#yes I AM cranky in general in life today so that cranky tone is not imagined

[captainofthetidesbreath]

not to be like this but all of the posts (and there are many across multiple platforms) right now going "I mean obviously I'm not mad or whining or anything but it sucks that there's all these three week breaks, how am I going to survive, this is awful, I cannot believe this is happening to me" like, it does in fact come off as entitled no matter how many qualifiers are put onto it

and the a smaller subset of THAT going "CLEARLY C3 isn't a priority for the studio" or "they're obviously trying to kill C3" or even posting stuff that comes off as "um, don't they know that if they keep doing this I won't shop here watch anymore", like, come on

as a tangent, genuinely, I feel like a lot of people have trouble admitting that they don't actually like C3 so they get existentially worried about them losing interest over a slightly longer break because it'll force them to acknowledge that they aren't actually interested, but it's fine not to be interested!

#I will not be engaging with any asks or replies about this #yes I AM cranky in general in life today so that cranky tone is not imagined #like frankly I'm not *as* invested in C3 as I am C2 but like I AM interested in it so the break isn't killing me or my interest so it's ? #like come on I've waited longer for cable television shows. Candela fans wait this long. Don't get me started on British TV. #I'm a D.Gray-man fan and that releases QUARTERLY. Monthly comics. Novels. #Why are we all having hyperbolic breakdown posts over three weeks. Truly I do not understand this culture that's developed around C3. #every time there isn't an ep this week (incl for the regular week off) there's an outpouring of hyperbolic “i'm DYING” posts and I'm like ? #also the break between episodes 40 and 41 was a whole month (November into December 2022) #the break between 8 and 9 was three weeks (December 2021 into January 2022) #Like were you people not here for that? #Critical Role things

[bloody-bee-tea]

Cranky

Jiang Cheng usually prides himself of being able to ignore his phone while he’s at work, but when it lights up with Nie Mingjue’s name on it, Jiang Cheng makes an exception.

His day is going badly enough already that he really desperately wants to hear Nie Mingjue, if even for a little bit.

“Mingjue,” he greets him as he accepts the call.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue gives back warmly, and just hearing his voice makes some of the tension in Jiang Cheng’s shoulders disappear.

“What’s up?” Jiang Cheng asks. “You don’t usually call me during work.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the little frown on his face. “But I have to cancel tonight,” he then apologetically says and just like that Jiang Cheng’s good-ish mood plummets again.

“Oh, I see,” he whispers.

They have a weekly thing, where they go for a run first before they watch a movie and if Jiang Cheng is being honest, then he has to admit that it’s the highlight of his week. 

And he was looking forward to it, especially today.

“I’m really sorry,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “Some more deliveries at work came up, and I’ll have to make a special route after work to get it all done.”

“I understand,” Jiang Cheng says, because he does.

Nie Mingjue is one of the most hard-working people he knows and sometimes it just can’t be helped.

Jiang Cheng knows that very well, seeing as he himself is prone to working long past official office hours. Usually it’s Nie Mingjue to tell him to relax then, and so Jiang Cheng can’t help but to fall into the same role.

Even though he’s a lot gruffer about it than Nie Mingjue usually is.

“Just see to it that you don’t overwork yourself,” he grumbles out and is met with a light chuckle.

“I knew you cared,” Nie Mingjue teasingly says and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Dream on,” Jiang Cheng says immediately. “It’s just that if you overwork yourself, I don’t have a running buddy anymore, and what am I gonna do then.”

“You also won’t have a movie buddy anymore,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he’s right.

Not having a movie buddy might just be worse than not having a running buddy. Jiang Cheng is used to running on his own, and he will be fine if he has to do it again, but going back to watching movies on his own after having Nie Mingjue’s company for so long now, that would be considerably worse.

“So just take care of yourself,” Jiang Cheng snaps, completely on the defence as he realizes that Nie Mingjue knows him maybe a little bit too well and Nie Mingjue chuckles.

“I will give it my best. Same time next week, though?” he asks and Jiang Cheng nods before he can think twice about it.

“Of course,” he grumbles, because when did they ever not meet and he feels insulted that Nie Mingjue even has to ask.

“Thought so,” Nie Mingjue says with a chuckle. “Have a good week.”

“You, too,” Jiang Cheng manages to get out before Nie Mingjue hangs up on him.

They don’t usually text much during the week, apart from their regular confirmation that they are in fact still on for their running and movie meeting and Jiang Cheng is kind of glad about it.

He doesn’t know if he could survive being in constant contact with Nie Mingjue like that; running with him once a week and being overly aware of the fact that Nie Mingjue will be naked in the shower and then having to sit close to him on the couch is already enough of a strain on Jiang Cheng’s already fraying self-control.

When Jiang Cheng puts down the phone he lets out a deep sigh. He can’t say that he’s too sad about cancelling today, if he’s being honest. Work today has been shit so far and while he was looking forward to running and getting his aggressions out that way, he would much rather put on his sleeping clothes and curl up under a blanket to mindlessly watch a show or something instead of watching a whole movie.

And now he can do just that when he comes home.

It’s the only thought that gets him through the rest of the day if Jiang Cheng is being honest and when he finally makes his way home he feels weary and tired to the bone.

He still manages to drag himself under the shower but the tension only starts to seep out of his shoulders when he puts on his sleeping clothes—a frayed t-shirt and baggy sweatpants—and he curls up on the couch.

There’s a tiny part of himself that wishes Nie Mingjue were here right now, if only so Jiang Cheng doesn’t give into his self-pity for today, but if Nie Mingjue were here, he wouldn’t get to curl up like this, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be in his sleeping clothes yet, so Jiang Cheng is rather torn on the issue.

He can at least admit that his day seems off somehow, now that Nie Mingjue is not going to come over, but instead of dwelling too much on that, Jiang Cheng gets up to get some ice cream for himself.

It’s one of those days, and he intends to wallow in it.

Jiang Cheng just stuffed his mouth full of ice cream when someone knocks on his door.

Jiang Cheng freezes, totally caught off guard, and he has half a mind to simply pretend that he’s not home, when it knocks again. And again and again.

Jiang Cheng groans as he peels himself out of his blanket, looking mournfully at his ice cream before he puts it down on the table and then he makes his way over to the door. 

“Cut it out already,” he seethes as he yanks open the door—already angry at whoever it is on the other side—only to freeze when he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue musters his face, before he very deliberately lets his eyes wander up and down Jiang Cheng’s form and Jiang Cheng would love nothing more than to disappear right that moment.

“I see you started without me,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile and Jiang Cheng fights the stupid urge to hide behind something and instead plasters a frown to his face. “And you’re cranky.”

“You said you couldn’t make it,” he snaps out, completely caught off guard and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Zonghui thinks I’m doing too much and I shouldn’t sacrifice one of the few evenings a month I take for myself so he took all the deliveries and told me to go home.”

“How nice of him,” Jiang Cheng hears himself say—because it is really nice of Nie Zonghui to do that—but he cannot deal with the fact that Nie Mingjue sees him in his ratty clothes.

Jiang Cheng is so much less put together than he likes to be; he’s wearing his oldest clothes, his hair is a half dried mess, and with Jiang Cheng’s luck there’s a chocolate smear on his cheek from the ice cream, he just knows it.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng blurts out when Nie Mingjue’s words finally make it into his brain. “You decide to spend your evenings off with me,” he whispers out, suddenly horrified at himself that he takes up so much of Nie Mingjue’s time.

“Yes?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly unsure what has Jiang Cheng in such a panic.

“You should do something you want on those evenings!”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back and there’s so little hesitation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has no other choice but to believe him. “I want to spend them with you. Always,” Nie Mingjue tacks on rather awkwardly and Jiang Cheng goes bright red in the face, he can feel it burning.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks after a long moment in which Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare at him.

“For this evening?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he can’t think clearly and surely Nie Mingjue isn’t implying what Jiang Cheng thinks he’s implying because that would mean he chooses very deliberately to see Jiang Cheng once a week even though he doesn’t have much time otherwise.

A very hysterical part of Jiang Cheng points out that maybe he should have thought about that earlier, but Jiang Cheng is in too much panic to listen to it.

“In general,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng blinks at him.

“For you to not judge me for this,” he finally says with a vague hand gesture at all of himself, because Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that even on the weekends Nie Mingjue takes off he is definitely more put together than Jiang Cheng is in that moment.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue immediately tells him and then smiles at him, which makes Jiang Cheng’s pulse skyrocket. “I actually find it rather adorable,” Nie Mingjue then says mischievously and Jiang Cheng feels like his brain is shutting down.

“Shut up,” he weakly says but Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem particularly fazed by that.

“I don’t think I will, actually,” Nie Mingjue says. “It makes you look very soft.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him a few times because Nie Mingjue’s words don’t make any sense. There is no way in hell Nie Mingjue has any other feelings for him than some misplaced older brother protectiveness, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

At least he had been until now.

“What do you want?” he asks again, though his voice comes out weak and breathy and Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft.

Nie Mingjue reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Jiang Cheng’s ear and when Nie Mingjue cups Jiang Cheng’s face in his big palm a shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back.

“I want to make you understand how loved you are,” Nie Mingjue whispers, matching his tone to Jiang Cheng’s and that does nothing to explain to Jiang Cheng just what he means with that. “If you would let me,” Nie Mingjue tacks on when Jiang Cheng stands frozen like a statue and then he exerts the faintest of pressure on Jiang Cheng’s cheek; just enough to pull him a little bit forwards.

Jiang Cheng is helpless to stop the movement, and he’s very sure he doesn’t actually want to stop anything that is happening right now and so he allows Nie Mingjue to guide him further and further towards Nie Mingjue’s broad chest.

“Will you let me?” Nie Mingjue asks, his breath ghosting over Jiang Cheng’s lips and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he could find his voice if his life depended on it, so he simply leans forwards and closes the last tiny bit of distance between them.

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he ever had a more perfect first kiss, but he guesses the answer to that is no. His eyes drifted shut on their own accord and his hands find a place at the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt, urging him closer.

Nie Mingjue keeps his one hand on Jiang Cheng’s cheek, but the other one migrates to the small of Jiang Cheng’s back and it’s so hot and so comfortingly heavy that Jiang Cheng has to bite back a groan at that.

“I can’t believe you just made us do that in the doorway,” Jiang Cheng complaints when they finally part, because he’s stupid and his brain doesn’t work right, but Nie Mingjue only chuckles.

Jiang Cheng can feel it in his own chest, they are standing so close, and he thinks he might never want to move ever again.

“You wouldn’t invite me in. I had to make do with what I had,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back and then presses another fleeting kiss to the corner of Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “But I wouldn’t complain if you were to invite me in.”

“Of course you’re going to come in,” Jiang Cheng bites out and uses his hands which are still fisted into the front of Nie Mingjue’s shirt to pull him inside the apartment.

Once the door is closed behind them some nerves creep back in and Jiang Cheng awkwardly disentangles his hands from Nie Mingjue’s shirt.

“What do you want now?” Jiang Cheng asks and curses himself when he realizes that it came out completely wrong. He wanted to ask what Nie Mingjue wanted to do now, but not this.

“Are you saying you’re feeling loved yet?” Nie Mingjue says questioningly as he tilts his head in the single most adorable movement Jiang Cheng has ever seen.

“Not sure, actually,” Jiang Cheng shoots back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Again, Nie Mingjue’s face goes very soft and he tucks Jiang Cheng closer with a hand on his hip.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, peppering Jiang Cheng’s face with soft, fleeting butterfly kisses. “I love you very much,” he makes his point with a more passionate kiss this time and Jiang Cheng hums into it.

“I see,” he mutters, their lips still brushing against each other. “I feel loved,” Jiang Cheng then decides with a small nod. “And I love you, too,” he then says, because he didn’t yet and Nie Mingjue needs to know that.

“So I can move on to something else then,” Nie Mingjue muses and noses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, which totally doesn’t make Jiang Cheng’s knees go weak.

“Do you want anything else?” Jiang Cheng asks confidently, though he’s keeping upright more by clutching at Nie Mingjue’s shoulders than anything else.

“I want to make you happy,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment of deliberation and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.

“You’ll have to pick something else,” he tells Nie Mingjue who frowns at him, clearly unhappy with Jiang Cheng’s answer.

Jiang Cheng huffs out a little laugh and cups Nie Mingjue’s cheek in his hand.

“You already make me very happy,” he then tells him and watches as Nie Mingjue’s face lights up with his smile.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue mutters. “Then I want to keep you happy,” he immediately decides and Jiang Cheng swears he’s just doing that to kill him.

This is way too adorable.

“Stop that,” Jiang Cheng complaints, though it’s half-hearted at best and Nie Mingjue seems to know it too, because he doesn’t seem inclined to follow Jiang Cheng’s words.

“What do you want?” Nie Mingjue eventually asks him, and Jiang Cheng has to take a moment to find his words again.

“I want to continue this on the couch,” he finally decides and Nie Mingjue lets out a loud and happy laugh.

“Anything to keep you happy,” he decides and simply picks Jiang Cheng up, before he carries him over to the living-room.

Jiang Cheng yelps when his feet leave the ground, but Nie Mingjue’s grip on him is sure and strong and so instead of struggling Jiang Cheng slings his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders and simply holds on.

It’s not long before Nie Mingjue sits down on the couch, Jiang Cheng now firmly in his lap and Jiang Cheng immediately leans up to get back to kissing. Nie Mingjue is quick to indulge him and Jiang Cheng already knows that this will be one of his favourite things to do.

By the time they remember the ice cream on the table it has long turned into soup, and so they refreeze it on their way to the bedroom.

It is still tasty when they have it for breakfast the next morning.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #modern au #getting together #flirting #first kiss #humor #fluff

[maxrev]

Intimacy Prompts: Falling asleep in their arms. For mshenko :D

Sooo, apparently I CAN write prompts. Just takes me a while lol. Knox seemed to like this one and I can honestly say, I was not expecting this...domestic fluff. Hope you like it! My renegade has a soft side. He knew? 

       ____________________________

Knox leaned his head against the seat in the skycar, exhausted from his physical therapy session. There were days he felt he was making more progress in going backwards than forwards; today had been one of those days. 

He fought against closing his eyes and sleeping on the way back to the condo, located in the newly built high rise over English Bay. Kaidan's family had one before but it had been destroyed during the Reaper invasion.

"I have to make a quick stop and pick up some things for dinner, go ahead and close your eyes if you need to."

Too tired to even lift his head, Knox rotated it left to study Kaidan navigating the streets of Vancouver with calm assurance. Maybe he should have let him drive the mako all those years ago. No. He’d enjoyed himself too much and the reactions of the crew. Especially the man sitting next to him. 

"I'm fine," he said, rotating his head back to the right and further, watching the world rush by in a blur. 

Silence greeted his words and swore he could hear a wealth of reproach within it. He was even too tired to care. 

"It's just you and me. You can relax your guard, Knox." Frustration laced the smoky voice.

Irritation crept into his, "I said, I'm fine."

God, he sounded like a belligerent child. Felt like one, too. Tired, cranky, and ready for a nap. "Your concern is noted but I'd rather wait until we get home." 

Warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought - home. He never thought he'd have one of his own, had never expected to die saving the galaxy. 

He still thought he sounded like a whiny child but exhaustion nipped at his heels like a recalcitrant pup and he was unable to keep it at bay. Kaidan pulled up to the store and Knox bit his lip against a groan as he pulled himself up by the armrest, ready to get out. 

"You don't have to come in. I just need a few things. Stay here and relax." 

"I told you, I'm--"

"Fine. Yeah...you have.” Now he could hear exasperation. “Look, I'm not trying to be pushy, just...take care of you." 

Knox followed him into the grocery store, feeling like hed kicked a puppy. He knew Kaidan cared, just had a problem accepting it. Even after all this time. Learning how to look after himself from the age of four, a lifetime of doing so couldn’t be  undone in a few years. For the moment, though, he had other things to worry about. It took every bit of concentration in his state of exhaustion not to stumble over his feet and get tangled up in the cane. God how he hated the thing. 

He shuffled behind Kaidan who walked slowly to accommodate him; another irritation. Stubborn and too proud to admit it, the thought crossed his mind he should have just stayed in the skycar, let Kaidan shop in peace. Like a kindergartener, he probably needed a nap or Rip Van Winkle for twenty years. OR maybe a Snickers. 

Lost in thought, he hadn’t paid much attention to what Kaidan put in the cart but as they checked out, he saw all of his favorites; the makings for homemade mac and cheese, steak, some kind of dessert. Knox’s heart soared at the same time he felt like a complete scrooge, biting the man's head off while he was doing everything to pamper him in spite of the rotten attitude. 

"Thank you," he said as they walked back to the skycar. He shivered inside his leather jacket; the temperature had dropped since they’d left physical therapy. 

"You're welcome, Knox. Always.” 

Back at the condo, Kaidan unloaded the groceries, ordering Knox to go relax by the electric fire with the ambience of genuine crackling flames. This time he listened, wanting nothing more than to rest his leg and hip, still protesting from the session earlier. He all but sagged down to the couch - carefully - propping his leg on the coffee table and reached for a book he'd been reading about the Andromeda galaxy. He may not be up in space anymore but he could still read about it and Andromeda interested him, thinking of the arcs which had headed there. He missed the stars, the only place he’d ever truly felt at home.  

Pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of Kaidan preparing a meal in the kitchen, for him, made Knox smile for the first time today. Okay, so the stars weren’t the only place he felt at home, not anymore. 

Kaidan appeared as if summoned by his thoughts, carrying a large mug of hot tea. "Cinnamon and apple with a bit of honey." 

Closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma, Knox took a sip, sputtering as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He nodded and responded with a coughed, "Perfect." 

Kaidan chuckled, "Did you think it wouldn’t be hot?"

Grumbling, he told him, "Go back to the kitchen," but there was no heat in his tone. 

"Yes, dear," the words were thrown over a shoulder with a laugh. 

 Knox sipped the tea carefully, enjoying the taste and the warmth spreading through him. Between the tea and the fire, he was beginning to feel drowsy. He hoped dinner wouldn’t take too long, he might fall asleep. His stomach growled loudly in disagreement. 

A short time later, Kaidan came back with two plates piled high with homemade mac and cheese, green beans and medium rare steaks, handing one to him before taking a seat on the couch. They ate in a comfortable, companionable silence; something else Knox had never had but this was easier to accept than being cared for. 

The warm, rich gooeyness of the mac and cheese was like a balm to his soul. Knox could understand why it was called 'comfort food.' Of course, the steak was good as well, seasoned perfectly and cooked just the way he liked it. He set the fork down on the plate and sighed with contentment. 

A warm fire, a good meal and full stomach, a man who cared about him - even if he couldn’t voice how much he appreciated him like he should. Exhaustion pulled at him, a whisper in his ear to let go and tumble down into the void of sleep. 

"Seconds or dessert instead?"

Knox snapped out of his stupor and stared at the empty plate in his lap as if it held the answer to the question. With no answer forthcoming, he made a choice, "Dessert." 

"Should have known," Kaidan answered with a laugh. “You and your sweet tooth.” Grabbing the plates, he went back to the kitchen. 

Knox couldn’t help finding sweets so appealing. Never having access to much food in general living on the streets, let alone anything sweet, he had become addicted. Saying no wasn't easy for him, though he had limits like everything else in his life, except books...and Kaidan, who came back in with one plate, handing it over before taking a seat. Knox moaned when he saw what it was - a thick, chocolate brownie covered in hot fudge and vanilla ice cream with a glass of cold milk. 

“I can’t believe I just heard you moan over dessert with such abandon when you have me right here. What am I, chopped liver?” 

Knox glared at him, which garnered a smirk in response. His brain sluggish, a thought occurred to him when he glanced back at the brownie, adorned with his favorite toppings. "Why only one? You're not having dessert?" 

Usually, Kaidan ate along with him. They were still biotic after all, needing the calories even if they weren't jumping from one mission to the next anymore. 

"I am, after you decide you can't eat another bite, which as you know happens often,” he teased.

This close, Knox noticed the laugh lines crinkling the corners of warm brown eyes; lips turned up in a soft smile, the scars stretched across them; wings of gray in the black hair at each temple...and was hit with a wave of love so strong, he nearly dropped his plate. The strength of the emotion blindsided him, leaving him breathless. 

He glanced down at the brownie, not really seeing it at all, terrified of  this unrestrained emotion. Control was at the center of his very being. Off balance and floundering, he took a bite of his dessert, one much too big, and nearly choked while trying to swallow it down. Kaidan reached for the glass of milk, thrusting it into his hand. Grasping it like a lifeline, Knox took a large drink...nearly choked again but it helped the brownie slide down and he was able to breathe again. 

"You okay?" There was a note of concern in his voice. 

"Y-y-" he coughed again to clear his throat, "Yes." He croaked, voice sounding raw.

Kaidan continued to stare at him, as if he didn’t quite believe it. But Knox took a few more bites of the brownie without any more catastrophes and as predicted, handed it over. The laughter in the brown eyes dispelled any remaining concern. 

He moved, leaning back against Knox to get more comfortable, then cleaned the plate and set it on the table. It spoke volumes to his concern, when any other time, he’d take it into the kitchen. They remained like that for a while, basking in the warmth of the fire, Knox yawning first, then Kaidan, who snuggled down further. Soon, his upper body was resting against Knox’s legs. 

“Does this hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

The dark head turned, brown eyes gazing up at him, searching his face for a lie. Not finding one, he got comfortable again. Carefully, Knox placed his arm around Kaidan’s chest, letting it sort of...hang there. He was slowly becoming accustomed to touch but usually Kaidan was the one touching, not him. Yet, it felt right. Holding Kaidan, letting him be relaxed and cared for. 

He thought, maybe, he should say something as he mulled over his earlier revelation, give voice to it...tell Kaidan how he felt. Out loud. But as he fought for words, opening his mouth to confess all, a soft snore came from the man lying across his legs. 

A huff of laughter slipped from his lips. Of course, just as he made a momentous decision, the object of his speech had fallen asleep but this time, it happened in his arms. 

#mshenko #mass effect #prompt writing #fluff #domestic fluff #I can't believe Knox let me write this #mallaidhsomo

[lk-ramblings]

Carpe Noctem

Seize the Night

Meral x Aydın

MenajerimiAra

"I want movement, not a calm course of existence. I want excitement and danger and the chance to sacrifice myself for my love. I feel in myself a superabundance of energy which finds no outlet in our quiet life."

-Leo Tolstoy

* * *

Her thumb hovered over the number, only to be used in case of an emergency.

Well, this qualified as an emergency in her opinion. Dicle had not responded to her texts for an hour about whether she had reached Barış or not, and worry was clawing at Meral's insides. She decided to call.

'Merhaba. Aydın? This is Meral.....Dicle's housemate."

A low chuckle sounded at the other end. "Merhaba. Yes, this is Aydın, Barış's brother."

"I know who you are."

"And I know who you are."

She rolled her eyes. " Harika. I was just calling to ask if Dicle texted you or......" she trailed off, suddenly realising how awkward this was. Damn it. She was never anything less than sensible.

"Not since I texted her the address. Is there any problem?"

"Yok. Yok. I just worried since it's quite late and the neighbourhood.....well they must be talking and she forgot."

"Hmm. Yes. Talking. Probably."

She had the feeling he was laughing at her and bristled. " Well, thankyou. Sorry to bother you. Iyi geceler."

                      *     *     *

He could imagine her derisive look, the one he had seen her wearing when talking about Beren. The idea of her rolling her eyes sparked something in him and made him want to snatch the opportunity.

"Wait-"

"Yes?"

"Um....." he did not know what to say, and he was sorely out of practice with conversing about anything other than work. "Your concern for Dicle is very touching," he finished lamely.

There was silence on the other end and he could not really blame her.

"Well...thankyou I think? I hope Barış feels better and comes back soon," she sounded sincere in her goodwill and it warmed his heart, as anything related to Barış always did.

"Yes, InşAllah. I met him today, he's doing better now."

"Good to hear..."

"I was wondering, if you wanted to meet up and discuss? Barış and Dicle, yani. Or general things. Actually more of general things. Since, New Year's was fun and...."

Silence again. He was just about to make sure the call had not dropped, when she spoke, "That sounds great. Where do you want to meet?"

His heart gave an excited thump." Wherever you want."

"Oh, I have a great idea," he heard the smile in her voice that already had him looking forward to tomorrow with a new excitement.

                      *     *     *

Her favourite restaurant was roaring with white noise, the air perfumed with spices. Her mouth was watering and she was already anticipating the pleasure the meal would bring to sate her growling stomach. Even her great love of food was not enough to occupy her thoughts entirely, though.

She was nervous and excited; wondering if they would still have the connection she felt at the New Year's party. It was hard to determine what he felt from the few glances they managed to exchange at parties. Her imagined conversations, however, kept being interrupted by the couple arguing right behind her booth.

She sighed. She was just about to turn around and jump in their quarrel, when he arrived.

Meral had convinced herself that her years of romance and dizi infatution had embellished her memory of him. She had taken extra care dressing up, all the while telling herself she was being silly. Neyse, what had all the effort on that doomed Singles Party been for? Only a single glance?

She did not need to worry or dress up, she reassured herself. It was just a pair of acquaintances meeting. It could be fun even.

The reality of him exceeded her memory. He was snug in a crimson sweater, bold and festive; his hair and face shining from the outside cold. He looked brooding in a dangerous sort of way and she was suddenly glad she had gone to the extra effort.

But then he smiled and Meral was forced to consider that smiles always won over broody pouts.

"Hoş Geldin!"

"Hoş Bulduk. Pardon, did I keep you waiting? You seemed to be frustrated when I came in."

"Ha! That wasn't you." She leaned forward and lowered her voice- motioning to the booth behind her- and he did the same." I was about to join in their fascinating discussion about stocks and resolve the issue for them. As an unbiased third party."

"Ofcourse, because you are an accountancy expert."

"No, because I'm incurably nosy."

He barked a surprised laugh at her.

"Do you often get involved in things that are none of your business?" he said, trying to match her tone.

"Unfortunately, no. That's Dicle. I always gather information but only get in fights that are my business. And I win." She sent a quick prayer of thanks for the loud couple for kickstarting their conversation.

"Öyle mı?"

"Aynen."

"Speaking of Dicle, how is Kiraç Bey doing?"

"Much better!"

"Good to hear. Geçmiş olsun."

"Sağ ol."

She was just thinking they were in danger of lapsing into an awkward pause, when the waiter arrived to save them from it.

"Hoş Geldin. Meral Hanım, the usual?"

"Yes, please!"

"You come here often? I'll have what the lady is having then," Aydın said, closing the menu.

"Yes, I love this place. It's so close to our home too," she continued after the waiter had left. "You're sitting in our special booth, actually."

"Whose?"

"Dicle and mine. We always sit in the same place everytime so the staff practically has it reserved for us."

He smiled but then a teasing glint came into his eyes, "Same place, same order. You don't like new possibilities?"

She could not believe he had hit close to her vulnerable spot so quickly. Half of her wanted to welcome the exploration, delighting in someone trying to know her. The other half, the dominant, ever-sensible one wanted to retreat.

"I do. But there's comfort in familiarity. Honestly? I've realised I would thrive in a communist setting."

Aydın laughed, spluttering, the glass of water raised midway." You say the oddest things."

The pleasure of making him laugh made her glow and she relaxed. "If I have too many choices, it’s my fault if I make the wrong one. But if decisions have been made for me? Not only can I complain to my heart's content, but I also feel like I have triumphed against great odds in the struggle to become the independent woman that I am."

“You see odds in everything? I see now why you chose this job." He was regarding her with respect and curiosity. The combination made her feel heady, wanting to let her guard down.

"Why?"

"You get to calculate odds and meddle with everyone's business on a professional basis.”

It was her turn to laugh in surprise.

                       *     *     *

As they ate, they talked about everything from history, to food to dizis, the conversation darting in different directions. Meral could see his quiet intelligence, his attention to detail. She could not remember simply enjoying talking this much before. He had a ready response to everything. Words and laughter were bubbling inside her.

"I better warn Barış. You've watched too many serial killer movies and would leave no trace."

"You can relax. He's not on my hit list yet."

At his devious smile, she pointed at him with her fork. "For now. He's on my good side for now."

"Don't worry, he's a true romantic. He would never do anything that would get him on your hit list."

Her face softened into a smile, "He really his."

"You know, sometimes I feel like I'm their Teyze."

"Barış and Dicle? From a hitman to a teyze?" he grinned at her.

"Yes.Yani, I cook and clean, which I love to anyway. But then being the unwanted third wheel living in her children's house, I leave quietly once I know he's coming over."

"Oh well, I'm the teyze in our house then. You know when- " he stopped at her burst of laughter. "What?"

"I'm sorry- I just-" she said between gasps, "imagining you as a cranky teyze is- actually that's a pretty good description."

"Oh, you think so? As I was saying," he said in mock affrontery, "after Barış got shot, he was trying desperately to be alone with Dicle. But-'

He was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out and she joined in aswell.

He gathered himself and began again," But every single person we know other than Dicle was appearing at our doorstep. And, you remember, Celal Bey? He brought a mountain of food over. And then when Dicle was finally coming over, what did Barış do? Beyeffendi handed me a couple of boxes and told me to disappear."

"How cruel."

Their laughter gradually faded into comfortable smiles. "That man eats like every meal is his last meal," Meral said.

"Evet, but who does not enjoy food though?" he said with a pointed look towards her just to see her reaction and earned an olive in his face for the jab.

"Ow! How do you know how Celal Bey eats anyway?"

"I saw him. At the TV dinner? In the restaurant you recommended?"

"What?"

Her subconcious writer, which had been busy penning their story, suddenly deflated at him not even remembering their first meeting. What hope did a romance have when one party did not even remember the meet-cute? And since when was she considering this a date? Or a romance?

She shook her head and focused back to the present. His expression was serious now, devoid of all the teasing warmth.

"Yes, I remember. I'm sorry you had to see me that way. That wasn't my best behaviour."

He gazed out the window. Meral was dying to know more, to smooth over the lull in the conversation but afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Finally he met her gaze, having made a decision. "I've always been practical all my life. Had to be. Barış and my father are quite hot tempered and.....impulsive, so I was mostly making the money, holding down the jobs. Keeping the job and the peace. I don't apologise for doing what had to be done."

"Tabi canım, you don't have to explain to me. Pragmatic is my middle name." she agreed easily, yet touched that he had shared some small part of himself.

'To doing what needs to be done," she raised her çay in a toast. He smiled and some of the light heartedness returned.

"I understand that life is more than making money and looking attractive. I know I pressured Barış- even got into a fight with Dicle," he glanced at her embarrassed.

"Growing up, our mahalle just reinforced that a happy life is the type of life that photographs well. I know this isn’t true- now- but it’s hard not to think this way. I’ve internalized it."

"I know." Her voice was soft and sincere, easing some of his discomfort. "That's what our lives have become these days. If only we remember to live the moments that we love to photograph."

"Evet. How right you are."

"And this isn't off the back of some truck. This is my own wisdom." She was grateful to see him smile again.

"Gathered during hours of repetitive work. I sit in that room each day, half my mind on the numbers, half in my infinitely more adventurous world."

"You call that repetitive?! I would love that! The assurity of routine."

He sat back with a sigh. "I had so many jobs, never knowing when one would end. Mesela, my current job with Serkan Bey? I finally know some part of what each day brings."

"But don't you miss the excitement of new things?"

"I guess I would thrive in a communist setting too, Meral Hanım. But this sector already has so many new weird things happening everyday, it's never the same."

"Oh you're a veteran of 'this sector' now?"

"Absolutely. Ha! But truly I.....feel like I belong? Actually, Serkan helped me in a difficult situation and I ended up here. I realised I actually enjoy it. I find I have a talent for organising. And persuading and cajoling. Although, if you listen to the whims of all these people! You come across some complete- well I shouldn't say but- Even more than what I met as a taxi driver. I-"

He stopped and seemed to gather himself. "Just glad I have security. The comfort of certainty."

Meral was fascinated hearing him talk, his eyes lit with keen intelligence. She wished she could revel in the comfort he described, but lately she felt stuck in a rut. She had told him she did not like choices but that was not true. She yearned to take chances. Her life had become a collection of the same days, same nights out with the same people. This evening was the only thing breaking the endless monotony.

"I bet you have great stories to tell though. I love listening to stories. We get absolute weirdos at our place aswell but it's ultimately boring. I live vicariously through Dicle."

"I think we should stop talking about them as if we're the side characters."

"Yani?"

"Yani novel falan filan. We keep talking about Barış and Dicle. We should focus on us a little, I think."

His voice had dropped at the end, his eyes on her felt like a caress. Meral could feel something tugging at her to explore this new territory, to take the chance she kept telling others to. But, imagining something in your head was vastly different than having that play out in real life. She fell back on her customary sarcasm.

"Ah, novels. I see I've already corrupted your practicality. 50 points to Ravenclaw."

He had been giving her a lazy smile but groaned at her words. "You're both 'Potterheads'?"

"I thought we weren't talking about them."

"We won't. Because I don't know where to even begin about this. We watched the movies when we were younger, but apparently that's not enough and Barış has been trying to get into 'the fandom'." His voice was a mix of exasperation and affection.

She cried out in mock outrage trying to hide her glee, "Did you just air quote again? And ofcourse that is not enough. I'm glad he is on the right path."

'Neyse. And before you say anything, yes, I know I'm a Slytherin.'

'Oh absolutely," she laughed at his disgruntled form languishing in the booth.

'Ee?'

She raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"So how did you get into the wonders of accounting. I've been spilling all my secrets to you and you give nothing away. Hadi, don't make me take out my truth potion."

"Tsk, tsk. Banning magical discourse and then indulging in it yourself? Shameless."

His quick smile seemed to seep into her.

"Lütfen ya, give me something here. You mentioned you shifted to Istanbul?"

"Yes I did. But that is a story for another day. It's getting late. I think the owner might be coming to personally throw us out."

Her humour just kept surprising him anew; he could not remember when he had last laughed so much.

                       *     *     *

As they walked back to her house, he noticed her slowing slightly. "Are you tired?"

"Biraz. My soul wants to party but my body is of an old woman."

"And what do old women like doing at night?" he cringed at how it sounded.

"Well it's winter so, we drink hot chocolate wrapped in blankets, and avoid people."

"Well people are sources of warmth aswell." Damn. There she was, throwing out words in bright clusters all night, like the gentle snow falling around them.

And everything he said was coming out like an innuendo.

"I mean, figurative warmth. The pleasure of company."

She just raised her eyebrows and hid a smile behind her hand.

"We revel in solitude."

"I didn't know you were that eager to get away from me."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"I think I have some idea." There was something about her, that just made him fall into this teasing, snappy rhythm.

"But we've only met twice. That's not enough data points to form an accurate picture."

"We have met more than twice. And you're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

"What?"

"Mentioning data points now that I've confessed my love for organisation."

Her laughter rang out in the hushed street.

The snow was falling around them gently, giving everything a glittering glow. Her impish face was turned upto his, the snowflakes in her hair like diamonds and dissolving on her lips.

He had the sudden urge to taste that snowflake, run his tongue along the seam of her lips.

Something inside him held him back. He was afraid it was too soon. Afraid to burst this, whatever magic they had between them, just as it was beginning.

Meral could see the moment he decided to forego kissing, the fire in his eyes cooling as they returned to their normal lazy depths. Keen disappointnent burned inside her but was chased away by the still buzzing energy that had been between them all evening.

This evening had already proved to be much more than her normal. An outlier. She wanted to capture the bright feeling, like a firefly; bask in the light for a brief moment and then let go.

"Thankyou. It was..." Unique. Comfortable. Thlrilling, all at once. "Fun. I enjoyed spending time with you."

Surprisingly, her shyness made him bolder. "Me too. I would love to do this again." She looked up. "If you want to, I mean."

"I wasn't angling for an invitation."

"I know. But it stands regardless. I would love to do this again." He could not believe he had managed to get that out without tripping over his words.

The tentative smile on her face made him add, " I must prove I'm the ultimate teyze between us. I'll cook for you."

"Şaka?!" she gave a delighted laugh. "Well then, let the Battle of the Teyzes commence."

When he took her proffered hand, their was a slight shock, as if their bodies were completing the circuit, that energy finally finding a closed loop.

"O zaman, iyi olan kazansın," he said softly.

"Iyi olan kazansın."

"Iyi geceler. Meral." he said, finally breaking the handshake.

"Iyi geceler." She went in and turned at the doorstep. "Aydin."

His name on her lips, materialising in the cold air for a second.

He smiled that slow smile again. An outlier. An input that could start new trends, open new possibilities, change everything.

                        *     *     *

#MenajerimiAra #Meral x Aydın #AyMer #CarpeNoctem #my writing

[ccatskies]

sciflash | chemistry class

rasa’s request

★━━━━━━━━

"Chemistry is the study of matter and energy and the interactions between them. This is also the definition for physics, by the way. Chemistry and physics are specializations of physical science."

There goes that voice. Flash resisted the urge to let a groan slip out and annoy the teacher who had just commenced the said class. He knew Chemistry, but today was awfully boring. No matter how much he despised a few subjects, it just wasn't his thing to barge in like a despicable roach and get on a teacher's nerves.

That would be his complimentary rascal of friend's field of expertise.

His eyes darted towards one of the tables in the third row, snorting as he suppressed a laugh. There's the adorable rascal.

Dash was, as usual, being a brat about things and getting her hand slapped from time to time by Shimmer, who had mentally declared that life was quite meaningless at this point, especially if you had to deal with Rainbow touching random potions for entertainment to bust everyone's asses six feet into the sky and out of the Chemistry Lab.

"Chemistry tends to focus on the properties of substances and the interactions between different types of matter, particularly reactions that involve electrons - ah, wait a second." Mr. Cranky interpolated, holding up a finger prior to walking off to the teacher who had been waiting for him at the door to deliver a message on the urgent change of routines.

Sentry suppressed a yawn, shyly glancing at his partner from the corner of his eye. In an instant, blood rushed up to his cheeks, coating it with adorable pink tints scattered across them like a pretty bunch of full bloomed roses. He brought his hands closer to his chest and leaned back on the chair, while the latter stood straight, fiddling with the bottle of a potion and going through her notes once again.

Sparkle's hair was in a messy bun, tied up with a rubber band while a big gold star laid on top of it. Few strands of her indigo hair gave her side profile astounding visuals for him just stare at. Her rosy cheeks had a special warmth, radiating a glow over her honey bronze skin. Her white laboratory coat only added onto her daunting look, as she maneuvered her finger tip through the pages of the Chemistry book.

She looked to the side once again, her alluring side profile snatching his view once again.

Fuck, he mused, one hand flying up to his face, as he cupped his right cheek to feel the warmth that generated from the abrupt blood rush.

Sure, it wasn't his first time looking at her, and definitely not the last.

More importantly, he wasn't sure how she did that to him like it was simply nothing, whereas it took him ages to have her blush in front of him. Of course, he knew she might've been hiding those blushes which burst out like balloons only when he took special measures but when it came down to him, she didn't need to even life a finger.

"Hey."

She was honestly so breathtaking - did no one tell her that?

"Huh, Flash?"

Breathtaking was an understatement too, he figured. She was just drop dead gorgeous, as if she was a beauty hailing from the heavens above - and Flash definitely didn't exaggerate that. He's seen Shimmer casually flirt with her, while Sparkle would laugh and playfully slap her shoulder.

Sunset's teeny tiny crush on the adorable bookworm justified the class Twi fell under. She's dated Timber, prior to ending the relationship on a good note. And all they had to say about his best friend was that she was so worth it.

"Flash!"

He broke out of the trance, blinking twice as he found his stinging eyes water, before squeezing them shut, a small drop traveling down his lashes, "h-huh. . .?"

"Your eyes!" Sparkle gasped, drawing herself closer to the teen boy, resting one of her warm hands on the surface of the table and the other on his left shoulder. She subconsciously brought herself to examine those pretty cornflowers, bearings her face towards his. Her breath fanned over the tip of his red nose, as she tilted her head, worry evident in her tone, "do they sting?"

"Wha-" he opened his eyes at the sound of her honey voice, a little taken aback as he registered the proximity, "ohh, fuuck."

She only made it worse for him, furrowing her brows at his words, as she dragged her lower lip under the edge of her teeth, "what? Does it sting too bad? You're tearing up, so - "

"N-not that!" He sputtered, biting his lip as soon as he stared up at her violet globes, "umm, I. . ."

"You what?"

"Your eyes." He immediately blurted, his cheeks betraying him once again, as he gazed into the most beautiful pair of eyes ever, astounded by the way they carried themselves. He swore that he could see the entire galaxy and at least a thousand constellations imprinted on those small captivating sultry orbs, reflecting back on his like the sun's rays.

She suppressed a giggle, breaking into a small smile, before she brought up her index up to his visage, cutely booping his nose, "my eyes? Ooh, are you flirting with me?"

His cheeks flushed into the shade of red - almost as red as the color of a scarlet Dahlia. Damn it, Century! Not now!

"Uh, no?"

Twilight snickered, not taking his response seriously, "is this the time to make jokes? I thought that's our thing only when classes are off."

"Wow," he scoffed, warm air purging through his nose, as he tilted his head to the side opposite to hers, "I'm mad that you don't take hints."

She raised a brow in amusement, letting a lighthearted laugh break through her system, "hint? What hint?"

"That I'm genuinely trying to compliment you for a reason."

She leaned back and flopped down onto the sit next to him, propping an elbow on the armrest as she cupped her cheek, "oh really?"

"You're pretty, am I not allowed to say that?" Flash rolled his eyes, groaning in exasperation, "fuck that, you're beautiful."

That had her blush. No matter how experienced she was at hiding those, she could not get do so for long.

Twilight smiled and bit her lip, vanquishing her urge to press him further but rather have him blurt out things (so that she could put them to use the next time she felt like embarrassing him). He had immediately caught onto the look on her face, growing a little shy at the indication.

"Why are you giving me that look?" Sentry huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "am I not allowed to call my best friend pretty?"

"U-uh. . ." she laughed a little nervously, her thin silver glasses sliding down a little down the bridge of her nose, as she concealed her cheeks from his view with her hands over them, "noooo."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, curving into an attractive grin as he reached out his arm to pull down her hands from her face, leaning in closer to catch a sight of her turn to be red, "awww, did I finally get you?"

She caught both of his wrists as they neared her, looking down on her lap, as she felt the burning sensation course through her. The boy only smiled, his insanely attractive dimples glowing from the corners of his wide smile, as he trailed his bigger hands down, smoothly intertwining his fingers with that of the Teacher's Pet.

She looked up at him holding back a few giggles, as she snorted, her honey cheeks tinted pink like cotton candy, "are you playing with me, Flash Century?"

His smile instantly dropped as he scoffed in disbelief, "did you really just say that, Twinkle Sprinkle?"

"Twinkle Sprinkle?" Twi's jaw hung low, as she maintained her posture, still having her fingers locked with his tan ones. Her face was a mess right now, red with embarrassment as well as flattery, showcasing the cute freckles splattered across the area surrounding her nose. "Oof, you're gonna get it. That's the childish nickname you gave years back. I thought we settled that you won't use it anymore!"

"I - " he laughs silently, as she frees her hands from him, standing back up and maneuvering her hands through several potions, desperately wanting to free herself from the situation.

Flash stood right next to her, his seraphic smile as heartwarming as ever, as he whispered next to her ear, warm breath hitting her skin like a steam and making her freeze on the spot, "cute little Twinkle Sprinkle."

She turned to face him, but was rather met with his chest - curse her shortness. She blushed profusely once again, prior to staring up at him, as she scoffed, "you're certainly hitting on me."

He moistened his lower lip, the same warmth radiating from his presence, as one hand slipped down to her waist, "of course, you pretty little thing."

"You are pretty," she immediately snapped back nonchalantly, her face as straight forward and genuine as ever.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The boy bit his lip, the shyness slipping out again. It took him a while to get her flustered but how the hell did she do it within a second?

Was this the Sparkle effect?

That made him feel magical and helpless? That made his heart beat like the thunderous sound of drums?

"You're staring again, Flash," Twi coughed, masking her flustered front, and replacing it with a terrible poker face.

"I again do that for hours actually." He removed his hand from her waist, dragging his lower lip under his teeth, as he shyly looked down on the table.

"Wow," She playfully punched his chest, letting out a laugh which rang through his ears like a serene and paradisiacal euphony, "you're. . . unbelievable, Sentry."

She pursed her lips into a thin line, prior to gazing at his features with a goofy grin, "unbelievably gorgeous, that is."

"Stop," he bit his lip, letting out a sigh in disbelief, "how can you just do that?"

"Do what?"

"Fluster me easily."

"I do that?"

"Yes."

She scrunched up her nose, smiling adorably, "well, then. Guess I found my new hobby!"

"What? No."

"Definitely."

"You're not - "

"You're the cutest."

"I - "

"Softest - "

"A little marshmallow. That's what I think of when I look at you. A sweet and cute little marshmallow." She snickered, "I can poke and kiss your squishy cheeks all day - "

"H-huh?" He had the cutest face on - with utter disbelief was etched on his features, while the pink blush never seemed to go away. If Flash could recall all of his shit talk with the tiny bookworm, he would swore that she never played the flirty card. It was either getting flustered or masking it.

Did he hear that right? From Twilight?

Twilight stepped back, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. She held back a boisterous laugh from breaking out and destroying her system as soon as she spotted her so-called friend's lips quiver, with the biggest flustered look on his face, screaming what just happened?

"Guess I won this time, Habibi."

━━━━━━━━━★

#sciflash #sci twi #flash sentry #drabble #writing #nivia writes #rasa take my love

[summerofspock]

Ravenous: A gift fic about all the ways an unfulfilled bond could manifest

For @wingittofreedom and inspired by several joking conversations with @perphesone @geordilaforge @butterfly-apocalypse @punkspockispunkrock  and @grumpybonesey

**

It’s a normal day on the Enterprise. Which, in the life of Jim Kirk, means that he is recovering from a disastrous mission and trying his best to stay awake in the captain’s chair.

Well, disastrous is a strong word. More like awkward. Nobody died and Kirk only came out of it with purple bruises around his neck and the haunting sensation of Spock’s hands choking the—

It wasn’t every day you saw your first officer go insane. And have him attack you in front of a landing party. An attack that included but was not limited to: choking, unfortunate rubbing of certain sensitive parts as Jim was pushed into the dirt, and the tearing of several articles of clothing that revealed a great deal more skin than any captain should show a security team. Or his first officer.

He sighs loudly, rubbing at the ghostly markings on his neck. Of course they’re gone, long healed by Bones and his judicious use of a tricorder, but he can’t shake this strange sensation of being held down, of pressure.

“Mr. Spock, readings please,” Jim asks, more to get his attention than anything.

“All systems normal,” Spock replies sounding a bit constipated. Jim really wishes he’d get over whatever’s making him so standoffish.

Their relationship had come so far in the last three years, going from working well together to having amazing discussions to playing chess and choosing to eat together in the mess. They’d become downright friendly.

The choking thing seems to have really thrown a spanner in the works.

Or maybe he knows how you feel , a little traitorous voice whispers in the back of his head.

What about it? he whispers back viciously and the voice shuts up.

So Jim spends the rest of an interminable shift staring longingly at the science console and pretending he isn’t, trying to give Spock supportive smiles whenever the Vulcan glances over.

Read the rest on Ao3

**

“Feeling hungry there Spock?” McCoy asks pausing the bite of his salad halfway to his mouth.

Jim looks over at the Vulcan’s tray and tried not to gape. It’s piled high with bread, applesauce, a gazillion vegetables and a large bowl of soup. “I do not think my culinary preferences were under your purview, Doctor,” Spock replies primly before tucking in.

“It is if you’re eating enough for a damn army,” McCoy shoots back. He jams the bite of salad into his mouth with more force than necessary, as if his aggression will somehow prove his point more effectively.

They eat in a silence only slightly more tense than Jim is comfortable with, but he gets it. McCoy is still pretty cranky that Spock tried to off the captain and Spock is still embarrassed about the whole thing. He had to spend a week in medbay while McCoy coaxed him down off his hormones. Or whatever it was that had made him go bananas.

Jim lets the whole interaction go but gives McCoy a strange look when he watches Spock replicate more bread, tucking it into his pockets before leaving the mess.

“What’s with that?’ Jim asks, pointing after Spock with his fork.

McCoy shrugs. “You’d know better than me.”

**

A crunching noise echoes through the bridge and the pause in everyone’s work is palpable in the silence that follows. Jim turns to Spock who looks back, wide-eyed, carrot halfway into his mouth.

“What are you doing, Commander?” Jim asks, biting back both a laugh and a reprimand. Eating on the bridge is generally frowned upon and Spock basically is the rulebook.

Spock swallowed. “My apologies, Captain. I am very...hungry.”

Laughter winning out, Jim nearly doubles over with it and eventually the whole bridge joins in. “I am glad you find the situation humorous,” Spock says archly, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry!” Jim manages between laughs. “It’s just—the look on your face—”

“Permission to leave the bridge, Captain,” Spock grates out, standing up with his hands folded behind his back. Several carrots fall from his pocket and plink onto the ground, ruining the effect of his severe expression.

And the laughter just won’t stop. Wiping at his eyes, Jim waves his hand, “Yes, dismissed. Make sure you get enough to eat before your next shift, Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock says before ducking down to collect his carrots.

An untimely snort comes from the helm and everyone holds their breath as Spock strides from the bridge. The minute the turbolift door snicks shut, they’re all in tears.

**

“Do you think Spock is sick?” Jim asks, fiddling with the antique scalpel Bones keeps on a shelf in medbay. Some sort of manifestation of his dark sense of humor.

“Don’t touch that,” Bones says, snatching it out of his hands. Which...fair. Jim can be clumsy on occasion.

Frowning, Jim takes his usual seat in McCoy’s office as the doctor settles into his own. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Think Spock is sick?”

Bones lets out a little ‘ah’ of understanding and leans back in his chair. “I don’t know. Hard to tell with a Vulcan. Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t you noticed he’s been eating a lot more?”

“What? Like the other day at lunch?”

Jim nods. “That and yesterday! He was eating on the bridge. Spock! Breaking a rule!”

“I mean a rule that doesn’t hurt anyone,” Bones points out, but when Jim gives him a dubious look he admits, “Yeah, you’re right. That wouldn’t matter to him.”

“Exactly! And then last night, we were supposed to meet and do our reports together and he spent the entire time eating almonds. The entire time! Three hours of almonds.”

McCoy rubs a thoughtful hand over his chin. “That doesn’t exactly sound like Spock. I could bring him in for an eval but you know as good as I do that Spock’s a bit of an anomaly. He’s hell to try to diagnose.”

“I know Bones. I’m just asking if you can check,” Jim asks, putting on his best pleading expression.

“Don’t give me that look, Jim. I said I’d do it.”

“Thanks, Bones!” Jim says brightly, hopping to his feet. “Let me know what you find out. I’ve got to run off to engineering, Scotty wanted my opinion on something. Still on for dinner?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Bones says on a sigh before Jim rushes from the room.

**

“Jim you should get down here,” Bones says through the comm on his wall.

Dropping the padd he’s reading, Jim sits up and replies, “What happened?”

“Just get your ass to medbay.”

While he would normally protest a bit more, Jim has a feeling this is about Spock so he tosses on his shirt and hustles down the corridors to medbay.

“What is it?” he asks, gripping the doors to McCoy’s office in an effort to calm his nerves.

“Spock,” Bones replies. “It was a hell of a thing. If he’s been eating as much as you say, it doesn’t make any sense. He’s lost fifteen pounds since he was last here. His hormones are all out of wack compared to baseline but he seemed confused as to why I’d even be concerned. Typical Vulcan nonsense.”

That did not sound good. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Bones says, throwing up his hands. “What do you normally do? Talk to the damn hobgoblin. Get him to say something .”

Jim decidedly does not like that option because actually talking to Spock about anything serious ultimately skirted the line of him confessing things he definitely didn’t want to confess. Like being in love with him. Or wanting to tear off his clothes.

“Fine. But know that I don’t want to,” Jim says with a scowl.

“How do you think I feel all the time?”

**

Stepping into Spock’s quarters, Jim is already feeling nervous about the conversation ahead. Will Spock open up or just snap at him to mind his own business? Both were equally likely.

He finds Spock at his desk, eating a plate of tomatoes and reading something on his terminal. Looking up at Kirk’s entrance, he puts down the fork. “Can I help you?”

“I talked to Bones today,” Kirk says by way of explanation.

“And? To what end?”

“He said you’re sick. Or at least not well ,” Jim says, coming up to the side of the desk.

“My current health is of no consequence. I have reached out to the healers on New Vulcan and they have given me a regimen to follow that will allow me to better manage my symptoms.”

“So you are sick!” Jim says, accusation clear in his tone.

“Sick is not an accurate description, Captain.”

Pursing his lips, Jim asks, “Was it what happened on Cignus?”

Spock’s hand clenches on his desk, a surefire sign that Jim is on the right track. “It was, wasn’t it? Did I hurt you? Were the hormone regulators not enough?”

“Jim, please,” Spock grates out, eyes closing briefly before fluttering open again. “My current status is related to Cignus however you are not at fault.”

“Well, then what is it? Let me help.”

Spock’s hard expression softens slightly and it makes Jim’s stomach swoop. It’s so rare, that expression and Jim treasures every one.

Spock stands and begins to pace on the far side of the room, clearly searching for the right words. He pauses and looks back at Jim. “You are correct. On Cignus, during our...altercation, the prolonged contact between our bodies resulted in a rare mental bond that when unfulfilled can manifest one of two symptoms.

“The first is perpetual arousal and the second is hunger of similar nature. While I have been spared the former, the latter symptom is what you have perceived and what has interfered with my duties on the Enterprise.”

Jim takes a moment to parse that little monologue—purposefully ignoring the concept of arousal in relation to Spock because, yeah, he didn’t need to go there—but the only response he can come up with is, “Bond? Aren’t those kind of a big deal?”

Spock looks a bit green but nods. “Indeed.”

“But one just—poof! Formed between us?”

“We are highly compatible individuals.”

And now it’s Jim’s turn to blush. “Right. Um, do you...so you’re sick because it’s unfulfilled? What does that mean?”

“It means, in simple terms, that I am bonded with you but you are not bonded with me—”

“Well, that’s easy. I’ll bond with you back and then you’ll be fine,” Jim says, happy to have found such an easy solution but Spock shakes his head.

“You do not understand. This bond is a lifetime commitment. Similar to human marriage. I cannot ask that of you.”

Jim’s heart starts to race at what that could possibly mean. “What if I’m ok with that?”

Spock looks down and says, “You do not owe me anything, Jim.”

Approaching Spock slowly, like one would approach a skittish cat, Jim wraps a tentative hand around Spock’s wrist. “It’s not about what you owe me. It’s about what I want.”

Spock’s eyes widen but he doesn’t pull away.

“What do you want?” Jim asks, searching Spock’s face for any sign of hesitation.

The answer is beautiful in its simplicity: “You.”

Jim can’t help grinning, a myriad of futures he previously thought impossible becoming possible. “Well, right back atcha, Mr. Spock.”

**

The next morning when they enter the bridge for alpha shift and Spock finds a little bag of baby carrots on the science console, Jim holds up his hands and says, “It wasn’t me!”

Spock gives him an unimpressed look, but slips the little bag into his pocket before taking to his station.

#gift fic #spirk #spirk fic #aos spirk #chauncey writes fic

[ellanainthetardis]

Finally the long awaited visitor ;)

[FF] or [ao3]

38. 11 Days

Effie loved bath time.

She liked making faces at April while she washed her, she liked the baby’s obvious delight at being in the green plastic bathtub… Her daughter’s favorite toy seemed to be the red fish. She was far too young and small to play with them yet but every time Effie made the fish slowly wave in front of her face, she could have sworn her eyes brightened.

“I love your laugh.” Haymitch’s voice said suddenly behind her. “I ever told you that?”

“You might have.” she hummed, flashing him a grin over her shoulder. The baby bathtub was inside the bathtub and she was kneeling next to it. She wrinkled her nose at April, still attentive that the baby didn’t slip further down the tub even if the risks were limited – all their material was top notch. “Look who is here… It’s your papa!”

Haymitch lowered himself on the floor next to her and smirked at the kid. “Look at that… A shrimp in water.” Effie smiled but covertly studied him. He had been under the weather for a few days now. She was trying to be discrete but, clearly, she was failing because he rolled his eyes at April. “Tell your mama to stop worrying about me, sweetheart.”

She pursed her lips, not quite amused. “How are the tremors today?”

He showed her his hand without giving a verbal answer. His fingers weren’t shaking as much as they had a few nights earlier but they weren’t exactly steady either. He had been avoiding carrying April, which meant she had the double of work and it was starting to take its toll on her body. She was tired and the fact that he hadn’t really been sleeping, added to their daughter’s frequent wailing for food, kept her up at night.

They had been doing well at first but now she was afraid they were headed toward the nightmarish period Johanna had described at length and Eileen had alluded to. Not enough sleep, too much laundry to do – because it was astonishing how much clothes a baby went through a day – general crankiness due to the fact their whole life revolved around a little human being, her body still recovering from childbirth… And worrying about Haymitch, it seemed. Plus the fact that she had to give her baby formula because she couldn’t produce enough milk.

Her mother had been sending boxes upon boxes of that, insisting that the brands in the Capitol were much healthier than the one in Twelve. Haymitch had seemed to agree. Effie had no opinion whatsoever, she would have liked it better if April had remained completely on the breast.

“And how is…” she hesitated, letting her sentence trail off. He didn’t like talking about his thirst for liquor. She had a feeling he viewed it as a weakness and he had never been able to deal very well with his own flaws. He felt guilty about it.

“I’m dealing.” he said, in a definitive tone. “I’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps, you should consult Doctor Larcher.” she suggested – not for the first time.

“He’s gonna ask if I want to go back on the pills.” he grumbled. “I don’t want the pills. I don’t need a treatment. I’m fine. It’s gonna go away in a couple of days. I won’t relapse.”

“I know.” she promised. “I know, Haymitch, but there is no reason to make this harder than it ought to be and…”

The doorbell rang, startling them both.

It was rare that anyone used it. People either knocked or came in uninvited, depending on their degree of acquaintance – the children, for instance, never bothered to announce themselves.

“Waiting for someone?” Haymitch frowned, propping himself on the edge of the bathtub to get up.

They heard the sound of the front door opening. Snowball suddenly barked twice and then audibly scampered up the stairs and to their bedroom.

Acting on instinct, Effie scooped April out of the tub, wrapped her in a towel and kept her close to her chest.

“Stay here.” Haymitch ordered her as he took a step toward the nursery only to come to a stop when a very familiar voice came from downstairs.

“Hello!” it sing-sang “Is anyone home?”

They exchanged a look.

Haymitch made a face. “Thought she wasn’t supposed to be here until Sunday?”

“Yes, well…” Effie winced. “We are in the nursery, Mother!”

She carefully toweled April and placed her on the changing table while the familiar clicking of heels came closer and closer. It explained why Snowball had fled though, the dog didn’t have much love for her mother who always wanted to have him dyed one color or another.

“Truly, Euphemia, you should not raise your voice in the house.” Elindra chided her as she came in, in all her glorious fashionable self. Effie was almost blinded by the shocking crimson hair and the yellow dress. “Is this April?”

Haymitch opened his mouth – and she just knew he was going to make a sarcastic comment about how they had kidnapped another baby to keep their daughter company – but he closed it very fast when Effie shot him a warning glare. He smirked. She glared harder.

Elindra distractedly kissed the air next to their cheeks and made a beeline for the baby. She leaned over April who didn’t seem to like the sudden looming menace. The baby started fussing, Haymitch tensed and Effie felt incredibly ill-at-ease when her mother’s long manicured faked nails gently poked their daughter in the stomach.  

Haymitch moved as if to snatch April away but seemed to remember his unsteady hands and tossed her a pleading glance. Effie was about to reach out when…

It had happened to both of them a few times already and they were mostly nonplussed by it now.

Elindra clearly wasn’t prepared for the spurt of pee that hit her square in the face.

She screamed at the same time as Haymitch started laughing so badly he had to hold his stomach. Effie felt the chuckles bubbling in her own throat but she quickly swallowed them back, taking Elindra’s place in front of the changing table when her mother stepped back.

It was stupid because she knew April was unharmed but she checked anyway, running her fingertips on the smooth skin of her tummy just to make sure.

“Stop laughing and help me, you horrid man!” Elindra screeched. Her mother was rubbing her hands against her face, making a mess of her make-up… It was too much for Effie who giggled, which only increased Haymitch’s hilarity and the Capitol’s ire. “Oh, yes, Euphemia. How funny. You daughter urinated on me. Please, do laugh your full.”

She bit down on her bottom lip and handed her the towel.

“My apologies, Mother.” she said, taking pain to sound sorry. “It can happen with a baby as I am sure you already know…”

“How would I know?” Elindra grumbled, clearly vexed. “Do you think I changed diapers perhaps? What are nannies for?”

“It’s mostly water.” Haymitch snickered, calming down a little. It warranted him a glare from her mother and he turned around to grab a baby outfit from the dresser. “You’re early.”

“And what a welcome party I get.” the Capitol retorted, clearly still not over that little mishap. “I could not wait anymore, I was too impatient. I left everything in Lyssa’s capable hands and boarded a train.”

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Effie asked, quickly putting a diaper on April to avoid further incidents. “You should have warned us, we would have come and get you at the station.”

“Well, I thought that given the press situation and your stance on publicity, it would be best to travel incognito…” her mother hesitated. “I do hope my coming early is not an imposition?”

It wasn’t really a question and Effie took the grey and pink romper from Haymitch with a fond smile.

“Not at all.” she hummed. “You are welcomed at any time.”

Haymitch coughed and she elbowed him in the stomach.

Elindra pursed her lips tight but pretended not to have understood what he meant. “My suitcases are downstairs if you would be so kind as to carry them to the inn, Haymitch?”

That wasn’t really a question either.  

Effie shot a worried look at his hands but he shrugged and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “I’ll get one of the kids to help.” he said in her ear and then leaned down to kiss April’s brow. “Behave for your Granny.”

Elindra emitted a horrified gasp.  

“Grandmother. Grandmother.” Effie’s mother corrected. “I will not be called… Granny. How undignified.”

“We’ll see.” Haymitch dismissed with a smirk that told Effie he would have his way in the end no matter how much scheming he would need to do.

She almost rolled her eyes and remembered at the last moment that it would only warrant her a lecture.

“I am happy to see you.” Effie offered hesitantly, once Haymitch had left the room.

She heard him whistle once, followed by the obedient paddling of Snowball. It was good that he was taking him out, the dog hadn’t been getting the right amount of exercise lately, neither of them could really afford the time off. She was desperate to start exercising herself but with Haymitch being unwell, she hadn’t dared leaving the house for a run in the morning.

“And I, you.” Elindra replied with a soft smile that quickly disappeared. “But enough effusions. Let me look at her now that she is not at risk of… doing messes on me. Really, there is no doubt who her father is.” Effie pursed her lips to hide her amusement. The comment had more to do with the pee incident than with April’s features, she figured. “She is rather lovely, isn’t she? Certainly much more than some of those babies they use for those commercials. Why, if you would audition her for…” Elindra abruptly fell silent. “Well, no, I suppose you would not.”

“I want her to have a normal childhood.” Effie snapped, a bit defensive. “I do not want her to feel as if she is not worth everything in the world. Rejection for a child…” She shook her head and smiled at her daughter who, probably sensing her uneasiness, had started fretting. “Let’s finish to get you ready, my darling… Then we can catch up with Granny.”

“Grandmother!” her mother hurried in correcting in the very same horrified tone she had used earlier. “Please, do not indulge him with this joke.”

Elindra excused herself to fix her make-up – and to salvage her outfit. Effie took her time making sure April was perfectly dressed, added a hat so she wouldn’t be too cold and gave her daughter a genuine smile once she was done.

“You are the most beautiful baby on the planet.” she informed her daughter very seriously. “Rather lovely.” She huffed. “Granny does not know anything about babies.”

April chirped as if in agreement.

Elindra had still to reappear by the time she had put the kettle to boil in the kitchen for some tea. April was almost done feeding when she finally came back, her make-up and her outfit pristine. Effie had no doubt that she would find her dressing table reorganized when she would walk upstairs.

“Good gracious!” her mother gasped when she walked in the kitchen. “Euphemia! Do you have do that here? How improper! Anyone could walk in.”

Effie was more amused by her reaction than anything. She was in her own house after all. She could breastfeed anywhere she felt like it.

“The children do not come around at this time usually.” she dismissed. “And if they did and stumbled upon something they would rather not see, then perhaps they will learn to knock.”

The number of times Katniss and Peeta had almost walked on she and Haymitch having sex…

“Still.” her mother insisted with a small frown, taking advantage of the kettle whistling to pour water into two mugs and adding bags of tea from the box abandoned on the counter, between a half empty box of formula and bottles that needed sterilizing. “You could make people uncomfortable.”

Effie held her tongue but thought no less. If she made people uncomfortable in her own house by feeding her own daughter, so be it.

April was done anyway and it wouldn’t be long before the baby fell back asleep.  She suggested they settled in the living-room.

“May I carry her?” Elindra asked when Effie stood up.

It was instinctive to cradle her daughter closer, to almost hunch over her as if to protect her from a threat… Her mother was so… Capitol. And Capitols and children…

Seeing Elindra outstretching her arms, ready to take her baby away…

She took a step back, blinking hard against the memories of crowds of thousands Capitols screaming for tributes, victors and escorts alike…

“Later, if you do not mind.” she denied, managing to keep her voice calmer than she had feared. “I do not want her to get unsettled before her nap.”

Her mother looked a bit hurt but she hid it behind a polite smile. “Of course.”

The atmosphere was a bit uncomfortable and she busied herself placing April in her basinet, making sure she had everything she needed – and fretting for no real good reason other than the hope Haymitch would come back. He didn’t, of course. She suspected he would hide at the children’s as long as he could bear to be parted from their daughter – which, based on previous experience, wouldn’t be much more than an hour or two.

“I will send you a lovely tea set.” Elindra said suddenly. “You cannot entertain with mugs. Cups and saucers are the proper way. Like I taught you.”

To diffuse the awkwardness, Effie picked up the stack of pictures she had yet to file away and handed them to her mother.

“April was only a few hours old on this one.” she explained.

It seemed to pacify Elindra a little. Effie commented each picture, providing an exact account of April’s first days. Katniss had been liberal in her use of the camera and there were numerous ones of Haymitch looking at April with compromising silly expressions.

“He is taken with her.” her mother remarked.

“It was love at first sight.” Effie snorted. “He was barely fazed by the fact she was a girl after all.” Her fingers automatically reached for the butterfly necklace that was resting on her collarbone. “He is an amazing father.”

Elindra was studying her without seeming to, in that way of hers that had always had Effie slightly on edge, ready to dodge a rebuke.

“You look well, Effie.” her mother observed. “You look… fully at ease with her.”

She sipped her tea slowly, to give herself time to consider how to answer. Hiding her feelings from her mother had always been a rule but lately they had made progress and while she wasn’t about to confide everything to Elindra… She felt that she could confide some things.

“It is… difficult sometimes.” she admitted.

“Motherhood is no walk in the park.” the Capitol triumphed, as if to tell her she had been wrong to blame her for failing at it.

“It is not motherhood I find hard.” she denied, a bit guarded now. “It is… No matter. Oh, look at this one. April’s first bottle!”

Haymitch looked so proud on that picture. Effie had been on the verge of tears all along but she had fought to keep a straight face, if only because he looked so happy to be able to feed her too. It had been what had reconciled her slightly to the idea of complementing breastfeeding with bottles: the fact that Haymitch clearly loved being more involved and being able to provide for their daughter too. Besides, April had gained enough weight in the last few days that Larcher had declared her cleared and freed of daily visits. They had regular appointments – because they were both paranoid – but their daughter was fine and in perfect health and it was all she could care about in the long run.

It took a long time for Elindra to look at the picture, her blue eyes lingered on her.

“Haymitch was young when he lost his parents, wasn’t he?” her mother asked, detached. “He inferred as much.”

“His father left a little after his brother was born.” she confirmed, feeling a bit guilty for discussing that. It wasn’t a secret exactly but… He was such a private man… “As for his mother and his little brother… Well, don’t you remember? The Capitol made it look like a big tragedy…” Elindra waved her hand to profess her ignorance. She had never really paid attention to the Quell victor. She had never liked Haymitch. She had been rooting for the girl from One and the fact that she had been so taken with the underdog had irritated her mother to no short extent. “He did not get to see his family again, they were dead when they sent him back to Twelve after his crowning.” she explained sadly, glancing toward the corridor to make sure he wouldn’t come back and walk in on that particular discussion. “There was a fire…”

“A fire?” Elindra repeated, her voice rising in horror. “What a terrible way to die!”

Effie shook his head.

“What he did in the arena… It was deemed too… Challenging. Seeking the limits of the arena, using the force field, probably choosing to hold his ally’s hand while she was dying…” She paused and let out a long sigh. “They punished him for that. The fire was his punishment. That and his girlfriend being executed for poaching.” Her gaze automatically turned to the bassinet where April was sleeping. “His family… They meant everything to him, you must understand. He was starving himself to feed them, risking to be whipped, taking tesseraes… And his girlfriend… He felt guilty about it. He still does to some extent. Their death broke him.”

It was rare for them to discuss the Capitol from before, too aware that they had been on opposite sides of the war. She had a new understanding of what Elindra had truly known about the state of the country though and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was one thing to support a tyrant out of ignorance – she could only relate given how blind she had been in the beginning – it was entirely another to support a tyrant with all the cards in one’s possession. Her mother had chosen to do what she had done to better protect her daughters, Effie understood but… She wasn’t sure it sat well with her all the same. She had suffered too much because of it.

“He looks mended to me.” Elindra ventured carefully, following Effie’s gaze to the sleeping baby. “He is no longer the wreck we used to see on TV…”

“That was mostly a role he played, you know.” she confessed. “So they would leave him alone. An unappealing victor was… preferable. He was too handsome. The drinking was no pretence but the way he behaved in public was, most of the time.”

Talking about that made her thought back to old times and it wasn’t exactly a good feeling. She finished her tea in a long mouthful and stood up, picking up random books that had been abandoned around and placing them back in their proper place on the bookshelf if only to have something to do with her hands.  

It felt like another life. One that they had left behind but that was looming still, waiting in the shadows to swallow them back. She knew they would never really stop being those people, the escort and the victor, but she wished… They forgot sometimes. They lived in their bubble in the Village, with the children and now April, and, to some extent, Twelve was a sort of bubble too. But the rest of the country would never let them forget and perhaps it was fair but perhaps it was not. There would always be women in the street abruptly crossing to the other side with their children when they saw her walking toward them, there would always be whispers behind her back and speculations about her pardon… And that was in Twelve where things were paradoxically tame, thanks to years spent there and her victors’ protection. Outside of that bubble… Outside it was sneers and insults and threats from both camps. Monster or traitor, those were her only options.

She blinked, willing those bad memories away.

“He is still sober, I trust?” Elindra asked politely, as if she was simply enquiring about the weather and not a sensitive subject.

Effie was thankful for it, for the varnish of upper class behavior that allowed them the pretense of discussing heavy things with a light tone. District people would never have understood that but, to her, it was a relief. It allowed her to stay detached, it allowed her the refuge of her masks.

“It is not always easy for him but I think he would move mountains for April.” she smiled, going around the room, picking up things and putting some order back, careful not to make too much noise so the baby wouldn’t wake up. “He has been struggling lately though. The attention the press gives us…”

She let that sentence trail, certain that her mother was aware of the situation. Serious newspapers had moved on to bigger things but gossip rags and trash TV channels were still all over their baby’s birth. It was all about the Abernathy girl. Some were nice and some were not. Everything to sell their stories, including reminding the whole country of her alleged crimes as an escort who had mysteriously been pardoned.

Plutarch, of course, was suddenly unreachable.

He had sent a card to congratulate them. Haymitch had crumpled it and tossed it in the bin.

“Do you know…” Elindra hummed, slowly taking a graceful sip of tea. “I still think there would have been better prospects for you out there but… I must admit it is a good match. He is not a bad man, your husband. A little crude perhaps but that is to be expected from a District person, I suppose. I do believe he will do his best to make right by you and the child though.”

“Of course, he will.” she scoffed. As if it was even a question.

“And hopefully you will balance out his natural coarseness with proper upbringing for the child.” her mother nodded, almost to herself. “I must admit… I must admit I find myself… warming up to him. Your father is certainly no stranger to that. Why, he is fonder of that man than he was of Rufus and yet Lyssa’s husband was…” She fell silent and clucked her tongue. “No matter. Suffice to say… I am glad to see you happy even if it is not the life I would have chosen for you.”

That was huge coming from her and Effie found her eyes burning with tears she hastily blinked away.

“Thank you, Mother.” she whispered.

Elindra dismissed that with an impatient wave of her hand, focusing on the stack of pictures once more, uncomfortable with demonstrations of affection that were genuine and not dramatic.

For a few minutes, Effie went on picking up bibs and baby stuff that had somehow invaded the living-room – and kicked Snowball’s toys back to his bed. She was so set on her sudden cleaning spree that she almost startled when Elindra spoke again.

“I met a man.”

She dropped everything she had in her arms in a cacophony of sounds and Aprils immediately wailed in protest.

And yet she stood there and stared at her mother, wide eyes.

To start with, she really didn’t want to know about that – she had long believed her parents had sought elsewhere what they couldn’t find within their marriage but she had always been happy not to ever think about that and since she had reunited with them they had looked almost… in love – as in love as they could be anyway – and…

Then, her mother sounded so serious that…

“Does Father know?” she asked, dread coiling in her belly.

Was that why Elindra had come earlier than planned? Had she and her father gotten in an argument about her extramarital affair? Were they going to get a divorce? Now? After more than forty years trapped in a loveless marriage? Was that new lover reason enough for them to split?

Her head was spinning.

She was so not ready for her parents to get a divorce.

People did not divorce in their social class.

It simply was not done without a huge scandal and…

“Of course, he does. He was actually eager to make his acquaintance.” Elindra mocked, placing her mug down on the table to walk to the bassinet. She shot her a curious glance but Effie was rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. Even when her mother bent down to pick up the child, she could only stare… “There, there… Ladies do not make fusses like this, little one.”

Obviously, it was the moment Haymitch chose to come back.

He froze on the room’s threshold but took the situation in stride. His grey eyes studied her for a second, from her tense attitude to the mess at her feet, and then darted to the baby. His whole stance changed in a flash, he went from casual to defensive.

It seemed the sight of their daughter in a Capitol’s arms wasn’t triggering only for her.

It was clear to her he struggled not to dash over and tear the baby away from Elindra.

Her mother remained blissfully unaware of the look that passed between them, too busy smiling at April. Until she wrinkled her nose, at least.

“She needs to be changed.” Elindra declared.

Haymitch was next to her in a heartbeat. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Effie asked.

He didn’t answer immediately but once April was safely in his arms, he nodded. “I’m good for now. I’ll call you if…” He glanced at Elindra and stopped, keeping his attention on her. “I’m good.”

And he had missed taking care of their daughter.

She trusted Haymitch to know his limits and, more importantly, not to endanger their child so she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. She crouched down to greet the dog who kept on nudging her leg with his head if only to keep a certain countenance.

She waited until he had left the room to clear her throat.

“Are you and Father… Are you separating?” she asked in a small frightened voice.

She had half a mind to rush to the phone and call Lyssa immediately.

Elindra blinked, her fake eyelashes so heavy it took almost a second for them to flutter back up. “Separating? What in Panem are you talking about, Euphemia?” Her mother sat back down on the couch, looking entirely puzzled. “Why, we have never been so close… And I do not mind telling you your father has not been sleeping in his own bedroom since…”

“Please!” she squeezed, mortified.

Her cheeks were crimson, she was sure, and she suddenly found the room unbelievably hot. She let go of Snowball to gather her hair in her hand and tie it up in a hasty bun on the top of her head.

It was starting to get too long, easily past her shoulders. Haymitch loved it but it was a hindrance and a few inches shorter wouldn’t hurt anyone. Going to a hairdresser was on her list of things to do when she could catch a breath.  

Elindra naturally eyed the new hairdo with distaste.

Effie didn’t care.

Compared to those unnecessary revelations, her hair was of little consequences.

Her parents had been using separate bedrooms as long as she could remember and she really didn’t want to know who slept where now and what it implied.

Then she thought she understood what her mother was saying and she blanched.

“Oh my… Are you and father and that man…” she exclaimed, her voice pitching an octave higher.

Elindra’s eyes widened. “What are you imagining?!”

“Bad things.” Effie winced, covering her face with her hands, ignoring the repetitive nudges Snowball gave her knee. “Things I never want to think about ever again.”

“Euphemia, you are utterly ridiculous!” her mother snapped, now slightly flushed herself. “How improper to even bring that up. Living here is doing no good to your manners. Come and sit down.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to but she took her place back on the couch. The dog immediately rested his head on her knees and she petted him absentmindedly.

“You said you met a man.” she said defensively. “It seemed…”

“Were I to be unfaithful to my husband I would hardly confide that fact to my daughter.” Elindra huffed. “Now hush and listen. Do you remember my close friend Ceecee?”

Her mother had hundreds of ‘close friends’ and Effie had met all of them at one point or another. Most of them had been useful contacts when she had been looking for sponsors – not that any of them had ever supported Twelve though.

“The novelist?” she chanced, having the vague image of a mildly successful woman with dyed blue skin in mind.

“Exactly, yes.” her mother confirmed. “Well, she is writing a new book and she is doing some research on post-traumatic stress, you see. She went to a seminar at the university and I offered to go with her. You can imagine how boring those things can be, I do not mind telling you she was glad for the company.”

“You went to a lecture on post-traumatic stress disorder…” Effie repeated, a bit confused by the direction the conversation was taking. “I do not…”

“Why, one of the speakers was that man I was telling you about.” Elindra cut her off – or rather went on without acknowledging that Effie had spoken at all. “A very nice Capitol young man, all things considered. He founded an association… You know how those people from the Districts and the government are… Or perhaps you do not since you have not been to the city in a while… Well, there is a strong feeling that Capitol voices are silenced and their part in the war dismissed. The ones who were on the rebels’ side, that is…”

Elindra was babbling fast, on a gossipy tone that hardly fit the subject, and Effie was having trouble making sense of it.

“An association for what?” she frowned.

“To bring awareness about Capitol citizens who have been imprisoned and tortured during the war.” her mother said, very fast. Effie tensed but before she could say anything more, Elindra continued. “He was a victim himself, you see. Although he does not like the term.”

“It is debasing.” she commented without really meaning to. “Victim. It is so… passive.”

There had been nothing passive about what had happened in those cells.

“Yes, that is, in essence, what he said.” her mother nodded, seemingly unperturbed by her sudden tension. “He was a spy or whatever the correct term is. He claimed to work for Plutarch Heavensbee as a source of information and he was captured a little after the arena exploded, just like you.”

Effie licked her lips. She focused on petting Snowball, her fingers shaking a little.

“Mother, I really do not think…” she said slowly.

“He gave an account of what had happened to him.” her mother insisted. “Ceecee had to step out. It was… very detailed.”

“Mother.” she insisted.

“He talked of whips and beatings and…” Elindra continued. Effie grabbed her wrist and she finally fell silent, her breath a bit short. When she looked at Effie, her eyes were lost and desperate. She looked her age suddenly despite the facelifts and the plastic surgeries. “Did I turn you away after they did those terrible things to you, Effie? Did I…”

Her mother’s voice broke and she was very afraid, all of sudden, that Elindra would start to cry. She had never seen her mother cry before. Never.

“It is alright.” she said and she was surprised to find that she meant it.

“No, it is not.” Elindra hissed. “The things the press prints about you… And they don’t know… They don’t…” Her mother shook her head. “The things that man described…”

“You should not have gone.” she sighed. “It upset you. You…”

“Upset me?” Elindra scowled. “What upsets me is that those butchers may have done the same to you. What upsets me is those scars you think I am not aware of.  What upsets me is that I failed you when you needed me. I did not know… I did not believe…”

“Mother.” she whispered, squeezing her wrist. “You couldn’t know. That was partly my fault, I could have told you.”

“You tried to.” her mother scoffed. “I did not want to listen. I was only preoccupied with finding a new ruling position in that new world. I was angry with you for siding with those District people, for openly being seen with that man…” She shook her head. “With Haymitch. I was…”

She hugged her.

Elindra was so shocked she stopped talking and stood rigid.

A second passed. Two…

Effie started to rethink her spontaneous move, the side hug was awkward enough that she felt stupid. She cleared her throat and started to let go… Only to find herself in her mother’s surprisingly tight – if a little hesitant – embrace. She breathed in the familiar smell of her cosmetics products, of the same expensive perfume Elindra had always worn, and a lump formed in her throat. She felt like a child again.

Hugs had been rare and short-lived but they had always been treasured.

She kept expecting her mother to collect herself and push her away but Elindra awkwardly freed her hair from the tie instead and combed the wild curls with her fingers.

“He said it was important to put words on what happened.” Elindra whispered after a while. “To not let it fester. Did you… Have you talked about it with someone? A professional, perhaps. Or…”

“I talk about it with Haymitch when I need to.” she muttered, feeling very strange.

The whole situation was strange. Her mother wasn’t the caring type and this right now… Whatever that man had said must have shaken her, she thought, enough that she had given up on a company event to cross the country.

“Good. Good.” Elindra nodded, a bit stern. “That man was not… I suppose he was not as important as you were. I… I imagine it was worse for you. I know you probably do not want to talk about it and I respect that, darling, but I need to know… I need to know… How bad was it? Because when you said  they had tortured you… I was horrified, naturally, but I do not think I quite realized… What that man said, you must understand…”

Her mother’s fingers were almost frantic in her hair, she tugged on knots and it hurt a little. Some pain was good though, it helped her ground herself, just as the smell did. It was on the smell of her perfume that she focused not to let the memories swallow her whole.

“I was not human anymore.” she mumbled. “They took my humanity away from me. I was just… a thing by the time Haymitch found me. Just a plaything. A toy for them to pass their frustration on. A dog.” She took a deep breath. “The physical pain wasn’t the worst. The worst was… being denied the right to be a person.”

“I see.” Elindra said.

She couldn’t see.

She couldn’t.

However, Effie didn’t dispute her that claim.

“I am glad you came.” she offered, more sincerely than she had when her mother had first showed up earlier. She doubted she had been to that lecture only to keep company to her friends, there were always hidden motives to Elindra Trinket’s actions. She was too much of a player for it to be otherwise.

“I am glad you let me.” Elindra snorted, in an uncharacteristic show of honesty.

Haymitch made a lot of noises coming down the stairs and Effie sat straighter. Elindra’s eyes were suspiciously shiny but a few flutters of her fake eyelashes remedied the situation. She immediately gushed over the baby when he carried April back in the room.

More surprisingly, Haymitch let her.

One look was enough for Effie to know he had heard most of if not the whole conversation. He glanced at the baby monitor on the fireplace’s mantle that was most likely on. She smiled to tell him she was alright. He still stayed close to her all evening. He made an obvious effort to be nicer to her mother and Elindra replied in kind. The children weren’t exactly thrilled to have her mother back in town but Katniss was polite enough and Peeta was his usual charming self.

All in all, it was a nice day.

Still, Effie was relieved when everyone left and she was able to collapse on the couch at the end of the day. She was even happier when Haymitch placed April on her knees and sat next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Snowball didn’t want to be left out and curled up on Haymitch’s other side.

It was perfect.

She played with April’s little hand for a while, happy every time her daughter closed her fist around her finger…

“When my father arrives… We should go out.” she suggested. “Have lunch at Sae’s maybe.”

“Sure.” he shrugged. “I’ll stay home with April.”

“No…” she sighed. “I mean all of us.” They hadn’t even used the pram yet despite the nice weather. “We cannot keep her locked in here forever. It is not fair. She needs to be introduced to the world.”

He didn’t shoot down the idea at once but she could tell he was reluctant.

“You know that means they might get pictures of her, yeah?” he asked. “It’s stupid to think they won’t try.”

“We will do our best to protect her face.” she promised. “But… I think it is something we will have to learn how to live with. She will grow up and it is equally stupid to hope they will get tired of talking about us. We cannot keep her a prisoner in the house just because…”

Her voice faltered.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “It’s not the same, sweetheart.”

“I know.” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I know but… I think it is time. I want to go out with my daughter, I do not want to be afraid anymore. We cannot let them make us afraid.”

“Worse comes to worse, I’m setting Katniss loose on them.” he warned. “A few arrows should keep them away…”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him, making sure April was still steady on her knees.

“Perhaps you should tell her to bring her bow…” she agreed. “That should be intimidating enough.”

“That’s a plan.”  he snorted. For a few minutes, they were silent and Effie’s eyelids started drooping. It startled her a little when he spoke. “You’re okay?”

She didn’t need to ask what he was talking about.

She took the time to think it over before nodding. “I think I am. It did not… It did not upset me, really. I was more upset that she was so upset.”

“She’s becoming alright.” he commented. “For a Capitol.”

“I think she is becoming alright for a mother.” she remarked. “I think… I think she really wants to try.”

“Yeah…” he nodded and then smirked at April because the conversation was a bit too serious for his tastes. “Hear that, shrimp? Granny’s becoming alright.”

“She will kill you if April calls her like that when she’s older.” she chuckled.

There was a twinkle in his eyes that told her everything she needed to know. “Bring it on, sweetheart.”

What else could she have done but kiss him?

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #april showers

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

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2.1

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3.2

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4.2

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5.1

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5.2

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6.1

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6.2

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capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

7.2

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8.1

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8.2

exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

9.1

stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

9.2

feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

10.1

install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

10.2

warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite