#IT'S WHATEVER THOUGH! i have to block some miserable individual soon so i can finally be at peace

[rhetoricalrogue]

Family Ties 3/4

Part 1 | Part 2

This one was difficult to write, mostly because Rolfe refused to cooperate and deal with issues that have been years in the making.

tagging @thesecondsealwrites.

The second Philip entered the Herald’s Rest, he felt at home. There had always been something about taverns and public houses that had appealed to him, which was why he usually insisted on meeting with his constituents in such places. A warm plate of food and a pint of ale did wonders to bring people together to work on common goals.  He tried to ignore the stares he could feel from all sides, figuring that people were looking because they recognized him as their Inquisitor’s father.

That bit of news had taken some getting used to. After not hearing word from their son in the aftermath of the Conclave disaster, he and Marta had feared the worst, especially when the Chantry didn’t have the answers they so desperately sought. They’d grieved for their boy, yet were overjoyed to discover that not only had he lived, but Vincent had risen out of the chaos as the Herald of Andraste. After receiving his initial letter explaining events, Philip had put all the political weight he carried into helping the fledgling Inquisition as well as calling upon other prominent individuals in the area to do the same.

Even if some of the stares he felt were from people recognizing him as Vincent’s father, Philip couldn’t help but feel as if certain patrons knew he had another reason for being in their tavern that didn’t have much to do with Vincent. The feeling was cemented by a quick series of events that happened as he moved through the busy early evening crowd. As if practiced, the man who had been sitting alone in a chair close to the door stood up on the seat and the yell of Oi, Boss! carried over the noise of the busy tavern room. From the very back of the main room, a huge, intimidating looking Qunari playing a game of cards with several men and women slapped his cards down and shouted back, his deep voice bellowing all the way up the staircase Philip was climbing.

“Hey Krem, are you in for this game or are you out? Southerland, get your ass down here and join the next round!”

Philip reached the top of the stairs and bumped into a trio of people. “Terribly sorry, sir! Beggin’ your pardon, sir!” one of them babbled as they tried to jostle out of Philip’s way.

“Quite all right,” he said, pressing his back against the railing and stopping long enough for them to go down the stairs. Around that time, a shrill whistle sounded behind him. When he turned to look, he caught a glimpse of a blonde elf in plaidweave making frantic hand motions to the floor above them. As soon as she realized he was looking, she glared at him and hopped off the crate she had been sitting on before moving to go into a small alcove, slamming the door behind her so loud that Philip was certain that everyone in the tavern could hear.

He let out a sigh when two more people blocked his way up to the third floor staircase. “Look,” he started, addressing the woman. She was around his age or possibly a few years older and dressed simply, but had an understated elegance about her that told Philip she was as comfortable here as she would be in any palace. “I know that he’s up there. I promise, I mean him no harm. I only wish to talk.”

The man who accompanied her was tall, built like a massive wall of muscle, and aside from an impressive looking beard and bushy eyebrows, had no hair on his head. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and sized Philip up. “We know,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft and quiet, an odd counterpoint to his physical stature. “We’re not going to stop you.”

Philip gestured to the staircase he had just climbed. “And this whole elaborate warning system? What was it about?”

“It’s more for his benefit than anything,” the woman explained. “He says that he’s ready to meet you, but whether he admits it or not, we can tell that he still needs a moment to gather his nerve.”

“He’s done as much for all of us over the years,” the man added. “The least we can do is return the favor. I’m Bruno.”

“Penelope.”

Philip nodded. “Philip, though I’m guessing you already knew that. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He took a breath and put his hand on the railing leading up to the third floor. “But if you would excuse me, I have someone else I would like to meet.”

Bruno stepped to the side, but put his hand up. “Be patient with him. He makes light of how he feels, but Rolfe hasn’t had the best upbringing. It ain’t our place to explain, but…”

“He rarely speaks of his family aside from the two cousins who are also here in Skyhold,” Penelope continued. “And if he does, he claims that he doesn’t have a need for a family not of his choosing, especially when he’s made one for himself out of friends he’s gathered over the years.”

“I’ve known him for close to fifteen years, Ser,” Bruno added, shifting his weight and glancing up at the floor above them.  “Mention his folks back in Ostwick and he closes up faster than anything, but seeing him with his brother...it’s been good for him.  Your boy’s managed to leech some of the bitterness out of the Boss like none of us ever could, and we’re grateful to him.”

Philip swallowed around a lump that had grown in his throat. What had this man gone through over the years that so many would be this protective of him? “I can’t make promises for whatever the outcome of our meeting will be, but I hope you know that I’m willing to try.”

“We know, and thank you for that.” Penelope lifted her chin. “I’ve loved Rolfe since the moment I first met him. He’s a good man with a good heart, but he trusts very few people and you’ve caught him on a bad day. I’m wishing the both of you the best, but he’s like the son I never had.  If you cause him unnecessary grief, I will personally see to it that you’re sorry you ever met me.”

Philip looked at her, and she suddenly didn’t seem like the sweet, harmless silver-haired woman he had originally thought her to be. “He must be a good man indeed,” he said, measuring his words. “For him to have such loyal friends.” With that, he began to ascend the staircase.

He made it as far as the landing before his heart started to beat faster. He’d been a father five years longer than he’d thought and he’d never even  known it. What did Rolfe think of him? What sort of things had he imagined? Maker, he must imagine the worst, he thought, hesitating one last time.

“I know you’re coming up, Philip,” a tired sounding voice said in the darkness. “I won’t bite, at least not without ample warning first.”

The third floor of the tavern was simply furnished and somewhat dimly lit, seeing as most of the candles set in wall sconces were snuffed save for a few closer to the back of the room that was also lit by a large candelabra set into the rafters overhead. Rolfe sat at the table directly underneath, a bottle of something at his elbow and an unlit smoking pipe in his hands, one of which that was recently bandaged.

Philip felt the knot tighten in his throat again. He hadn’t gotten a good look at him the first time he had met him outside in the courtyard that morning, but there was no denying that this man was his own blood. To Philip, it seemed as if he were staring at a reflection of himself at a younger age.

“Apologies for the lighting,” Rolfe said, gesturing to the unlit sconces. “You’ve caught me at the tail end of an attempt to sober up and things were a bit too bright otherwise.”

He knew. Marta had filled him in on the state of his son when she had visited with him. “May I?” He finally managed to ask, gesturing to the chair opposite Rolfe.

Rolfe nodded, his thumbs running over the wood bowl of the pipe. The shadows under the table hid his legs somewhat, but Philip could see the barest hint of his leg bouncing up and down, almost as if he were just as nervous to meet him as he was.

“I’ll have you know,” Rolfe started slowly. “That you’ve accomplished something that not very many people can claim to have done.”

“What would that be?”

He stared at him, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “I’ve waited for over thirty years to meet you, and when I finally do, I can’t think of a damned thing to say.”

Philip pressed his palms against the table’s surface. “Ask me anything. I’ll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.”

“Did you know that my mother was married before you slept with her?” He tilted his head. “Sorry, but I figured I’d get the biggest question out in the open first.”

Philip shook his head. “No, I had no idea. I met Flora at a family gathering where she introduced herself as a friend to the family. I never questioned it and I never saw her with her husband the entire weekend.”

Rolfe’s eyes narrowed. “So, what was she to you then? Merely a dalliance?”

“No. I was infatuated by her.  I wanted to court her, I even told her so myself, but she said that a relationship would be impossible as she was sailing home to Antiva after the party.”

Rolfe scoffed. “At least that part of the story I’ve been told over the years checks out. Mother was supposed to flee from her marriage after finding out about yet another one of her husband’s affairs, but she discovered that she was pregnant with me and her aging parents refused to take her back in. My birth has always been a point of resentment for keeping her in a place she’s been so miserable in.”

Philip stared at Rolfe, noticing the tense way he held his jaw. “You didn’t have the best childhood, did you?”

Rolfe shrugged. “I had as good of one as any token bastard and family embarrassment could expect to have, I imagine.” He pulled out a small drawstring bag from a pocket and absently began to pack tobacco into the pipe. “I can’t go back in time to change it, so I’ve made my peace with it, of a sort. They didn’t beat me, if that’s what you’re asking.” He frowned, still not looking up from his task. “Well, my older half-brother William did, but he’s another kettle of fish. He took great pleasure in using me as his punching bag until I grew old enough to fight back, but my mother and Edward never struck me.”

He reached for a small tin of matches, but then changed his mind, setting the pipe aside, his gaze stuck on the tabletop as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. “Sometimes I wished that they had. Anything would have been better than being outright ignored.” His voice was quiet, his brows pinched together. Then he shook his head and sneered. “Or being so starved for affection that I jumped through whatever hoops Mother put in front of me for even the smallest scraps of attention. There was always some condition, some catch, to earn the smallest of gestures in private, yet there was such a grand show in public that we were a loving family so no one would suspect otherwise.”

Philip’s heart ached for Rolfe. “Had I known…”

“You’d what?” Rolfe turned his gaze to him and Philip could see years of pent up emotion simmering just under the surface. “Scoop me up and claim me as your own, politics and optics be damned?”

The chair Rolfe had been sitting in scraped along the floorboards as he stood. Without giving Philip a chance to answer, Rolfe continued. “I spent so many years hating you,” he confessed, his voice rough. “I was five when I learned what the term bastard meant. I had it drilled into my head repeatedly that I was something no one wanted, a burden and unworthy of the family name. Edward always said that he knew who my father was and he took great pleasure in telling me that you knew I existed but didn’t want me either.”

Philip’s blood boiled even as his heart broke for the boy Rolfe had been. “That was a lie,” he spat.

“I know that now.” Rolfe leaned against the wall and let his head rest on the stone. “It took only a few moments alone with Vincent to know that the man I had spent so long loathing could have never raised a son like him. He was taken from you and you still fought for him, from the moment the Templars first arrived all the way up until the Conclave, and you continue to support him even now. He’s never had any cause to doubt your love for him.”

Philip clasped his hands together, wanting nothing more than to stand and go to Rolfe, but he saw the man’s body language was closed off and defensive and figured the gesture would be unwelcome. He was, after all, a stranger.

“I met my wife two years after the party where I had met Flora. We were married a year later, and we tried to have children as soon as possible. The both of us came from small families: I was the last Trevelyan on my branch of the family tree and Marta’s an only child herself. We both dreamed of having a home filled with sons and daughters, but it wasn’t meant to be. After some complications conceiving, we were beyond blessed to have even had Vincent; it didn’t matter to us when his magic manifested. He was still the same little boy we had loved the day before he accidentally set a rug on fire and he’s still the same man we love today.” Philip stood and walked over to Rolfe. “I know that you have no reason to believe me, but yes, had I known about your birth and how you had been treated in your own home by the very people who were supposed to care for you the most, I would have demanded to take you from them and I would have proudly raised you alongside your brother.”

Rolfe took a shuddering breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest, silently putting some distance between them. “I was so jealous of Vincent at first. He spoke of you and Marta often, probably as his way of explaining to me who you were since I never got the nerve to ask him myself. Even with his circumstances and living in the Circle, he had everything I had ever wanted.”

“You said that you were jealous at first. What made you stop?”

Rolfe dropped his arms from their defensive posture and put his hands in his pockets. “He’s always introduced me as his brother. He's had opportunities to give just my first name, to distance himself from me, but he’s never taken them. He could tell people that I’m his half-brother, but it’s always been this is my brother Rolfe with him.  How could I be jealous of someone who accepts me as I am and doesn’t demand anything in return?” He gave a weak smile. “I’ve only known him for not even a year, but in that short frame of time, he’s shown me more acceptance than either of my older half-siblings have shown me my entire life. I love him; I’d do anything for him.”

Philip reached out then, breathing in relief when Rolfe didn’t flinch away from the hand on his arm. “I’m glad the two of you have the other. He’s written to me and he speaks highly of you.”

Rolfe looked down. “I know. I’ve intercepted and read each of your letters before re-sealing and sending them on their way.” He looked back up and Philip couldn’t read his expression. “I’m a spy, first and foremost, and a damn good one at that.”

“And if you’ve read our letters, then you should know that I already knew your profession.”

“Vincent told you that I was a bodyguard for the Chantry upper echelon. He never said a word about the secrets the higher-ups had me ferret out for them for the past twenty years, or the things they ordered me to do in the Chantry’s name.”

Philip shook his head. “And you don’t think that I can’t read between the lines? Over the years of working with both the Chantry and the Circle, I’ve come to realize that neither entity is as innocent as they would like to present themselves. They need people to get hands dirty where they cannot.”

“And you would still claim me? Philip, I’ve killed people I never knew, all because their ideologies ran afoul of my superiors’. I’ve protected people and saved them from deaths that could have possibly helped ease burdens on hundreds had they been taken out of this world. How can you stand here and say that you’d still like to know me when I have so much blood on my hands?”

“Because you are my son.”

“What does that even mean?” Rolfe demanded, shoving himself off the wall to pace the floor. “The work I did for the Chantry has ensured that I do not exist: outside of their employ I have no income, no connections, not even a roof over my head that I could say I worked to own. I can only be a liability to you and to Vincent, especially now that he insisted that I was presented as family in the Orlesian court, which I’m sure is causing Edward and Mother a bit of scandal to have their old laundry finally aired out. I’m certain that once the news reaches Wycome that it will spell trouble for your political career as well.” He clenched his hands into fists at his side. “I am nothing, and I can offer you nothing in return.”

“I think most of the people downstairs would argue with you being nothing, as would I. Bruno and Penelope wouldn’t insist that you’re a good man or be as loyal to you as they are if they didn’t believe it for themselves. Marta wouldn’t have thought the same after only spending five minutes with you, and my wife is the keenest judge of character than anyone I know.”

“She’s...different than what I was expecting.” Rolfe looked sheepish. “And I owe her an apology. I wasn’t at my best when we met. She probably thinks I’m a bumbling drunkard.”

Philip grinned. “Trust me, spend more time with her and you’ll realize that Marta is a fierce, loyal woman. I wouldn’t worry about what she thinks of you; she didn’t go into detail on what exactly the two of you spoke of, but she came up to our room afterwards ready to fight your mother with her bare hands.”

Rolfe snorted. “I like her already.” He sighed and pinched his brows together in worry. “Are you certain you want to take me on? I mean, look where I live. I drink and I smoke and at times my carousing and ill behavior causes Mother Giselle to beseech Andraste to spare my soul during services.”

Philip laughed. “Remind me to tell you the story about how I earned a few of my scars. Believe it or not, I was wild in my youth as well, and I still have my moments here and there.” Sobering, Philip put his hands on Rolfe’s shoulders again. “If you would allow me, I would very much like to get to know you, Rolfe. You don’t have to decide anything now, but my home and my heart will always be open for you, should you choose to let me in.”

Rolfe reached up to his shoulder and put his hand on top of his. For a brief moment, Philip thought that he would push him away, but all Rolfe did was squeeze his hand. He watched as his son’s lip quivered slightly and his jaw clenched before he let out another shaky breath and nodded.

“Well, Father,” Rolfe started, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly. “There’s thirty-seven years of catching up to do.” He gestured to the table he had been at and the bottle still sitting there. “Would you care for a drink while we talk?”

Philip had to clear his own throat and blink back a few tears of his own before answering. “I would love one, Son.”

[mochiinet]

“roses are red...”

Characters: JBJ’s Donghan & OC (ft. Seventeen’s Mingyu, Momoland’s JooE, Twice’s Nayeon, Monsta X’s Minhyuk, Astro’s Eunwoo, Weekly Idol MC’s Doni & Coni)

Word Count: 2286 words

Summary: You and Donghan are a secret idol couple, and you were both cast, along with other idols, for a Weekly Idol Valentine’s Day special.  However, you both get paired up with different people and you both get really competitive...

You arrived at the familiar Cheongdam building, and you walking down to the basement with your manager and stylist.  When you entered, you greeted everyone, and handed out some store bought chocolates that you’d picked up on the way since it was a Valentine’s Day special that you were participating in.  None of the other guests had arrived yet, and you were given the script to go over.  It was only an outline of the segments and the things they wanted you to talk about.  You stood by the couch while your manager was talking with the PD and your stylist was fixing your makeup.  “So I heard Donghan is coming today.” She said quietly to you.  You tried not to smile, and you nudged her for teasing you, making her smile and laugh.  “I wonder if we’ll be partners.” You said, looking back at the script.  

Slowly, but surely, all of the guests and the two hosts arrived and filming was going to start in ten minutes.  You, were one of the four girl idols, the others being Nayeon from TWICE, JooE from Momoland, and Hyeyeon from Gugudan.  The boy idols were Donghan, Mingyu from Seventeen, Eunwoo from Astro, and Minhyuk from Monsta X.  You smiled at Donghan as he walked in with his manager, and you walked over to greet him casually, slipping a couple chocolates into his hand.  He widened his eyes in surprise, and you shook your head.  You greeted his manager, and he greeted you back warmly which you appreciated.  And then you guys went back over to the couch area, and you sat next to each other.  To pass time until filming started, you showed him funny pictures you’d seen online, and he did the same.  

You were friends with JooE, being the same age you’d gone to school together, so she knew about you and Donghan, and came over to sit with the two of you, especially since she wasn’t close with the others who were there.  “Yah, what happens if you guys get paired together?” She asked you.  “We’ll win everything.” Donghan said nonchalantly.  You laughed.  “That or we’ll be last in everything, it’s either or, there’s no in between.” You said.  “Nayeon-unnie is really pretty in person don’t you think?” You observed her getting her makeup fixed as she put her mic on, as she’d gotten there last.  “I agree 100%.” Donghan said, looking at her as well.  “Yah!” You hit his shoulder, making him cry out in pain, but not too loudly.  You and JooE laughed.  “Filming will begin in five minutes, please be on standby!” The PD’s voice echoed through basement and you guys stood up.  

Filming began and you all entered individually, boys first, and then girls.  After all of the boys went out, it was your turn.  Doni and Coni cheered loudly, “The reactions are so different...” Minhyuk said, making you laugh as you walked over to stand next to the two.  Donghan couldn’t hide his smile, but it was okay because the others were laughing at the comment Minhyuk had just made.  You introduced yourself and stood next to Donghan since he had been the last boy to come out.  The other girls came out as well, ending with Nayeon, and you guys started off the first segment which was the “appeal” segment.  Hyeyeon did cover dances, JooE did her famous CF dance, Nayeon did “popping to children songs”, and you sang a song.  For the guys, Donghan also did cover dances, Eunwoo read a poem, Minhyuk sang a song, and Mingyu brought out food he’d prepared.  

“UWahhhh...” You unconsciously expressed your surprise as Mingyu brought out food for each of the girls.  “Y/n seems to like this a lot.” Coni started to instigate.  Your eyes widened at the mention of your name, and you accepted the small box of bento-like food from Mingyu who was looking at you expectingly.  The other guys watched enviously from the opposite side and you were obviously flustered.  The girls enjoyed the food and the hosts discussed who should be paired with who.  “Okay! We will now reveal the pairs!” Coni announced.  The girls put away the food and fixed your makeup before the pairs were announced.  “The first pair is Donghan and Hyeyeon!” Doni announced.  You tried to control your expression, but JooE started to laugh a little to herself seeing your reaction.  

Donghan looked a little flustered as well, but she had no idea about the hidden situation, and the two stood next to each other as if nothing was wrong.  “The next pair is Nayeon and Eunwoo!” Coni said.  Nayeon and Eunwoo stood together across from the first pair.  “The third pair is JooE and Minhyuk!” Doni said.  The two of them went over to stand next to Donghan and Hyeyeon, while you and Mingyu awkwardly looked at each other and stood together next to Nayeon and Eunwoo.  “So you four will be on my team, and the other four will be on Coni’s team.  Okay, now that all of the pairs are figured out, please come up with a name for your couple.” Doni asked.  You all split up across the basement, but Donghan and Hyeyeon were RIGHT in your line of sight and you watched as they whispered to each other, not really paying attention to Mingyu.  

“Y/n?” Mingyu tried to get your attention and you apologized profusely.  “You two are like....” He had realized you were looking at Donghan and figured it out.  You nodded, knowing the microphones were still recording.  He nodded, taking into consideration the new information.  “We have to win though, we have to do whatever it takes to win.  Being on different teams makes me want to win more.” You laughed as you explained your growing desire to win.  He laughed as well and you guys began talking about what you guys should be called.  Donghan on the other hand was watching you and his competitiveness was growing as well, seeing you and Mingyu laughing together.  Hyeyeon had also figured it out, and was laughing at how fired up he was getting.  

Soon after, the second segment, and the first game began.  The pairs were linked together at the ankles and a relay was set up for you guys complete.  You and Mingyu began to practice and the synchronization you two had was probably the best out of all the pairs.  Donghan saw this and you could practically see the fire in his eyes, and you almost felt bad for Hyeyeon since she was being dragged along.  “Be careful!” You mouthed to him, scolding him for not paying attention to her.  She laughed a little and you gave her a sorry look.  Mingyu laughed, but it made Donghan fire up even more and you watched as their chemistry slowly got better and better.  “Yah...” You glared.  

The game started and you and Mingyu ended up being first, Donghan and Hyeyeon second, JooE and Minhyuk third, and Nayeon and Eunwoo last.  The second game was feeding your partner jjajjangmyeon (black bean noodles), blindfolded, this time neither of the two of you won first, Nayeon and Eunwoo managed to come in first, JooE-Minhyuk second, Donghan-Hyeyeon third, and you-Mingyu last.  Finally, the last game was where it got a little bit more intimate and “Valentine’s Day” themed.  You all had to play the Pepero Game.  You weren’t surprised as you had already known you’d be playing the game, but you were just flustered that you weren’t doing it with Donghan, and instead you were paired with Mingyu.  

JooE and the other members kept looking at you and Donghan, separately, as you both tried to figure out the best angles to play the game with your partners.  “Those two pairs are really competitive aren’t they...” Nayeon said, standing next to JooE, observing.  JooE quietly explained the situation, covering her mic, and Nayeon did as well, and she nodded, eyes wide as she finally understood the competitive energy flowing between you two.  The first pair to go up was Donghan and Hyeyeon and you watched, trying to control the glare on your face, but failing miserably.  You just hoped that they wouldn’t show you.  Hyeyeon’s hands were on his shoulders and he had one hand on her shoulder, the other awkwardly out, trying to balance as he started to bite onto the stick.  They went slow, and you were watching with a sharp eye as he continued to get closer and closer.  Conveniently you were standing in a spot where you could see it clearly, and your eyes widened as he started to turn his head and get even closer shortening the length of the stick.  

However, Hyeyeon started laughing a little, freaking out, and the pepero broke.  “Ahhh!” She exclaimed in regret along with the two MCs.  They measured the length and it was around 1.5 centimeters long.  “We can do better.” Mingyu whispered to you.  “Oh we better.” You said, making him laugh.  Donghan caught this and as he walked back with Hyeyeon to Doni’s side, and raised an eyebrow at you.  You just smiled a little and stood in front of Mingyu, putting your hands on his shoulders.  To everyone’s surprise, as well as yours, Mingyu put his hand on the crook of your neck, securing his position in front of you as if he was actually going to kiss you and you almost dropped the pepero out of your mouth in reaction.  You couldn’t see Donghan any longer since Mingyu was blocking your line of sight, but all of the people on set, even some behind the cameras reacted and you could only imagine what was going through your boyfriend’s mind.  

“Start!” Coni shouted, and Mingyu started to close the distance, extremely quickly.  He took big bites, and your eyes were wide.  You hadn’t expected him to be as competitive as well.  You hit his shoulders a little, signaling for him to slow down and his grip on your neck loosened a little, and he slowed down.  Your tried to push your lips as tight against your gums as you could, and so was Mingyu.  He paused for a little and he was extremely close, you couldn’t even see the stick in your line of sight, it was just his face.  Everyone had crowded around and you could see Donghan out of the corner of your eye and his eyes were glaring at you, and you tried not to laugh.  

JooE, Nayeon, and Hyeyeon were all freaking out on the other side as they watched.  Everyone’s attention was on the two of you and Mingyu took another small bite.  You felt something touch your lips and you immediately pushed away, the smallest little piece of pepero stick dropping into Coni’s hand which had been below your mouths for a while.  Everyone was freaking out and you had your hands over your mouth as you squatted down, eyes wide at what had just happened.  Mingyu had gone straight to Donghan and the guys, secretly apologizing to Donghan so he wouldn’t kill him.  You got up and your face was bright red.  You looked at Donghan apologetically and you could see the frown on his face.  

After filming ended, Coni’s team had won, and the four of you guys got a gift as a reward.  You said goodbye to the other guests and the staff, and met with your manager, walking back upstairs to the first floor.  You went to the bathroom really quickly, and Donghan caught you in the hallway after you came back out.  “I didn’t think you’d get that competitive today.” He said, raising an eyebrow.  You guys went back and forth at each other, pointing out things the other did.  But then you both just starting laughing at each other’s jealously and competitiveness.  “Okay, just to clarify though, it wasn’t me, and you got pretty competitive yourself.” You poked his chest, countering back.  “I’m pretty sure they caught us glaring at each other at least twenty times.” You said, a little worried.  He laughed, brushing your hair to the side.  “Our managers made sure to talk to the PD about it.” He reassured you.  

“Happy Valentine’s day I guess?” You said, hugging him.  He laughed.  “I also made sure that your manager got the gift I got for you, it should be in your van, so let me know later when you see it.” He whispered in your ear.  You pushed away, raising an eyebrow.  “You’ll like it, I’m 100% sure, but I just want the validation.” He said, nonchalantly, brushing back his non-existent long hair, flamboyantly.  You rolled your eyes and shook your head.  “What if I don’t like it?” You asked.  He frowned, and the unexpected pout made you laugh.  “I think I have to go now, but I’ll text you later.” You said, tip toe-ing to give him a quick kiss on his cheek.   He nodded, returning a kiss on your forehead.  You hurried off to your manager, who was waiting in front of your van and you got in, immediately surprised by a bunch of balloons.   “Oh my...” You sat down and closed the door quickly, there were balloons all over the van and a giant teddy bear holding a bouquet of bright red roses in the seat next to yours, along with a little box of chocolates and a note.  As you set off, you read the note and immediately texted him saying how much you enjoyed his gift.  He sent you a bunch of hearts back and you made sure to find something to send him on the actual holiday.  

As per usual my endings suck, and tbh this was put together very last minute... I didn’t even make it on the right day LOL.  But this is the first of a four part Valentine’s Day special (each feature different idols).  I’ll be uploading the rest of them throughout the next few days!  Please look forward to it :)

[kalosstarters]

One-shot: In Need of Healing

(The original title was About Healing and Feelings)

I have been wanting to write something new for a while now, but writer’s block (and limited time) are trying to stop me, so @modeststroke suggested I edit this fic so I’d get at least some writing practice. Anyway, I wrote this fic a year ago, and it takes place during Mairin’s Kalos Quest, i.e. when she’s 17 and has returned from her individual journey. I did add something to the dialogue so it does have something new as well. 

Also, it’s 0:25 and I have to be up in like 6 hours so excuse me for not spell checking the changes I made. There probably are mistakes in it.

Words: 1809

A few months into their new journey, Alain and Mairin stopped on Route 5 for the night. Alain had slept the previous nights rather badly, so when they settled into their respective tents that night, he passed out quickly. However, only after few hours of sleep, he woke up to a scream coming from the tent next to his. Just pulling his T-shirt on, he got out of his tent to see what was wrong. What if team Flare had attacked, and…? He didn’t dare to finish his thoughts. Even after 6 years, those events were still so fresh in his memory. 

Not wanting to break into Mairin’s personal space without her consent, Alain first tried to communicate with her from outside the tent. However, she didn’t answer to his yells, so he eventually opened the zip of Mairin’s tent with shaky fingers. He couldn’t wait any longer if someone indeed was with her...

He sighed of relief when he saw she was alone, only her loyal Chesnaught Chespie next to her. Despite Chespie’s attempts to wake her up, she remained asleep, but she was trashing around restlessly and sweating a lot in her sleeping bag. Alain flinched and closed his eyes for a moment when she screamed in her sleep again and then started helping Chespie, because obviously whatever she was seeing was hurting her (and, his subconscious said, it was hurting him too).

“Mairin, Mairin, wake up!” he said in a weirdly high pitched tone, and shook her arm rather hard. She did eventually open her eyes, but looked pretty confused when she saw Alain’s face so close to hers.

“It’s OK, you were just seeing some nightmares,” he tried to reassure her in a quiet voice.

He wiped her sweaty forehead with his hand to check if she had a fever because her eyes were glossy, cheeks worryingly red, and her breathing ragged. Against his cool hand, her skin felt burning hot.

For a moment, Alain didn’t know what to do or say, but then he decided it would be the best to try to calm the girl down, so he stuttered:

“I-I t-think you have gotten ill.” Gee, Alain, way to be a calm and patient doctor, he scolded himself. He saw Chespie observing him with serious eyes, and that helped him to pull himself together.

“But don’t worry, we’ll get you better soon!” he promised.

What now? he thought in his mind. I’ve taken care of sick Pokemon at Sycamore’s lab, but I don’t know how to take care of a young girl…

He felt helpless. During all those months they had been traveling together she had never been ill, and he had been thankful for that. Taking care of a Pokémon and your friend were two very different things in Alain’s opinion.

He didn’t have any medicine with him (he scolded himself again in his mind, because he knew you should always be prepared for these kinds of things when you’re traveling) so he had to check the location of the closest pharmacy from his DexNav (he had thrown his Holocaster away after the team Flare incident, but thankfully Steven had given away this Hoennese device). He figured it luckily wasn’t too far from their whereabouts, but he didn’t want to leave Mairin alone in that condition, so he left his Fennekin and Weavile along with her Chesnaught to keep her company.

“I’ll go get you some medicine for the fever, but I’ll be right back! Please, remember to rest and drink a lot! Fennie and Weavile will stay here with you,” Alain informed Mairin, and left the camp.

While he was walking fast towards his destination, he was wondering why he was acting so weirdly. It was not like him to get so worried about someone being ill. He had been trained for situations like this. He didn’t even notice that his steps were so loud that he scared a lot of wild Pokemon away when he stomped past them.

The sun had risen when he finally reached the pharmacy, and its doors had luckily just been opened so he was able to get the medicine immediately.

When Alain was back at the camp, he found Mairin asleep again. Fennekin had curled next to her and Alain’s Weavile tried to cool Mairin down by blowing an occasional, light Icy Wind outside the tent. He shook her awake, and felt something nasty go through his spine when she looked at him with tired eyes.

“Hey, I’m here with your medicine. Your fever is still high, I think you should take this right away,” he instructed while putting a wet towel on her forehead with his other hand. She took the medicine, and he left her alone to rest, believing that was the best thing he could do at that moment. He checked the tent every once in a while, and brought her a lot of water and some mashed berries when she showed signs of waking up. She didn’t want to take any of them, but with some determination Alain managed to make her eat them.

A couple of days later Alain was sitting on a huge rock with his Fennekin, watching stars, and perhaps remembering the times when he was traveling with just Charizard, who was training elsewhere at that moment. Mairin, who was feeling much better already and whose fever was down, crawled quietly out of her tent and heard Alain talk to his little Pokemon:

“Am I really ready for this, Fennie? To become a Pokemon doctor? If I got so worried about her even though she had a normal flu, how can I treat something that is far more serious? After almost ruining everything, you know... when you weren’t around... I wanted to start healing instead of destroying, but I’m not sure if I’m good enough.”

“Fenn” the fox Pokemon answered, trying to encourage her trainer, and pushed her head against his sleeve.

“I am so relieved to see she’s getting better already. I don’t ever want to see her as miserable as she was when… well, it was a long time ago.”

Mairin thought she shouldn’t interrupt them when Alain was telling his private thoughts to Fennekin, but to her annoyance her clumsiness (which wasn’t as frequent as it had once been) took over just in that moment. She was about to turn back to her tent when she tripped over a tree branch, and fell loudly on the ground. Alain and Fennie turned to see her.

“Are you all right?” Alain smiled a little bit when he saw his friend cringing at herself. This was just like the old times, he thought happily.

“Uh, sure,” the redhead mumbled, her face red of embarrassment, as she shook the dirt off of her clothes.

“So, I overheard you earlier..” she tried to change the topic, “I think you are going to be a great Pokemon doctor. The way you interact with your Pokemon is something pretty special. I can see from everything that you share a strong bond.” 

She had a small pause and joked: “After all, you even eat the same food with them.”

“Thank you?” he said, not sure how to take the last part. It was still good to hear her joking; that meant she truly had recovered.

“No, thank you. You were really sweet taking care of me like that. You wouldn’t have had to.”

“Nah, it was nothing. And of course I had to, you are my friend. I’m glad to see you’re fine now.”

Before he had time to react to it in any way, she had gotten closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Just accept my gratitude, OK?”

“Wait, have you learned new words? ‘Gratitude’?”

“Alain! I’m not 10 anymore.”

“I know, I know. I was just kidding.”

“Wow, Fennie, did you hear that?” the girl addressed the Pokémon. “That’s some character development. Alain, joking.”

She earned an annoyed look from Alain, but he didn’t break the hug yet. There was something calming about it, in both Alain and Mairin’s opinion.

“Remember the last time we did this? I couldn’t even reach your chin!” Mairin broke the silence cheerfully. Suddenly Alain was awfully aware of the lack of space between them, but he also wondered how this felt so natural. When she had been younger, she had (tried to) hug him quite often, but it had felt different back then. She had been like a sister to him... But that had changed after her return.

Hold on a second. I couldn’t possibly be falling…. no. She’s still so young, Alain thought, ignoring the fact that she was already older than he had been when they had first met, almost an adult.

“Yeah. You have grown quite a bit since.” He patted her head and tried to smile, but he was still a bit confused by his feelings. She pulled off and was now leading him back towards the stone where he had been sitting earlier.

“Come sit with me Alain. I heard the other day that tonight you can see a lot of shooting stars on the sky. And if you see one, you can make a wish.”

“Fine.”

“Can I use your legs as a pillow? Looking at the stars is so much easier if I don’t have to bend my neck like this.” Mairin showed her awkward position and he allowed, though after a bit of hesitation.

There was a minute of silence before she exclaimed: “There, I think I saw one! I wish that whatever our future goals are, we will achieve them. Your turn, Alain.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to say our wishes aloud or they won’t come true.”

“Oh, OK. Well, say it quietly in your mind then.”

Alain looked at the girl resting her head on his lap. Her slightly longer red hair was untied and formed a beautiful curtain behind her, and he resisted the urge to comb it with his fingers. Her eyes looked healthy and happy, and she had an almost childish gleam in them. She was wearing just a top and night shorts, but somehow this casual look made her even more attractive in his eyes.

“Even if nothing else ever happens, at least she still wants to be my friend..” he thought, thanking his stars. He had almost messed things up beyond reparation once…

“What are you thinking about, Alain?” she asked suddenly.

He couldn’t tell her his true thoughts, not yet, so he just whispered:

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

But when he glanced down at the girl who looked back at him with her signature smile, which he had once been so determined to see, and her shining hazel eyes, he suddenly knew he was a goner. And there was no turning back now.

[notbecauseofvictories]

What do you think about the Palpatine is Rey's Grandfather AU?

There’s an art to being on your knees. 

Rey has studied it her whole life—exactly where to balance on your kneecaps so they won’t ache for the rest of the week, how to tuck your calves to your thighs, the particular angle of your ankles so your feet won’t fall asleep and you won’t stumble, walking away. Whatever Grandfather says, she doesn’t find that pain centers her, makes her more at One with the Force—it just makes it hard to concentrate on what he’s saying, sift through the confused mix of past and present, orders, invective, praise for her, for himself. He’s begun calling her by the wrong name lately—‘Padmé’ instead of Reyvan. Leave me alone, he always says then, his voice trembling. I have no patience for ghosts.

The Emperor is getting old, his detractors would say, if his detractors had been allowed to live. The power of the Dark Side cannot hold back death forever.

There are generals who come to her for orders now. 

Rey doesn’t flinch when Kylo goes to his knees beside her, though he does it gracelessly, a heavy collapse of limbs and the clatter of armor. (She still doesn’t understand how they both trained beneath Darth Vader and found such different lessons in it. But then, perhaps that is the curse of his blood—) 

Rey watches out of the corner of her eye as Kylo removes his helmet and tucks it under his arm. He is red-faced and there is sweat on his brow; he must have only just docked, and run from the bay. “Lady Reyvan,” he greets her, and she refuses to rankle at the faint thread of amusement running through his voice.

“Darth Vader,” she replies coolly.

“How long has he been talking?” he asks lightly, and she does rankle at that.

“The Emperor is wise,” she whispers, lashing out with the Force for good measure. Kylo winces at the blow—he’s grown sloppy, his shields out of reach and his reflexes slow—and his thin smile is quickly replaced by a scowl.

“Everyone from here to the Outer Rim knows you’re more the Emperor than he is these days,” Kylo says sourly, not seeming to feel the desperate stab of panic that goes through Rey. (She forces herself to exhale, self-consciously checking her Force-shields. It is one thing for Kylo, but Grandfather is still strong in the Force, and he could not be allowed to see her weakness. She breathes.)

“If you were a true Sith Lord, you would kill him, and assume his place,” Kylo adds, when she says nothing. “Is that not the way? Didn’t I kill my master to take up the mantle of Vader?”

Rey thinks about reminding Kylo of the weeks he had spent locked in his rooms, lost to grief and refusing to eat, after he killed Anakin. How, when she had taken her lightsaber and carved through the durasteel of his door, he had met her on the other side ready to die himself. (She’d clung to him, and they’d cried.)

Instead, she settles for a withering look. “Your opinion is neither asked for nor required.”

“What are the two of you whispering about?” the Emperor demands suddenly, and their attention jerks back to him, where he sits on the raised dais. He is looking at them through filmy eyes, and Kylo straightens up, looking suddenly very serious. Rey lifts her voice:

“Nothing, Grandfather. I was simply informing Darth Vader of what he had missed, by coming late.”

“Ah, yes,” the Emperor says, relaxing back against the seat. He looks increasingly dwarfed by it, more with each passing  “How goes the fight for the Devaron System?” 

Kylo darts a look at Rey, but she stares steadfastly ahead. “It goes well, Emperor,” he finally says. “They will fall soon, surely.”

Rey focuses on her breathing, on balancing her weight perfectly so her knees won’t ache when she stands. She does not think about how the whole Duluur Sector was under Imperial control before she or Kylo were born. 

It does not go on too long after that, though it feels longer, with Kylo throwing her a look every time the Emperor says something that is no longer true, or wanders far afield in his musings, and has to be reminded of why they are there. At last he sighs, and tells Rey to come and kiss him. 

Rey can feel her ears burning, but she rises to her feet. “Thank you, Grandfather,” Rey says like an obedient child, and kisses him on the cheek as she did when she was small.

He pats her hand, and she does not shiver at how many veins she can see, grotesquely, beneath his papery skin.

“Rey…” Kylo says, once the doors to the audience chamber shut behind them. She just barely resists the impulse to draw her saber, for daring. (It has been long, too long since they had a good sparring match. She misses the burn of muscles and the humming gladness of having an opponent, a singular individual whom she could fight and conquer, and not a creeping grey, an unnamed fading and the gathering weight of destiny.)

“I have outgrown childhood petnames, Lord Vader,” she says instead, with as much ice as she can dredge up from within her. “And you know it.”

“He’s worse than when I left, Rey,” Kylo echoes. His eyes are hard. “And that was only a few months ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, because by the Force, they are in public. Anyone could wander down this corridor, and Grandfather’s enemies, her enemies, are everywhere. It’s so like Kylo to barrel into this with as much grace and thought as a bantha in a tea shop. 

“The Emperor is wise,” she adds. “He rules with strength and the Force is with him. That you would think to question his might—”

“You’re worse too,” Kylo interrupts, and it knocks the air from her lungs. She stares, but Kylo bullies through: “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You’re miserable and drowning in the Dark Side, I don’t know how you can even reach out for the Force like this—”

When the anger arrives, it is a whiplash—bright and hard, filling her up with something strong as kyber crystals and yet brittle, sharp-edged.

She curls her lip at Kylo. “And that is Jedi talk, Skywalker-Solo,” she spits, and all the color drains from his face in a rush. Rey grins—or bares her teeth, she’s honestly not sure the difference at this point. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you not enjoy being called by your name? Perhaps you’d rather I lisped ‘’ky’lo’ as I did when we were young?”

He swallows. “I am a Sith, like my grandfather before me,” Kylo says, but she can hear the fractional hesitation in his voice. “My—mother and father’s choices do not dictate mine.”

“Don’t they,” Rey scoffs, turning away and starting down the corridor. (The anger is still there, simmering under her skin. She doesn’t know what to do with it, except tremble.) 

But Kylo’s legs are longer than hers now, and it only takes him a couple strides to catch up. “In case you’ve forgotten, Lady Reyvan, you loved my mother. When it was revealed she was a spy for the Rebellion, you cried for days. You even had to be sedated for her—execution.”

“I was a child,” Rey said, viciously shoving aside the ache as she remembered Leia’s face, how badly Rey had wished Leia was her mother, instead of just Kylo’s. How, just before she was led out to the executioner’s block, Leia had taken Rey’s hands and said, there is such light in you; don’t let them put it out.

It had taken Darth Vader—the first, the real, because Kylo would never really be Darth Vader to her—almost three months to find Kylo afterwards. His father had kidnapped him, with the intent of delivering him to the rebels. Even now, Kylo didn’t like to talk about it. (Rey never met Han Solo, but she thinks she can see him, sometimes, in Kylo. Not that she would ever tell him.)

“What about that stormtrooper captain?” Kylo asks, as they turned down another corridor. “You weren’t a child with him.”

The mention of Eight-Sevens cuts even deeper that Leia’s name did, and Rey feels the bottom of the world drop out. She whirls on Kylo. “I told you that in confidence.”

Of course, she’s forgotten Kylo has no shame, and he just scowls at her. “I know. You said you loved him. Where is he now?”

“I had him reassigned before we could develop any—deeper attachment,” Rey says stiffly, and Kylo’s face falls.That more than anything brings her anger roaring back, bright and terrible. She could kill him like this, and it would be easy. “What is it you want from me, Kylo?” she demands. “Kill my master and become emperor, fall in love and become a Jedi—maybe I should consider defecting to the Rebellion too! Tell me what I should do, and I’ll do it, I swear.”

“I want…“

Kylo falls silent, chewing on his lower lip.

“I thought so,” Rey says, and Kylo flinches. “And before—before you think to offer me yet another impossible choice, perhaps consider that my master is also my grandfather, and I might love him too. You know what it’s like, to have no family left. Would you wish that on me?”

Kylo is silent, and Rey exhales shakily. “I have to go now,” she says. “I have—a hundred different meetings today, and I’ve already missed half of them. You’re welcome to come along, if you like.“

They walk beside one another in silence, Rey fixing the folds of her robes and the strands of hair that have come loose of her complicated braids. (Grandfather had insisted on a traditional Naboo stylist from the moment Rey’s hair was long enough to run a brush through—she doesn’t remember a time when her head wasn’t heavy with some pile of braids.) She envies Kylo, whose hair has been a wild mess his whole life, and only has to put his helmet on again to become the fearsome Darth Vader.

“You know, that isn’t right,” Kylo says suddenly, as they’re about to cross into the Western Wing. His voice sounds strange, distorted by the mask, and Rey dares a glance at him. (It’s strange to see Darth Vader’s mask and know it isn’t Anakin behind it. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get over the strangeness of that.) 

“What isn’t right?” Rey asks.

“That I don’t have any family left. I have you. And if you—whatever, you’ll have me. So…that’s that.”

They’re to the grand double doors before Rey can think of how to reply. “Lady Reyvan,” Kylo says with a bow.

“You’re not coming?” Rey asks, a little disappointed. It’s always more fun to sit with Kylo and gossip through the Force about how this commander is thinking about fucking this lieutenant, or which of them is wondering about lunch. Without him, she might actually have to pay attention.

“Force, no,” Kylo says, and she can hear him smirking. “I’ve heard the emperor isn’t even coming to this meeting.”

Rey is still swearing at him in Sith as he walks away. 

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Sting like a bee - Round 2

Part 1

Bustling crowds, full of enthusiasm to see the blood sweat and tears of the competitors hasten around you, entering the small arena with zeal and energy. If getting through assemblies of people aren’t enough, then prepping yourself for the somewhat long night of gut-wrenching hits between two individuals is certain to make you ill at ease.

You have never been able to understand the blatant publicity of fights, how people get a thrill out of individuals physically hurting their bodies to gain power. Sure, you’ve cheered your husband on a few times, as a proud, supportive wife is meant to do, but you have never gone to the extent of what others have.

You take the long way around, finding the exact entrance Harry mentioned for you to use. “Y/N?” A security guard examines as you stand in front of him, placing the sticky note with Harry’s handwriting back into your coat pocket.

You courteously nod, “Okay, walk on through and enter through area six.” He attentively smiles, gesturing for you to enter the gates.

You follow the trail and signs to area six, your own nerves beginning to pulsate throughout your already apprehensive body. You reach gate six and catch a glimpse of Harry’s trainer laughing with another guard. He catches your gaze and waves you down.

You stride over to him, courteously greeting him as he dismisses the gatekeeper. “Y/N, my dear it’s been a while!” He exclaims, pulling you into one of his common embraces, “you just missed my wife. Annaleigh misses you!” He informs you, a small sigh escaping your lips. Sometimes she’s the one who keeps you entertained and calm while you’re at the events, doing your best to be supportive.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” You pout, “I’m here alone and could use with her company.” You continue, hearing the rumbling of fans as a bell rings.

“I’ll take you to her. Are you excited?” He queries, already guiding you around.

You? Excited?

You haven’t been excited about these competitions since ten months into dating Harry— when Harry was knocked out, ruled out with a concussion and couldn’t do anything for over a month. For a whole month, he wasn’t granted permission to work out, train, or even remotely hit anything. He was without question miserable and dreadful to deal with. You shake your head, “I hate these.” You make a confession, walking by his side through different areas, trusting he knows where the hell he is going.

“That’s understandable, my wife hated it too.” He informs you and you nod. “But it’s a big event tonight.” He adds with excitement and enthusiasm. Harry forgot to mention that tonight is a big event, perhaps for good reason. You round a corner and see the familiar locks of blonde hair, the trainer's wife wearing a ravishing smile. Instantly she whisks you away, taking you away from the unknown chaos that was taking part where she previously was.

You both sit down amongst excessively roused supporters, screaming and cheering on the current bout happening in the ring.

Cross, jab, Blocking and Parrying, hook, Jab, Bobbing and Weaving, uppercut.

All motions you continuously view from your seats, motions that are simple but delicate in the boxing world. Several of them Harry has taught you and compelled you to practice. A considerable number of times he compelled you to the gym he trains at just so he could train you how to adequately strike and defend yourself. One night he forced you to punch a punching bag as hard as you could for a full minute, by the end of the minute you felt like your arms wanted to drop off. You don’t understand how he has the energy and strength to keep it up, you certainly don’t. Before you know it, your husband is in the ring, his opponent appearing larger than him, you turn to your side needing some reassurance. “Y/N, he can handle it,” Annaleigh promises you, reading your mind as you uncomfortably watch on.

Your stomach clenches with every blow you see Harry endure, every uppercut he doesn’t manage to block, every jab to his body that he pays no attention to while attempting to hook his opponent. With every moment that passes you can’t help but feel nauseous and distressed as the bout continues, blood beginning to drip from both opponents. You take another deep breath, doing your best to be supportive amongst a crowd of high-spirited supporters who get a thrill out of the bloody mess.

“I— I can’t watch this.” You shake your head, “I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you soon.” You fake a smile at Annaleigh, standing to your feet and hurriedly making your way through the tightly packed area.

You manage to make your way out of the arena, feeling the fresh air hit your body and fill your lungs, almost instantly calming you down. Instead of leaving— you walk around and find the back exit of the arena, (with the help of security), where you walk towards Harry’s car, deciding to wait by it for the remainder of the event. Your heart flutters with every ruckus that echoes from inside, your thoughts praying that it’s all in Harry’s favour, as selfish as that may sound. If he can just hurry up and win the bout, he can get home safely and you won’t have to worry that tonight might be a night you spend in the emergency room with him.

You lean on the hood of his car, patiently waiting, hoping that he will walk out of the back doors any minute. The anticipation gashes you like a knife, not knowing what’s going on is excruciating for you. He could be winning, he could be losing, he could be covered in blood and close to tapping out, or he could already be knocked out in the ring; but you don’t know because you couldn’t bear to continue watching.

Your eyes dart towards the door as it is pushed open, your heart dropping when your eyes meet Harry’s, a laceration under his eye, his arm in an arm sling. “I thought you left.” He Breathes, unlocking his car. You shake your head, “What happened?” You breathe as he stands in front of you, your eyes unable to leave his arm.

There’s bound to be other contusions, wounds, and whatever else under his apparel. “You didn’t see?” He challenges with exhausted eyes, again you shake your head.

You’re somewhat appreciative you didn’t be a witness to whatever it is that happened. You probably couldn’t stomach watching another blow to his body.

“I couldn’t keep watching.” You notify him, grateful you didn’t see whatever discomfort he managed to inflict on himself from this sport he seems to take pleasure in.

“I’m glad you didn’t see. I dislocated my shoulder, twice.” He informs you, your eyes growing wide as the word “twice” rolls off his tongue.

Was the first time not enough?

“It popped back in place and I kept going, it came out again and I kept going until the coach threw the towel in.” He gripes, presumably displeased that the towel was thrown in. “I could have won.” He grouches, the wind beginning to pick up and send cold chills down your spine.

You shake your head at him, concerned for the pain he’s disguising. “Harry, I want you to stop.” The words escape your lips, relief overcoming you as the words are finally let free.

He focuses on you, wincing as he moves his shoulder gently, evidently in discomfort. “What do you mean?” He lowers his eyes on you, stepping closer to your body as you continue to rest against the hood of his car.

“Please, no more boxing.” You draw a breath, removing your eyes from his gaze.

No more bruises, no more lacerations, no more sprains and dislocations. The abrasions on his torso are not discoloured art forms, his torso isn’t meant for the purple and blue stains, nor is meant for broken ribs, or bloody cuts.

His body should be worshiped and cared for, not battered and bruised. “I’m not done.” Harry shakes his head, your stomach turning as his eyes become dark and full of unpleasantness. “I’m not going to stop.” He raises his voice dimly, getting his point across in his husky voice.

You don’t respond back to him, instead, you gently push off his car.

“I need you to drive.” He holds up his keys, gesturing for you to take them.

With dislike you take the keys from his hand, stepping away from him.

You feel his hand mildly wrap around your wrist, stopping you from moving further. “What?” You answer back sharply, turning to face him. He lets out a sigh, his eyes softening.

“Listen, I love you, okay?” His voice sounds as though he’s trying to convince you.

“Get in the car.” You growl, pulling your wrist from his grasp and getting into the car.

The words spoken between the two of you are minimal, you have nothing to say to your husband as he stays reclined in the passenger seat, doing his best to keep his shoulder comfortable.

Presumably, he’s feeling the aftermath of his actions. “Why are you driving slow?” He utters in a bad-tempered tone, perhaps eager to get home and to get in bed.

His body is presumably in a fair bit of pain. Something tells you the fight wasn’t an easy one for him.

“I’m not.” You respond, trying to focus on the road as your stomach twists and turns, your mind racing with different thoughts and problems, most revolving around the negative impact of Harry’s hobby. “If you have a problem with my driving, walk home.” You inform him, giving him the option to shut up or to literally walk home. You’re in no mood to deal with him.

“What happened to float like a butterfly, sting like a bee? You want me to stop and just not use my energy?” His voice takes your attention and you roll your eyes.

“It’s time you float like a butterfly because I’m sick of this, literally sick.”

You gesture towards his shoulder for a split second before your attention is back on the road. He’s had his run of training, fighting, and winning. It’s time he hands in the towel for good.

“You’re sick of this? My body is the one that feels it, you’re perfectly fine. I’m not having this conversation with your right now.” He blusters loudly, moving within the leather seat of the passenger seat.

“Do you want to drive?” You change the subject, your left hand pressing to your stomach while your right-hand stays on the steering wheel.

Seeing blood and hearing the sound of fists hitting skin unsettled you entirely. “Not really.” He shakes his head and you pull the car over to the side. “Why are we stopping?” He sighs heavily, inconvenienced by the sudden.

“Just, shut up.” You groan, resting back in your seat and taking a few breaths, “I don’t want to hear another damn word.” You growl, silencing him as you breathe.

You get out of the car, allowing the ice-cold air to fill your lungs. Unsure of what the hell you are meant to do.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s voice sounds and he gets out of the car, adjusting his shoulder.

“Get in the car.” You instruct, trying to hold down what is threatening to repulsively come up.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s cold, get in!” He strides around the front end of the car, coming to your side.

You disobey him, your hand pulling your hair back as you topple over, your stomach clenching as you throw up alongside the shoulder of the road. Lovely. Just fucking lovely.

“Woah, okay.” His voice echoes and you feel his hand press against your back, “you’re ‘lright.” He takes ahold of your hair and you wrap your arms around your stomach, leaning back against the car. “You okay?” He goodheartedly requests, his tone completely different to how it was earlier.

“Peachy, just peachy.” You sarcastically reveal, your stomach continuing to swirl and turn, your lips threatening to tell him the secret you’ve been harbouring the last four days. “I feel so sick.” You express dissatisfaction, beginning to wish you could rest on him, but you can’t because of his battered and beaten body.

Harry’s quick to grab your hair again as you find yourself heaving, for the second time, feeling vulnerable and weak.

You lift your head intaking a breath of fresh air, hoping this is the last round of the feeling of queasiness. “I’m okay, let's go.” You clear your throat, straightening your posture in the hope there’s nothing left to be brought up in a disgusting way.

“I’m driving,” Harry informs you, placing a small kiss to your forehead. You look up at him, taking note of his swollen cheek, “it has to stop.” You reference the boxing, taking another chance at getting him to change his outlook.

He gives you a confused glance before realising what you mean. “Give me one good damn reason that doesn’t have to do with the injuries.” He insists as you both stand on the side of the road.

You take a moment to comprehend your thoughts and the answer that’ll ultimately change his mind. Only one coming to mind. “I’m pregnant.” ……

Round 3

Round 4  

Round 5

[qwertsypage]

Solutions To Common Remote Work Issues During COVID

Solutions To Common Remote Work Issues During COVID

by JJ Sutherland | March 27, 2020 | Blog

Two of the clients I have been working with this week have interestingly similar issues, despite being in radically different industries. One client is military, a strategy group rather than a warfighting force. The other is a major player in the healthcare industry. 

They are both struggling with the same thing we all are, the switch to the world of remote working. 

These clients are both known for their innovation, creativity, and vision. And I want to share some solutions they have found to common work issues in the time of COVID. 

When The Workday Includes Kids And Distance Learning

Efforts to contain the spread of Coronavirus have shuttered whole cities, states, and even countries. Schools across the globe have sent students home with the expectation that lessons will continue online.

My wife and I are wrestling with this ourselves. 

We have two young children at home. We both work. This week we have somehow drifted back into the traditional gender roles of previous generations. She is doing the bulk of child care while I’m locked in my office all day. Besides being incredibly unfair, this also makes her miserable because she feels she’s now doing a poor job as both a parent and professional. So next week, we are going to try an approach I learned from our healthcare client. 

I find their approach amazingly transparent and productive. They began by labeling this sudden need for their members to also be partial teachers and full-time parents as an impediment. They crushed it by allowing members with kids to set or change the team schedule. 

For example, if someone puts ‘kid stuff’ from 8-9 am on the calendar then no team meetings or Scrum events are scheduled for that time. The Team Members without childcare adjust their workflow to match. And for Scrum teams, parents adjusted capacity to allow for this shift.

Our military client took a similar approach. They saw parents needed more time in the middle of the day for childcare. So they insisted those team members take a 2-hour break instead of 1. Simple fix. It took a lot of pressure off of the parents and the team stayed focused on the task at hand. 

I’m inspired by both of these moves. Realizing the work-life balance has gone through a tectonic change isn’t easy even though it’s all around us. And both of these can add more to the plates of non-parents. But to see teams bond together and have each other’s backs - that is amazing.  

Surviving An Avalanche Of Meetings

As soon as work from home became the norm, both of these clients noticed an unexpected increase in the number of meetings they had to attend. There was a lot of talking about what work needed to be done, would be done, should be done. And after all that talking was done, there was no time to actually do it. 

My colleague, Matt Jacobs, shared an approach that had an immediate impact: all meetings are now working sessions. Something tangible must come out of each meeting that demonstrably advances the team towards an outcome. A document, plan, or a pitch deck. Whatever it is, meetings are now collaborative creation sessions in which solutions are built. 

To help create this mindset, the task at hand and a definition of done are laid out at the beginning of the meeting. The attendees begin with a quick discussion to ensure everyone is on the same page about what needs to be accomplished, and then they roll up their sleeves and get at it. This approach ensures every meeting materially advances a priority. 

Another way to deal with this is to create regular meeting-free time. I’ve started to block my calendar for dedicated heads-down work. Because the same thing was happening to me, meeting after meeting. 

Who Is Working On What?

Our military client is having problems with clear roles, responsibilities, and accountability. Not at the team level, mind you, but across the organization.

Multiple teams were working on the same thing without realizing it. Clearly a huge waste. Worse yet, it created rework because the work done wasn’t quite right and did not meet expectations. 

This seems to be happening to everyone as we adjust to what is being called the new normal.

To me, it sounded like they didn’t have a good, clear, and accessible backlog and work wasn’t visible. Which makes sense now that they can’t simply walk over to their colleagues to see what is going on. The need to call or email someone creates a real barrier to communication.

Alignment requires more discipline in virtual work environments. It also requires direct communication. 

And something more. Have a Scaled Daily Scrum, or call it something else. The name doesn’t matter. What does matter is having a focused conversation about who is working on what will make a huge difference. 

When Other Teams Are Slowing You Down

Our military client is one of the first Agile teams. They were seven sprints in when they suddenly all had to work from home. 

It wasn’t easy, of course, but the structure and rhythm of Scrum allowed them to make the switch in 24 hours and keep projects on track. The real problem, one leader said, was the other parts of the organization, the parts that aren’t Agile.. 

As a result, this group of teams is going so much faster than anyone else that they became blocked by needing critical input from non-Agile Teams. Teams who are still reeling from the shift.

Understandably, the Agile teams are incredibly frustrated. 

Another colleague of mine, Alex Sheive, told them what we tell any Team with external dependencies: Write the story so that the definition of done stops at the dependency. This Team has done their part and passed it on to another Team, or has requested something from a different group. Just submitting the work or making the request is when the story is Done. When it comes back, you start a new story that captures the rest of the work needed to finish it. 

Individual teams may not be able to solve for a dependency. This at least lets you build a backlog that accounts for them so you minimize how much they will slow you down. 

The Toughest Question

I spent the bulk of this blog talking about two particular clients. I want to step away from them to address a question I’ve heard from people across the globe this week.

Does my work have any value at all? 

Meaningful work is one of the primary motivators of humans. Working on something seemingly unimportant, unrelated to the crisis engulfing at all can seem pointless. Demoralizing. 

I always say the same thing in reply. Pandemics end. Crises end. The world may be shaped differently on the other side, but it does pass.

It is incredibly important for people to be thinking about how they want to shape that future. It’s not enough for you to just survive. You can come out of it stronger. To not only be resilient but to be better. 

Perhaps after this pandemic, we will have better ways of incorporating the demands of parenting into our corporate lives. Perhaps “meeting” will come to mean a powerful collaboration of minds, rather than a waste of them. What is happening is unprecedented in modern history. Ask yourself, what can we learn from what we are living through?

As we’ve all learned these past few weeks, the final value of the Agile Manifesto seems very apt right now. Respond to change over following a plan. 

The post Solutions To Common Remote Work Issues During COVID appeared first on Scrum Inc.

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[helloanonymouswriter]

Undone || Malec

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/569888954-undone-malec-three AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520396/chapters/33638313

CHAPTER THREE

Everyone regrouped in the ops centre and Rafael made sure to listen out for details on how the evening had progressed. "What did you find?" the head of security asked.

"The box my mum used to keep Jonathon's things in." Clary replied.

"It was right where Izzy found Max." Jace explained.

"I know Max had his eyes on it." Alec confirmed. "He was so determined to prove himself."

"It's possible he found a way to use the box to track Jonathon." Jace continued and Rafael tuned out for a bit, turning his gaze to his exhausted brother.

"You should sleep for a bit, conserve your energy." Rafael prompted. Max looked like he was about to protest but sighed, knowing he wouldn't be of any help if he couldn't perform the spell. Rafael spotted the Shadowhunter that arranged their sleeping arrangements earlier. "Hey man." Rafael smiled apologetically.

"My brother's exhausted from fighting a hoard of shax demons today. Do you mind if he sleeps for a bit? Is there somewhere he can rest?" Rafael asked as nicely as possible. The Shadowhunter appeared indifferent about it.

"Sure, the spare rooms are down that hall then up the stairs. He can go in the one at the end." The man informed and Rafael nodded before turning to Max.

"Did you hear that?"

Max rolled his eyes. "We both know where the spare rooms are." He scoffed. Rafael shrugged and helped his brother up. "I can make it there myself, don't worry." Max assured. "Just stay updated on what's happening." Rafael agreed reluctantly and waved his brother away. He tuned back into the conversation.

"-without it. Alec, he could still be in the building." Jace cautioned. So they knew Jonathon was amongst them.

"We have to confirm he's still inside."

"He saw what the real Jonathon looks like, he will be glamoured as one of our own." Jace concluded and Rafael internally commended them on figuring it out as he turned to watch the perimeter for any sign of hellhounds.

"Hiding in plain sight." Clary added uneasily.

Alec breathed in and looked like he was forming a plan. "Okay ... okay Sebastian I want you and any other personnel on-" Rafael blocked out the rest of his father's words and his blood ran cold. Sebastian. That was Jonathon's alias. Rafael fixed the blond Shadowhunter with a gaze full of contempt. That man had caused so much pain and heartache in his family. He wished he could just end him there and then. He clenched his hands to stay in his seat and not throttle the person who attacked his uncle.

"-If Jonathon's still in the building, he's not getting out alive!" Alec assured right to Jonathon's face and Rafael would have been pleased if he didn't know that the bastard would, indeed, get out alive. Rafael glared as the blond half-nephilim, half-demon marched off to perform whatever devious deed was next on his list. Rafael hated having to be rational, but he really couldn't do anything that interfered with their timeline too vastly.

Just then Alec rushed past and whipped his phone out, finger pressing urgently on call. He groaned in frustration when the person didn't pick up. "Magnus please ... I need your help. I know things are complicated right now but ... I just ... I need you ..." Alec sighed heavily and stopped the voicemail. Rafael felt his heart clench - he hated seeing his parents sad. Although they had the occasional argument, they were too in love to ever continue for too long. Hearing the sorrow in young Alec's voice only made Rafael more aware of how it didn't start out so easy.

"Fuck this." Alec snapped suddenly and his son watched as he stormed out the institute to personally get his lover to help. Rafael sighed and dreaded the destination of the evening.

~

Max could only manage a couple hours sleep, his mind was too restless despite his body's protests. After a while he couldn't handle being alone in this foreign room in this foreign time without the comfort of his brother. He went in search for Rafael, hoping he was still in the ops centre. However as he rounded one of the corridors he stopped in his tracks and backed up. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he spotted his papa addressing his father and family about his uncle.

"Max's only hope for recovery now lies with brother Enoch." Magnus explained regretfully. Alec looked disappointed by the news and went straight to denial.

"There's gotta be something! Anything-"

"Brother Enoch." Maryse Lightwood said sternly and Max flinched a little at the sight. This was the Maryse Lightwood still struggling with her prejudices. Although she had come to love Max, he knew he made her sad at the same time - he was nothing like her son. He loved his grandparents but there was only so far their tolerance could go.

As the silent brother went to help little Max Alec became desperate. "No!" He exclaimed.

"Alec! I know you're scared..." Max tuned out of the conversation, shutting his eyes tight. He hated seeing the ones he loved so miserable and there was nothing he could do about it. After a moment he cast one last glance round the corner and saw his papa holding his dad's hand as a comfort. Max, despite the sadness it spawned, couldn't help but smile at the fact that Magnus would always care for his dad and would comfort him when Max couldn't. He let out a breath and headed to find Rafael.

Luckily he was still by the monitors, looking frustrated at the results. Max smiled at the sense of familiarity and security that Rafael gave him despite the painful reality around them, his throbbing parabatai rune and the lack of his family and friends. "Hey." Max spoke softly and Rafael jerked to attention. He smiled at Max's ruffled blue hair but it dropped a little when he noticed something amongst the birds nest.

"Maxie." He said in a low voice. "One of your mark's is showing. Might want to strengthen your glamour." Rafael whispered. Max frowned and reached up to find one of his horns showing. He flushed and concentrated his magic once again. Generally he wasn't ashamed of being a warlock and it was a lot more accepted at the institute in his time but he knew the reaction would be less than great in their current situation.

Just then Rafael's attention snapped to one individual who started talking to Clary. His eyes narrowed and he turned to Max. "That's Jonathon." He hissed and Max's eyes went wide. It was the blond head of security. "His alias is Sebastian. You were right, it did start with an 'S'" Rafael sighed and watched curiously as they interacted.

"Clary's tricking him into holding electrum." Max mumbled.

"Shit's about to go down." Rafael grimaced. The next couple hours were a blur as the sun began to rise. Both Lightwood-Bane brothers witnessed the whole Jonathon attack failure then deflated when they saw their papa leaving the institute with tears in his eyes not long after.

"Dad's probably a mess." Max whispered.

"They both are." Rafael agreed. "I heard the other Shadowhunters talking and uncle Max is okay." Max felt relieved despite knowing the outcome.

"That's good." He smiled. "So, any progress on the demons?"

"No ... they didn't even attempt a breach. What's stalling them?" Rafael asked angrily. "Look we should get some rest. I'm sure that if they attack we'll know about it but I need my strength if we're going to be along for this confusing ride." Rafael admitted, feeling his eyes getting heavy. Max agreed and helped his brother towards the spare rooms.

"Rafael! Max!" They heard Isabelle call and turned to see her jog towards them in those ridiculously high heels. Rafael smiled tiredly in reply. "I just wanted to say thank you for helping me find my brother, I don't know what I'd have done if we didn't find him sooner. So thank you." She smiled, eyes a little red.

"We didn't really do anything but we're glad he's ok. I hope you're able to get some rest." Max smiled.

"Oh I wish ... Alec's called us into a meeting about what happened with Jonathon. Where are you boys headed?" She asked, changing the subject.

"We were hoping to get a few hours sleep because we need to get back to tracking those demons as soon as possible. We've contacted our team and they're staying at a friends. We'll regroup when we can." Max explained, feeling responsible to take on the charade for once. Rafael needed rest and shouldn't have to think so hard.

"Ok you boys get some rest, I'm sorry you came in the middle of it all. If I get a chance to spare I'll help you with your demon problem. If not I'll get Alec to assign a Shadowhunter to help you on the case in the institute." Isabelle smiled and patted Max on his arm. She felt strangely fond of the blue-haired boy. He reminded her a lot of her Max and her protective streak was still raw. She watched with a smile as the brothers helped each other to their room and hoped that once everything was over they'd have the chance to really talk. They seemed nice and there was something comforting about them that Isabelle found herself wanting to explore further.

~

Rafael and Max had finally got the rest they needed and decided to spar. Like their father is provided much needed stress relief and their iratzes had already gotten rid of the previous day's kinks. They had a quarterstaff each and circled each other on the floor. Rafael watched his brother quickly assess the situation, looking for any directional decision's in the boy's eyes. He saw the decision made in hardened blue eyes and prepared as his muscles twitched and he struck fast and hard. Rune's already activated, Rafael dodged with ease and went to get his brother in the back as he flew fast. His reflexes were good though as he blocked the blow.

Max's arms strained a little as he pushed back against his brother's strength. Rafael was the strongest warrior in the institute, Alexandra coming in close second. Max wasn't sloppy by any means but he had to focus on the skill of physical battle as well as mental when his magic came into play. Despite the conflict, he managed to keep up and found his parabatai's skills comforting. He made a quick decision, ducking under his brother's staff and kicking him behind the knee.

Rafael's knee bent but he followed the motion, rolling forward and twisting so fast the he swiped his brother's feet out from under him. Max let out an 'oof!' as his back hit the ground. Rafael chuckled and stood, looming confidently over his brother. "Nice technique and reaction time but you let your guard down when you thought you'd gotten me. Don't stop there, keep attacking until you know I'm down for certain." Rafael instructed and held out a hand for his brother.

"Solid advice." A voice complimented from the side. The brothers jerked their heads to the training room entrance. Alec and Isabelle stood there, similar expressions and stances. Isabelle uncrossed her arms and grinned brightly at the boys as Alec gave a small impressed smile - only the lifting of the corner of his mouth really.

"Thank you, I train the others at the institute." Rafael smiled and made his way towards the head of the institute, Max following suite.

"Really? What family do you come from?" Alec asked curiously. Rafael froze for a second, brain running on fast forward as he struggled to grasp a lesser-known Shadowhunting family name.

"True...wright." Rafael blurted out. Max almost gave an exasperated sigh, he was pretty sure that was made up.

"I haven't heard of the Truewrights." Isabelle said thoughtfully.

"Our legacy isn't very vast and our name relatively new." Rafael tried to explain. Alec seemed to accept that as he looked ready to change the conversation. "Isabelle here said you helped out in the ops centre yesterday when things got crazy during lock-down." He started and Rafael gave a nod.

"He got the operating systems back up in record time once Sebas- I mean Jonathon disabled them. Thanks to that we were able to save and find some institute footage regarding the elite guards. The quick back up also alerted the other Shadowhunters earlier about the crisis." Isabelle explained with an impressed smirk. Rafael felt himself flush a little and just knew his brother was giving him a smug look.

"Impressive." Alec agreed.

"U-um, thank you sir." Rafael couldn't help but get flustered. It's not like he didn't compliments from the older version of his father, but he thought it particularly difficult to impress the young and stubborn version of Alec Lightwood-Bane. No doubt he had other pressing matters that may distract from small feats like helping out with the security system. Isabelle seemed insistent that he get recognition though. Both brothers could tell they'd gained her trust and she wanted to help them.

"How's your field-work?" Alec addressed the younger brother.

"Ready and awaiting orders sir." Max replied automatically, both brothers had gotten past the shock of their situation enough to function as usual. Max was a good warrior and completed orders with vigour. He didn't want to fall behind his brother. Alec looked pleased with the response and turned to Isabelle who Rafael noticed was wearing her gear.

"Then you can suit up and accompany my sister on mission. Rafael, I appear to be lacking a head of security. What would you say to a part time position? I assure you we'll help with your demon problem as soon as possible. We'll get some other Shadowhunters scouting for any unusual demon activity."

Max and Rafael's pulses sped up, both honoured. Rafael was acting-head back home and head of security was a position of honour and he felt overwhelmed that he displayed enough skill and competency to not only gain their trust so quickly but be offered a sought after position in a prestigious institute. "I'd be honoured s-sir." Rafael couldn't help stutter. Alec gave a nod.

"I trust my sister's judgement and you've both proven to not be involved in any of the chaos that ensued yesterday. We'd appreciate any assistance you can offer." Alec replied justly before turning to Rafael. "Shall we?" he pressed and Rafael stood to attention.

He turned to his brother. "Good luck Maxie." He gave a reassuring smile at his brother's anxious gaze. He knew Max didn't like being separated but being on mission would put him in his element - he should be alright.

"You too Rafa." Max turned his attention to Isabelle as Alec and Rafael left to sort out the business of the day.

"Well you're all warmed up, grab your blades and let's go." Isabelle grinned brightly and Max couldn't help but return her enthusiasm. He loved his aunt Izzy.

As Rafael and Alec walked to his office in comfortable silence, Alec felt the need to clarify something that's been bothering him. "Look." He started firmly as Rafael fell into step with him. "My head of security just turned out to be a psychopathic murderer in league with Valentine and I usually wouldn't be so ready to accept another outsider for the position. I didn't have a good gut feeling about Sebastian but he saved my sister's life so I ignored it. I have a good gut feeling about you so you better not betray this offer of trust do you hear me?" Alec warned.

Rafael could see the exhaustion and sadness in his father's eyes and he wished he could reach out to comfort him but knew that wasn't possible. All he could do right now is try and ease his mind about Rafael's loyalty. "Of course sir. I welcome punishment if I don't fit up to your standards."

Alec raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. Once they reached the office, they went straight to business.

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