two of you have started right? I stated that from the beginning.”

Despite his statement to the contrary, Teddy has actually been directly involved in the prank war that the Potter siblings had started since Lily had arrived home Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays four months ago. James had decided to continue the feud with increasing escalation with every passing incident that didn’t leave Lily humiliated to a level that satisfied James’ mischievous streak. This increasing escalation meant Lily was constantly on high alert, knowing her brother’s whereabouts within three feat at all times.

Realising Teddy was going to be no use, traitor, she filled her cup with punch and walked to the entrance of the Great Hall. Tonight was the annual victory ball for the Battle of Hogwarts, meaning that the Great Hall was filled to the brim with students, ministry officials, old Order of the Phoenix members and DA members. The theme this year was “unity” and attendees had been encouraged to be clad in the colours of another Hogwart’s house that was not their own.

Smoothing her knee length emerald green dress, she spotted her father, dressed in navy, surrounded by a number of stuffy looking ministry officials. Harry caught her eye and winked at his daughter, pulling a face that made Lily giggle. Her mum was nowhere to be found, but this wasn’t surprising, if anyone hated these functions more than her father it was her mother. Both Potter parents supported the cause more than anyone, having the highest stakes in the outcome for the victory the ball celebrated. However, Lily had listened to her parents complain on numerous occasions that events such as these were not to celebrate the victory over Voldemort, but to kiss her father’s arse and gain political power. Therefore, it was unsurprising that after showing her face, Ginny Potter tended to disguise herself into the sea of Weasley redheads.

At 15 years old, Lily had experienced many of these balls. They were insufferable, everyone felt like just because her surname was Potter it meant that they could know the ins and outs of her life, private and otherwise. Tonight alone she had had three elderly women ask after her betrothal status, stating that their dashing grandson was looking for a beautiful young woman such as herself to have on their arm. These suggestions had started shortly after her thirteenth birthday, the first instance had caught her so off guard she had laughed in the ministry woman’s face so hard that her dad had to apologise so profusely when the woman started shouting about her indecent behaviour. However, Harry had later learnt the nature of the conversation and had congratulated Lily on not pulling her wand instantly. The requests had continued despite her father’s general aura of disapproval whenever an older woman approached her, however Lily’s ability to tolerate these encounters had surprisingly increased. Well, Lily mused, not completely unsurprising since Rose had informed her of her method of dealing with these types of awkward encounters. Seeing another elderly woman making a direct line for her, Lily turned her back and tipped a healthy portion of her “method of dealing” also known as Firewhisky into her glass of pumpkin juice for the fourth time that evening.

Lily looked around her, and short of darting directly out the doors behind her, she had minimal escape routes, she also didn’t trust her tipsy legs in the heels she was currently wearing to hold her up reliably as she ran. So she forced a smile as the woman approached her with a look of determination. Before the woman reached her, however, Lily felt two strong sets of arms loop around each of her arms and drag her back through the Great Hall doors. In a moment of panic, she started kicking out and before she could scream a hand grabbed her around the mouth. She was dragged out the entrance doors and into the chilling summer air, coming face to face with her two grinning brothers. Damn. Focusing on the approaching woman had left her vulnerable to her brother’s antics.

James Sirius Potter stood, head to two in a set of deep midnight blue dress robes to match their father’s, grinning like an idiot for having panicked his little sister to point of losing her composure. Lily glared causing him to only grin wider. Her glare darted to her left, eyeing her other brother with betrayal. Albus had not been involved in the prank war that was raging in their household, but tonight he had clearly picked a side. The traitor looked dashing in his deep maroon muggle suit. He still had his arms locked around hers forcing her to look into James’ eyes.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Has this not gone a bit far Jamie? If dad saw me getting dragged from the hall, we know for a fact he’d go into full Auror mode before you could blink.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re about to lose this war, oh little Lilykins! Besides, I made sure dad was thoroughly distracted before I grabbed you, I’m not stupid!”

Lily snorted, “Oh yes, James not stupid, how silly of me! Come on Al, you know you’ve picked the wrong side in this, let me go and we can get a thoroughly good prank on good old Jamie here.”

“Oi! Find your own ally! Now, onto the master plan!” James produced a small vial from his pocket and shook it in Lily’s face. “Do you know what this is my darling sister? This right here is an de-ageing potion, you thought you were so funny trapping my naked on the roof last week, well, let’s see how funny it is when little toddler Lily Luna goes running into that ball crying for her mummy and daddy!”

James was cackling, and lily had to admit that it was pretty funny if the person being pranked didn’t happen to be her. She was going to have to think of something amazingly embarrassing after this, he would rue the day!

“So open up Lilykins!” Lily rolled her eyes and accepted her fate, knowing they would not release her without taking the potion. With a sigh opened her mouth and allowed her brother to pour the contents into her mouth.

No sooner did the liquid touch her, did she experience the most painful burning of her life, coughing and spluttering.

“Shit James what was in there? Grab her some water!” Al let go of her arms and spun to face her, standing next to James.

“There’s some pumpkin juice in a flask in her pocket there. Open up Lil!”

Lily thankfully accepted the juice, to only realise it was her secret stash of Firewhisky. The combination of the burning potion still in her mouth alongside the burning of the Firewhisky, Lily spit the contents of her mouth, completely covering herself and both her brothers. She would have laughed if she wasn’t convinced her whole body was being set on fire.

The last coherent thought running through her mind, was how strange her brothers looked coated in a bright blue light.

#harry potter fic #lily luna potter #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #teddy lupin #harry potter time travel fic #i tried please be nice

[hetalia-wishers-au]

Welcome to the Wishers AU!

Or should I say,  Welcome back!! The AU is returning after a couple years of being dead, and we’re getting a facelift!!

What is this AU about?

Wishers is essentially a Soulmate AU. However, it doesn't have to be romantic! Platonic Soulmates are welcome and encouraged! Because it is a Soulmate AU however, there will need to be a lot of communication and cooperation between AU members, especially with your partner! (More info can be found in the other posts! Please read through all of them. Lore and important information can be found via links on the blog on desktop. I’ll work on getting those mobile-friendly!)

What are the requirements to join?

You must apply according to the application form

You have to follow the set rules

You need to have at least one visual reference of your muse (It doesn’t have to be good, or even yours as long as you have permission from the artist to use it – its only purpose is to make interactions between different types of blogs easier)

You must be at least 16 years of age to join (please see the Rules for a more detailed explanation)

Can I join even if I’m not that good of a writer/artist?

Absolutely! You're more than welcome to join no matter your skill level.

Is Discord required?

No but it is more convenient to communicate with your partner and fellow AU members, so Discord is highly recommended.

Can I have two muses?

Yes and no. Technically, no, assuming this is so you can have a ship to yourself. In spirit of the previous life of this AU, I'd prefer if members worked together on the pairs instead of one person having both the Destinian and Wisher. However, there are certain characters that exceptions can be made for if your backstory works well and you can handle having either having two Destinians or two Wishers (thus working with two partners) OR if you need characters for backstories, you're more than welcome to Bootleg them. ( ex: if you have Russia, but you want him to have Belarus and Ukraine as his sisters. You can just say they're Not Belarus and Definitely Not Ukraine, that way the characters are technically there, but you aren't making it so no one else can have them as muses)

Can I apply even though I’ll probably be busy due to school/college/work?

Technically, yes. Me too. However please inform/keep in contact with your partner and let them and the admins know!

How are the pairs/soulmates decided?

When you're accepted into the AU and discord server, you'll make a Character Introduction in the appropriate channel (It'll be different than your own personal intro) In the character intro template, you'll find there's a “compatibility” section where you'll list who your muse would get along with, any ships/pairs you’d prefer, and any ships/pairs you are not willing to work with. From there, once we have enough members, we'll decide on the pairs. This means there will most definitely be crack ships in this AU, so please be prepared for that and be open minded!

Of course, if there's a specific ship/pair that you want, you're more than welcome to apply with a friend!

#First Post #Hetalia #Hetalia group au #Hetalia AU #Hetalia soulmate au #Hetalia Wishers AU