#because I cannot refrain from doing that while reading books anymore

[caterpillarinacave]

Just finished Clone Wars: Wild Space; it's full of CharactersTM in agony, would absolutely recommend.

[clairecrive]

“Burn” - Bane x reader [Requested]

A/N: this is for this anon. Thanks again for requesting! I missed writing for Bane.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2.5K

Taglist: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @sopxhiea, @shadow-of-wonder, @fandom--0verdose, @fuseburner, @kind-wolf, @innerpaperexpertcloud (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

The vastity of the night sky had always helped y/n ease her worries. Surely, whatever was bothering her couldn’t be as big and impossible to solve as she was making it out to be. Because, would you look at that? The universe is so big and we’re so small, so insignificant. and that applied to her problems too. 

At least that was what she always told herself whenever she’d feel lost and hopeless. Thinking this way helped her put things into perspective. And sure, not everything was as easily solved but, even in that case, it helped a bit.

And so here they were, she and Bane were laying down staring up at the starry sky. Sometimes, they would spend it in silence, just enjoying the warmth and comfort the other’s body would bring. Others, like this one, they would easily fall into conversations about everything and nothing.

“Was there someone special in your life? Someone you wish to get back to?”

“You mean, romantically?”

He nodded.

“No. Single for life.” She did a peace sign to lighten up her embarrassment but Bane was curious and did not pay it any mind.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never given your heart to anyone?”

“Well, if you put it that way I have to change my answer to yes. Being in a relationship with someone and giving someone your heart are two wholly different things.”

“Let me rephrase then. Have you ever been in love?”

She really thought about the answer, her mind going back to any romantic involvement she might have had during her life. Even if she scouted her memories, she found that it wasn’t a yes or no question.

“I guess,” not only was the word she chose explicative of her indecision but the tentative tone of her voice left no doubts as to where she was standing. But Bane was confused, to say the least.

“I’ve always been under the impression that love was one of those things where absolute certainty was involved when it came to its presence or absence.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I have had mostly one-sided crushes, you know?” she started but Bane could see the faraway look in her eyes and knew that she had more to tell but was lacking the right words. So he waited.

“I said ‘I guess’ because I don’t really know what love is. I mean, everyone has a different take on it depending on their experiences but I don’t think I’ve ever felt it,” she paused turning to meet his eyes, “once there was a guy I strongly had feelings for. Even that was one-sided though and it took me a long time to recover from that because he was my best friend at the time. Looking back to it, I guess it was love or the closest thing to it that I’ve ever felt for someone. It hasn’t happened again though so I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“Maybe it wasn’t love, just deep infatuation. Or maybe I just confused my love for him as a friend for something more. I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out when I fall in love with someone else. “ She concluded and refrained from correcting that when with if. she couldn’t see herself being as lucky as to have someone that cared about her and that loved her in the future. But Bane didn’t need to know that.

Turns out that those unspoken words had become a sort of oracle, ‘cause here they were now, years after they had that conversation. Just when she thought that she had found that one person to share her life with, to give her heart to, life quickly come into play letting her know that that wasn’t the case.

Because the man that had saved her from a destiny worse than death, who had given her hope and made her trust him to the point where she had felt safe enough to open up to him and allow him close to her heart, had now shattered whatever remained of it.

"So let me get this straight, first you save my life than you decide to keep me with you so you basically kidnap me, get me to fall in love with you, put me through an insanely difficult training so that I could stay with you but it was all done in vain because now you’re  sending me away?"

"I'm not sending you away but you cannot stay here anymore. I’m doing this for you."

"And why is that? What changed?" and when Bane stayed silent she added, "what happened to 'I want you always' ?"

"I did not lie to you." His words were in striking contrast to the ones he had said before but y/n had learned to read him and could tell that this time he was not lying. But then the question naturally arises, what's really going on?

Nothing out of order had happened in the last few days. Bane and she had been the same as always, even his work had proceeded as usual. So what was it? What was she not thinking about? What was she not seeing?

Letting her mind go back through the last day to fat check that nothing happened, she went through their actions. Light breakfast together followed by a not so light tête à tête then they trained together until he had to deal with something for his work and she had occupied herself otherwise. She had called him to see when she could get dinner started and he said that he had a meeting with Talia first but had come right after. They had dinner and while they consumed their healthy and perfectly balanced meal she shared with him whatever came to her mind while he ate in silence. See, nothing out of order.

Wait a minute...

He went to meet Talia.

"It's her, isn't it?" Suddenly, everything was clear. She knew what had happened, what had changed. And she sneered at the pull Talia had on him. Suddenly, she understood but at the same time, the last year lost its meaning.

"I just wish I realized earlier that you didn't care about me as much as you said you did," turning she went to her cabinet to get her stuff, "I wouldn't have put myself through so much otherwise." 

Nodding, she knew what she had to do. She had to leave. There was no reason to stay. Resolute and defeated she put everything her eyes fell on that was hers in a little bag. Clothes, lingerie, cosmetics, books. But when her eyes landed on the little box where she kept everything connected to him, her heart broke further and her anger was fueled. 

In there, there was every present Bane ever gave her. Every little thing that made her think of him in some way. The letters he wrote her whenever spoken words failed him. She knew that going through its content would equal to a chronology of their relationship. If it was possible her heart broke even more. Everything she did to stay with him, everything he did to keep her now was all vain. She gave up so much for him, for a man. Her former self would be ashamed of her and knew that her heartbreak was contributing to making her feel something akin to that. 

"Here," she said walking where he was standing, "take this. I don't want it anymore," and she threw it at his feet. The only acknowledgement on his part was a tilt of his head but it wasn't needed. He knew what it was and what she kept inside of it. He felt a pang in his heart but kept his face void of any emotion. 

"I'll want you always," she said mocking his voice, still stuffing stuff in her bag and chuckled with mirth, "what a load of bullshit." 

"Actually," stilling for a second, with a shirt cramped in her fist she faced him, "I am the biggest clown between us because I believed you." retrying her stuffing, shaking her head she added in a whisper, "I should have known better," but Bane heard. 

As soon as he decided on this course of action, he had also prepared for her reaction. He knew her well and so far she hadn't done anything that he hadn't expected. And while he had been ready, he couldn't help but feel hurt by her words. He knew how she was looking at this situation, knew that his words had led her to believe it to be so. At the same time, a little part of him wished for her to oppose to his words, to see right through them and see that he was lying. That he had been honest when he had told her those things, he had opened up to her and meant everything. But knew that she was too lost to rage and hurt to think clearly. And it was also the reason why she was acting up and had thrown the box on the floor. He knew that she deeply cared about it and what it meant to her. He almost thought of offering some kind of comfort, to give her some hint about what was really going on. But knew that it would be unfair to her. After all, he was doing for the sake of her safety.

“You know,” her voice brought him back and his eyes were immediately drawn to her, “isn’t it funny how you man always pride yourselves to be strong and all that bullshit when even someone like you, who’s the epitome of masculinity and strength, at the end is totally subjected to a woman?” 

They would always have this kind of conversation. Bane, being a leader of a huge army, had the tendency to be bossy. Even in situations when it wasn’t needed. It was just who he was and he felt the need to remind her of his alfa status an unnecessary lot of times. While she could enjoy this inclination of his when they were in bed, she definitely couldn’t stand it in their everyday life. And now, it made her feel stupid that she had to put with it and learn how to deal with it but when it came to Talia, he just did whatever she told him to. Also, this changed her consideration of him. What a clown. She had tried to warn him about his rather toxic relationship with Talia but he’d always get angry and dismiss the conversation either by leaving or shouting at her. She could remember their last fight about it like it was yesterday. It was also the first time that she had ever doubted her relationship with him. The first time that she had thought that maybe she had made a mistake by staying with him, by falling in love with him. Maybe she should have left as soon as she had rescued her. It wasn’t for the motive of their fight, neither her jealousy and worry about his relationship with Talia, but it had all to do with what he shouted her in rage that made her blood run cold and her heart shatter. For it was said that angry and drunk people were the more honest ones. And since that moment she couldn’t help but wonder if he really thought what he said to her or if it was just an impulse propelled by anger as he had explained.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have saved you.” 

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he decided to twist the knife further.

“I told you not to fall in love with me.”

As if one could choose who they fell for, she remembers thinking.

Those words still haunted her to this day. It happened a while ago and Bane had made it up to her, mostly. But it was in situations like this that they would come back and mock her for even forgiving him and thinking that he loved her as she loved him. To think that even a small part of him thought that it was best that he had left her to suffer in the hands of a sex abuser until he would have eventually tired of her and killed made her sick. How could anyone say something like that to another human being? One they presumedly loved? She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Bane had then explained that by that he didn’t mean leaving her with her captor but simply bring her with him and keeping her with him. Despite the fact that his explanation made sense, y/n still didn’t think it made things better.

And as for his second statement, it went mostly unmentioned. 

Sure, that had been something he had told her in the beginning. It was after her training required them to spend most of their days together since he wanted to attend to it personally. Y/n knew that being in the military and with his past, it wasn’t easy for Bane to show emotions let alone let someone close enough to him to allow himself to love them. She understood that. She had a few things she was dealing with that made it difficult for her to entertain the idea of something more between them.

But that was almost a year ago. So much had happened in their life and between them that even though the words were not spoken aloud, she felt the shift in both their behaviours when it came to them. Hell, they even started dating. 

Not that any of them labelled it that way. But that was beside the point.

They slept together, they ate together every meal, they lived together. If there was a band on both their left ring fingers and it was a more conventional setting, people would assume they were married. 

While y/n didn’t like thinking about what they had in that way, she surely considered the commitment they had made to each other equivalent to a marriage. 

She hadn’t considered Talia though. 

Or at least, she had hoped that if she ever would try and come between them, Bane would stand up for her. 

Turns out that she really was foolish.

“Whatever, I guess it’s not my problem anymore.” Giving him her back again, she closed the almost full bag and went to put on some shoes and coat. 

“I don’t have any use for it, you should take it with you.”

“Neither have I. Burn it, see if I care.” 

And with that, y/n turned around and walked out of their shared apartment at last.

It hurt to say the words, it hurt that things had ended to abruptly, it hurt that even after all this time he didn’t care about her, it hurt like hell but y/n was resolute in leaving all of this behind her. Yes, it wasn’t going to be easy and maybe it would be like leaving a hot fire trail behind her but at one point the fire would burn out, wouldn’t t? 

It may take a while but she would be okay,

[perlen-gold]

Storm Night

“I am not good at talking about how I feel.” said Fenris once.

Ordinarily it is not the rain that arouses Hawke. He was not awake to witness the birth of the storm, far away from the shallow piers of Kirkwall, across the heaving and hungry sea. After hours of silent hunting, dark and looming clouds have entrapped the aspiring stone buildings of men.

The rain gushes down in endless silvery streams, chasing any four-legged or upright stranglers mercilessly into desperate shelter. Violently, a myriad of furious drops besiege the quivering glass in the windows, its irate cadence ceaselessly drowning out the occasional crackling of the fireplace. For a brief moment the bed room is plunged in an uncanny flash of dazzling light. The columns of the four-poster bed flinch, ghosts briefly awaken upon the seashell white bed sheet. Above gloomy curtains shudder in trepidation as the searing white lightning strikes once, twice, thrice. The skies over Kirkwall are illuminated in wraithlike shadows full of clouded hunters and rumbling beasts, washed over by the piercing of light, and felled in forlorn battle by thunder and bolt.

In the blink of an eye, Hawke’s eye, amber-colored and wide awake, the short-tempered light disperses into the night.

The smell of fresh, hard rain mixed with the herb burn of the dance in the fireside that shelters the bedroom under-fire from the feud outside is nearly palpable. Once more the keen blade of light strikes and transforms the hunters into warriors and the warriors into tombs for the fallen and demised, cleaving through the stormy night.

That which usually rudely awakes Hawke from sleep is neither hunter nor tomb; a kick, unexpected and painful in the lulling reverie of slumber; a sudden stroke hitting some uncovered part of his body that leaves his knee, his thigh, his shoulder, his ribs a bruised mark as purple as ripe plums; an entangling wrench yanking imprisoning feather and fabric away; and sounds, sounds, sounds, muffled, leashed, involuntary, sounds seared in Hawke’s mind.

This night is different, though.

When he wakes up, thunder forces his eyelids fly open. He lies still and he knows something is wrong.

He looks around, searches. That which wakes him this night is the slashing of the relentless rain and the cold spot on the soft mattress beside Hawke.

After a short moment of blessed silence as the storm outside gathers its strength for the next oncoming assault, Hawke sits up and swings his feet to the dry carpeted floor. It is this bare patch on the bed beside him, bereft of any body’s warmth, that has imprinted itself upon his dormant consciousness.

On bare feet he walks out of the room, along the ghostly dark corridor.  Beyond the stalwart stone walls of the Amell estate dark and light continue to lash out at each other as sundered lovers. Listening to the weeping skies Hawke remembers Carver’s wide-stricken eyes and how he swallowed his own boyhood tears for his brother’s and sister’s sake during a similar night. So big a house sunken in a darkness so impenetrable, it is impossible for Hawke to judge whether he has been roused in the middle of the night or at the cusp of dawn and day.

Wrapped in the clattering sound of the endless rain he passes the stairs, two closed doors, the kitchen till a flicker of faintly orange light piques his interest hidden amidst shelves of books.

In bad nights, Hawke will resolutely grip Fenris shoulders in order to shake him awake from his violent thrashing. In good nights, observing his twitching jaw muscles, Hawke wraps his arms around Fenris’waist, cradling him, bringing him close to his chest so he can breath softly into his ear, easing him out of his sleep just to the verge of awakening.

On those nights that are worst, Hawke will wake to a cold bed and find Fenris swigging down abundant-flavored wine from dark bottles. During these nights, Hawke joins him. They drink, they talk about other things while Hawke laughs and smiles and mounts guard over the distant look in Fenris’ wakeful eyes. Then, occasionally, out of the blue, Fenris might blurt out some mutinous memento, granted by his former life under the unyielding Tevinter sun, that leaves Hawke unsmiling and Fenris with bitterness or – worse still – with a callous shrug.

“And here I thought you hated reading.”

In this particular night Hawke finds Fenris hunched over a book in the lone flame of a single candle. He could illume the lamps and torches in the library without so much as a flicker of his fingers but he refrains from doing so. Instead, he pulls up a plain wooden chair and sits opposite Fenris, elbow on the abraded tabletop, one side of his scratchy face in his hand.

“Why?” Fenris retorts brusquely.

Hawke cannot help but smile in remembrance.

“Because last time I tried to teach you, you ended up flinging my poor book aside with the result that it was crouching in a corner quivering from spine to edge. I have not seen it since. It is probably in hiding by now.”

Fenris’ even brow patterns into struggling concentration.

“It is easy enough for you to taunt. I expected you were going to teach me reading but the sole thing you do is unnerve me with your constant correcting and scoffing.”

“And here I thought you liked my dallying.”

On other nights Fenris might look at him, his eyes alight with that dark spring green glare that there dwells perpetually, till a sudden smile flickers across his curling lips. Tonight, he does not give in to his bait, though. There is an edge in Fenris’ voice that is not often prevalent, not when they are quite alone like this. Hawke strains towards it without Fenris’ notice.

The drum of tempest-tossed rain falls upon their ears. Hawke feels his smile grow softer.  

“Maybe you are just a dreadful student.”

“Maybe you are just a dreadful teacher, Hawke.”

A chuckle rises from Hawke’s chest, light and amused.

“I probably am.”

He can see Fenris’ skin is still damp on the undersides of his arms and the nape of his neck.

The deluging torrent is not as loud here but its unyielding tremor splashing the rooftop unforgettable.

Fenris leans back, his elbows raised, his hands abruptly restless on his thighs. With a sweep of the flickering candle flame all his riposting ire seems gone all of a sudden.

“I was a fool to believe I could learn a skill like this.”

Fenris does not raise his gaze when Hawke stands and comes round the table. He draws his chair to Fenris’ side, sitting next to him. Thunder anew rumbles in the invisible night as Hawke clasps Fenris’ right hand. He does so gingerly, with the slightest hint of tarrying deference just before their fingers touch as if to see whether Fenris’ hand will move away, ever so slightly.

After dipping it into blue-black ink he threads a gray-blue quill between Fenris’ almond-colored fingers (a griffon plume, ostensible, when it was actually taken out of a phoenix’ reluctant plumage.)

With great care, slowly, deliberately, the feather tip scratches in high curves and narrow prongs over the mottled sheet of parchment. The scraping sound seems to echo among the endless shelves of books even under the voices of the thunderstorm. Long after the scratching has stopped Fenris keeps staring at the straight arcs and meandering lines in blue-black colors. Brows lowered in reflective toil his fingertips brush over the barely dried lines, smearing them at the outer edges.

“What does it say?” requests he.

Indicatively Hawke’s index finger passes from inky character to character, pronouncing each consonant and vowel with great care. Once he has reached the final letter, the last shred of reluctance is brushed away of Fenris’ expression.  Superseded by a diffident smile that he is not yet poised to evince.

“Show me yours.” he asks, half plea, half demand.

Once more Hawke guides his hand over the torn piece of parchment, tip grazing, ink fanning out as a peacock indigo feathers.

“H,” he pronounces softly but sumptuously, “A. W …”

Again, Fenris gazes at the finished name for quite a long time before he begins writing it down slowly, painstakingly, yet perfectly, unaided. Twice he then writes his own name before switching the quill from his right to his left hand. Gradually, the letters, first bristle, become more fluid with increasing pace.

Arms folded, Hawke leans back and watches Fenris practice. First copying down the portrait of their names, secondly each letter individually, then rearranging them hesitantly and strained-eyed until new words are being born, the characters pronounced meaning suddenly becoming easier with each line. Soon there is not an inch of crammed parchment left to pen on and Hawke produces a whole new sheet from his writing desk while the storm outside howls and prowls with strenuous menace.

Quite abruptly the ink-gleaming letters, bearing a childlike quality, loose their fierce focus. The subsequent line swerves out of line, then steadies, but the next does, too, and the one after that. Then the trembling begins.

At first it is only his hand, though Fenris keeps writing, writing their names, teeth gritted.

Mere seconds later the shaking has befallen his fingers, his legs, his shoulders hunched into his chest. His whole frame shudders under the shivering grip, as iron as his own grip on the quill.

Hawke has stood up.

Soon Fenris’ clammy hand cannot clutch the quill anymore. It falls, twisting itself out of his quavering grasp, dark spots of ink spraying everyway.

Few futile attempts later he stops altogether.

Hawke is standing behind his chair when it starts. With slow movements he wraps his arms loosely around his shoulders. He does not count the minutes, muss less the seconds.

Somewhen and somewhere Hawke feels Fenris startlingly cold hand on the side of his face, fingers cradling his charcoal black beard.

Rivulets of time run by.

Then Fenris picks the quill up again.

Leaning into the gentle touch Hawke lowers his weary head and rests his chin atop the crown of Fenris’ head, char stubbles shaving ebony shocks of white hair. By experience, Hawke knows better than to waste any words on that which has just happened.

So silence remains.

As Fenris finishes his next word it gives the impression of an even more childish scrawling.

Softly Hawke reads the letters aloud, feeling the fine strands of pearly white hair rubbing between his beard. “Garrett” Then, quieter, “where did you pick that one up?”

“It was stitched onto the insides of one of your shirts you gave me.”

Hawke feels a smile capturing his lips, first small, then warm and filling.

“Fenris?”

“Yes.”

“Come”, he whispers and takes his hand into his, the one that has the scarlet scarf slung about its wrist, leading him back to the warm shelter of the room of their bedroom.

Beyond the drop-gleaming windows the undying rain has lost its edge and grown somewhat quieter, enough to transmute into a deceiving semblance of repose. Back in the wide four-poster bed  they arrange for sleep in the same fashion they adopt each evening, night after night. Hawke lies on his back in the not-so-exact middle of the soft mattress, Fenris at his side, half-spread, half-outflung across Hawke’s chest, one long sharp-ended ear bedded against Hawke’s shoulder, collarbone, heart. As twisted as they might move during sleep – entangled into the warm blankets so one of them has to yank it back from under the other’s body – warped and tousled, on their sides, backs, sprawled on their stomachs – Hawke’s nose may be pitched by Fenris adamant fingers to stop his occasional but insistent snoring, his limps loose with sleep – however slumber may let them wander apart, this is the irrevocable way they settle for sleep.

Fenris’ ear near Hawke’s heart where he can harken its steady, willful beat.

Hawke knows Fenris can hear its wordless, confessing avowals for he can hear Fenris’ equally, a little  arrhythmic heartbeat through his hand on the elf’s back, the answer creeping up the arm he has slung around him.

“I am not good at talking about how I feel.” said Fenris once.

This ineptness is an inevitable part of the man beside him as is the color of his eye or skin and Fenris can no more shed it than he could change the length of his limps or stop the breathing in his lungs.

“I like this.”

“What? This?” Hawke pulls him closer in merriment.

“I like this kind of weather.”

Astonished Hawke listens to the rataplan of the rain. No lightening forks the dark martial skies outside anymore save for a distant rumbling afar.

“Bethany,” Hawke remembers, still startled, “liked storms, too.”

Suddenly, Fenris straightens up and with one swift, vigorous motion he pulls Hawke out of the sheets intentionally.

Out of the bedroom into the hall he is dragged by the elf whose strength is as unsettling as ever. Hawke, no weakling himself and impressively built, once probed the silver-bladed sword (Fenris cherished nearly as much as Varric did Bianca) for several minutes and strained to fathom how Fenris could bear running around with it all day long without having his tendons and ligaments reattached afterwards. How he commiserates and dotes on this brutality of his.

“Oh,” Hawke groans, irony and grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I am not going to like this.”

Down the shadowy stairs, through the unlit foyer, up to the storm-pondered font gate and, in an instant, gushes of rain and wind wash over their faces.  

The moment they leave the safety of the house Fenris opens his grasp on Hawke’s hand but the impulse of his powerful motion propels Hawke forward right into the battle ground of the storm. Before he can blink he is soaked to the skin.

Side by side they stand in the sheath of glassy rain, barefooted, barely closed.

Before them the skies are ashore with waves of gloomy clouds. The ever-raging warrior thunder, lightening his merciless blazing blade, is aloud with booming vengeance here and fighting the skies and the earths alike.

A stroke of electrifying light from afar paints the streets and walls of Kirkwall in sharp relieve, a miniscule, insignificant thorp cowering at the feet of blue and gray and black mountains awash by breaking, spuming , spraying waves of stormy sea.

Water streams down the sides of Hawke’s face, filling the tiny spaces between his seeping beard stubbles. Angry winds gush and billow.

Endless rivulets of rain, sapid with the aroma of the wounded skies, flow in streams along the inside of Hawke’s palms, cascade forward from his slack fingertips.  

Hawke closes his eyes.

In he breathes the taste of the thunder and the light, inhaling the raining waters.

All four of their naked, bare feet are engulfed by ankle-deep flows of water.

“Maker’s breath,” Hawke exclaims in a sudden mad fit of laughter, “how can you stand this all day long?”

Since there is no answer, lost in the grace of nature, Hawke finally opens his eyes.

Fenris’ face is only a blur in the embrace of the rains. Winds tear at the strangely pearly white hair glued to his cheeks. Innumerable drops of gleaming water are falling upon the cobbled streets from his naked arms, his pointed ears, the tip of his nose.

So fierce are the winds that their sheer physical strength all but overthrows them – even so, Fenris’ slender shape towers among them indomitable.  His elven face may be blurred by the spray of the gush and rain, his deep green emerald eyes, however, glitter with the rage of the roaring warrior and his blazing blade.

Once again the skies are cast alight and Fenris face flashed, his eyes lit as by a fire within.

Sometimes Hawke wishes he would simply start crying.

He is stepping towards Hawke.

Hawke is giving him a wet smile that he cannot hear through the chaos. His eyes are fixed with studying one single silver bead among a plethora which is running down along his curved neck and disperses wetly into his the well of his collarbone.

“We will both be stone-cold dead by the end of the night.”  

Thirst-ridden Fenris’ eyes blazing virid eyes find his, and his hard mouth, arms entwining around Hawke’s neck, finds his and is pressing against his lips tasting of rain and the aroma of his caramel-shaded skin. Hawke grasps him, savors him not heeding the chatty gossip that might burst from a prying eye behind the dark rain-stained windows around them – who would anyway?

“I am not good at talking about how I feel.” said Fenris once.

In the peach-colored rays of morning light when the horizon will be skewed with skeins of tangerine, Hawke will sleepily wave away Orana’s considerate knock at the door and her regardful eyes peering from behind the bedroom door announcing that breakfast is ready, and Hawke will feel inclined, as ever, to cover Fenris’ long elven ears lest he might give him that glare that brings Hawke to consider a tremendous pay raise each time he does so. Soon, Orana will be wealthier than half of his Hightown neighbors.

For now, however, they trip and splash back inside leaving wet footmarks all over the floor and carpets. Long after drying each other with nowhere near enough towels, the window aglow with firelight reviving honey and daffodil and gold beads, they fall back to sleep, hearts pounding, skins resting, as they always do.

There might and will be many a nightmare in the gloomy nights to come.

But for now, for the remaining fragment of this one short, storm-shaken night, Fenris eases peacefully in his arms.

[chaotic-noceur]

pedro boys + IKEA headcanons

warnings: swearing, food, javi’s has one line of suggestive content

a/n: so this is what happens when you put @din-damn-djarin  @ezrasarm and I in a group chat together when two of us are bored and one of us has just been to IKEA... enjoy! (We had too much fun writing this)

Din Djarin

Agreed to do it because it sounded like a cute couples activity

But then you actually do it 

He can’t get his gloved fingers in between the creases

The Allen key keeps falling out of his hand

He can’t see anything through the bucket on his head

He storms off eventually saying he’ll fix it later

He comes back to find you sitting amongst the scattered mess

Yodito’s in your lap, turning the Allen key with surprising ease

Din swears he’s cheating with the Force

Don’t get him started on the actual trip

You drop Yodito off at the kiddies playground thing

Din goes running back not even 5 minutes later because he is sTrEsSeD™

You lose Yodito in the maze anyways

Several times

Din loses 10 years of life every time he realises

But he keeps showing up in empty flower pots

...and levitating stuffed animals into the cart

Din doesn’t have the heart to put them back

You get back to the ship with a bag full of toys

Din swears you are never going back there again

But when he realises you didn’t actually get everything you needed

He refrains from slamming his head into the nearest wall

☾☾☾☾☾

Ezra

Is indifferent about the actual shopping part

Loves spending time with you though so he will go anywhere you take him

Is personally offended that the books in the showroom are props

Throws an excessive amount of scented candles into the cart

*deep inhale*

“Ezra. Babe. WE DO NOT NEED MORE WE ALREADY HAVE 20”

“But this one smells like ‘afternoon escape’, we need it”

Will ramble about the “dire importance” of this candle until you give in

Knows exactly how everything should fit together

But “I CAN’T DO IT WITH ONE ARM GODDAMNIT”

*hurls the Allen key across the pod*

Takes to hovering over your shoulder as you assemble it

Makes everything more complicated with his fancy vocabulary

You’re getting annoyed but he can’t help it

“No that goes there” “The other way”

“DO IT YOURSELF THEN SINCE YOU KNOW EVERYTHING”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips

The teasing smile on his face drops instantly

You’re stuttering out an apology before either of you can move

“I- I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” He giggles 

This time you’re the one who wants to chuck an Allen key…

...At his head

“You should’ve seen your face!”

☾☾☾☾☾

Frankie Morales

Going to IKEA with Frankie turns into an entire day trip

He refuses to let you leave until you get meatballs

It takes you 3 hours to get to the checkout

Because he gets distracted by everything

“Come feel this bath mat!”

“Do we need new knives?”

You try out every piece of furniture in the showroom

He doesn’t let you touch the tape measure because “it keeps giving me paper cuts”

You end up buying twice as much stuff as you originally planned on getting

Insists that everything will fit in his truck 

It does...barely (but only if you end up sitting on one of the boxes...no one has to know)

Swears that he doesn’t need help carrying anything

You step in when you see him dragging a box through the door, clearly labelled ‘fragile’

He’s good with his hands so he loves building it

It’s like therapy for him

If he’s in a good mood, he tosses the instructions out because “I can fly a helicopter and shoot a target a mile away. I don’t need instructions.”

10 minutes later, he’s digging through the garbage looking for it

He tries to pretend he’s just emptying the garbage bin

But you see right through him and hold the crumbled sheet up with the biggest smirk on your face

☾☾☾☾☾

Javier Peña

Does not have time for this bullshit

Hates the concept of IKEA

“Who turns a furniture store into a fucking maze?!”

Is complaining the whole time about how you don’t need new furniture

“Your couch cushions are basically two layers of fabric.”

Wants it to magically assemble itself

“I paid 60 dollars for this and it isn’t even built?!”

But also refuses to let you touch anything 

Loses his patience in 0.5 seconds

But would rather be shot dead than read the instruction manual

“I take down entire drug cartels for a living. I can build a fucking couch.”

Spoiler alert: He cannot.

“Get these out of here” *instructions go flying out the window*

“How did you lose all the spare screws?!” “I’ll give you a spare screw” he grumbles

You both wind up binge eating pepparkaka (IKEA ginger snaps) on the floor shamefully because you couldn’t figure out how to put the legs on your chairs

You also may have called Steve to help

Steve can’t stop laughing at your pathetic attempts

Until he tries it

He ends up calling Connie

She gets the whole thing done in 10 minutes flat

☾☾☾☾☾

Marcus Pike

Loves the idea of building IKEA furniture with you

Because he thinks it’s the boyfriend-ly thing to do

He insists that he knows what he’s doing

But in reality, he hasn’t got the foggiest clue what’s going on

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY PIECES?!”

“tHeRe aRe nO wOrDs iN tHe iNsTrUcTiOnS?!”

He also has no spatial awareness which means not only can he not figure out how the pieces fit together, but he also keeps tripping over everything

He just about wiped out on a piece of cardboard

“How are you an FBI agent?! You have no stealth whatsoever!”

You try really hard not to laugh when he can’t figure out why the Allan key won’t fit

(He was using it backwards)

“They trust you with a gun?!”

Eventually you can’t stand watching him struggle anymore 

You delegate him to DJ-ing while you take over

It takes you hours to assemble what should have taken you half an hour at most

But you’re not even mad about it

You’re having too much fun

He won’t stop dancing around you like a dork to ABBA 

(Which isn’t distracting at all)

☾☾☾☾☾

Oberyn Martell

Would not be caught dead building IKEA furniture

He has people to do that for him

“We don’t need more furniture Dove”

Refuses to entertain the thought of going to IKEA

“IKEA could not compete with Dorne’s craftsmen”

You end up sneaking out with Ellaria

Ellaria is on ‘distract Oberyn’ duty while you assemble the chair as quickly as possible

He figures out something is going on when Ellaria does everything imaginable to stop him from leaving

He’s not complaining but his curiosity has peaked and he will not be kept in the dark about the events taking place in his own castle

You hurl the newly assembled chair across the room when the door flies open

It splinters apart on impact with the floor

He’s smirking at you from the doorway

“I did warn you my love”

A week later, Dorne’s best craftsman is going head to head with you, Ellaria and another box of IKEA furniture

The entirety of the royal staff are watching as the competition unfolds

They’ve placed bets on who would win

You and Ellaria work seamlessly to assemble your “pathetic excuse for furniture”

He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find it a little attractive

You both refuse to talk to him for a week when he picks the Dornish furniture

☾☾☾☾☾

Whiskey

Loves going IKEA shopping with you

You make your first trip a few weeks after moving in together

You’re just putting plates into the cart when he freezes

Images of your future together start falling into place in his mind and he panics

He never thought he’d find something like this again… not after his late wife

This is real now

“Earth to Jack,” you call, waving your hand in front of his face

When you ask him what’s wrong, he chokes out a ‘nothing’

You don’t push it, he’ll tell you when he’s ready

He burns the instructions as soon as you get home

“Darling, I’m part of a secret intelligence agency. I can handle a few nuts and bolts.”

He lives to regret that statement as soon as he lays out all the pieces

But he’s too stubborn to ask for help

You can tell he has no idea what he’s doing but you go along with it

You hand him misnamed parts and tools when he asks for them and you breakdown cardboard boxes when he tosses them carelessly to the side

The radio’s playing in the background but neither of you are paying it any attention

Three hours pass before he proudly presents his masterpiece to you

“See that wasn’t so ba-“

It collapses to pieces the moment he tosses the Allen key he had been using on top of it triumphantly

He swears he’s reading every single word diagram next time

You’re dozing off in his arm on the mattress on the floor (the bed frame in a dozen unassembled pieces around you) when he tells you he loves you for the first time

“I love you too.”

[floraone]

So, September is coming up, and with it smutember, and we’re doing it again! (At least I hope you’re with me, lol).

Just like last year, it runs alongside to the official daily word prompts on the official smutember blog: Smutember is an event that runs all throughout September for all fandoms. The following is meant as an addition, not a replacement. If you want to do daily prompts, please use the official words prompts (linked above). However, since daily prompts can be a bit intimidating (especially for a fandom corner that’s 25+ years old like ours and people in it have busy lives), as the resident smut advocate in our fandom, I again customized an alternative that can still incorporate the official themes.

Just like last year, down below you have a list of TROPE AND THEME PROMPTS. They’re a remix of sorts of last year’s tropes, with some you’ve seen before and some new ones, meant to spark a variety of ideas. The idea is that with these you can post once (or twice) per week instead of daily.

Be it for fanart or fanfic or any other sort of fanwork, tropes can be combined, (and they can be combined with the daily themes too), whatever floats your boat. Also, specifically: This event isn’t Usamamo-centric only. I will reblog any Sailor Moon content of any pairing as long as it follows the rules! (See below)

The aim of this event is to create sex-positive content together that celebrates a healthy depiction of consentual sexuality. Erotic fanfiction is a beautiful art, especially in a fandom of ours so largely cultivated by women and for women, as well as a strong inclusive focus on queer and gender-queer content and their creators!

What’s new: I’m taking a page out of the mini-bang’s impressive book, and when smutember is over, I will compile all entries that followed the rules into an online-only e-zine! This also means that art that may be too explicit for tumblr can still be included in the e-zine!

Here are the weekly trope challenges:

Reinvent a trope!

WEEK 1 (September 1st - 7th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Reunion Sex 🍋 Sex Fails 🍋 Second Chance Sex 🍋 You Talk In Your Sleep 🍋 Unresolved Sexual Tension 🍋 New Old Flame 🍋 Go Seduce My Archnemesis 🍋 Bedsharing 🍋 Sex with the Ex/Break-Up Sex 🍋 In Public 

WEEK 2 (September 8th - 14th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Make-Up Sex 🍋 Battle Couple 🍋 Mission Sex 🍋 Work-Out Sex 🍋 Accidental Pervert 🍋 Bathing/Shower 🍋 Pool/Onsen 🍋 Sexual Fantasies 🍋 Blind Date 🍋 Aroused By Your____ (pick a feature) 

WEEK 3 (September 15th - 21st): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Established Relationship 🍋 “Thank God We’re Alive” 🍋 Caught In The Act 🍋 First Times 🍋 Introduction By Hook-Up 🍋 Pining 🍋 Locked In Together In A Small Space/ Trapped Together 🍋 Huddling For Warmth 🍋 Socially Distanced Sex 🍋 Stupid Sexy Friend 🍋 Caught In The Rain 🍋 Living Food Platter/Eating Off You 🍋 Shunga

WEEK 4 (September 22nd - 30th): Pick 1 or 2

🍋 Mutual Masturbation 🍋 Awkward/Clumsy Sex 🍋 Oh Crap There’s Fanfic Of Us 🍋 Talking In Bed 🍋 Fidelity Test 🍋 Fake-NOT-Dating 🍋 Mindlink 🍋 Sex Games 🍋 Tinder 🍋 Blackout/Quarantine/Disaster Warning/Weathering The Storm

RULES

1. Rating: These fics don’t necessarily need to be M or, in the case of Ao3, E- rated. Obviously, they are very, very welcome to be explicit for this event, but you can also go T-rated and stay in lime or ‘blacked out’-territory if you’re uncomfortable with writing explicit scenes! Both is perfectly and absolutely welcome! This of course also goes for fanart - your fanart may depict sexy scenes, but does NOT have to be explicit! (It can, though! Be aware that for tumblr’s guidelines, when sharing your art first, you may have to clip your images as a sort of preview. The original can then be sent to me privately to include into the e-zine!) 2. Minimum Age of Characters: Since this is a community event, if you do go explicit M rated material: age them up where necessary! So that everyone can be comfortable writing and reading these, let them be 18 at the minimum if they’re going to openly and explicitly wohoo. (16-17 is the global average age of consent worldwide, and also the average age for first sex among girls in many western countries. However, since most fanfic readers are located in the US, where the age of consent is 18, we’re going with 18 so that everyone can be comfortable reading!) If you go for canon fics at a time they are below this age, where you do not want to age up (say you’re going for an episode fix!) please stay in T territory for this event. 3. Off limits: Depictions of sexual acts that contain harmful, violent and non-consenting behaviour with non-consenting individuals (or those that aren’t able to consent, for instance because of their age, or state of mind among else!). If it doesn’t fly by law or the ICD in real life, please refrain from depicting it in the context of this event. This means that dubcon and noncon will not be reblogged for the event, so that people can be safely consuming the content without being triggered. All content will be screened in this regard, and I may contact you regarding trigger warnings. This is not at all to censor content, or that this content is in any form less valid (as long as it is properly tagged and not including characters that aren’t of age), but simply to ensure a safe environment for everyone reading. 4. Tag your triggers. Except the aforementioned limitation of harmful content, nothing is off limits. Explore your kinks! But if you write something that might be offensive to your readers, please tag it. This is ALSO a good way for your readers to find exactly what they ARE looking for! On Ao3 this can be done directly on the fic tags, for FF fics and fic links you can do it here on Tumblr via the fic post tags or in ANs. This is in consideration of your readers. 5. You can obviously post art for this event too. All previous rules apply here, as well. Unfortunately, Tumblr is now against tasteful nudity. That doesn’t mean you can’t link to a deviant art or similar account though, should you want to. And, since this year will include an e-zine at the end of it, all art will still be included fully in it. Here too, please tag your triggers. If you still want to post art on Tumblr, choose a T rated image - clip them where needed, or keep them (semi-)clothed, show us a heated kiss, etc! (Obviously we would love ALL the art and the nude body is a beautiful, wonderful thing, but obviously Tumblr doesn’t agree with us anymore!) 6. Have fun! Celebrate sexuality in an open, sex-positive way with us, try to be unapologetic about your likes while you write this, and appreciate the beauty that comes in the form of content with a largely female-gazing creator-base and audience! Smut in fanfiction has been beautifully put as the subjectification of sexuality (as opposed to  objectification). So let’s celebrate this art form together! 7. Reviews: No one is forced to review. It can be uncomfortable to review a fic that contains sexual acts for any number of always valid reasons. Keep in mind, however, that much like a Burlesque dancer on stage, putting out sexual content can also be very intimidating to an author, and nothing is more discouraging than silence when baring yourself to an audience like this. That being said: Both Ao3 and FF have the option to review in anon mode. That means you have the option to remain anonymous while cheering the author on all the same. Just like the Burlesque dancer, your resident smut authors prefer to go on stage to loud cheering - it makes it all less awkward for them, and feels a little more like a big celebration!

If you’re unsure what sex positivity entails and want to read up, I wrote a post about it here.

This event is not supposed to cause harm. This means that I will screen all content before I reblog it here, and include it in the e-zine. So that everyone of age can feel safe reading the fanworks in the event, dubcon and noncon will not be reblogged and included in the e-zine, and accurate tagging and content warning will be watched. This does NOT MEAN that you cannot post this material: your own desire to write it and someone else’s desire to explicitly read this material are valid. I do not entitle myself to censor. It just means it will not be reblogged and shared through the event so that everyone may feel safe to read to the best of my ability. (But, of course, remember that I, too, might be biased, and not discover subtle forms of it, either. We’re all, in the end, a product of our upbringing and society, and I cannot be completely unbiased.)

During the event, I will be posting all Sailor Moon Smutember contributions in this format on my blog if you @ me to the post.

The official hashtag for the event is #smutember2020 hosted by the official smutember blog. Using it helps people find the content who search for it as well as those who wish to block it!

[with-love-anu]

A Real Date

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Remus and you have been best friends since forever and he asks you for help on his date

Warnings: Swearing maybe?

Word Count: 2,188

Remus and you had become friends in the first year at Hogwarts. The two of you were paired for the Potions project and had just clicked. The two of you spent hours discussing your favorite books and TV shows. You complimented his nerdy and savage personality. Everyone in the group knew that even though you two were the quietest, teacher’s model students, you were in fact the most mischievous and had the best prank ideas. The two of you would be seen sassing James and Sirius for being stupid or commentating on fights under your breaths, giggling and laughing.

It hadn’t come easy of course. You had come to know about Remus's lycantrophy in the 2nd year. You were really tired that day and had fallen asleep in the library. Coming back, you followed Madam Promfey, who took Remus to the whomping willow. Sitting there, you had slowly placed all the pieces together. You had sneaked into the infirmary at dawn, falling asleep beside Remus. When he had woken up, he had refused to look at you in the eye no matter how much you said it was okay or that you didn’t care. And you had shouted at him, breaking down.

“REMUS JOHN LUPIN!!! You better stop whatever tantrum you are throwing, because I was awake all night, listening to your growls,” you sniffed as your eyes watered. “Thinking what you must be going through, wishing to somehow take away your pain,” you started to cry as Remus desperately tried reach out to you.

“Then I saw you all bloodied, bandaged up and all I could was stare! I hated it. I hate it so damn much. I hate knowing that you have to go through such terrible things and I could do nothing about it. And then you refuse to meet my eyes and decide you don’t want to be my friend anymore. Well, guess what Lupin? You are bloody stuck with me whether you want it or not. I-“ you were stopped as Remus pulled you to his chest shushing you and rubbing a hand over your back.

When you pulled away, you saw Remus crying too.

Something changed after that. Remus started seeing you as the person who would be there for him no matter what. It warmed him and gave him the confidence to speak around you without any hesitation.

As years passed, your friendship only strengthened. It was only since the previous year, that you had started to like him. It had started simply, wanting to rest your head on his shoulder, drinking in his scent whenever he was close, needing him beside you almost every single moment, hating when people came way too close to him. You first thought that maybe it was because you were his best friend. But then, you found yourself staring at him, his brown eyes which were full of mirth making him look like a young boy. And you gasped in realization. You really liked him. Your stomach fluttered and your heart beat increased whenever he would loop an arm around you. You couldn’t tell him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to say those words. What if Remus never liked you back? You couldn’t possibly let your friendship drown in flames.

You were sitting on the couch in front of the fire place with a book. You heard Remus, Sirius and James enter the room. You gave them a smile. The boys came to sit around you.

“(Y/n). Always reading.” Sirius said taking your book looking at the cover.

“Hey!” you protested.

“Well, we do have some interesting news, we are sure you would love to hear” James said wriggling his eyebrows. Remus blushed beside you.

“Uh-uh, and what would that be?” you asked smiling.

“Remus got a date.” he said. Your eyes widened as you did your best to mask your expression. He got a date?

“Oh. And with whom?” you forced a smile and pretended to be interested.

“Sara. Sara Glom. The Hufflepuff in our year.” Sirius quipped.

“She’s a nice girl, always helping others.” You said looking at Remus. He looked pained somehow.

“Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” he gritted out. You coerced yourself to nod and smile.

The topics changed as you all talked about your day. You felt yourself zoom out of the conversation going on. Remus liked Sara. He never dated anyone before. He must really like her. The thought made your guts wrench. He would never like you. Why? What was about her that wasn’t in you? Why couldn’t Remus notice you?

You didn’t notice when Sirius and James left. Remus sat beside you looking into the fire. You cleared your throat.

“So Sara, huh?” you asked. Apparently you loved to torture yourself.

“Yeah.” He said looking at you giving a small smile. You hugged your legs placing your head on your knees.

“You’re look tired; go to sleep.” Remus said softly.

“I have to do the potions homework.” You pouted.

“You work way too hard. You need rest too.” Remus advised.

“I really need to up my Potions’ score. I haven’t yet perfected the Golpalott's Third Law is covered in class.” You said glumly.

“I could help you.” Remus said immediately.

“Really?” you asked hopefully. Remus was an excellent teacher. He would study for himself and tutor others too. By the end of the day he would be so exhausted that he would just drop into his bed and sleep immediately. Sirius, James and you had convinced him to drop two tuitions so he could at least get time to breathe.

“Yes, come on!”

Remus and you spend the next hour cuddled against each other as he cleared each of your doubts about the theory.

“So what’s the 3rd law?” Remus asked.

“The Law says that the antidote for a blended poison cannot simply be created by finding the antidotes to each separate poison in the blended whole and mixing them together.” You said in one breath.

“Atta girl!” Remus said smiling and you couldn’t help but release a sigh.

You looked at Remus whose face looked golden from the fire. He had dark circles under his eyes but the sparkle was still there. You did not know when you came so close, you could feel his breath on your face. You blushed and turned away realizing what you were doing.

“It’s late I should go.” You said softly.

“Yeah. Good night.” Remus gulped.

“Thank you for helping me, Remus you really are the best! Good night.” You said leaving Remus frustrated. He got up and stomped to his dorm.

Sirius and James smirked on seeing him, a knowing look on their faces.

“So?” James asked.

Remus sighed sitting on his bed.

“We studied. I cleared her doubts” He groaned.

“What?!? We leave you alone for an hour and that’s what you do? Come on, Remus, you saw her face when we mentioned Sara. Why didn’t you make a move?” Sirius asked.

“I don’t know, I chickened out after she said that Sara was a nice girl.” Remus said burying his head in a pillow.

“She always talks nice about everyone. Even snivellous, even though all he has ever been is rude to her. What are you not telling us?” Sirius asked narrowing his eyes.

Remus gulped and grimaced. James noticed it and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, we… we may have had a moment and she abruptly turned and left the room.” Remus said waiting for their reactions.

“What!?! That’s amazing!” Sirius said.

“How is that amazing?” Remus frowned. James rolled his eyes.

“Mate, you’re more oblivious than Sirius.” James said wrapping an arm around him earning a smack from Sirius. “Ow. Okay, we know she’s shy. She probably thinks you are going out with Sara and therefore left. Why in hell did you not confess then?”

“Well, forgive me for thinking she didn’t like me and therefore left.” Remus sighed. Everyone remained quiet for a while.

“Remus.” Sirius said with widened eyes. “Ask her to kiss you.”

“What?!?” Remus spat.

“Well, we know you have never kissed before so tell her you are really insecure and want to make sure it isn’t that bad. She would deny it until she spills the real reason why she couldn’t do it!” Sirius said.

“You are an idiot.” Remus said pointedly.

“Mate, it’s the only way.” James said. “She is oblivious to all your flirting, moves, and you are so shy that you couldn’t possibly utter ‘Will you go on a date with me? A real date.’”

“This is so gonna end up in shit.” Remus said as he fell on his bed with a plop.

***

Remus and you were studying in your room.

“(Y/n).”

“Yeah?” you asked turning.

“Umm… I know it’s a lot to ask for, but Sara and I are going out today.” Remus said slowly. Your eyes crinkled at the mention of Sara’s name.

“Okay?” you asked unsure what you were supposed to do.

“Ihaven’treallykissedanyonebeforesoI’mreallyinsecurecouldyoupleasetellmeI’mnotthatbad?”

“Wait what?” you narrowed your eyes. Remus gulped.

“I haven’t kissed anyone before and I don’t want to make a fool of myself so could you please please help me out?”

Your head zoomed at his words. You blinked. He wanted to kiss you so it isn’t bad with Sara? You stomach clenched and you felt queasy.

“You want to kiss me to help with your date?” you asked in a low voice.

Remus nodded slowly.

“Why me?” you asked feeling your heart break into a million pieces.

“Because you are the only one I feel comfortable with.” Remus whispered.

You let out a forced smile. Of course you were the only person he was comfortable with, just not comfortable enough to give you a chance to be his girlfriend.

“Okay.”

“What?!?” Remus squeaked, shocked at your reaction.

“Okay, kiss me.”

Remus gulped. This was not how it was supposed to go. You kept looking at him waiting. His head boomed. He moved forward looking at your lips. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and he refrained a groan. Was he really going to kiss you? His heart thumped out of his chest as he leaned in. He could feel your warm breath against his lips and he pushed his lips against yours. He moved them against your soft plump ones feeling light headed. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as he cupped your cheeks. As you both pulled away breathless from the kiss you looked at each other. You dug your nails into your palms to stop the tears from falling.

“Sara would be an idiot to let you go.” You said somehow keeping your voice from breaking and left the room.

As Remus sat back on your bed he replayed what happened moments ago. Tears fell down his cheeks thinking he ruined it. He finally ruined his friendship with you. Why couldn’t he just tell you, he liked you? Even if you didn’t like him back, he was sure it would have been better than this. He stood up abruptly wanting to make it right. Rushing to his room, he pulled out the map trying to find where you were.

***

You sat in the little enclave petting your cat, sobbing.

“And you know what’s worse, Ms Whiskers? I kissed him. Knowing he would kiss Sara today. He used me. I don’t what I’ll do! I love Remus, always have. Maybe not in the same way before. But now more than ever. It hurts. It hurts so so much. It’s not even like I am invisible, it would be so much better that way. If Remus didn’t notice me at all. The fact is I am painfully visible, he knows me and admires me. It hurts waiting for a boy who would never love me back.”

“What if he does love you back?” a voice came and you turned to see Remus. You quickly wiped your tears.

“Why aren’t you on your date?” you sniffed. Your head pounded guessing how much he heard.

“I realized something.” Remus stated. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You let out a sigh leaning into his touch.

“What?” you whispered. Remus swiped his thumb over your cheeks wiping your tears.

“That Sara’s not you. No one else could ever compare to you. You are the only person I see. You are the only one whom my desires are limited to. You’re the first person my eyes flick to. And you’re the only one I want to kiss.” He said before leaning in and kissing you. You melted under his touch. Your head felt like a kite swimming over the clouds. His mouth moved along yours fervently, passionately, like he was dying without you.

As you pulled away you blinked and let out a small laugh.

“I’m so sorry I made you cry. Go on a date with me. A real one. Let me make it up to you” Remus asked holding your hands, kissing the knuckles.

“I would love to.” You said before leaning in and kissing him again.

A/N: This was written for the lovely anon. Here is the request. I think I should tell you, why I deviated from it. I take Remus is someone who wouldn’t date anyone until he really knows them, and the scenario ‘I couldn’t kiss her’ was a little unlikely to happen. I would however love if you tell me whether you liked my version of your story :)))

[thatonecurlygirl]

Biology of Billy Hargrove [11]

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Billy x Reader Word Count: 1.7k Warning: none Read more: Biology of Billy Hargrove Masterlist

“Language!” Your father yells, peeking his head out of the front door.

“Sorry,” You drop your head, watching your feet as you walk back to the door, stopping before you walk in and turning to Max. You open your mouth, but before you say anything you shake your head and walk inside closing the door tightly behind you.

“What’s going on young lady?” Dad asks, eyebrows raised and arms folded across his chest. “I’ve never heard you use words like that.”

“Just frustrated and tired, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I doubt that,” He chuckles, “Just watch what you say around your mother, you know how she gets.” His eyes widen dramatically as he pats your shoulder and walks past you.

Your parents are polar opposites and most days you wonder how in the world they have been together. Your dad is laid back and goofy, and always was, as he would say ‘the class clown of Hawkins High’ which your mother would agree was a fact and likely holds the record. Your dad is also a hard-working business man outside of the home. He is basically an older, male version of his sister, Lottie.

Your mother is kind, but no-nonsense woman with a love of literature and sewing, which is probably where you got your determination for doing well in classes and love for reading. Your parents purchased an old video store in which they turned into a bookstore that your mother has been managing for the past four years. You normally work there during the summers to help out, but once you graduate, you’ve agreed to take over the bookstore as she has grown tired of it. She is the kind of mother that would sing lullabies and bake cupcakes for your class, but would also ground you for a week for getting a ‘C��� on a spelling test. She would set up beautiful parties for your birthday, but leave someone else to watch over you and your friends.

“…Y/n?” Your dad’s voice calls out from behind you.

“Yeah?” You turn to face him.

“You having trouble with that Hargrove kid?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Kind of, but it’s nothing that I cannot handle.” You shrug it off. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You let me know if you need me to…” He draws his finger across his throat as he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

“You’ll have to get in line behind Gary and Lottie.”

“Hey, I’m your dad, I think I deserve first in line.” He playfully boxes the air.

“I love you, Dad.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“I love you too, kiddo.” His deep chuckles vibrate his chest. “Now you better go make sure you have everything together for school tomorrow.”

***

At school the next day you are walking the hallways with Angie, books held tight to your chest as the two of you walk to your class together. She’s going on about her boyfriend, Joseph, who moved an hour away for college and how he is going to be back in town this week as college classes had just ended for the summer. She’s ecstatic because they actually get to spend some quality time together, especially with the school year coming to an end in a week and a half.

“…And his cousin Davey, the hot one, is going to be staying with him for a week or two and Joe said Davey thinks you’re cute. You should go to Vickie’s party with Davey on Wednesday.” Angie rambles.

“Wait, Angie is having a party in the middle of the week?” You ask, confused.

“Oh, yeah! Thursday is senior skip day. You think your mom’ll let you skip?”

“Mom would rather walk through hell in heels before she lets me skip school after being suspended.” You scoff. “I may be able to get away with going to the party and work something out with Dad, he’d understand.”

“I would die if you couldn’t!” Angie says dramatically.

“Angela, we are in English not theatre, please tone it down and take your seat.” Mr. Jordan glares over the thick brim of his glasses.

“Tone it down and take your seat. Blah, blah, blah.” She mocks him under her breath as the two of you walk to your normal seats.

The class slowly fills and right before the bell signals the start of class, Billy strolls in smirk playing across his face eating up all the attention from being back to school after being suspended. The popular, empty-headed girls warmly welcome him, calling him to a spot they save especially for him. As he stalks up to them, he glances over at you, face unreadable. It feels like the two of you are caught in a staring battle before one of the girls break it by grabbing Billy by the shirt and pulling him into the seat next to her.

“What was that about?” Angie leans across the aisle and whispers.

“I told you we aren’t on the best of terms right now. He’s just trying to intimidate me.” You open up your book.

“Y/n, that wasn’t a ‘fuck you’ look, but a ‘I want to fuck you’ look.” Angie nudges you, eyebrows raised.

“Whatever.” You scoff quietly.

“Y/n, you’ve just returned to school after your lengthy suspension, is being in my class today an issue?” Mr. Jordan call out in front of the class.

“No, sir.” You shake your head.

“And I trust you can act like a proper lady in the class room and keep quiet?” He looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Yes, sir.” You say simple, biting your tongue in order to refrain from calling him out for talking to you like that.

“Thank you.” He smirks, turning back to the chalkboard.

With your head ducked like a scolded puppy, you glance over at Angie who mouths a guilty ‘sorry’ and you catch Billy looking at you, small smirk playing at his lips. You want to smack that smirk right off his devilishly handsome face. You want to not think he is so handsome, that his lips are so soft and kissable. You sigh, looking back at the chalkboard and your teacher accepting the idea that today is going to suck.

Class continues per usual, Mr. Jordan going on about whatever the hell he is talking about, normally you’d be paying attention, eating up every bit of knowledge that comes from his mouth, but you find yourself zoning out, staring down at your hands and just letting the world continue without you, until Angie nudges you with wide eyes, nodding toward the front of the class.

“Please bring your brain back to Earth, Ms. Y/L/N. Also if I could have you and Mr. Hargrove speak with me after class, I have some things to discuss.” Mr Jordan says with that normal sour-look on his face.

“Yes, Mr. Jordan. My apologies.” You nod, tucking your hands under the desk and tuning into what he is saying, despite the fact that it’s just going through one ear and out the other.

When the bell rings you hang back, slowly gathering your things and standing up to walk to Mr. Jordan’s desk in the front once everyone has filed out and to their next class. Billy slowly swaggers over, a look of disinterest on his face and a subtle glare at you before Mr. Jordan speaks.

“I received your final project while the two of you were out suspended. You had another week to work on it are you sure you are ready for it to be graded?” He asks.

“Yes sir, we worked hard on the project while we were out and I made sure to triple-check it before turning it in.” You nod, refusing to look at Billy as you hold your books close.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure I spoke with you and give you the opportunity before moving forward. Another thing I wanted to mention is the fact that the two of you were suspended and now you are at school, make sure your brains are on the work and not each other.”

“Sir, I know I was a little distracted today, but it has nothing to do with Mr. Hargrove.” You defend yourself, but Billy stays quiet.

“Please, Ms. Y/L/N, I am not a fool.” He shakes his head and nods to the door. “The two of you received a 96% on the project. Now I will see you both here and mentally ready for class tomorrow.”

“Absolutely, thank you!” You smile wide and turn, exiting the class.

“Absolutely, thank you.” Billy mocks after the two of you make it into the hallway. “Why are you avoiding me Y/L/N?”

“Oh no stupid nickname? Why the hell have you been avoiding me, Hargrove?” You whip around, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.

“What gives you that idea?” He chuckles, leaning against some lockers.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe playing drag race on our street every time you see me. Can’t get away from me quick enough? It doesn’t matter anyway, we have no reason that we need to associate with each other anymore so don’t worry about it.” You go to turn around but he catches you by the arm.

“What are you doing Wednesday?” He asks in a low, sultry voice.

“Besides school, I have plans and you aren’t part of it. The only reason I talked to you that day in the first place was because Max asked me to. I was civil with you because we had a project together-”

“Is that what you call making out and wearing my clothes?” He cuts you off.

“I have no desire to speak with you about this anymore or at all. So fuck completely off.” You turn around so quickly you’re surprised that you didn’t give yourself whiplash and march over to Angie who is waiting at your locker, eyes wide.

“Well shit.” She says astonished.

“Tell Davey I’m excited to see him again.” You shove your books in your locker and slam it closed before walking to your next class.

_. _. _. _. _._. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. _. 

Taglist: @xicarcalii @dacremontgomerylover @super-strange-sons @dontxfearxthereaper @magicwithaknife @asheseiler @admiralsixx @chims-kookies @ashleymarieriffle @cynthianokamaria @gingertalksshit @weyheyavengers @queenemoscene @charmed-asylum @katiexdacre @devilslittlebabygirl @xxemoluverxx @nooneshappy @loud-binch @naiomiwinchester @hurricane-abigail @speedmetalqueen @softsleepyeyes @lady1505 @jjlizz @pedrosdoll @booswrites @kingkenzieo

[love-bean]

Spectacular - Part 2

good morning/afternoon/evening! here is part 2 because i am anxious about getting it out there. note: i don’t own the bridgerton characters. the only ones i own are the ones i made up. so without further ado!

wk: 1734

-o-o-o-o-o-

Anastasia spent the next weeks in her mourning period, and intended to continue to do so until one year had passed, but her brothers had other plans.

“Anastasia,” Andrew said as they sat in the drawing room one afternoon.

“Yes, brother?” she replied, not glancing up from her book.

“Do you plan to attend this season with us?”

She furrowed her eyebrows and squared her face toward him. “Why would I?”

“You should get out of the house,” Arthur suggested. “Socialize a bit.”

“I have socialized. I see Eloise Bridgerton every week,” she pointed out.

“You will have to see other people eventually,” Augustus said, joining his brothers in their argument with their sister.

“I do not wish to see anyone else at the present.”

“You will have to find another husband,” Alexander said, tone firm and final. “It is customary for a widow to remarry.”

“I intended to mourn my husband a little longer,” she snapped, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Out of respect.”

“You need to-”

“Alexander, stop telling me what I need-”

“Children, please,” their father interrupted. “I thought you were adults, not toddlers.”

“My apologies, Papa,” Anastasia said sweetly. “I just do not feel as though my brothers need to be telling me what to do anymore.”

“I agree. That is my job,” Lord Mackenzie jested. “But I do think there is some truth in what your brothers are saying. While I admire your respect and mourning for your late husband, I do think you will drive yourself to madness if you do not attend the social events of the summer.”

“Papa,” she sighed.

“Just a few. You do not need to attend all of them and you certainly do not need to make a second debut.”

Immediately after the orders, she made an excuse of needing air and walked quickly toward the Bridgerton residence with no one in mind apart from her dearest friend.

“Lady Weston, er, Miss Mackenzie,” one of the staff members said in shock as she stormed through the front door.

“Hello, sir,” she greeted. “Where might Eloise be?”

“I am not entirely sure at the present. Would you like me to summon her?” he offered.

“Please do so,” she replied. “I shall wait for her in the drawing room.”

Anastasia walked through the familiar house and into the drawing room, its only occupant being the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Anastasia,” Benedict grinned, standing immediately. “What have we done to be blessed with your presence this afternoon?”

“I am very troubled and I wish to speak with Eloise,” she said, wringing her hands. “She always seems to bring me rest.”

“Hard to believe Eloise brings anybody rest,” he quipped, returning to his chair. “What troubles you, tulip?”

“I wish you would not call me that,” she muttered, sitting across from him.

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” he quoted, smug.

“Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy,” she shot back.

“Do not change the subject,” he said. “What ails you?”

She cast her eyes at her hands, folded in her lap. “As I am sure you have heard, my husband has recently passed away.”

Benedict sat straighter. “Ana, I-”

“Please,” she interrupted gently. “I do not wish to cry in front of you.”

He nodded, allowing her to continue.

“My father and brothers believe that I should attend the social events this season, though I intended to continue my mourning period.”

He hummed, deep in thought. If Anastasia began attending balls again, he would be able to sweep her off her feet. But that also meant there would be other suitors attempting to do the same…

“Well, if you attend, that does not mean you will be ready to marry again,” he said. “I do not think anyone shall entertain that idea so soon after your late husband’s passing.”

“I just-”

“Anastasia!”

A familiar, shrill voice interrupted the conversation as Eloise all but sprinted toward her friend.

“Hello, El,” Anastasia sighed as she hugged the small girl.

“I apologize for leaving you to wait with my brother,” Eloise said, glaring slightly at Benedict. “I know he cannot always be of the most help during a trying time.”

As Benedict began to protest, Anastasia laughed.

“It is fine, Eloise,” she said, glancing at the man. “He was much help.”

“Well,” Eloise huffed. “Shall we go for a walk?”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

“Please try to enjoy yourself tonight,” Alexander muttered as he walked with his father and siblings into the large ballroom.

“If I must,” Anastasia replied. “But if one man asks me to dance, I will make a hasty exit.”

“No man will ask you to dance,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes slightly. “We have been tasked with protecting you from the vultures.”

And like vultures, various men of status began approaching the Mackenzies as soon as Lord Mackenzie made his way toward the food. While her brothers did as they said they would, Anastasia could not help but feel uncomfortable under the gaze of everyone in attendance.

Finally, two familiar siblings herded themselves in the direction of the Mackenzies.

“Bridgertons,” Andrew greeted, giving Colin a hearty slap on the back.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Benedict said grinning at the girl before him. “Ana.”

“Benedict,” she replied, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. “What have I said about that nickname?”

“I believe I do not recall,” he feigned.

“Perhaps I shall remind you,” she said, gritting her teeth slightly. “Please refrain from calling me that.”

“Would you prefer something else, then?” he asked. “Perhaps tulip?”

“Benedict-”

“Anastasia,” Alexander whispered in her ear. “People are watching.”

She straightened her posture and painted a graceful smile upon her lips. “I do believe you gentlemen have come with the intention of finding a young lady to court. Please, do not allow me to hinder your plans.”

Slipping from her brother’s arm, Anastasia made her way to get a drink of lemonade without meeting anyone’s eyes. Her plan to remain unnoticed at the edge of the ballroom worked, but only for a short time. She never even got her drink.

“Miss Mackenzie, you do look ravishing tonight.”

Lifting her gaze, Anastasia was met with the sight of Lord James Benson.

“Lord Benson,” she said, bowing gracefully.

“I see you have finally made your return to London. We have missed you so,” he said, grinning charmingly.

“I would not have returned so soon had I not suffered the loss of my husband,” she reminded him.

“Of course,” he said. “Well, regardless of the circumstance, I think I can speak for all of London when I say we are glad for your return.”

“Thank you, Lord Benson.”

“Shall we dance?”

The color drained from her face. “Oh, erm, well-”

“Here you are, Miss.”

Suddenly, Benedict appeared with two glasses on lemonade. He handed one to his friend before turning toward the lord.

“Benson,” he greeted. “How are you this fine evening?”

“I am well. I was about to ask Miss Mackenzie for a dance,” the man replied, glancing at Anastasia.

“Ana,” Benedict feigned a hurt gasp. “Do not tell me you have forgotten to allow me your first dance of the season?”

Catching on, she nodded. “I did not forget.”

“I did not know the two of you were so… close,” Lord Benson said, glancing between the two.

“Ana and I have known each other for nearly ten years,” Benedict lied. “Our families are very close.”

“Right,” Lord Benson muttered. “Well, erm, Miss Mackenzie, if you find yourself in need of a partner, you know where to find me.”

He glanced one last time at Benedict before stalking off to find a debutante that would stroke his ego.

“Can you believe him?” Anastasia scoffed, sipping her second glass of lemonade.

“You would be dancing with him right now if I hadn’t come to your rescue,” he muttered.

She snorted quietly. “I hardly needed you to rescue me. I was about to politely reject him, but you did not give me the chance.”

“Ana, I know you,” he laughed. “You would have politely declined, ever the lady, and when he asked again, you would let him dance with you. At least this way, he has the idea that I actually mean something to you.”

She stared at him, taken aback. “You’re one of my dearest, closest friends, Ben.”

His heart would have shattered if he had not been distracted by the use of a new nickname.

“Ben?” he questioned. “So I do mean something to you.”

“Of course you do.”

Their silence hung in the air before Benedict took the glass from Anastasia’s hand and set it on a table with his own.

“Come,” he said, offering his hand. “I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Benedict, you hate dancing,” she laughed.

“I will make an exception for you.”

She rolled her eyes and allowed him to escort her to the dance floor. They fell into position not a moment before the band began to play a new song. Benedict spun her around the floor, lifting her in time and forcing a quiet squeal to escape her mouth.

“You are quite the dancer, Mr. Bridgerton,” she teased as the music stopped.

He bowed, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Would you expect anything less? I am supposed to be wooing young ladies.”

“And you would if you actually danced with anyone but me,” she quipped as she slipped her arm in his.

“Perhaps it is you I was attempting to woo.”

She tensed slightly, trying not to read into his words. “Well, had you been a suitor of mine, you would have succeeded.”

“Why should that determine my success?” he asked.

She sighed. “Ben, I am not looking for another husband quite yet. You of all people know that.”

“I do,” he agreed. “And when you are ready, I intend to court you properly.”

His admission made her heart race.

“We should not be having this conversation in public,” she mumbled as they walked toward her brothers.

“I agree,” he said, untangling their arms.

“Benedict, what is it that you speak of?” Alexander asked.

“Do I have your permission, friend, to call on your sister tomorrow afternoon?” he asked.

“If she allows it,” Alexander replied, glancing at his sister.

Anastasia nodded. “If you must, Ben.”

“Then I shall see you tomorrow, Ana.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

there is it folks! again, very roughly edited. i was feeling squirrely about it so i wanted to get another part up for y’all since the prologue didn’t really give you much. please let me know what you think!

[secret-engima]

Fic title thing - heart held close to the moon and Neptune

...

...............

Neptune ... Neptune was the Roman god of the sea right? ... Just looked it up and yes he was so-

>:D

FF7

Mer

AU

But rather than EVERYONE being mer or whatever, it’s ONLY the three Soldier Firsts of canon. Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal who have never met any other mer, because Shinra are immoral and terrible and use propaganda to promote the idea that Mer aren’t REALLY just like humans in intelligence and emotional range and soul, they just happen to look human-ish on the top half. And because Mer are seemingly extinct (read: in hiding), they have nobly “Resurrected” the lost line of the “most exotic creatures of the sea” in Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal and claim to be in the process of cloning female Mers to “reintroduce the species”.

Except mer are NOT animals.

Mer are the children of Gaia’s oceans, the pulse of her waves and tides, touched by her moon on high. Mer are MAGIC and they will not be contained.

They escape, by the skin of their teeth and with many bloody scars, helped by the last of descendant of the True Mer (Aerith) who can walk on two legs for a time because of her half-human blood. They flee, out into the wild waters, just the three of them as a pod, rapidly protective of their little Pod Queen Aerith, their little sister in their eyes for all it would doom mer to extinction again. So they swim, up river and through lake and through the sea, and sometimes Aerith stops to visit the human woman who cared for her as a child and to tend the garden on two legs while the other three lounge in the little pond and sing softly together, and it’s ... nice.

Then Aerith meets Zack. Zack who is a cheerful sellsword rather than a Shinra plaything, who still respect the Old Ways as best as an ignorant human can, and Aerith adores him and so despite what they want, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal refrain from dragging him below the waves and eating him for trying to court their sister. But Zack is genuine and not cruel like the other humans they’ve met, he gets along with Elmyra and dotes on Aerith and Angeal ends up taking him under his fin after Zack nearly falls in and downs in the pond because surprise this idiot CAN’T SWIM, and really that is that. They have another human in the pod.

Zack tells them all sorts of stories, of the lands they’ve never seen. Jungles and deserts and icy mountains, and in those stories one name and description comes up a lot, the other, younger sellsword Cloud Strife. A fierce little mountain girl who still swears to the Old Spirits and avoids Fairy Circles and will not set foot on a boat until she’s made a sacrifice to the lost Children of the Sea. He describes his “little buddy” so often during his tales that really, it’s no wonder Sephiroth RECOGNIZES the woman while on a solo hunt, struggling in the water, bubbles escaping her mouth and nose, arms and legs bound from where she’s been THROWN OVERBOARD by pirates stealing the ship she had booked passage on.

Sephiroth screams and the storm screams back. The pirates stand no chance and Sephiroth pays them no more mind as he dives down for Cloud, ripping the ropes apart with his claws, swims her up to the surface and realizes that the storm he just summoned is a PROBLEM. The waves are too high for him to keep the human’s head above the water and she’s already NOT BREATHING and Sephiroth can’t just- UNSUMMON a storm, but this girl is Zack’s friend and Zack is pod which makes THIS ONE pod and Sephiroth-can’t-let-her-die-.

Sephiroth holds her close and sings-sings-sings, struggling against death, screaming to the moon to spare this human, to make her SURVIVE somehow, because Sephiroth has too few people in his life and he cannot afford to lose any of them, even one he has never met before.

And Sephiroth-

Sephiroth was Hojo’s finest creation. He was grown from the blood of the most Ancient mer. The Wild Kin even Aerith’s race of mer feared for their power, their savagery, their ability to wrap up the world in their voice and SHAPE it the way they wanted. Jenova is not an alien virus in this au, oh no, Jenova was The Sea Witch. The most feared and powerful and deadly o the Wild Kin, the last to fall in their war against the much more numerous humans and Cetra mer that had banded together against the Wild Kin and their Sea Witches. Jenova was the one who cursed the Cetra and decimated their numbers, she was the one to freeze the great northern sea mid-motion like a glacier around a great crater.

Jenova is, in a morbid, cloned sense, his mother.

Sephiroth sings.

The world obeys.

The body in his arms changes.

Cloud breathes in water and does not drown.

When Cloud groggily wakes up three days later, it’s to one very frantic Zack hovering over her face, the sky above her head, and the weird sensation of being submerged from the waist down. She remembers being knocked off the ship and sits up in confusion-

Looks down and doesn’t see legs.

The glittering tail of ink black and spiraling ice blue twitches spasmodically under her stare, responding to her desperate attempts to move legs that AREN’T THERE ANYMORE.

Cloud starts screaming and all the glass and quite a bit of nearby stone shatters.

While Zack and Aerith help deal with ... THAT whole mess, Sephiroth lurks guiltily in the nearby river, not daring to enter the pond while Genesis whimsically notes that aside from the ice blue swirls, her tail exact same shade of black as his, so does that mean she’s a full blooded Wild Kin now? Genesis and Angeal aren’t, because they have bright red and bright blue scales with black highlights respectively, sign of Wild Kin blood but not nearly as pure as Sephiroth’s jet black and trademark silver hair and slitted eyes. Angeal slaps Genesis over the head and says there are bigger things to worry about, because SINCE WHEN was any kind of magic strong enough to transform a human into an ACTUAL MER and what do they do now? Sephiroth already tried turning her back, but it didn’t work, because that kind of Song that remakes the world itself can only be used on a person on that large a scale ONCE, so now they’re stuck and how will they explain any of that to Zack’s formerly-human friend.

Sephiroth continues to lurk at the bottom of the river, feeling very guilty. He didn’t mean to do that. He meant to save her, not transform her, and the entire thing tastes too much of Hojo’s lab and his unwanted experiments and talk of using Sephiroth’s blood to create clones or hybrids.

Maybe once Zack and Aerith calm her down she won’t entirely hate him?

Who is he kidding, she’ll probably try to gut him with her bare claws.

(Anyway a sort of Modern-Fantasy AU where Mako is a thing but the SOLDIER program isn’t, Mer are a thing, and Fem!Cloud and Sephiroth end up doing an enemies to lovers slowburn but more in a you-transformed-me-against-my-will-so-I-HATE-YOU to friends to lovers way.)

(Also Hojo tries to do more evil shenanigans and Shinra hopes to conquer the world, but that all gets shut down by the Pod because fun fact you can’t run a wold spanning empire if all your ships keep mysteriously getting sunk. It’s not like you can helicopter EVERYTHING over the water, especially since all air traffic gets rapidly shut down by the mysterious super storms that blow in when they try. Reeve eventually gets accidentally kidnapped by the Pod and converted to their side so he starts looking into non-Lifestream power alternatives and Rufus is on board because honestly there’s nothing like a couple of mer arguing, IN YOUR LANGUAGE on whether they should eat you for your sins to make you rethink your life choices and by extension all your evil father’s life choices.)

(Also also Vincent and Felicia are both experiments by Hojo to see if he could create human-mer hybrids. Felicia is a sea serpent and Vincent sometimes forgets that Legs Are A Thing and so just sighs tiredly on Elmyra’s floor in all his red and black octopi glory. Veld is pulled on board the “lets kill Hojo and reform Shinra” boat after he nearly gets his throat torn out by his long lost daughter only for his long lost Turk partner to tackle her and talk her down from accidental patricide.)

(For reference, Sephiroth is a black beta fish with some silver edging on his fins, Genesis is a red with black stripes lionfish, and Angeal is a long-suffering blue and black lions fish. Aerith turns into a long-finned koi, and discovers quite by accident that if you kiss your human boyfriend enough times he gains the ability to breathe underwater and transform into a mer for a few hours before changing back into a human again.)

(And because I’m on a roll, Nanaki is still a cat-lion-thing, Cait Sith has underwater capabilities, Jesse, Wedge, and Biggs are all incredibly baffled humans who aren’t sure how this is their life now, Tifa would like to know when and how her best friend became a Mer (Cloud: It’s all catfish’s fault. Sephiroth: hey.) Barret is a monstrously overprotective dad and Marlene is the world’s cutest baby mer and Sephiroth would literally destroy the world for her if she asked him too. Genesis would help him. Angeal would just sigh and hold Marlene out of the danger zone.)

[writes-in-skies]

That day at the pond

“Growing up, I have always been told I should marry well. But I also know deep in my heart that I would marry for love above all else. My Great Aunt Lorraine told me it was wishful thinking on my part,” said Astoria Greengrass, as she was working on a charcoal drawing on her drawing book in her lap. When she was satisfied, she started using colours which she always looked forward to when she started drawing. 

“Why do you supposed she would say such a thing?” questioned the person who was the subject of her drawing. 

Astoria shrugged, her eyes still on her drawing. It is important to her that she got every detail right. “Perhaps she knows what she’s talking about,” she replied. 

“Do you always believe what she tells you?” the subject asked again with interest. 

“She is a credible woman. Great Aunt Lorraine always advised to protect the heart because it is the most important thing anyone can own and the easiest thing to lose. She even once said to not expect growing up with the satisfaction for being loved unconditionally. I had to hear that in my childhood. Can you imagine someone stomping on your hopes and dreams that young?”

“Your Great Aunt might be onto something. What if you give everything to this person and you do not get the happy ending you wanted? It would be a mistake.”

Astoria finally looked up at her subject, “Why are people so afraid of making mistakes? Mistakes of part of learning. How do I know if it is a mistake if I don’t even try?” she challenged. 

“The price you pay for your mistakes takes so much out of you. And all that is left is an empty shell of a person you once were.”

Astoria scoffed in disbelief and focused her attention back to her drawing, “Still pondering about your childhood mistakes, are we, Draco? Your shoulder must be heavy carrying all that baggage with you even after 4 years.”

Draco Malfoy shifted uncomfortably in his sitting position. He knew he would ruin Astoria’s drawing but this has always been a difficult topic for him. Never has he talked about his experience with anyone else other than his close friend, Blaise Zabini. Even then, he was not entirely an opened book. His mother suggest getting a therapist but he does not believe it would help all the things he went through. He knew Astoria is willing to be his confidant but he does not want to burden her with his past. It would be too risky. 

“Hasn’t your Great Aunt Lorraine refrained you from sarcasm in the presence of an eligible bachelor? It is deemed inappropriate, yes?” Draco teased while hoping it would change the subject away from him and back to her. 

Astoria rolled her eyes and sighed, “What she does not know won’t hurt her. Or are you a tattletale, Draco Malfoy?” 

Draco scoffed while picking a clover from the grass he sat on. “Anyways,” she spoke again, luckily for him. “Even when I had to hear her say things like true love doesn’t exist, never have I ever wavered. As human beings, we have the ability to choose whom we love.” 

“But we are not simply human beings, are we?”

“That’s true,” she replied quietly. “Have you ever wondered how different our lives be if we were not born as Purebloods or wealthy? Just normal people?” 

“I cannot say I have not.”

Astoria nodded absentmindedly at his response. “I can never imagine myself living...humbly if I am being completely honest. I always knew I would be well off for the rest of my life,” Astoria answered, looking at Draco earnestly. “I am not ashamed of that,” she added. 

“You shouldn’t.”

“I always imagined I would live in this big house with a spiral staircase where vines and flowers cover the handles. Every room would be bright and cheerful, filled with souvenirs from all over the world so that when I enter that room, I can always think of the happy times I had in my travels. There would be a two-storey library with loads of books that you would have to use a ladder to read every single one of them. There would be a nook area with comfortable silk pillows. And paintings! There would be beautiful expensive paintings on the walls that tell a new story when you pass by and you can’t help but stare at it all day long.” 

Draco unconsciously widened his eyes at her  detailed description of her future home. Astoria, perceived his actions as judgemental and blushed, “You’re probably thinking, ‘Merlin, this girl is crazy’, aren’t you?” 

He chuckled at the sight of her growing red cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He had been tempted to do that himself for some time now, but continued with the safer option of fidgeting with the plucked clover between his fingers to keep his hands busy in her presence,  “I would never think that,” he replied honestly.  

Astoria laughed as she put down her drawing materials and wiped her hands on a cloth. “I always knew what I wanted in life. I knew I would be well off. I knew for a fact that I would get a career that I am passionate about. I knew that I would live in a beautiful house filled with things that I love. I knew that I would have the bestest friends whom I love dearly. Lastly, I knew I would be married for love...have a husband who would be crazy for me as much as I will be for him. We would have children and we would make our house filled with happiness, love and laughter...But, I am not sure I could have that anymore.”

“And why would you say that?” he asked curiously.

She paused to figure out what the right thing to say is without giving anything away. “I have no control over the ticking clock," she said.

“What does that mean?” he asked again, wrinkling his forehead. He did not understand what clock she was talking about.

Astoria clears her throat and gathers her things. It was not the right moment to talk about that matter, “I should be off now before my Great Aunt Lorraine wonders where I have gone to.”

“Wait, I don't even get to see how you drew me?”

“No,” Astoria smirked as she got on her feet and placed her belongings in her satchel. The sun was scorching that afternoon so she conjured a parasol with her wand. “There is enough room in this parasol for two,” she offered Draco. 

“Would it be wise? Your Great Aunt would have a fit if she sees,” Draco replied with his hands in his pockets. He had to control the urge to grab her and to kiss her. He could not do that. He could never. 

“That is true,” she remarked and began her walk back to join her Great Aunt Lorraine who had been attending a social event taking place. Draco followed behind, leaving space between them so as to not draw suspicion that they have been hanging out. 

Lately, this has become a routine between them. It had been for almost 2 years now. Since she was 18, Astoria would attend social events with her Great Aunt as her companion. Great Aunt Lorraine is a widow and childless but often travels. She offered Astoria a chance to stay with her in an estate on Monaco while she pursues apprenticeship in Magical Arts and History. Astoria had a passion for both arts and history and had always wanted to pursue a career in it. By day, she would attend to her studies, and refine her art skills at Great Aunt Lorraine’s request, and after a long day she would retire to the parlour where her Great Aunt awaits for her to read a book and they would talk about current events. Occasionally, Great Aunt Lorraine wishes to travel overseas and Astoria would follow as her loyal companion. 

Draco, at age 22, had to be practically dragged out of Malfoy Manor by his dear friend, Blaise Zabini. Blaise told him enough was enough and brought him showed him the world of their twenties outside the gloom of the manor. Together, they jumped from one place to the next and made a dent in their newly acquired trust fund they both were entitled to at age 18. Most of the time they would be seen partying in clubs. On occasions, they had to play the role as the new heirs of their families and be present at social events of the high society. 

It was the chance encounters of those high society social events that brought Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy to be in each other's peripheral vision even more, thus sparking their friendship. 

Draco cannot help but be drawn to Astoria whenever he sees her. They have known each other for years. They were even in the same House at Hogwarts but never saw each other as friends, let alone held a conversation. 

It all started with a simple friendly nod. An exchanged "Oh, you're here too" type of look. It then became a longing stare while the other was looking away, and then the inevitable eye contact. The thing that sealed their fate was the friendly smile Astoria gave him one day when she was drowning in a boring conversation but had to stay by her Great Aunt's side pretending to be interested. She remembers spotting Draco at a corner and thanked the Gods that there was someone familiar at the party. 

Draco was intrigued by her. He wondered why Daphne Greengrass' little sister was seen around with an old lady all across the world. She was different than he remembered too. He remembered a brash girl who was stubborn and always spoke her mind. Now she is this high society lady in training who spoke only when spoken to and nods politely.

It was Blaise' push, literally, that helped them to start a conversation. However, it never lasted long as they both hoped. Astoria will always be dragged away by her Great Aunt who made it clear to her to stay away from young men much like Draco and Blaise. It did not help matters that both young men always show up to parties with a string of lady friends in their arms. 

Even so, Draco usually separates himself away from Blaise and waits for when Astoria is by herself, away from the prying eyes of her scary relative. It was an unspoken arrangement between them. 

Astoria detests their situation. Hiding and pretending not to know one another. Why should she have to hide her feelings? Why did she have feelings for someone so...difficult? She wonders if Draco had genuine feelings for her or that he saw her as a potential conquest. 

Draco did not mind their situation. It was the only way he could talk to Astoria even if it was in hiding.  He figured it was better than not spending time with her at all. He put up an act. He made it seem like he's doing his family a favour by representing them at parties to repair the Malfoy name. 

While some bought the act, there were some skeptics towards the Malfoy heir. Especially Great Aunt Lorraine Greengrass who warns Astoria from getting close to Draco. 

“Astoria, darling, there you are. I was beginning to send a search party for you,” Great Aunt Lorraine remarked as she saw Astoria approaching. "Thanks to you I had to listen to Seraphina De Lourd going on and on about how her granddaughter has been swarming with dozens of marriage proposals. No one likes a bragger."

“Apologies, Auntie Lorraine. I was by the pond working on a drawing. I guess I was feeling inspired and lost track of time,” Astoria replied. 

Great Aunt Lorraine noticed the figure who was walking behind her and sent him a warning look. She may be old but she is not stupid. She knew where Astoria had been running off with during social events. That troubled Malfoy boy was always close by. “We must be off now,” she commanded. 

“Of course, Auntie,” Astoria obeyed as she offered her arm for her great aunt to hold on to. 

“Do say goodbye to Lady De Lourd, dear. Remember, it is impolite to leave without informing the host,” Lorraine reminded her. “And do say hello at least to their son, Gerald. He has been asking about you. Playing hard to get is fun but don’t be too good at the game, darling.”

Astoria nodded obediently, “Of course, Auntie. I will be right back.”

As soon as Astoria is out of sight, Lorraine approaches an unsuspecting Draco who had since re-joined his mate, Blaise and their gaggle of women. 

"You are not getting anywhere with my niece if you condone these escapades with her," she said to Draco.

"Pardon?"

"I sure wished one of you would end this immediately. You two aren't a good match anyways. She is far out of your league. Why Astoria decided to give you the time of day I will never understand," Lorraine continued. She knew Draco was squirming and enjoyed the sight of it. "If you think I am being too harsh on you, you will have another thing coming. My nephew, Hyperion Greengrass - Astoria's father - will eat you alive if he even finds out you and his precious youngest daughter even exchanged greetings. So why don't you save yourself the trouble and just leave her alone, yes?" 

She then gestured to where Astoria was standing with Gerald De Lourde who had taken her hand and kissed her palm. There wasn't anything between the two but Lorraine wanted to make the message clear to Draco that Astoria is not available to him. The message did reach Draco. He did not like it. He never liked seeing any guy trying to get with Astoria. But he did not have a say in the matter. He couldn't go up there and tell him to back off. 

Lorraine pulled Draco by his arm so he would have to bend down in order to whisper to his ear, "We both know you are a smart cookie. Sooner or later she will choose who gets to be her husband, and I will assure that it will not be you."

"Are they together?" Draco asked bravely. 

"No. Not yet at least."

"I see," he smirked.

"It may not be this guy, but she has been swarming with marriage proposals. Perks of having me as a mentor," Lorraine remarked. 

"Then why hasn't she accepted any of those proposals, Lady Lorraine?" He asked. 

She rolled her eyes and turned her back, "I think you may already know the answer to that." 

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

VII

September 20, 2277.

Percy paces around in the room, looks for something to write on, then settles on the couch again. “Charon… you were saying something about your orders from General Chase in your dream. General Chase was a prominent figure in the Sino-American War 200 years ago. My God, were you there during the Battle of Anchorage?”

Hearing ‘Anchorage’ felt like wires crossed in my brain. The itch in my brain when I saw her in the stealth armor for the first time started to make sense. Anchorage is where I first saw it, worn by enemy troops. Crimson Dragoons, some of them snipers, just like her. My throat feels tight, and I cannot answer. I just nod.

“Charon, I won’t be asking about the details of the dream, but was the dream showing a traumatic event? Like, someone dying, or you getting hurt?”

“Yes. It’s... weird,” I manage to rasp. “There are some parts that I know did not happen recently. Then, there are events which happened within the past week.”

“I see. Did you feel like you were living in that moment again, instead of being at my house, on this day?” she asks me, and I nod. She continues to scribble on the piece of paper that she found.

“Any idea what might’ve triggered it?” she asks me, and I shrug. “Anything? Like a sound, or an object that reminds you of the event?”

I pause for a second. I remember the feeling I had looking at the power armor in my room before my body forced me to sleep.

“The power armor, in the room you gave me,” I tell her, and her eyebrows perk up. “I think I used to wear one of those.” Percy puts her pen and paper down, and stands up.

“I’ll refrain from discussing it further unless you want to talk about it, but holy shit,” Percy exclaims, running a hand through her hair, back turned from me. “I’m so sorry for exposing you to that, if I only knew…” Percy sits back down and her eyes drift to her stealth suit that she stripped for maintenance. “Did my armor remind you of Anchorage too?”

“Yes,” I tell her the truth.

“I’ll stop wearing it, if it makes you relive those memories. I’ll remove the power armor from your room too.”

“I appreciate it, but your armor does not upset me, miss. Please, keep it. You have a higher chance of surviving combat situations with it.”

Percy sighs. “If you’re sure that it doesn’t upset you, okay.” She clears her throat when she realizes the professional facade she’s been putting on slipped off.

“Anyway, I’ve yet to observe arousal and mood symptoms, but, Charon, you’re showing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder,” said Percy after a few minutes of tense silence, who’s now looking at the book she was occupied with earlier. “I still need to observe you further. I don’t want to make a hasty diagnosis. If you do have it, I can assure you that it’s possible to get better, and I can help you.”

“It is not necessary, miss.”

“You can’t keep saying that whenever something concerning is happening to you,” the mistress scolds me. The dog jumps between us and starts burying his head on my lap.

“Miss, it is not your responsibility to look after my well-being. It is my own. You should not concern yourself with such things.”

“As someone who’s training to be a doctor, I just can’t ignore someone who’s clearly in need of professional help. What kind of doctor would that make me?”

“As my employer, however, it states in the contract that it is not your responsibility. You would know that if you’ve read it in its entirety,” I argue back, and Percy’s frustration grows. She rubs her hands against her face, and throws it up once again.

“But I- what if we weren’t… Why is it so hard to talk to you?”

My throat hitches at her outburst. This is the first time she raised her voice at me while I’m under her employ. Percy sags in front of me, eyes wild in her frustration, but it isn’t anger I am seeing in her face. Frustration. Worry. Sadness.

“If you think having me in your employ is more than you bargained for, you can sell my contract.”

“Wait, no! No. I can’t do that. I can’t just sell you like, like a rifle or-or a piece of armor,” Percy exclaims, holding her forehead with one hand.

“You are not selling me, miss. I belong to no one. You will be selling the ownership of my contract that entitles the holder my services in combat, and my full loyalty.”

“You’re not making it sound any better. Plus, we’re straying from the topic.”

Putting her legs on the couch and crossing her legs, she turns to me.

“How do I put this in a way that you’d understand? Charon, you and I are lucky that this happened in the safety of my home. I can’t have you slipping into an episode in the middle of the wasteland. You won’t be able to protect me, or yourself. You'd become a liability instead of an asset.”

“I think I understand now. Very well. I shall allow you to treat me,” I tell her, and she gives me a sigh of relief. I look at her expectantly, and she gives me a questioning look.

“What?”

“If you have any procedures to do, I’m allowing you to do so.”

My mistress rubs her face. “This isn’t like the time I patched up the wounds on your back, Charon. This process could take months, or even years. It’s a gradual thing.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t feel the need to.

“But we can take small steps. Just one thing at a time,” she continues, a slight smile on her face. Percy picks up her book again, and scoots a little closer, the dog nestled between us.

“Do you have any hobbies? Things you do for fun or leisure?” she asks me, that expectant look on her face again. I pause to think. I couldn’t answer. “None.”

“None? You do nothing in your spare time?”

“I wasn’t given the luxury of having ’spare time’ by my previous employers, miss.”

Percy’s shoulders sag further. There’s a look on her face that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time. Pity. Most people would have fear on their faces when they see me. Not this one. She smiles. She feels worried for me. It relieves and overwhelms me at the same time. But pity? I don’t need it. Especially not from an employer. My function is to serve them.

She must’ve realized the look on her face, because she clears her throat and shrugs her shoulder. “Well then, we have plenty of time to look for activities you’ll enjoy.”

As my mistress continues to flip through her book, Dogmeat perks his head up and gives my ruined face a lick. His fur is no longer as dirty as it was when he found him. Probably Percy’s doing. I couldn’t stop myself. I ran my rough hands on his head to pet him, and the dog started wagging his tail. I glanced at Percy, and she was looking, that smile on her face again, and looked away just as I saw it. She clears her throat and flips to a page.

“Let’s start with grounding techniques.”

December 26, 2277.

It’s the day after Christmas. I can’t remember if I even celebrated it before the war, but Percy’s father insisted we stay with him to celebrate. Percy pulled me aside and told me that her father is religious, and though she never was, she still celebrates religious holidays with him and asked me to play along. My mistress looked uncomfortable and on edge the entire time. Though James was all smiles the entire time, there’s a scrutinizing look on James’ face; Percy shares the same look when we talk to strangers. It makes me feel wary.

Hours before James’ death, I was returning from an errand Percy gave me when I can vaguely hear her argument with her father from another room, muffled by the walls of the memorial.  I wasn’t supposed to listen to a private conversation between a father and his child but I heard my name being mentioned by the doctor.

“Persephone Zhou! That is malpractice! And you’re living under the same roof too?!”

“He has no one else! What, just because I patch him up and I help him cope with his problems -” Percy’s. Her father cuts her off before she can finish.

“Honey, you are Charon’s doctor. And from what you’ve told me, you’ve been providing him services as a psychiatrist too. I can’t even find the words to describe how unethical this… dalliance of yours with him.”

“Dad! Oh my God, we’re not in a relationship! Where are you even hearing those rumors?!”

Though the mistress had been good to me, I can imagine the look of disgust on her face when her father suggested such a thing. Ghouls and smoothskins don’t do relationships, no matter how kind a smoothskin may be. That’s just the way things were.

“I’m sorry, Percy. Word travels fast. I’ve heard some concerning rumors about you and your ghoul friend.”

“Dad, if I did stay in the vault and became the head physician because you left and they killed Jonas, would I be disallowed to pursue any sort of connection because I’m the only doc in that hole? I’d be married to the job like you were after mom died? Is that it?”

“The circumstances are different and you know it. The vault is a very insular community so we had to rely on each other for social support. It would die out if its members did not reproduce or adapt to changes.”

“Dad, you’ve been in the wasteland. There’s just pockets of settlements here in DC, and doctors are scarce. Psychs and people training to be one are even scarcer. Would you call it unethical if they pursued friendships or fell in love with someone who they patched up so many times from being shot at by raiders? Or someone they counseled from all the violence in the wasteland? Jesus, dad, the American Psychiatric Association doesn’t even fucking exist anymore. It’s in ruins. I can even take you there.”

“Watch your language! I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful, Persephone.”

“I’m sorry. But how I say it doesn’t change the fact.”

“The fact is it’s still highly unethical. There are still institutions that exist that teach medicine and they would not approve of your point of view. How did you think I became a doctor?”

“I’m not arguing with you any further, dad. I’ll go run your errands now.”

“Fine. But we’re not done talking, young lady.”

December 27, 2277.

It’s two hours past midnight. Percy’s screams and the sound of her baseball bat crashing against the metal of an old car echo through the scrapyard.

Only after accompanying the scientists to the Citadel, getting in a fist fight with a Brotherhood paladin for almost not allowing us inside because of my presence, and locating a thing called a GECK on the Brotherhood’s computers, did she finally allow herself to grieve her father. And she grieved hard.

At the sound of the bat snapping, she let out another scream and threw the broken weapon across the threshold. On her hands and knees, her glasses fell from her face, then she bruised her knuckles punching the dirt. Only then did I intervene, gently holding her arms and keeping it to her side. To my surprise, she doesn’t thrash or fight back. She froze for a minute, before curling into a ball and crying out as she settled against my chest.

The events that led to James’ death play over and over again in my head. If I hadn’t slowed her down…

“Percy, may I say something?”

She looks up to me, nodding, fresh tears staining her cheek. Her lips are trembling. She finally allowed herself to cry.

“I slowed us down. If I had overcome my episode faster, we would have gotten back to the rotunda and prevented the incident. It cost your father’s life. If you should punish me, or sell my contract, I will accept-”

“No!”

The word came out of her mouth as a broken cry.

“Don’t blame my dad’s death on yourself, Charon. It’s the fucking Enclave’s fault, and no one else’s. You- we, we did the best we could,” said my mistress, sniffling.

“I understand.”

She draws closer and puts her arms around my neck, and my brain misfires at the gesture. It’s like someone set me on fire, but it doesn’t hurt. I had carried and held her before, but nothing like this. My heart was jumping to my throat. Warm against me, she buried her wet face at the crook of my neck. Another sob wracked her body and before I could think, my arms pulled her in an embrace, stilling her.

This isn’t the first time she sought comfort from my presence. She did so every time there were thunderstorms. I never dared to touch her, though a part of me wanted to draw circles in her skin and watch it bounce against my finger instead of flaking off, like mine does.

This is the first time I allowed myself to hold her too.

We remained like that for the next twenty or so minutes, then Percy breaks the silence.

“Charon.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever leave me. Please?”

“I’ll stay by your side as long as you will have me.”

Her arms stiffened in response.

“Are you saying this just because of the contract, or do you mean it? Please. Be honest.”

There it goes again. My breath hitching in my throat. I didn’t know how to respond. My mistress looks at me expectantly with her bloodshot eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She pulls away from the embrace, and she doesn’t look at me as she picked up her glasses and collected herself. Dogmeat, who was terrified by her venting, finally sidles up to her side again and licks her hand. Percy pets him and embraces him in return, burying her face in the mutt’s fur and planting kisses on his forehead.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder what that would feel like every time Percy does it to the dog.

On the way to Megaton, she tinkers with the radio on her Pip-Boy, and a broadcast neither of us ever heard before comes in.

“Charon.”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home.”

When we arrived at the entrance of Vault 101, only then did I realize that she didn’t mean her house in Megaton. She let out a shaky exhale as the heavy vault door started to open after she put a password in the terminal.

“Welcome to my childhood home.”

[justhereforseverus]

A Rose by any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet

Miserable_toad

Chapter 13: But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.

Summary:

Hogwarts is busy and you don't see Severus as much as you want to. But one cold night an opportunity arises. In addition, Severus has found the perpetrator of the classroom-destruction and he's not happy about it. Remus and you are also looking forward to the Yule Ball.

Notes:

Ok, that took a while. Sorry for the delay! Originally, I wanted to include the Yule Ball scene in that chapter, too but decided against it in the end. I didn't want to rush writing that very important day in the lives of Severus and the reader ;D

I still feel very awkward writing kissing scenes and stuff. But I hope it's not too cringy.

Thank you so much for reading and your kudos! Comments always appreciated <3

The next weeks went away in a blur. There was so much work and it wasn’t exactly helping that Dumbledore had left for a business trip for three weeks. The consequence of that was that Severus and Minerva split the headmaster’s work among them. Thus, me and Severus only saw each other at the drama sessions and occasionally for lunch or dinner in our private quarters. I missed him dearly and hoped that we would see us more often again in the near future.

One day, the ghosts added additional drama into the mix. They’ve managed to break through a water line while having a secret party. We all awoke with half of our classrooms under water. Despite our magical abilities, it still took the whole day to clean up the mess and put everything in order. I returned to my quarters late, exhausted and with a nasty headache. However, insomnia decided to disrupt my need for rest and I just shuffled around uselessly on my bed. I put on my coat and went outside for a walk but it was cloudy and rather cold. Winter had made its arrival quickly and I dare say that autumn was way too short to be enjoyed. The weather only made me more depressed, so I returned inside. In that moment, I saw Severus coming out of the great hall and decided to say hello.

“Hey, Severus.” – I uttered still freezing. Maybe I can catch him for a bit longer than an hour or so this time. Severus looked elegant and handsome as always but his eyes looked tired. Despite his ever-going desire to always look cool and controlled it seemed like the last weeks of additional work had taken its toll on him, too.

His eyebrow rose when he saw me and he asked: “Still awake?”

I smiled, “Yes, but I could ask you the same question.”

“Well, Filch was bothering me with some rebelling students in the great hall.” He sighed, looked back and continued: “But it seems like our caretaker cannot tell the difference between a lost bird and human beings.” After he shifted his gaze back at me, his forehead furrowed: “You look like you’re freezing. Were you outside?”

“Yes. I couldn’t sleep but I guess the season of pleasant night-walks is over. Now, I need a fire to turn to.” – I told him, pulling my coat closer together.

Severus mouth curved into a cheeky smile when he offered me the following: “May I suggest the one in my quarters? It would be my pleasure.”

“Yes, absolutely!” – I beamed.

He looked around. We were alone and most of the students have either returned to their quarters or common rooms. He took my hand and led me to his quarters down in the Slytherin dungeons. Even though he was willing to show affections openly in London, we both somehow agreed, without talking about it, to keep it low at Hogwarts. I also didn’t feel brave enough to directly talk about it. I always dreaded being the one asking the ‘What are we?’ question. Many men have accused me of being clingy, holding naïve expectations and I hated the patronising tone in their voices. With Severus, I just followed with what worked now. I didn’t want to ruin anything. I was scared despite his assurances in the beginning that if he loved again it would only be in a serious relationship.

When we arrived at his quarters, he prepared tea and put the fire on in the fireplace with a quick spell.

“Waaaaarmm” I only uttered while taking a seat in front of the fire.

He scoffed with his signature sarcasm: “Excellent conclusion, Professor. Fire is indeed warm. Some might even argue it’s ‘hot’.” I laughed. But two can play that game, so I replied: “Wow, that’s outrageous! This is science going too far!”

He chuckled and sat next to me. I snuggled into his arm and he held me tight. This felt wonderful, just like coming home. I missed him so dearly during the last couple of weeks. By the looks of it, Severus seemed to feel the same. He was beaming, smiling and petting me softly on my shoulders and arms. It was so cosy and warm. After a while I told him: “I never thought I’d spend my evenings like this at Hogwarts. I could get used to it. Maybe I’ll even enjoy winter like that.”

“Not fan of snow and Christmas?” – he asked curiously.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong I LOVE Christmas but the cold and the dark and everything.. not so much. It’s depressing really. I like the spooky tones of autumn and Halloween but winter is.. heavy and frustrating somehow.” Thinking to myself, I often dreaded that seasonal depression also exists among wizards without a cure. In the end, I rather enjoyed a good and fine summer day than a day of heavy winter numbness. But to each his own.

He nodded. “I see your point. For me, it’s not much of a difference really. At least in winter, many students stay indoors and refrain from walking illegally on the grounds after dark. Either way…I agree, I certainly could enjoy winter.. like this.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head on mine. He seemed relaxed and happy and that meant everything to me. We talked a bit about the last weeks and how he wished Dumbledore would return soon. Apparently, Minerva is rather annoyed with the whole affair as she didn’t think his trip was necessary. After we had done enough ranting about our day, I was longing to ask something different.

“Severus?”

“Yes?”

“A while ago, you mentioned you had one or two ‘unpleasant experiences’. Would you… like to talk to me about it? I just.. I want to get to know you better and it seemed like it was important to you.”

He was quiet at first and looked up in deep thought. Then he said: “It’s difficult… for me to talk about these events. You might have noticed I’m what people call a ‘buttoned-up’ person. But don’t think I don’t want to share these memories with you. I do. Maybe I just need more time. I’m sorry.”

I took his hand and said: “It’s fine! Really. I respect and understand that. Do you want me to tell you anything we haven’t talked about before?”

He said in a cautious tone: “You mentioned your last relationship..”

“Yes right…” I pondered about how to tell the boring story. “It’s not much to say, really. He always had to have the upper hand. He looked down on me and my passions, my interests, my concerns. In the end, he showed a complete disinterest in my life. I should’ve taken this as a sign to leave but I stayed because.. well we’ve been together for so long. It can’t end that way, can it? He made me feel like I was annoying, clingy, selfish and I believed him. I thought, something must have been wrong with me. I needed to improve. But even my improvement was not enough, which basically was me trying to become his ‘perfect girl’; always doing what he wants, listening to all his problems while staying quite on mine, being attentive and subservient. Yet, after he yelled at me in public calling me an ‘ungrateful bitch’ …I left. I couldn’t take it anymore. I know I was dumb to let all of that happen but…. I’m a very loyal person, forgiving and forgetting and all that. I’ve learned my lesson but I still have his voice in my head. The one telling me everything I do is wrong. I know it’s stupid but..I don’t know..”

Severus had listened attentively and with concern. He turned towards me and put his hand on my cheek: “It’s not. Stop putting yourself down. When you live with this for years it’s ingrained in you. He abused you emotionally and this leaves scares which take years to heal. The first step is certainly not putting yourself even lower than he did. You didn’t do this to yourself it was him.” I was close to tears after hearing this. I moved closer to Severus and kissed him. I didn’t know what to say nor how to say it but I knew I wanted to feel him. To thank him with my affections for understanding and not judging. He put his arms around me and held me close. Neither of us committed to let go of the other.

Our bliss was broken by a loud bang of the clock that signified it was indeed very late now. Slowly, the exhaustion of earlier crept back into my bones. But I didn’t want to leave, yet. I asked: “Severus, I know it’s late but somehow I don’t want to go. Can I… stay with you, here? Not for like.. necessarily having sex.. now. I’m really tired but I want to just stay with you.”

He studied my face for a while with a rather puzzling expression but then said: “I don’t want you to go either.” I went to my quarters to get some pyjamas and brush my teeth and stuff. I changed in his bathroom because it still felt awkward to change in front of him (bit silly, I know) and then went to his bedroom, which had its door wide open now. His bedroom consisted of a big double-bed with velvet green beddings, some dark-wood bookshelves and a huge dark closet. On a bedside table laid some books in a pile and a big Slytherin tapestry had been put on the wall. Severus was sitting unexpectedly shy on the bed in black long cotton pyjamas. He had tied his long hair into a ponytail. I sat next to him and gave him a tight hug. He then put his hand on my waist and after a while we started kissing again. When I lied down on my back, he leaned over me and put his elbows on each side of my torso. We kissed for a while further and I could feel the heat running up between my legs. Yet, I didn’t want to sleep with him for now and I felt like neither did he. I just enjoyed feeling him so closely, so intimately in his most private room. I ran my hands up his chest and put it underneath his shirt to feel his skin. I could feel his muscles and chest hair underneath. He was warm and his skin so soft. I felt his chest rising more rapidly and him breathing faster. He moved away from my face and started kissing my neck. When he was touching a rather sensitive spot there, I couldn’t help but moan. Getting the drift, he continued kissing me there until I laughed heartily. He leaned back and looked at me happily. We just smiled at each other for a while then he rolled to the side and held me close; then said “I highly enjoy this but we probably should catch some sleep.”

“I agree… to both. Though I don’t know if I can sleep with the amount of adrenaline you give to me.”

He chuckled before kissing me again. I turned to the right and he spooned me, kissing my back and wishing me a good night. But one last question came to my mind: “Sev, would you like to go with me to the Yule Ball? You know.. as a date together?” As I couldn’t really see him, I was quite nervous to hear no reply for some seconds. Finally, he said: “I’ve never had a date for that event. I’d be delighted to.” I beamed “Thank you, good Night, Sev” I uttered before we both feel into a peaceful sleep.

I had to schedule some more rehearsal dates this week as usual as we got closer and closer to the holidays and our final performance. We’ve been through the entire play and the students have become so much better. However, some things still needed additionally instructions and we needed more time. Sadly, that also meant that Severus couldn’t attend some of the additional rehearsals because Dumbledore was expected to come back next week the earliest. I missed his presence behind me and his occasional commenting on how to improve certain scenes.

At the moment, our leading role, played by a young Hufflepuff boy, struggled with Hamlet’s angry solitude after he promised his uncle and his mother to stay in Denmark. He didn’t understand why Hamlet wasn’t more open in direct confrontation with his uncle instead of holding his tongue. Despite him being deep in mourning, he let the king scold him about his unmanly grief. I hope I could make him understand what the reasons were and that it’s always difficult to criticise people with immense power.

On Friday evening, I received a letter from Severus telling me to come to his classroom as soon as I could. I was worried and rushed there immediately. When I entered the classroom, Severus stood leaning onto his desk looking quite troubled. He just said: “I know who it was.”

It took some time for me to get what he meant. He meant the person who destroyed my classroom. It didn’t seem like good news though…

“Who?”

“Draco Malfoy. And you can conclude yourself whose boy that is.”

“fuck…”

“Yes, indeed. I had my suspicions but no proof. However, during my potions class today, he bragged to his classmates that he’d plan another attack. Or maybe he wanted me to know and looked for my approval. I’ve talked to him and made the opposite clear. I don’t think he will go through with that particularly pathetic plan but.. there’s not much I can do.” He sighed heavily.. “I’ve talked to Lucius just now but I can’t go as harsh as I want to. I gave him detention that he likely won’t attend because Lucius will find some excuse or other to slither his way out as before. I’ve taken house points but that isn’t important to him. Lucius power as school benefactor is too big. And Albus is as uncooperative as always. He thinks it’s not worth the trouble if he hasn’t killed anyone. His absence right now doesn’t make it any better.”

I shook my head and was shocked. I didn’t think our headmaster would push that aside so easily nor protect certain students in that way. I told Severus that Dumbledore had always supported me but I reckoned even Hogwarts needed money from those kind of benefactors.

Severus retorted harshly: “It’s not even that. It’s also the connections. Lucius is a master in manipulating everyone to his favour. The minister thinks highly of him. He respects me to a certain degree but because I’ve changed over the years and he stayed very much the same his goodwill towards me has decreased. He also finally catches the drift that he can’t manipulate me. I’ve seen through his tricks. Lucius is terribly predictably even when he thinks he is so clever. But..” and here he clenched his hands digging his nails into the desk “We can’t shut him down. We can’t throw him out of the parent’s counsel. We can’t punish his son too harshly because he’ll twist it into a conspiracy and damage our reputation with the state. Albus knows this, everyone knows this and thus we must comply. It’s the same old story and I’m so.. sick.. of.. IT.” He looked away from me and I could feel his frustration and anger despite his utmost control. I stepped closer to him but was taken back by a stern “Don’t.”

What to do now? I sincerely just wanted to hug him and somehow comfort him and said: “Severus, I can see you’re angry and frustrated. So am I. But we will just go on. We’ll prove them wrong. And now that we know who it was we can both outsmart this boy and his following. It’ll be ok. You’re everything but powerless.”

He scoffed without looking up: “That’s what you seem to believe despite it all?”

“Yes, and it’s true.”

“I can’t get him off the school. I can’t get anyone off here. No bully and swine that roams these halls will be punished. I can give detention or take house points but what does it really change for those who have power? Nothing! I’m older. I’m the teacher and yet I can’t change a goddamn thing and so many people are just looking away and.. I..” And here something made him stop his tracks and he uttered: “Please. Leave me alone for a while.”

“No.” I thought to myself that I couldn't leave him like this.

He looked surprised at my refusal and chuckled in a sad way: “I’m not asking.”

“And I’m not your student nor your slave, Severus. You are angry, rightfully so and it’s ok to show this. I want to get to know you more and I want to share the feelings you feel. It’s fine with me. You don’t have to pretend. You’re not weak in showing emotions and expressing them. You don’t need to be in control all the time. Just let me get close to you. Let’s scream and shout and be angry together and then we’ll find a solution. You are not alone anymore. I won’t look away. I’m here, please!” – and I started sobbing because I didn’t want him to feel like he can’t do these things. I didn’t want him to feel powerless or alone or useless. He is the most wonderful person and I wanted to give him and myself hope.

Severus still didn’t look at me, his long hair hid his face. I stepped towards him and hugged him tight, kissed him softly on his cheeks. I was ready to be pushed away but that didn’t happen. I felt him shaking. After a while, he put his arms around me, regaining his composure a bit, hugging me tightly. He continued to hide his face by hugging me and that was ok. I’ve never seen him that vulnerable before. He always seemed to know better, to be prepared. But here he let himself be unreasonable. And that meant the world to me.

After a while, he let go of the hug and faced me again after adjusting his hair. He looked tired, his face was wet so he might have been crying just like me. But there was a kind and loving smile on his face. He kissed me lovingly and then just whispered:“Thank you.”

We talked after this and agreed we’d continued rehearsing and preparing the play. In addition to our current security plans, we might hire some of the prefects of other houses to stand guard as they were more keen on standing up to Slytherin. Also, we talked about how we could punish Malfoy’s boy without drawing attention to us. Nothing too harsh of course. Yet, we both can definitely outsmart him. Severus seemed to have regained his usual composure, his snarkiness and sarcasm. I think all this brought us closer together and I felt like he trusted me more.

Finally, Dumbledore returned and Severus was discharged of his additional administrational tasks. It was also the week of the Yule Ball and everyone was busy thinking about dresses and dates. It’s a weird that the ball is named after Yule but takes place much earlier than the actual Yule time. No one knew why it simply wasn’t renamed. Traditions be like that.

The evening before the ball, Remus and I met up to show off our outfits and catch up on the latest gossip. He stood in front of me with a very fine and elegant brown Victorian suit, which he wore with a silk dark yellow cravat. The colour combination worked well on him though I personally wouldn’t have chosen something like that for myself. I nodded in approval and told him: “What a fine gentleman we have here! You look exquisitely handsome. Sirius will be pleased to have you as a dance partner.” Remus bowed jokingly and replied: “Thank you, thank you! Yes, he’s one lucky guy indeed. But come one, now it’s your turn!” I went into the bathroom to change into my chosen dress. It was a long, slim dress made of dark-blue silk with star constellations stitched upon it. I had a fitting blue jacket in case it gets too cold. I also wore a golden necklace with a (fake) diamond star pendant and a simple golden bracelet. What can I say? I just like stars and it’s quite fitting with the Ravenclaw theme, too. I put my hair into a chignon and put my pearl (once again fake, I’m poor) earrings in. When I came out to model for Remus he just gasped and exclaimed: “OMG our little Ravenclaw star! You look very beautiful! Severus is a lucky man.”

I turned around playfully a couple of times more and then said: “I sure hope so…. Maybe he’ll gets discouraged though when I mess up the first dance with him..”

Remus jokingly threw a lose grape in my direction: “Oh shut it! We’ve practiced so much this week. You’ll be fine! Believe me! Just look him lovingly in the eyes and he’ll forget about everything anyway.” He winked and refilled my glass of champagne. We talked for some hours more, guessing everyone’s date and exchanging stories about our classes being obsessed of finding the right partner. Remus was glad Minerva decided to give all houses dancing lessons as Severus and Flitwick continued to ignore the pleas of their students to teach them more about it. I had to admit, I was very nervous and excited for the next day..

[mostweakhamlets]

Untitled Sheep Project: Vegan Cheese and Wine

CW for mature, semi-explicit beginning. Nothing is described in detail, nothing is actually sexy, but stuff is happening. 

This is an original story in project I’m working on. I’d love to hear any feedback or if anyone enjoys it! It was posted initially on my patreon where I’m gradually building this project up! 

“We’re going to be late.”

“I know, my darling, but it ruins the mood when you keep saying it, and that’s just going to make us even more late.”

Cherry Bomb knew that when she focused too hard on maintaining her arousal, it made the whole situation that much less sexy. Once she felt herself start to lose it, she couldn’t force herself back into the proper mindset. She had to think about what was sexy about looking down at her bored partner propped up on pillows, doing the bare minimum to help her out.

And then her thoughts wandered to what she had to do after: laundry, shopping, meeting a client. In this case, she thought about how she had to shave her legs and how she should really try to put on a little makeup. Then, she thought about what her newest step-sister would look like, and while she had no hard feelings about the woman, she did feel a sense of competition whenever they were going to be in the same room.

She thought about Peggy’s usual well-lined lipstick and neat eye shadow. She owned expensive, luxury brand makeup from across the globe while Cherry Bomb bought most of her makeup at Boots and let it expire in her bathroom before she managed to use even half of it. If she were lucky, her mascara wouldn’t be dried up and clumpy yet.

“Fuck it.”

They lost it.

She climbed off and crawled off the side of the bed, picking her panties off the floor and pulling them back on for the walk to the bathroom. Richard lifted his hands in defeat and threw the sheets off himself.

“I’m glad we wasted our time with that,” he said.

“Don’t start with any of that,” Cherry Bomb mumbled. “Let’s just get ready.”

And half an hour later, when she heard the unmistakable sound of him jerking off in the shower as she left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she said nothing.

—

Vegan cheese turned out to taste not much different than dairy cheese, but it was just different enough for Cherry Bomb. She sipped her Spanish rosado wine to wash away the taste of the fake ricotta, and then scraped her tongue on her back teeth to get the coating of sweetness off.

Perhaps if she had been to an actual cheese and wine tasting before, she would know what to compare the vegan option to. Perhaps if she had a more refined palette, she would be able to make better conversation about it.

Her father, meanwhile, spoke about his latest research with the colleagues they had met. They droned on about studies and their results and gave little teasers about what they were going to present.

“You know,” Richard said, keeping his voice low. “The bar has other drinks.”

Cherry Bomb looked over at the bar that stretched across the back corner of the room, partially hidden by the crowd. Servers were leaving with trays of wine and individual people were gathering for hard liquor breaks. She waited for a lull in discussion.

“We’re going to step out for a smoke,” she said.

“Neither of you smoke,” her father said.

“We’re hoping that someone out there might peer-pressure us into it.”

She grabbed Richard’s wrist and pulled him away as he explained that they were just looking for fresh air after their many glasses of wine.

With her generous glass of whiskey and his generous glass of tequila, they stepped outside onto the empty patio. Groups hovered around the garden, smoking and making conversation. Maybe even gossiping about those around them.

Cherry Bomb took a moment to admire Richard. He was in a jumper she insisted he wear because the dark red looked so nice against his complexion and hair. That and she believed that a pale top would be a bad idea for a wine tasting—just in case of accidents. She reached up to re-tuck his white collar into his jumper.

“Can we talk about earlier?” he asked.

Cherry Bomb shrugged and took a sip of her drink. The stinging oakiness to it was a welcomed change from the sweetness of the wines that still clung to her tongue. The flavors did mix horrifically for a moment, but the next sip was that of strong liquor only.

“What should we talk about?” she asked.

“I think it might be time we talk to someone—”

Cherry Bomb cringed. Sex therapy was never something she wanted. She had always associated it with other people—people who had run out of options and were unable to communicate anymore. They were the people her father studied and wrote books and essays on. They were the fake names that appeared in studies next to stories about their failing marriages and deep parental issues.

“I don’t think it’s come to that just yet,” she said. “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time when there’s people who genuinely need that help. Besides, what are they going to tell us that we haven’t read on our own?”

“A lot.”

“I don’t think we need to resort to a therapist.”

“We’ve been having problems for nearly a year,” Richard whispered. “And it is multiple problems at this point. I’m keeping a list.”

“Then, let’s wait until it’s been a full year, okay? If February comes, and we’re still having problems, then I promise you that we can start looking for people. I’ll ask my dad if anyone he knows is taking new patients.”

“And that’s another thing we need to talk about. I don’t want your father involved in our sex life. If we do it, I don’t want him to know.”

“That’s reasonable, and I will respect your boundaries. We can Google it like other people.”

Richard smiled down at her. He looked far too sweet to deny anything. She wanted to cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss on the forehead, but she refrained.

Cherry Bomb watched the people around them. They all looked very posh with swanky dresses and suits and jewelry. But they also all looked the same, obsessed with being perceived as successful and upper class but not wanting to go too far as to look as if they were bragging. Though they definitely were bragging. The dress codes of the upper-middle class were all about being just relatable enough to people below them while also signaling to those above them that they had taste and money to spend as well. It was a balancing act in a circus of classism.  

Cherry Bomb counted only a few women without dyed-brunette, chemically straightened up-dos and two men in blue suits that they were trying so hard to look casual in. They swung their drinks around and pursed their lips and rolled their eyes.

It was who her father had become. Obsessed with appearing not out-of-touch but then flipping a switch once he safely could complain about how much he lost to taxes that year and how his gardener did a poor job planting new bushes.

The patio door swung open. Cherry Bomb looked over her shoulder to see Peggy scan the room before spotting them. Cherry Bomb swallowed the rest of her drink, clearing her throat after.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to get away.” Peggy walked to their side. She smiled at Cherry Bomb. “Your father is a brilliant man, but I cannot, for the life of me, follow what they’re talking about.”

Her eyeliner was perfect. It was a nostalgic style—something that would have fit in in the 1990s and went around her entire eye—and it fit her well. Just like her lipstick and foundation and dress. She wasn’t attractive in the conventional way. Her nose was a bit wide, and her face was more square than most women would have liked theirs to be. But that made her all the more attractive, Cherry Bomb thought. It made her unique, and she seemed to know it judging by how she held herself with so much confidence.

Or maybe she believed that she didn’t need to be attractive. That for her, looks were truly superficial and she had found happiness in her work and personality and social life and it had all reflected back out to give her a clear complexion and a few beautiful, silver wisps of hair.

“Imagine being raised by him,” Cherry Bomb said. “My bedtime stories were about debunking the Oedipus complex—he wanted to start me off with the Introduction to Psych basics.”

Peggy laughed. Cherry Bomb laughed, too, only because the liquor and wine she had had were all catching up to her and making her head float above her shoulders. Laughing made sense to her. Richard pressed his hand into her waist, and it felt distant.

“I’m leaving in a few minutes,” Peggy continued. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Cherry Bomb leaned in for a half-hug and a cheek kiss she would never give anyone else.

Richard leaned in for an awkward hug. Peggy wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight, though it wasn’t reciprocated in the slightest. She hummed as she pulled away and smiled up at him, letting her hands rest on his shoulders.

Maybe Peggy wasn’t that great.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” she said.

She walked off the patio and back into the event room. Her heels clicked the entire way.

“That was a bit weird, wasn’t it?” Richard asked. “I didn’t imagine that?”

“No. No, it was weird.”

They looked through the glass doors, eyes on Peggy until she completely disappeared in the crowd. Maybe Cherry Bomb would keep her distance next time they met. Surely, Peggy would catch the hint.

“Do you want to leave and get chips?” Richard asked.

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

[marveloussupernerd]

Hey! I was wondering if you would match me with a character from Mystic Messenger and Marvel? I have no gender preference so go hog wild. My form is pinned to my blog so I hope it wont be too inconvenient for you. I just find that humans have a tendency to be more complicated than 500 characters so it is difficult to accurately represent myself within those limitations. Thank you in advance, dear!

No problem!! Sorry this took a while but I hope you like it!!!!

Mysme

I ship you with 707!

I just finally reached the clarity that his real name is a spoiler for ppl that like they get upset if they find out so uh, I’m correcting that now lmaoo

Well you’re about as tall as him

Until you wear your boots

Then you’re taller

I know sometimes that bruises men’s egos but it literally does not affect him at all

Except when you’re walking too fast he whines that you need to slow down because your legs are longer than his

The first time he saw your resting face it kinda freaked him out

What did he do wrong? The two of you were just watching tv. Did you not like the way he had his arm around you?

Now that he knows that’s just how you look he doesn’t worry about it

He teases Yoosung by using it to his advantage

“Yoosung I think you pissed her off. Oh my goodness! Didn’t you know!? She can’t stand the color purple. Gives her bad memories. You’ve probably scarred her for life”

And then Yoosung is apologizing to you and you have no idea why

It’s Seven’s way of messing with both of you

The first time he tried to make his move by putting his arm around you and you flinched, he almost cried

No literally

He just... he hadn’t realized it was a thing to dislike it like that

Respects it so much

But he wants hugs so bad :( someone needs to hug this poor boy

So when you eventually invite him over and cuddle up to him during a very late movie night?

His heart jumps in his chest

He tries to tell you that you don’t have to!! He understands how it makes you feel weird and it’s okay; he likes you so so much and respects you a lot

But secretly he looks forward to whenever you want to cuddle with him; the rarity of it makes it even more special

707 is the king of witty comebacks

The first time the RFA sees the two of you bantering with each other they think you’re fighting? Because you’re both so passionate about being better and wittier than the other

You laugh about their confused faces later that night

He’s an over the top flirt too

Tries to woo you with ridiculous romantic gestures

He’s literally a theater kid too you cannot convince me otherwise I was a theater kid as well so I know

Literally every romantic gesture in a romcom? He does it

Of course he expects a reaction out of you but. You. Never. Budge.

Not even after he stole the microphone during the latest RFA party to confess to you that he was carrying your child

Which made NO SENSE

He’s not allowed microphones anymore. Or stages.

When you tell him you’re asexual he’s so respectful (as always)

You literally don’t have to do anything like that if you don’t want to

He’s more than happy with your cute lil domesticated life together

Okay this is off topic but I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO TRY AERIAL SILKS

When he first sees your bruises he FLIPS

did someone hurt you? Who? He’ll hack into their computer, give them hell

The first time he sees you perform... wow

YOU’RE SO COOL AND GRACEFUL AND ELEGANT

he wants to try it and literally begs on hands and knees for you to teach him

He’s bad at it. Learns he’s afraid of heights too

But he tries to watch you perform as often as possible

Noticed you don’t give out compliments often

So it’s his job to come up with a creative new compliment to give you every single day

It ranges anywhere from “I like your shirt” to “you’re so beautiful” to “I admire that you’re able to parallel park my babies.”

Please help him with procrastination

You literally will not hang out with him if he has work to do

He pouts and whines, but ultimately gets his work done

You’ve really helped out his work and his work schedule

He literally hates parties and clubs and bars

Much prefers taking you out at night to look at the stars

If you’ll let him, he’ll drive you to a secluded place in the mountains so that you can see them better

After reassuring you 800 times that he isn’t gonna murder you (you weren’t worried, but he was afraid you thought he would)

He likes to watch murder mystery movies with you

It’s really just a contest to find out who guesses it right first

But after he kept losing he changed it to how ridiculous of a motive he could describe and how close to correct it may be

“She said she has a twin right? Well her eye color is different from her photos. How do we know they didn’t grab the twin on accident? Or the twin isn’t pretending to be her or something”

HOW could he have guessed that

Sigh this is rlly inspired by me bc I did this exact thing and guessed the plot twist

Overall, he’s just really respectful of you. Drinks respect women juice 24/7. Loves complimenting you and spending time with you and never letting you forget how amazing you are.

Marvel

I ship you with Loki!

The Seven one was kinda easy

Prob because there aren’t that many mystic messenger characters

But BOY I struggled here

Until I thought of Loki, I hadn’t even considered him at first (my sister brought him up, as she helps me come up with who to match ppl with)

And YES

He was first drawn to you by how elegantly you carried yourself

Most Midgardians just kind of, slouched through the day

But you stood with impeccable posture, resting most of the weight on your toes. He thought you were some form of royalty at first

And then he saw you perform hoo boy

Okay first of all he definitely had no idea what was happening for a majority of the show

But he kinda liked you and so when you invited him to go he was THERE

Couldn’t stop complimenting you. He thought you were elegant before oh wow

He’s literally not intimidated by you at all, think of all the people he’s had to meet and BS he’s had to deal with

You’re touch-adverse? That’s fine by him

Honestly he doesn’t like cuddling or anything like that himself. Blame it on his childhood or something idc

He will throw insults right back at you. In fact, he usually doesn’t hold back

Okay they’re never inherently mean but I don’t know they may be kinda questionable

He wouldn’t insult you if he knew you couldn’t handle it

He is NOT very flirty

And by that I mean he will not flirt. Like he just cannot

He still gets lowkey pouty when you flirt with other people, but he can’t blame you. It’s not like he does a good job showering you with that sort of attention and compliments himself

But he does give you attention in other ways

He likes to sit with you, watching as you bake or write or something. He finds it very relaxing

In those moments, that’s when he lets the compliments run wild, talking about how you’re so talented and he likes how you look when you’re concentrated

These moments are the softest he gets. He doesn’t like showing this vulnerable side around anyone else

HAHA can you PLEASE go knife throwing together

You’re both very competitive about it

You know that scene from brave where she shoots her arrow THROUGH another arrow!?

That’s all I can picture but with knives

Homeboy is doing 0 archery with you 0 horseback riding he doesn’t trust those disgusting creatures and archery makes him think of dealing with Clint

He makes fun of you when you see a moth

Like does not let it go

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything. You’re afraid of this little creature? It doesn’t even know up from down,” he chuckles, pointing at the moth flying around and hitting walls recklessly

Needless to say though he takes care of it for you

He throws an Asgardian party just so he can show you off

Thor’s girlfriend was very unimpressive but you!? You’re so charming to everyone

He really just wants to brag about it to his brother, and you know this full well and let him do so

Y’all like to read together before bed

By reading together I mean sitting on the same couch reading your own books

When you yelp when you’re surprised???

What happened to your poker face?

As much as he wants to find different opportunities to jump out at you and make you squeal, he refrains himself from doing so

It makes the moments when you do freak out much more entertaining

I’d say you’ve very on par with Loki; you have a lot of things in common and a similar approach to life in general

[dailyaudiobible]

07/20/2020 DAB Transcript

2 Chronicles 1:1-3:17, Romans 6:1-23, Psalms 16:1-11, Proverbs 19:20-21

Today is the 20th day of July welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian and it is an honor and a joy to be here with you today as we settle into this brand-new week that we've got before us. And in the Scriptures yesterday we concluded the book of first Chronicles. So, that obviously means we’ll be beginning the book of second Chronicles today.

Introduction to the book of Second Chronicles:

And as we've already talked about at length as we were going through Samuel and Kings and first Chronicles, this delineation, like there's nothing to really describe here as far as like this is the brand-new totally different context for where were going. It’s the same thing. We just basically turned the page. These delineations between first and second Chronicles were for ease of reference. But second Chronicles does begin in the same way that second Kings does. We finished the reign of King David yesterday. And, so, David died at a ripe old age as we concluded first Chronicles. And, so, now as we begin second Chronicles we’re moving into the reign of Solomon and all that comes next. And I guess I could also say what…what…what I’ve said all along as we’ve come through this territory, first and second Kings, first and second Chronicles, they both kind of cover the same stories in the same time period with the same Kings and the same situations and they sound very, very familiar because they are very familiar bur they’re just coming from a little bit of a different perspective whereas first and second Kings is kind of coming from the royal perspective versus second Chronicles is coming from the priestly perspective on the same material, the same stories. And, so let's dive into another book. We’ll read second Chronicles chapters 1, 2 and 3 today and we’re reading from the New English Translation this week.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we are, you know, moving into the thick of Romans, not that Romans doesn't kind of start out in the thick because it does, but we’ve been kind of moving through the different arguments or persuasions Paul is laying out in order to reveal the truth that he's trying to communicate. And, so, a number of really important things have happened. Paul has not redefined the Mosaic law, but put it in a different perspective by saying, “things were happening on this earth before the law was given and those things were happening among our people, like our patriarchs, like Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, whose name became Israel of which we are the children. There was no Mosaic law. Moses was not going to be born for a long time.” And, so, Paul goes back to Abraham, the start of it all, the beginning person for the Hebrew people and said, ���he didn't obey a law. He was circumcised, but not before he was declared righteous before God because he believed and followed God and trusted God. Like, his circumcision was a sign of the covenant.” So, Paul in part is trying to refrain the Mosaic law and saying, “like this isn't the end all be all. This is the pathway to righteousness, but nobody can do it. Nobody's gonna earn their way into righteousness before God and stand before God righteous and there's nothing God can say about it because they just have achieved perfection. And all of a sudden they are almost divine in the presence of God made righteous before Him on their own.” Ans, so then Paul argues, “the law is what revealed our transgressions. Like it was the line in the sand, this measuring rod that revealed how sinful we are, how rebellious we are toward God because we can't achieve it and it exposes that fact. But even while we were estranged, even while we were enemies of God falling deeper and deeper into the fact that we cannot possibly achieve a righteous life before God fully and perfected on our own, even in our inability, even while we were estranged from Him, he wouldn’t let us go. He came for us to rescue us.” And, so, as we move into today's reading then Paul is discussing sin, this essence of rebellion basically, this interruption of the shalom that God offers and desires for the people of the earth. I mean, these obvious questions arise then, “okay. So, I don't have to…I don't have to try to become righteous by obeying these rules. These rules are good and ethical and upright and they provide a context for my life but they aren't…like I'm not gonna achieve perfection before God and I can't, but God is going to make me righteous by His grace. So, sin doesn't have a place in my story anymore. So, then I guess I can sin and do whatever I want because it's not my own attempt at righteousness that's going to do anything. It's God's grace that's gonna do everything.” And, so, Paul’s kind of addressing this, “then should we keep sinning so that God can show more and more grace?” Of course, Paul’s like, “absolute not!” He says that a couple of times in our reading today, “absolutely not, because that sinful nature, that sinful self the separates us from God estranges us from God, that person was crucified with Christ so that sin loses its power. We’re not slaves to it anymore”, which actually kind of confronts us with the…with the fact that we must consider our reality then because we’re kind of kind of in the same boat knowing when we have willingly done what we know is wrong and interrupted relationship through sin. And, so, like we’re constantly aware of our shortcomings. But what Paul's trying to reveal here is that sin really isn't supposed to be category in our lives anymore because we have been resurrected with Christ and have been made a new creation. This is where things start getting mind boggling. We are not who we were before Christ in any way according the apostle Paul. Like the transformation at the spiritual level, at the essence of our identity, we have been made new, a new creation. Interrupting the shalom that God offers us, right, interrupting the relationship that God offers to us isn't just a foregone conclusion. For Paul, he's like, “this all boils down to who you’re going to obey. You're going to be a slave or a servant of whatever you obey. So, you have the choice, the volition to be a slave to sin, but how many more times do you need to be told where that road goes. It leads to death and destruction. But you now have a choice as a child of God choose to serve God which leads to righteousness and eternal life.” And the point is that we don't have…like we live our lives, certainly feeling regret and guilt for the transgressions of our lives. We understand that we are forgiven. We embrace that forgiveness and step into a relationship with God but then we fall down and then we get up and we fall down and we get up and over time can accumulate until we have so much condemnation upon ourselves that we can't even find the sky anymore. And then we feel the crush of God's mercy when we don't deserve it and we realize how much He loves us and then we are restored only to maybe repeat the same pattern over and over and over, like we have one foot in one world and one foot in another world. And what Paul’s saying like, “you don't have to do that. Like, it doesn't have to be that way. There is a story and it's called good news and it's called the gospel. You are a new creature. You aren't enslaved to the darkness in any way. It's not mandatory that you're going to just fall down and have to get up again, you've been lifted up as a new creation made righteous before God. There's nothing you can ever do to earn this and when you choose to enslave yourself to the darkness it's almost like you're trying to go back and live within a corpse that is already dead and gone. It’s almost like you are trying to be a zombie in the darkness. When you do that you are a new creature.” The picture more fleshed out of what this actually…like the repercussions of this or the implications of this are fleshed out a lot in the letter to the Ephesians, which we will get to. And it's so good. It's like too good to be true. The good news is way better news than we may think or have thought. But even when we kind of see the vista and it comes crashing in and we see it for a second, it still does become, “how do I practically live this in my everyday life because I sin every day and it's not on accident. I do things I know I shouldn't do. I say things I know I shouldn't say. And the Scriptures bear the truth that when I do…like when I say something I shouldn't have said to my spouse or to my child or to my coworker or whoever, I see that that brings darkness that leads to death and destruction in some way. How do I escape this pattern?” We escape this pattern like we escape every other pattern, we stop doing the pattern. Like we…I have been married a long time and I have still found myself unsuccessful on many, many occasions where I find coming out of my mouth things I should not be saying and they are not fully things that I mean and they are in the heat of the moment and I regret them. What do we do with that or any other kind of transgression? What we do? And we can say, “well I asked God to forgive me. He forgives me and I move on.” But over time, like these things accumulate and you just start feeling like you're a failure in every sort of way. So, what is…what is the antidote? It's understanding that God is a God of radical reconciliation. When we trespass against our brother or sister, we seek reconciliation and forgiveness. When we have sinned against our neighbor, we restore it, we seek it out. God, while we were still sinners, while we were the enemies of God, desired reconciliation and provided it. We’re supposed to do the same thing every time. And over time, these things accumulate until we are living in the light with nothing between us or anyone else. We are living in the truth. We aren't trying to be right. We aren’t trying to even demand our rights. We are trying to be the light of the world. It's a bigger story that we have been swept into. And may we begin to see that. And may we begin to allow the Holy Spirit to flesh out, in a very literal way, flesh out within our own flesh what that's gonna look like according to our own individual stories and relationships and locations.

Prayer:

Holy Spirit we invite You. Come Holy Spirit and help us understand that our failures are not the end of the story. We are moving toward the light. We are leaving into the fact that we have been created anew at the most deep level, at the spiritual level. We are new creations. And our mission is to infect this world with the knowledge of the good news, that we can all be new creations. There is a totally different way of being upon the earth, one that is reconciled and made righteous before You our Creator allowing us to become aware that we are Your children and all of the polarization of the world that tries to deceive and crush us can't change the reality that we have been made new. And we don't have to live as servants to anyone but You. Come Holy Spirit. Lead us into all truth we ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi DAB family this is Joe from Pennsylvania. Just calling in to encourage the brothers and sisters that have been struggling with not feeling worthy. I’ve heard a lot of prayer requests come in about that and we just speak to that in Jesus’ name. And I just want to encourage everybody that…that I struggled with this for a long time. None of us are worthy on our own but through the power and the blood of Jesus we all become worthy. And that took me a long time to…to realize and to understand but there’s so many promises in the word of God. If we are…if we confess our sin, He’s faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us or from all unrighteousness. And just…I just want to encourage everyone that’s struggling with that just to think about the faithfulness of God. God is not a man that He can lie. And the Bible says to come boldly to the throne of grace. And we don’t do that on our own. We come boldly through His son who gave His life for us. So, I just want to encourage everybody to stand…that’s struggling with that to stand in humility and to resist the devil when he tells you that you’re not worthy because you are worthy through the blood of Jesus. And Father I just pray that you would lift up those thoughts in the minds of people that are struggling in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hello, my DAB family this is Mark Street from Sydney Australia. Today is Thursday, the 16th of July and I am calling in for some prayer and to touch base as well but like everybody I suppose I haven’t been in a great mental state. This year has been a challenging year. I’ve lost 20% my wage but that’s not really what I’m calling in for. I’ve decided I want to start a business and I want to resign 15th of August. Now, I have run a business in the past. I know what the trouble of running a business __. I know what I’m up against, but I do want this to be kinda like God’s…what God wants for me. So, could you please pray? Before I put my resignation in, if God does not want me to do this that He makes it very clear to me before I put my resignation in. I also don’t want to be scared of man because I feel a little bit like the scouts of Moses that’s going out scanning the promised land and seeing the big Giants and I’m feeling fearful but I don’t want that to overrule my decision as well. I’ve done all the work but please pray for me and I’m listening every day. Thanks family. Love you. Bye.

Hi this is Steve from Arizona I just want to call in with prayers for John from the Sudan about the loss of his brother and also about the gentleman from Kenya whose brother’s daughter was kidnapped. I’m glad they found her alive, but my prayers go out to all the people in Nigeria and Kenya who are being persecuted because of their faith. God bless you all. Bye-bye.

Hello DAB family this is Veronica. This is my second time I’m calling, and I want…first wanted to say thank you to everybody for this community. I wanted to say a special thanks to Victoria Soldier. I heard your prayer calling me by name and that really blessed my heart and I thank you for that and everybody that’s prayed for me. I really wanted to call because I…the thing that I should have been asking for prayer is I’m in an unequally yoked marriage. I’ve been praying for salvation from the husband for over 10 years. I also, due to infertility and the depression that comes with that, I have been on antidepressants and sleeping pills and I have a shopping addiction that I really want to be delivered from. And I just want peace. I don’t want to depend on something to wake me up in the morning and something to help me go back to sleep and to please pray for my marriage. And my husband and I to just accept God’s will for our lives and our marriage. Thank you DAB family. God bless all of you. Bye-bye.

Hey DAB family I’m just calling to say that I’m so thankful for you all. I listen every day and I look forward to hearing your voices especially during such an alone…a lonely time with the pandemic. In general, I just…I’m calling to bring awareness and ask for prayers for Armenia. Armenia, if you don’t know, is a very small beautiful Christian country in Western Asia. It is noticed Cilicia in the Bible and there’s said to be descendants of Noah, specifically Japheth’s grandson named Hike. But why I’m calling is because Armenia has been through a lot. They’ve been through genocide where 1.5 million Armenians were killed for being Christian and to this day is being denied. And right now, they are being attacked by a neighboring country and the people of that country are asking to caution on the side of the Armenians again. I ask that you keep Armenia in your prayers, that the war will stop. Armenians want this war to stop. We just want peace. Please keep Armenia in your prayers. Thank you.

Good afternoon DAB family this is Lady of victory it is Thursday, July 16th and I am calling in for Casey Short or is it Stacy Short, 13-year-old who says she listens with her family every evening at 8 o’clock. Such a precious young lady. She said in today’s society we can be easily influenced. And, so, she wanted to be prayed over. God what a precious, precious daughter that at 13 years old she recognizes that she could be influenced God by social media, by her surroundings, by her friends, by what she sees with her eyes God but she is recognizing Father that that stuff that she’s with her eyes is temporal but it’s only what is in the Spirit that is everlasting. And, so, I lift Your baby girl up to You or Your Young lady up to You God asking that You would just show Yourself mighty and strong in her life. She desires Lord God to be the Young lady that You have called for her to be, not to conform to what society wants her to be or thinks she should be. And, so God I lift up Your daughter up to You, Casey, I believe she said Casey Short. God I am lifting her up to You. You know her intricately God. You know her because You made her fearfully and wonderfully. And, so, I lift her up to You asking God that she will dare to stand out God, that she will dare to not fit in, that she would dare to even be ostracized God by standing up for what is right and not for what is popular. So, I ask Father that You will strengthen her, that You will give her all that she needs, surround her with friends that are going to encourage her in the Lord and not influence her with society. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Hi there this is Marie from Alberta Canada. And Marta I just heard your call and I will be praying for you. Marta from Alberta Canada, you said that your sons had just been diagnosed with autism and I have a son too and he was diagnosed a long time ago. He’s ten now, almost eleven and it’s been a long road. Lots of lifestyle changes but one of the things that has helped so much with his depression and depressive thoughts is listening to the Daily Audio Bible. He listens every morning and has been doing it for more than a year now and just memorizing the Scripture and listening to the Daily Audio Bible every morning and the word is just getting in him and at least those depressive thoughts about himself have almost disappeared. So, praise the Lord I will be praying for you because I know what you’re going through. Thank you.

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

If The Stars Align In Our Favour

Ch.3 The Actions

“Your footprints betray you …”

_/\_/\_

It is early evening when Sehmat wakes from what was supposed to be a nap but had turned into an actual dreamless slumber. It is certainly a welcome change from the usual uneasy sleep that she had been having lately. The sun is just about to set, and faint pink-golden light is flooding the room. She hears a door close and sits up to see Iqbal enter the room slowly, in uniform. It appears he has just gotten back from the station headquarters. 

He sees her sitting up with some amount of surprise and says, “I didn’t mean to wake you up … sorry.” 

Sehmat waves off his apology with a slight smile as she gets off the bed and the next moment stumbles and falls. She vaguely realises that she hasn’t really fallen—Iqbal has steadied her—and puts a hand to her temple as if that would do away with her lightheadedness. She closes her eyes with a grimace until she can bear to stand on her own feet, then opens them and lets out a short breath. Iqbal presses a glass of water into her hands, which she takes gratefully, and sips at it tentatively while she tries to make sense of what had just happened. 

“Are you alright?” Iqbal asks, brow furrowed in concern. He’s still holding on to her as if she might fall again. He doesn't let go until she has answered. 

“How did you fall?”

“I … don’t know. I suppose I got up too fast.”

Iqbal arches his eyebrows, and Sehmat is quick to dissipate his worries, even as she wonders herself. She sets about putting his things into place when unwittingly, Munira bhabhi’s words come to her. Sehmat swallows. It isn’t an entirely implausible idea, now that she thinks about it. It isn’t as if she and Iqbal haven’t been intimate, and it has been a while since she last bled. She had thought it was because of all the stress, but now she wonders. She turns towards the mirror in the bedroom and looks at herself properly for the first time in days. She doesn't look as though she has gained any weight recently. ‘Yet,’ a small part of her brain tells her, and she doesn’t know if she should shush it. 

There are, however, other things to worry about. As Iqbal steps out of the bathroom, clearly in a hurry, he takes his bag and beret in preparation to leave. Sehmat’s heart stops for a moment. Mir Sahab had refused to tell her any specifics about their plant apart from what is absolutely necessary. If he were going to the Inspection Bureau or the Headquarters ...

“Where are you going?” she asks quietly as she follows him out of their bedroom with his wallet in hand. 

“Station Headquarters. I need to fill out some paperwork and pick up some files,” Iqbal says as he accepts his wallet from her in the foyer, “I might be a while. Abba and Bhaijaan should be back soon, however.” 

Sehmat nods, acutely aware of the speed with which her heart is beating, and she watches as he leaves, giving her a small smile.

She returns inside the house, but instead of returning to her bedroom she wanders aimlessly around. She moves from the living room to the kitchen, then to the dining room until she finds herself at the door of her bedroom once more. She sighs, then heads inside with a sick feeling in her stomach which she knows will not be alleviated until all members of the house are safely inside it. 

_/\_/\_

Dinner is mostly uneventful, and Abba and Bhaijaan are back by the time it begins, but not Iqbal, and Sehmat worries. 

“He will be late,” Bhaijaan says. 

Evidently he notices how her eyes keep finding the clock and then the window. Sehmat nods, moving her food around her plate. She doesn’t really have the heart to eat. Still, under Munira’s watchful eyes she shoves some spoonfuls of rice down her throat and tries to rid herself of the ominous feeling that has begun to settle in her stomach. Abba and Bhaijaan seem to have resolved their conflict. They are making some conversation which she tries to concentrate on to distract herself, but decides that most of it is fluff—what relatives are getting married and what generals are getting promotions—until Abba asks about the metal piece and the inspection bureau.

 “I visited there before coming home,” Bhaijaan says, “and submitted the piece to them. They say it might be another week before they can establish its origin and dust it for fingerprints.” 

 Abba nods, and no more is said on the topic. Sehmat breathes a small sigh. At least the piece has been submitted. Silence reigns the table after that, and Sehmat’s eyes move towards the wall clock again. 8 PM. He had left at six and had said he’d be a while. It’s been a while. The sick feeling in her stomach is starting to spread, and Sehmat finds that she cannot bear eating anymore—not that she has eaten much anyway—for fear of throwing up. 

She looks up when the two men rise from the table, and it is only her and Munira left, the latter of whom is looking intently at the former. Sehmat, however, refrains from meeting her eyes, aware of what is going on in her sister-in-law’s head.

“Are you actually going to eat that?” Munira asks finally, and Sehmat looks up with a grimace. 

“I don’t think I can,” she replies truthfully, “I feel as if I’m going to throw up.”

Munira rises from the table and begins collecting various dishes, Sehmat beside her, helping her carry them to the kitchen. 

“Have you given it any thought?” 

Sehmat doesn’t have to ask what ‘it’ is this time. She is fully aware of ‘it’ playing in the back of her mind.

“I’m still unsure …” she says after a moment, and Munira looks up at her from where she is crouched before the fridge.

“... but?” she prompts Sehmat further, and Sehmat swallows before coming out with the next part of her sentence.

“... the idea might not be completely without merit.”

Munira hums and gets up before shutting the fridge door. 

“So we’ll have to be sure, wouldn’t we?” she asks, raising an eyebrow, and Sehmat nods slowly. 

“We can go to my doctor,” Munira continues on the affirmative action, smiling, “I’ll get us an appointment tomorrow.”

Sehmat nods again. 

“But you must not stress yourself too much. And don’t exhaust yourself over anything.” She places her hand gently on the younger woman’s shoulder before she leaves, still smiling. 

Sehmat watches Munira leave silently, not entirely sure if she should be smiling too at the prospect of having a child.

_/\_/\_

She tries doing the accounts for the shop while waiting up for Iqbal but gives up on it after making the same multiplication error thrice. Half an hour has passed since dinner and her conversation with Munira bhabhi and five minutes since she last checked the clock. She puts away her notebook with a sigh and begins to prepare the bed. Her racing heart and pessimistic mind are her only company, and she knows she is not going to get any sleep. Not until Iqbal is also in bed beside her. 

She picks up the book she has been reading the past week and slides under the duvet, trying to focus. She ends up having read the same page twice before her confusion, guilt, and fear catch up with her. She feels her eyes well up. She might lose Iqbal. Her head has begun to hurt now, and the only coherent thought that she can manage is that she might lose Iqbal. Not that anyone else from back home will think any of it. He’d be just another casualty among who knows how many others, to cover a stupid mistake that she had made. She sniffs, then turns off the lights in the room, goes back to bed, and lays tracing the ceiling with her eyes in the all-consuming darkness. It’d be her fault if he died, the same way it was her fault Abdul died. 

She wipes her tear-stained cheeks and turns over so that she is facing his side of the bed. With her back to the door she lies still, very still, for who knows how long—worrying her lip as she watches the night outside the window, and finally she hears the sound of tires rolling on dirt and coming to a halt. A door opens and then closes. The doorbell rings, and her heartbeat quickens, the door opens, and closes again. The house is filled with silence for a few seconds, and it seems to stretch on forever. Finally, the bedroom door opens. Sehmat turns softly towards the door. The figure in the doorway is trying to close the door softly to avoid disturbing her, and  he is lean and carries a briefcase. She breathes out slowly. Not a message about death. She reaches over to the nightlight on the bedside table and pulls it on—to the surprise of her husband. When she sees him, relief like nothing else floods her heart.

“I thought you were asleep,” he says to her softly as he walks over to the futon, and she shakes her head with a smile she cannot control.

_/\_/\_

Sehmat’s day begins early the next day. If she is honest, it’s barely even daytime at three AM. She is awoken by urgent knocks to her bedroom door. Iqbal sits up drowsily as she answers the door, and is met with a very worried looking Munira—who is still in her nightclothes—telling her to send Iqbal downstairs as soon as possible.

“Something has happened. We got a call; it’s urgent—all three have to leave now.” 

Sehmat nods and turns to Iqbal, who is already out of bed and looking for his uniform. Sehmat puts on her dressing gown and descends the stairs to go to the kitchen, where Munira is making coffee. She greets her with a nod as she pours the coffee into mugs.

“I wonder what it is,” she says. 

Sehmat heaves a barely audible sigh as she places the hot mugs on a tray and takes it outside to set them on the table. She knows what it is. Munira sinks heavily into a couch and yawns as Sehmat joins her, waiting for the menfolk to descend. They all arrive almost at the exact same time; the two younger officers make straight for their coffee. Abba storms towards the telephone and begins making calls, getting increasingly frustrated with each one, until he finally hangs up swearing loudly enough that none of the occupants of the room are able to look at each other. 

 “Those rogues from  the Mukti Fauj set fire to the Station Headquarters, the Inspection Bureau, and no less than three of the city’s police stations,” he seethes when he comes back to the living room.

The two brothers’ eyes widen, as do Munira’s. Sehmat has to scramble to put an appropriately shocked expression on her face.

“Did we get any of them?” Bhaijaan asks, and Sehmat’s heart skips a beat. 

“No. We almost had one, but he slipped away in the Chaos.” 

The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, until Iqbal asks, “How did they get in?”

Abba shakes his head in frustration and lets out a long breath. “They had it all planned,” he says. “We found a half-burnt discarded uniform. It had the name tag of a soldier who had deserted us a few months ago. They are still putting out the fire … but who knows how much material can be salvaged.

“We’ll have to go visit the Headquarters if they’re safe to go into, and then start investigating. We should move now—we don’t have much time before they leave the city, if they haven't already, that is.”

His coffee untouched, Abba makes for the door, his sons following. Munira collects the cups as Sehmat’s mind reels with the information she has unwittingly acquired. If Mir Sahab hasn’t yet left the city, he could be in danger—not that she can do anything about it. He had given her explicit instructions to lie low until this particular war gets over with, and then her ‘options will be discussed’.

_/\_/\_

Read Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1

_/\_/\_

Glossary:

Ma : Mother

Abba : Father

Bhaijaan : Brother

Miyaan : Here, husband.

Bhabhi : Sister-in-law (brother's wife)

Phool chadar : A sheet of knitted flowers used as offerings for worship.

Rajma : Kidney beans

Kabuli Chane : Chickpeas

Assalam aalekum : 'Peace be upon you', an Arabic greeting

Chachi : Aunt

Walaikum assalam : 'And unto you be peace', an Arabic greeting

Beta : here, Child

Ammi : Mother

Mohtarma : Madam

Choti Begum : 'Choti' means younger, and 'Begum' is the title of a married Muslim woman, equivalent to Mrs. Together in this context they refer to Sehmat being the younger daughter-in-law of the house.