#and in a calmer state i would argue my points politely

[soldier-poet-king]

i am going to kill everyone in this house and then myself HOLY FUCK

everytime im like 'yeah okay maybe bro 1 isnt THAT awful and we can have a single discussion that's not about anime without fighting' he pulls this shit

bro3, a young teen, asks a question about the new(ish) vacant house tax in the city, aiming to help pop the godawful housing bubble. IMMEDIATELY bro1 goes on a fuckin screaming rant about how the govt is evil and taxes are evil and literally quotes the ron swanson parks and rec sandwich bit yes the one DELIBERATELY EXAGGERATED AND SIMPLIFIED FOR COMEDY

and i, try, calmly to ask how he would like to fix things instead. he brings up a bunch of republican & libertatian states as 'havens' from tax. i ask how he would like public services to be funded. he replies that he doesn't want them funded. i ask why then he uses public services. he insists he doesnt, and 'as long as i have a job in the states i have healthcare'. ok. putting aside the obvious issues with workplace-tied insurance (which canada is not free from!! our health system is ALSO a shitshow. it is just MILDLY less so in some respects.) I ask about public infrastructure that he cannot avoid using, like ROADS. he yells and genuinely has a FIT. YELLING. like the apathetic guy who does not ever have emotions is fuckin YELLING at me about taxes. this man clearly has way too much fucking time online.

and THEN, i bring up the 'idk how to tell you we should care about other people' wrt public services that serve a greater good but that he might not necessarily use directly (education, libraries, childcare, senior care, social assistance, etc). and he straight up 'i dont care about other people. i dont care about strangers'. and bro 3 AGREES WITH HIM. this tiny baby child who i have practically raised as my own kid half the time and have tried SO HARD to impart a measure of kindness in this godawful house. agrees with him

and bro1 finishes it off with 'if someone has a second house, they deserve it' as if i didnt just finish explaining about social services and how rich people 99% of the time acquire wealth unethically and at the expense of the poor and how the wealth gap is only increasing and how yeah sure in an ideal world everyone would give freely, but as he literally just finished explaining to me while complaining about 'the liberals', people are corrupt and selfish, and so instituting things with widespread tax funded programs is going to help a lot more people than just oh let's hope these instinctively selfish rich people acquiring money thru unethical means take pity on the poors this year. like. we KNOW that doesnt work. my solution isn't perfect by any means but it passes on the slim margin of being NOT AS BAD AS IT CURRENTLY IS

i genuinely do NOT understand how anyone has so little disregard for the concept of a greater good, of societal health, of caring for people NOT yourself. how can he be SO selfish and yet still enjoy, and DEMAND, so much of the luxuries he enjoys in a developed country which historically and at present has profited off of various forms of exploitation!!! like!! bitch!!!!

not to be like im glad his 4yr relationship ended bc his gf deserves way better (for various reasons, not just his shitty politics, but this is pretty emblematic of his personality at large) + his friends are all shitty and terrible people and hes lowkey abusing alcohol and weed bc of them + he needs to get offline and go to a monastery for his health. but like. i AM saying that.

[seaweedroll]

Her dearest friend. Part 3.

A/N: Things are getting steamy in King Landing! Y/N is exploring her awakening sexuality and Aemond is there to show her things. I feel so bad for Aegon so I will have to make him to something really bad in the next chapter or else!

The next day the rain came and with the shift of the weather, the mood in the Red Keep shifted. Joy and excitement were replaced by strange uneasiness, anticipation hung heavy in the air.

Y/N caught a cold after her night swim. She did not leave her room for three days and refused to see anyone even her father. People at court worried what had happened to the little flower.

Ayeden Stark knew that his daughter was struck by melancholy after their conversation. He did not expect such reaction to his words and that worried him even more. What if she realised that she too has feelings for the Targaryen boys? What if Aemond demands her hand? She will become green ally when the Starks swore to Princess Rhaenyra. She would betray her family and put herself in a terrible danger. If she married Tyland Lannister, she would be sent to Casterly Rock, an impenetrable fortress where she would be guarded by the finest soldiers. High Garden was an option too. Yes, High Garden. He must send a raven at once.

Aegon sank back into his cups and went galivanting to the most deprived and perverted parts of King’s Landing. Perhaps if he drank enough, he would be able to forget seeing Y/N kissing his brother, his hands on her almost naked body, him following her back to the castle. Aegon wanted to ask her, get on his knees, and beg to tell him that that kiss meant nothing, and he was the one for her not his baby brother. But she was hiding in her room, torturing him by depriving him of seeing her, talking to her so he settled for fucking whores that resembled her.

Aemond was losing sleep. He did not expect her to reciprocate his feeling so quickly; he was ready for months of courting, of making her fall in love with him to the point the thought of them being apart physically hurt. But she said she needed him, her words like music to her and so he would do everything to get her.

The prince knew Y/N father was planning to betroth her to the pompous Lannister lord so he had to act fast.

‘Mother, can I speak with you?’ silver haired prince entered Queen’s chambers.

‘What is it, Aemond?’ she gave him a small smile.

‘I came to ask for you support. I intend to ask for lady Y/N’s hand’ his words were firm.

‘She is a lovely lady’ Alicent approached her son. ‘I know you two are good friends’ she gave him a knowing smile, ‘but I would ask you to wait for a little longer. We need Lord Stark’s full attention to the state matters. I will make sure Lord Lannister keeps his distance’ she spoke before Aemond could argue. ‘You have my word, my dear son’.

The conversation with his mother gave him hope. As much as he wanted to demand Y/N to be married to him straight away, Aemond understood how difficult the political climate was at the moment. He would never deliberately do anything to put his family at risk or make a move that could cause war. Many thought Aemond would be a better king than Aegon and that was the truth.

On the fourth day, Y/N finally left her chambers and went for a wander around the castle, rediscovering nooks, and crannies she explored as a child. She was calmer now; her dreams were less vivid than three days ago. The dreams that made her folds glister, her hands explore her body only to wake up moaning, screaming Aemond’s name. In her dreams he would rip off her dress take her on his desk, against the wall in the dark hallways, on the throne where everyone watched. Surely, it was due to her fever. Proper ladies could never dream of such things otherwise.

As she approached west wing, she heard loud voices arguing and a hard slap of hand against the skin.

‘You are no son of mine’ Alicent’s word were harsh as she turned on her heel and left Aegon chambers, not noticing Y/N hiding behind the pillar. In the chamber she heard Aegon weep, so she rushed towards him without a second thought.

Under the silk covers, a white hair prince sobbed, his beautiful features twisted by deep pain, that slowly ate his soul away. There was no hope for him, no mercy of the Seven. He wished to die right then and there until he felt a feather like touch brushing off unruly curls off his face. Aegon looked up and saw Y/N, her eyes soft with worry.

‘Y/N? What are you doing here?’ he blinked the tears away.

‘I heard screaming…’ she wouldn’t dare to look at him. ‘Aegon, I heard what your mother said. She didn’t mean it. We all say things we don’t mean when we get angry’ she stroked his hair trying to convince him.

‘But she did’ he laughed bitterly, sitting up. ‘She wishes for Aemond to be the king. He is a better warrior; a better scholar - he has read every book in the library. That little fucker is trying to take away you too’ he spat his distaste for his younger brother. ‘Everyone in my family hates me’.

‘They don’t hate you, Aegon. But you make it hard to like you when you only show them your dark side. If they knew the Aegon I know…’

‘They would still hate me’ he got up, his naked frame making Y/N blush and cover her eyes.

‘I must go’ she tried to leave whilst still covering her eyes.

‘I’m decent’ he laughed as Y/N bumped into his chest covered by a night shirt. Instantly, he pulled her into a loving embrace, savouring the moment. ‘You look adorable when you blush’ he cupped her face and made her look up.

‘I need to go. I cannot be seen in your chambers’ she tried to pull away, but his grip was strong.

‘I wish you would stay. Forever’ Aegon smiled and leaned in to kiss her. He poured all his love and devotion into it, a prayer to the goddess of love. Alas, she rejected him, her delicate hands shoving him off her and eyes shooting daggers at her.

‘You must never do that again. You’re married to Helaena. She doesn’t deserve such betrayal’ Y/N warned him and rushed out, cursing her for not listening to her father.

Aegon didn’t try to stop her. He touched his lips, trying to imprint the feeling of her lips forever. And then something snapped in him – a memory of one kiss won’t be enough. He needed more and more in other ways. Y/N like any Stark had high morals and unbreakable loyalty to people she cared. Good thing that Aegon didn’t have any morals and as a crown prince he was used to getting what he wanted. And he would stop at nothing until he did.

A week or so has passed before Y/N was fully immersed in court things again. She spent a lot of time with young ladies giggling and gossiping about eligible men they wanted to marry.

‘I want lord Baratheon to make me his lady wife. Oh, just imagine those strong arms holding you close’ lady Jeyne jokingly wrapped her arms around herself.

‘But he is a brute that can barely read?’ Y/N raised her eyebrow.

‘I don’t think we would be reading much anyway’ Jeyne winked at her.

‘I would want someone intelligent, like my father’ Y/N took a sip from her cup. ‘Someone who’s interested in books, philosophy. A scholar’ she pondered.

‘Prince Aemond is a scholar. Rumour has it he’s read every book in the library’ Leyane hinted casually looking to coax out a response from Y/N.

‘But he is hideous! That scar!’ Jeyne couldn’t hide her disgust.

‘That’s your prince you’re talking about’ Y/N warned.

‘But you wish he was your prince’ Leyane teased.

‘Why not?’ Y/N admitted casually, annoyed by their obvious attempts to get something they could gossip about later. ‘He’s tall and handsome. And could take any of your dream boys down. And he can read’ Y/N teased.

‘But does he know you to kiss you there? Make you feel so good’ Anysa, the quietest of the group finally spoke.

‘Anysa! You cannot lay with a man before you’re married!’

‘You said anything about laying’ the dark-haired lady smirked.

‘But how would y…’ Y/N was interrupted by a Septa summoning young ladies back to the castle. Y/N excused herself to wander around the gardens and think about those special kisses Anysa mentioned.

Lost in her thoughts, she bumped into someone’s firm chest. Of course, it was Aemond. He would always appear whenever she was having impure thoughts, perhaps, as a test from the gods.

‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted, slightly inebriated from the Dornish wine.

‘Oh I was just… reading’ he smirked. ‘And why are you wandering the gardens alone, my lady?’

‘Fresh air helps me think’.

‘Hmm’ he smirked again. ‘What were you thinking about, my beauty?’

‘About the special kisses…down there’ she whispered her dirty secret to her prince who was taken aback by her forwardness. Oh, she truly was a test from gods to see how far his impure thoughts would take him. ‘Can you tell me about them, my prince?’ she blushed.

‘I can show you, my lady’ he leaned in to kiss her. ‘Let’s find somewhere more private’ he took her hand, and she gladly followed him.

Tagging my hoes down bellow. Thank you for your support I hope your pillows are always cold and your dreams are always sexy <3 @moonmaiden1996 @lugiastark @sweetashoneyhoney @discowizard88 @simpsrus00 @m00n5t0n3 @rainy-day-lady @linkpk88 @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @verycollectivecreator @rosaryos @hhjhbhh

[themadamespod]

The Great White Gripe

A lot has been said about the “social commentary” within The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. 

“Since when is Marvel a bunch of SJWs? I don’t need this shit.”

“All this race stuff feels SUPER forced.”

“Oh here we go Marvel tryin to be all woke to get the libs on board.”

If you personally know anyone who spews this brand of ignorance, we’re sorry. 

Let’s make one thing perfectly clear: there is no social commentary on TFATWS. Showrunner Malcolm Spellman and director Kari Skogland simply show the reality of life in America. It’s not their fault that so many (white) people (men) don’t like looking in the mirror.

And some people claim they have no problem with film and television addressing politics and social change.

“Just keep it out of my comic book movies. It doesn’t belong there.”

They could not be anymore wrong, even if Chandler Bing himself was lecturing them. 

If you asked 100 people to name the top ten movies of all time, you’d get 100 different lists. But one thing we can all agree on is that film has power. It has the power to move us, to divide us, to unite us. Entertainment can lead to the kind of discourse that prompts action and positive change.

And that’s why The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and the conversations it’s sparking are so important.

One World, One Reality

“Marvel has always been and always will be a reflection of the world right outside our window.” - Stan Lee

There are two takeaways from that statement:

One: Stan Lee didn’t say that in the 1960s, 1970s, or even the 1980s. He said it in 2017.

Two: Our window, not your window, is a subtle but important distinction, particularly as it relates to TFATWS. The Flag Smashers, led by Karli Morgenthau, live by a simple creed: “One world, One people.” The core message of the show is that white Americans and Black Americans experience the world very differently, but there’s still only one world, one reality. 

It’s just a matter of people opening their eyes and seeing it.

TFATWS is an extension of Marvel’s early support of the Civil Rights Movement. In 1963, Stan Lee created the X-Men as an allegory for the ongoing struggles of the African-American community. Though he didn’t explicitly base Professor X and Magneto on Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X, there are ideological similarities.

Five years later, following the assassinations of Dr. King and Robert Kennedy, Stan wrote the following:

“Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. It’s totally irrational, patently insane to condemn an entire race—to despise an entire nation—to vilify an entire religion. Sooner or later, we must learn to judge each other on our own merits. Sooner or later, if a man is ever to be worthy of his destiny, we must fill our hearts with tolerance.”

In 2021, Stan’s words still resonate. Racism in the United States is as virulent and damaging as it’s ever been. Black Americans are facing deadly policing, Jim Crow 2.0 voting laws, mass incarceration, and countless other roadblocks to mobility that most white people have never encountered.

Through the journeys of Sam and Sarah Wilson, Lemar Hoskins, and the heartbreaking Isaiah Bradley, TFATWS shows the unvarnished truth of what Ira Glass might call Black American Life. And through John Walker, the writers nail home the message that’s really making certain people squirm:

White men are the greatest threat not just to Black Americans, but all Americans, because TFATWS is as much an indictment of toxic masculinity as it is of bigotry. 

As aggressive racism has spread like wildfire since 2016, so has hostile sexism towards women of all colors. John Walker is the embodiment of the hyper aggression that the Proud Boys applaud. The clearest example of this comes when Walker dares to clap the shoulder of Ayo, one of Wakanda’s Dora Milaje.

Her swift and, ahem, pointed response had women the world over screaming like they’d just won the lottery. 

One could also argue that Walker’s dogged pursuit of Karli and displaced peoples supporting the Flag Smasher cause mirrors the Trump administration’s war on immigrants. 

There are plenty of parallels to draw. The point is, none of them are forced or manufactured or exaggerated. And whether we’re talking about a fictional road in Latvia or a real street in Minnesota, white Americans need to stop avoiding conversations that make them uncomfortable.

The Politics of Comics 

In 1938, Americans were still reeling from the Great Depression. Enter Superman, the everyman hero, who made his comic debut while the nation was facing widespread unemployment, rampant poverty, and blatant corruption at every level of government.

Superman could have faced off against any number of supernatural villains. But Siegel and Shuster went a different route, setting a precedent for comic books that has prevailed to this day:

They got political. 

Throughout Superman’s earliest adventures, he fought against evil politicians, apathetic bureaucrats, aggressive police officers, greedy businessmen, and even a Washington lobbyist. 

Then in 1941, Joe Simon & Jack Kirby introduced Captain America just in time to fight the nazis and free the world from fascism. A couple decades later, Kirby and Stan Lee would tell the tale of the aforementioned Erik Lehnsherr, who survived the horrors of Auschwitz. These comics endured because their passion and nuance transcended entertainment. So what was the secret sauce?

Like Siegel and Shuster, Simon, Kirby, and Stan Lee were Jewish. Representation matters, folks. 

Later on, the X-Men weren’t the only conduit through which Marvel supported Civil Rights. In 1966, on the heels of the “March Against Fear” from Memphis, TN to Jackson, MS, Stan Lee & Jack Kirby unveiled Black Panther. When African-Americans were fighting harder than ever, Black children could suddenly read a comic book about T’Challa, the noble warrior king of a highly advanced African nation. 

Marvel has never been shy about critiquing foreign policy either. Tony Stark and Iron Man debuted in 1968 as the conflict in Vietnam was escalating. And let’s not forget, Tony made his MCU debut in a film that is a clear indictment of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

We could do this all day, but you get the idea. 

Comic books have always reflected the politics of our times, and so has the MCU. Fanboys can’t start crying now just because they’re on the wrong side of history. And when they do, we defer to the great Jon Bernthal when asked about alt-righters appropriating the Punisher symbol:

“Fuck them.”

Life Imitates Art

In 1986, American men felt the need for speed. After Top Gun was released, applications to U.S. aviation forces increased by a staggering 500%. 

Two years later, Errol Morris exposed police corruption in his film The Thin Blue Line. The documentary prompted a new investigation that eventually exonerated death row inmate Randall Adams for the murder of a police officer.

That same year, the Polish government ceased all executions after leaders were swayed to do so by A Short Film about Killing.

Following the release of Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine in 1999, Kmart bowed to public pressure and stopped selling handgun ammunition. 

And 5 years ago, Pakistani Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif changed the law on honor killings in response to the critically-acclaimed film A Girl in the River. 

Like we said earlier, film has the power to spur social change. Even if the effects aren’t always so direct and immediate, television and movies have always contributed to the process in America. 

Seeing the Ricardos sharing a bed allowed some Americans to start relaxing their prudish ways. 

The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Maude empowered women as they fought for reproductive rights.

The Jeffersons and Good Times facilitated calmer discussions about race relations.

And The Ellen Show led to greater representation of queer people on screen and greater acceptance of queer people in society. Though Ellen herself has become a problematic figure in the last year, that legacy still remains.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is hardly the first show of its kind. And given the impact film has on society, we believe Hollywood has a moral obligation to produce content that exposes society’s ills and fosters productive debate. 

Stan Lee would be very proud of the team behind TFATWS for bringing the stark reality of American life into people’s living rooms. The next time you see someone bitching about it, remind them what Stan himself said just a few years ago: 

“Those stories have room for everyone, regardless of their race, gender, religion, or color of their skin. The only things we don't have room for are hatred, intolerance, and bigotry.”

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

I would like to present (extremely briefly; it's more of an invitation to their thoughts rather than anything else) two approaches that touch on a creative technique used by Przybyszewska, which has been spotted by some of her scholars, albeit each in its own way. Ewa Graczyk maintains that Przybyszewska did not write a historical drama in any way, but rather described a completely different reality, an universum in which the same events happen, but which doesn't take place on Earth, with us in it. She describes, then, something which I call The French Revolution', taking after mathematics' nomenclature. Kazimiera Ingdahl, on the other hand, spots traces of gnostic and manichean ideologies in Przybyszewska's writing, which, as we all know, are based solidly on the contrast between Heaven and Hell, knowledge and numbness, soul and mind. I mention them here solely to point out there is a dualism in her works, it is important and easily recognizable.

I have nowhere near the amount of erudition these scholars do, so I will constrict myself to some more visible matters. In my previous post about Antoine, I've made a remark that stuck with me for far longer than I had expected, and so I decided to elaborate on it.

The passage I'm talking about is this: because it could potentially reveal Saint-Just as another Danton-like minded individual, looking for power for himself through sacrifices of others. I want to explore whether Przybyszewska really did construct both of them alike?

To me it appears very probable, as crazy as it sounds. First of all, ALL of the personages are created in some reference to Robespierre. He is the only singular, original mind amongst them all, not to mentoin an axis around which other revolve, and so all of them, whether we like it or not, are somewhat similar to each other. Second of all, she clearly went in the direction of mirroring certain scenes, ideas, expressions (which I personally love to track down and compare them later), and it's exactly the same when talking about certain individuals. The two pairs (Robespierre – Saint-Just and Danton – Desmoulins) come to mind right away. They are constructed as parallels at least in some aspects and at least to some extent.

Wouldn't that, however, put Saint-Just and Desmoulins on the same/similar level, aren't they the ones who creat a parallel pair? Well, yes and no. I think they are a unit when it comes to personal matters, for rather obvious reasons. But I also think they are both put in similar situations, and yet their thinking is polar opposite of each other. They are both allowed to Robespierre's most personal sphere, and yet their reactions are completely different, which is one among the reasons as to why one of them meets a sad end by all accounts, and the other can die somewhat happy (as I will always mantain: if Przybyszewska managed to finish Thermidor, I am one hundred percent sure she would depict Antoine as one dying boldly and proudly, if only beause he died for a great cause and alongside Robespierre). On the other hand, spiritually and mentally, Camille resembles Maxime way, way more than Danton. They are both... maybe not exactly soft, but emotional. The main difference between them is Maxime is able to rein his feelings in when necessary (again, not always, not completely; vide his late night visit at Desmoulins', vide his attempt and saving him from the Luxembourg Palace), but as far as differences go, this one is actually minor. They are put in different positions, but their reactions are similar.

I would also wager to say Saint-Just and Robespierre don't have that much in common with each other in the plays, leaving out their political stances and their relationship. They are very different in terms of character traits: Maxime is more forgiving, calmer, quieter in all aspects. Antoine is more of a quicksilver, and also is regarded more as a tool in Maxime's hands, which I mean in the best way possible. While he has his own opinions, sometimes quite different to that of Robespierre's, he only entertains them in Maxime's presence, so that no one can put a splinter between them and turn them against each other. When they are turned against each other (during their quarrels, yes, but also during Thermidor, which is a beautiful study of such a case), he defers to Maximilien humbly and holds no grudges against him. This is pretty much the only soft side he ever presents to the audience, for when facing any other characters, he is sarcastic  if not downright hostile, the only exception I can think of being Eleonore. He's not gentle, not even with Robespierre whom he respects so much.  (I cannot get over how badly Wajda interpreted this in his movie, where in his very first scene Antoine brings Maxime an apple-tree branch in full blossom; while a sweet gesture, it made little sense, for the director not only didn't establish their special bond in any way, cutting their very important scene in Act II and a lot of their exchange of words in Act V out, but completely ignored the fact that in the play they did talk about trees blossming, but it was Maxime who pointed this out to Antoine. Honestly, it would make much more sense if in the movie he was the one giving Antoine flowers; altough I don't trust it would be executed well, so perhaps the best scenario would be to drop it altogether.)

This leaves Antoine and Danton as the unlikely pair. Here I wouldn't necessarily say they are put in different positions (following my train of comparison), because – depending on if you believe the confrontation between Danton and Robespierre to be honest or not – there is enough evidence in the play to mantain both of them want to  establish power over nation through Robespierre. Danton is the villain of the play, but he isn't blind, he too wants to use Maximilien as a face of the dictature, as a tool to obtain more "normal" power for himself (normal power here would equal to money, respect, high office; the "abnormal" power is what Robespierre sort-of-dreams-of, an influence over people to direct them into doing what is necessary for the good of the whole of the nation, or better yet, the world). And Antoine wants more or less the same thing, the exception being he doesn't care at all for personal gains. He doesn't necessarily believe in Robespierre's visions of the future, one could even argue he doesn't understand them (this is clearly shown in Thermidor, where he reacts with a headache once Robespierre unfolds his plan in front of him: Stop it, Maxime. I can't keep up with you anymore.); he does, however, see the neccesity of establishing the dictature or some other extraordinary mean to obtain the total power over the state. Both he and Danton are blessed with a far-fetching political vision, the only thing differentiating them from Robespierre is that he's a much more brilliant chess player than any of them, when they can see few moves forward, he's already seen all the possible outcomes of the match. And all of these outcomes are bad, for Maxime is characterised as a pessimist, while Antoine and Danton are, generally speaking, optimistically inclined. Youthful foolishness indeed, except Antoine is not foolish! He's just optimistic. In Danton, the optimism takes a form of boldness and bravado, in Saint-Just it manifests as an unwavering faith in the one he considers to be so much more superior to himself, and also a certain amount of contempt for the ones he considers to be inferior. This is another trait he shares with Danton, and we have to admit, Przybyszewska did a really good job at presenting the same trait in them both in such different ways, that we like one, hate the other.

There is also the matter of how they treat Camille and what they think of him. Here, both are jealous, I think. Jealous of the special place Camille has in Robespierre's heart, scornful of his abilities as a politician and a journalist, disinclined to him as a person. Danton cares for him as far as his utility in being a leverage on Robespierre goes, but I don't think he hoards any warm feelings for him personally, and I don't say it only because he was willing to sacrifice Camille purely out of spite. A much better example to show what I mean is that Danton seems to have a much better functioning, more honest and professional relationship with Delacroix than with Camille, whom he keeps in the dark about absolutely everything from start to finish. I don't know if it was meant to be a symbol or not, but in their very last scene in the jail cell, Camille has to beg Danton not to snuff out the candle, which Danton does, albeit very reluctantly. In turn, Saint-Just talks about Camille in language dripping with contempt and jealousy of purely personal kind, offending him left and right, right to Robespierre's face – not to hurt Maxime, but to "open his eyes", so to speak. In one particularly harsh sentence he compares Camille to a dog, a child and a prostitue all in one breath. He not only doesn't regard him as an opponent, but barely recognizes him as a human being worth respect, in which he is sadly very similar to Danton.

Weirdly enough, they both regard Maximilien as human, which I think is interesting to notice. It would be really easy to write them in such a style that leaves way for them to see Robespierre as something more, something almost extraterrestrial, somebody who posseses abilites greater than normal humans do. And yet:

The first image is from The Last Nights of Ventose, my own translation, and it's directly from Antoine's compassionate speech. I didn't include Robespierre's response, because he just deflected, but deflection does mean he doesn't fully agree, so it's yet another similarity.

One more thing that comes to mind in a comparison like this is that Danton threatens Robespierre with the ultimate power. He doesn't think that Maxime will be able to live with it, with himself, if he ever decides to go this one step futher and become a dictator. Is this is because he wouldn't be able to live with himself, or does he truly underestimate Maxime, or he simply wants to make sure Maxime would not go in this direction precisley because he knows he would then be ustoppable? How very telling then, that in Antoine's mouth the very same thing is not a threat, but a promise! This ultimate power is born out of necessity, and it's a grace for the whole nation, because no other person could bear the weight of this "crown", but Maxime.

The main difference between Saint-Just and Danton, I think, is something which we have to believe, it's not written clearly anywhere, and this is also the thing I briefly touched uppon in the aforementioned post: we have to believe that Antoine has pure intentions, because we sure know Danton does not. These were the embers fueling the suspiscion in Maxime when he couldn't understand why Antoine would possibly push for the dictature so much – is his heart pure? This sounds overly dramatic, perhaps, but I think this dramaticism aligns perfectly with Maxime's overall characterisation. I think all readers believe in his good intentions, and the parallels constructing the characters help immensely in this judgement, for if Danton is rotten to the core, Antoine is as steady and pure as a marble column. Robespierre even calls one a pig, while the other deserves to be named an Apostle of liberty.

There is, however, another similarity between them, too. Both Antoine and Danton are willing to be dishonest in order to achieve their goals. This is this one thing that's hard for Robespierre to swallow, for he – like Camille – values honesty really highly and if he could, he'd always act honestly. Saint-Just, not to mention Danton, has no such scrupules. He sees the greater necessity as something erasing all other circumstances, and for this greater picture he is willing to sacrifice some of his integrity as a human being. With Danton, the situation is even less complex, for I don't believe he would be sacrificing his integrity in any way – this dishonesty lays at his very core and comes natural to him.

The arguments Saint-Just presents, and which differs from Robespierre's point of view, are also different from that of Danton's. Danton's vision of the present is filled with contempt for the people, for the masses who are less brilliant than him and few others are. It is worth noting that Przybyszewska really did think like this, this is something she believed in and while reading Danton's speeches in Act II Scene 3, what we actually hear is her own train of thoughts. The only difference is that she didn't disdain the people they way he did. She thought that being a mass, an unnamed pulp of flesh is not a bad thing (it was perhaps unfortunate, and I am sure thinking she was a genius like Robespierre helped her in maintainign this view). Base material is a nourishment for those who will lead these masses. We – the lesser people – are absolutely necessary for them – the greater ones – so that they can lead us out of the night and into the new epoch of enlightement, and there is nothing humiliating in being this nourishment/tool/base. Danton understood it only partially, for he wasn't ready for the greatest sacrifice of all: to be a genius, one has to get rid of everything personal, all needs and desires must be kept aside, and never again spoken of. Robespierre understood it, and I think Antoine did too. I think the best evidence for it is that he said, that he doesn't consider himself to be Robespierre's equal. Recently I hoped to prove it was a silent declaration of love; now I want to point out it is one because it showed Robespierre that Antoine understood this great sacrifice one has to make in order to be a leader, and in his own way, he has already done this. He has brushed aside personal vain and glory, his amour-propre, he degraded himself in order to magnify Maxime's importance. Danton may say: It's you whom I adore, but it is Antoine who shows it through his actions as well as his words.  

[milky-maid-library]

CHAPTER 1: Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim.

Summary: 19 year old Elizabeth Hillard is met with the truth that she is actually a late blooming Omega.

Please read the trigger warnings and tags!: description of medical vagina examination, abandonment and verbal scolding/abusive tones. non-consensual treatment. non-consensual drugging.

Notes: A gift to @cursedcursingviking

“Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim” means “be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.”

April 15th 2023, 13:00pm, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

“Holy shit, holy shit, no, no, no!” she was sobbing. Stick in hand, a horse shoe and a smiley face soaked in her urine on the tip. Five other tests were on the floor around her feet, all positive; all Omega.

She couldn’t believe this, her whole life said “Alpha, Alpha, you are an Alpha.”

Her parents were both Alphas!

She was meant to be an Alpha!

The possibility of being an Omega for her is less than six percent. The last Omega in her family was her great-grandmother on her mother’s side or some distant shit like that. Her aunts and uncles were all betas and Alphas.

Her family have always told her that “to be an Omega is to be a waste of time.”

Omegas were submissive, obedient, they were at home looking after pups or in the hospital at the nursery or at daycares looking after loud, slobbering toddlers.

Her family were strongly built, they were made of soldiers, police officers, construction developers, political leaders and company CEO’s. Not pathetic, whiney housewives.

Currently she was seeing her whole world swirling down the toilet as she flushed it.  She wanted to stay in school and study to be a high paid vet! Now she’ll be sent to a correctional centre or foreign country with extra distant family and forced to knit and paint until finally sold off to a partner or a birthing centre for science.

She sobbed harder before finally vomiting over the toilet bowel induced by the overwhelming stress.

Laying her cheek on the seat she glanced at her watch and cringed. Her mother would be home any minute! Picking up each test, she considered snapping them in half and clogging the toilet up with them yet what was the use? When scent was in the picture evolution was the final bitch.

Looking at the many smiley faces she felt like they were mocking her, laughing at her. Normally she would get angry, but now…instead she was sad. Tears sprung in her eyes again as she cradled them to her chest. Stumbling out of the bathroom she clamped up the stairs to her bedroom. She shut the door instead of slamming it. Gentle, considerate. Dropping the tests onto the side table, she fell into her bed and crawled under her covers.

“W-worst day ever.” She cried over and over, muffled by the softness of her pillows she inhaled in.

April 15th 2023, 16:30pm, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

“Beth! Come down here please!” Her mother called from the kitchen.

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed open, she was wrapped in a tumble of her sheets and blankets. Her mother must’ve just come just gotten home, she was always so busy with her corporate work, she hadn’t seen her dad in two weeks since his overtime in the city bank.

She could hear her call again, firmer this time around.

She groaned and dragged herself up from her bed and down the stairs. Her stomach growled, hungry. She wondered what her mother was planning to cook or if they were just going to have pizza.

Stepping into the Kitchen her mother was kicking off her leather shoes and ripping her suit jacket over the counter.

“What did I say about boys?” She snapped over her shoulder. Drinking down a Painkiller. Great, she was already in a bad mood. She forgot her mother only got her cornrows re-braided yesterday, her head must’ve been violently sore. Elizabeth tried warning her to not go into work, call in a sick day, but no one would attempt to change Mrs. Hillard’s mind once it was made, like most mums.

But boys? Now that Elizabeth didn’t understand the sudden burst of tone. She felt her body loosen and turn icy, her skin covered in goosebumps. She mother was furiously popping an second pill before her when Elizabeth shivered, “D-don’t bring boys over.”

She sneered, her canines flashing; her large brown eyes identical to her daughters, glared her down.

Stepping around her to the cupboards, she whipped out an air freshener and dosed the room in a scent of lavender…only to be clouded by hormonal pheromones.

She felt the air grow painfully heavy as her mother hissed and sprayed the can out, before furiously slamming onto the counter and slamming the cupboards shut.

“Then why the fuck do I smell an omega?!” her sharp nail pointed to the ceiling and she began yelling as though there was someone upstairs she was calling to, “You tell that bloody boy to get out before I haul his goddamn omega ass out onto the fucking sidewalk!”

Omega…She thinks I brought an omega over…She smells…me…omega…I’m an omega…no…no…

“M-mum…I don’t have a b-boy over,” Elizabeth stepped from side to side.

Her mother pinched the bridge her nose and sighed, “Well Beth…I didn’t know you were into girls,” gently reaching out, and peeled back her daughter’s silk cap lovingly releasing her coily hair, “…but she needs to leave.” Her mothers fingers touched her cheek, boiling. It was then that colour started to fade from her face.

“Mum, please-” Before the poor teen could explain that she was the scent, Mrs Hillard marched her way up stairs and slammed open the door to her room where a giant wave of humid Omega scent flew out.

No…no! Mum! Stop! No!

Her voice was silent, her lips shut in a worried grimace.

As Elizabeth ran up the stairs, she heard her mother scream.

April 15th 2023, 17:45pm, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

The hospital was…cold…the air-conditioning pelting down on her neck made her snuggle deeper into her sweater. Her mother was trembling just as hard as she was. She was shaken up herself, Elizabeth couldn’t tell if her mother was experiencing fear, rage even …disappointment. She hadn’t let Elizabeth touch her ever since she found all the positive Omega tests. When she tried to hold her hand, her mother growled at her.

Elizabeth though craved touch, she needed support, she needed her mum, she needed affection.

The waiting room was almost empty, the only other people was an Omega man with his pup in a sling while his Alpha wife continued to protectively touch their baby’s forehead. Elizabeth stared at the baby though… pups…where are my pups?...

“Elizabeth Hillard?” an English accent cut through the train of thought on the baby. In the doorway to the hall, the tall doctor was looking between her and the couple. When she stood up, with her mother hot on her tail, he smiled and led them to his office.

Awkwardly Elizabeth sat down onto waiting chair next to the doctors desk. Taking a deep breath she could smell the scent of Alpha and hand sanitiser. The overwhelming senses made her feel slightly nauseas.

Her mother sat beside her with a mournful sigh, she lifted her hand out to the doctor to shake it, “Julia, Mrs Hillard, Beth’s mother.”

He smiled, “Hello Mrs Hillard, I’m Doctor Cavill.” After the two Alphas acquainted themselves he finally sat in his wheeley chair and regarded Elizabeth.

“What can I help you with today Miss Hillard?” he smiled. Beth noticed how he looked so clean, and was built like a brickhouse, he smelt like an Alpha. The rooms light glinted on his medical wrist band proclaiming him as his blood type and confirming his own scent. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were kind, made of two colours, blue and his left eye had a tip of brown…it was merely something she saw...his smile was warm like a freshly baked cookie. Oh god…she was aroused.

Beth didn’t realise she wasn’t answering his question when he stared at her and her mother finally answered.

“She smells like an Omega.”

The Doctor then turned his attention away and pursed his lips and lifted a single brow at Mrs. Hillard, “Is something wrong with that?”

Her mother scoffed and rose her voice to a humiliating state. Elizabeth’s heart was beating fast, her cheeks were heating up and she tried sinking further into the seat. Her nose dug into the woollen shoulder of her sweater.

“Her father and I are both pure blooded Alphas! How can this happen!? The last omega we had was my great-grandmother and that’s it!”

Doctor Cavill sighed calmly taking off his glasses and setting them on his desk he then folded his arms and stood from his desk, “I see, well then Mrs Hillard, please step outside to the waiting room. I will need to conduct a blood and vaginal test.”

Her mother obviously huffed and grumbled about ‘how unprofessional’ and ‘surely I can stay’. Even now Elizabeth wanted her to leave with her hostile attitude. Luckily there was no way a female Alpha would argue with a male Alpha. When the door shut though it felt strange. All the heavy tension in the room lifted off of Elizabeth’s chest. She felt instantly calmer and made it easier to breathe.

The doctor sat back into his desk chair and crossed a leg over another casually.

“So…” he smiled, “How do you feel Miss Hillard?”

She gulped slightly and shakily answered, “Everything is smelling sweeter than normal,” she hated the scent of hand sanitiser but now it was something she wanted to shove up her nose. If it blocked out every other scent from the dust on the walls to the chocolate in the vending machine outside to the scent of the alpha right in front of her…she’d drink it all down.

“No,” he chuckled pushing back from his desk and started rummaging through his desk for medical items, “I mean, are you okay? Are you stressed or scared, or are you alright? I can always get a cup of water for you. But we need to take your blood first.”

She shook her head and tucked her neck deeper down into her sweater. Her fingers felt the scratchiness of the wool. She nodded and slipped the material off over her head and folded it neatly onto the chair her mother sat.

“I’m terrified,” Elizabeth confessed, her voice choked up, “I don’t want to be an Omega, I hope this is just a stupid puberty flux…maybe it’s a flip!”

It wasn’t uncommon for this situation to happen. Hormones can sometimes Flip and shows signs for the two other blood types, sometimes blood has become contaminated due to high iron levels or too much sugar intake. Diabetes were always Flipping the board. There were a million things that could cause a Flip in the hormonal pool.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an Omega you know,” her doctor commented sternly, holding up a needle, changing the needle point while Elizabeth choked.

She felt unusually insulted, “Everything is wrong with being an Omega, I won’t get the job I want and I won’t be allowed to come to parties with my friends, I’ll be stuck home with a…a…a fucking baby. Or sent to a breeding farm! I heard about the science experiments conducted on pregnant Omegas in the camps.”

The doctor turn abruptly at her and narrowed his eyes at her, he seemed offended. What does he need to be offended about, he’s an Alpha!

But his frown became a smirk, “You’re aware they are safetly committed with the Omegas consent,” He patted the medical chair in the centre of the room, “But whatever case, what do you want to do Career wise?” he asked while she crawled up atop of the tall chair and let him pull up her sleeve and wipe the alcohol on her arm.

“I want to be a vet,” She winced as the needle broke through her skin. She looked away from the bubbling blood being sucked up through the tube.

As he pulled away and capped the needle tip he asked, “Ever thought about midwifery?”

“I don’t like babies,” she snorted, “They’re so uncomfortable to be around. And I don’t want to listen to a screaming woman in labour.”

She noticed the movement in his shoulders as they slumped, he nodded and she felt like she was failing an unspoken test. She felt a rising anxiety, she growled to herself, it’s just a hormonal Flip.

“Fair enough,” her doctor said off handily, he sealed up her blood in a plastic bag and started to write her details. The pen cap lazily hung from his lips. He looked like he smoked…he didn’t smell like it though, maybe it was the way he stood. His scent was so easy to smell and feel…the omega yearned to know if he could smell her. And to her tragic uncontrol, her underwear were rubbing rough against her sensitive areas, the fumes dragged out this needing slick that was sickening.

Being omega is disgusting, this is what they do all the time? Gross! GET ME SOME ALPHA HORMONES NOW. She knew this had to be wrong, all the time she had been surrounded by alphas and she had been strong and confident like an alpha, maybe a little strategic like a beta. She was sure though she was alpha rather than beta and there was no possible way for her to present as a dormant omega for this long!

“How old are you Miss Hillard?”

“I’m eighteen,” she informed him of her birthday and he nodded, writing it down in the corner of the bag.

She was officially pissed off, crossing her arms she felt her eyes watering. “I want to be an Alpha or even a Beta,” she whimpered, “I can’t be an Omega, no way.”

The whimper…Shit! Stop whimpering you baby! Stop proving this point! Could you be anymore Omega!?

The doctor placed the test bag on his desk before gifting her a soft tissue “Have you taken a home determine test?” his hands settled onto his knees as he crouched down before her.

She broke out into a light sob and nodded, “ugh huh, I took six different ones…all positive for Omega.”

The doctor smiled sadly and handed her the box of tissues he had on his desk.  A nurse came knocking barely after she had started. It made her feel puny when she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She felt helpless, why couldn’t they just get her some alpha hormones already?

“Please take this to the test room,” he asked the nurse, handling a plastic bag with her needle inside.

Doctor Cavill let Beth cry as long as she wanted and reminded her that it wasn’t a hundred percent if she was an Omega yet.

The doctor rubbed her back and cleared his throat. From a draw below her feet he pulled out a green plastic cape, “Miss Hillard would you like to step into the bathroom there and remove your bottoms? Put the gown on?”

Time to get the vaginal confirmation that she was tighter than a needle hole. She pushed his hand away. God he sounded patronising, even if he was being merely polite about the events unfolding she took it as a personal attack, an underlying “You’re a weak omega, deal with it!”

No! I’m not an Omega!

Things were escalating to quickly; she barely realised the conclusions she was leaping to and how dramatic she was pushing with these emotions. She sniffed hard and snapped at him, “Can’t I just take my pants off now?”

Doctor Cavill shifted back uncomfortably, he grit his teeth and scrunched up his eyes, “I merely am offering a more comfortable option,” he clapped his hands, “But you may if you wish, have you ever attended a gynaecologist for a papsmear?” he asked as he got his tools ready from another draw.

She leaped off the chair and slammed her foot down.

“Duh!” She yelled, kicking her shoes off, and shoving her pants down, she was furious. Moodswings was a popular symptom of Flips.

“I just want to get this over with. Mum is so pissed off. Can’t wait for some fucking A-pills.” She grumbled, leaning back into the chair and spread her legs apart…normally she did this with a female doctor but right now she was too impatient to request a woman and she needed to know how fucked up her Flip was and how long would she experience it and how powerful would the drugs be. She couldn’t ever stand the look her mother gave her when she held up the positive determine test with horror.

The doctor cleared his throat again, snapping white gloves onto his hand and over his wrist band. He squirted a tube of lube over his hands and over the speculum, lining it up to her vagina and pushed it inside slowly, “Miss Hillard, please relax for me.”

She huffed to herself. I am fucking relaxed! No you’re not, you’re a bad omega, obey him!

The metal was cold inside of her but she was looking forward to the results: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, I am Alpha.

He took a flashlight and shone the light down her passage, looking down at her inner muscles, “How often do you practise sexual intercourse Miss Hillard?” looking up at her from her pussy.

Shit, the scent was strong, it was so sweet like maple syrup and honey but sweeter…lick me. Oh fuck please alpha please please.

She shook her head and blushed, “N-never, I’ve only masturbated. So….” She swallowed hard, her head felt hot and she swore she could feel cold sweat dripping down, “Am I an Alpha or Beta?”

The doctor dipped two rubber fingers inside of her, patting down and around inside her. And suddenly his eyes widened, he gently slipped out his fingers and the cold speculum out. On his fingers was blood…oh shit…

“You may sit up and dress Miss Hillard, “The doctor set his tools and gloves into a silver tray. She was shaking…what was she?

He was washing his hands in the sink right beside her head when she bit her lips and lifted up her undies and jeans back up. The room was so quiet, the only noise was the sinks running water and the air conditioner. Beth shivered and sniffled.

Doctor Cavill’s shoulders were low, he turned his head and faced her. Twisting his fingers together he shook his head, “Miss Hillard,” he started with a long exhaled breath, “You’re days away from your first Estrus.”

The earth dropped and the moon broke and the stars were dimmed…“What do you mean Estrus!?” she questioned. Tears spurted from her eyes again. Gagged by nature.

No fucking way. Yes way.

“‘Heat’, an Omega will go into Estrus or commonly known as Heat while an Alpha will go into Oestrus commonly known as a ‘Rut’,” Doctor Cavill tried explain only for the angry young woman to scream abuse at him.

“I know what it is! I must be going into Oestrus, n-not an estrus, I can’t be an Omega, doctor! Ch-Check again!”

Sweat trailed down her face onto her neck, her heart was punching her insides, seeking an escape of her ribcage.

When she tried undoing her pants again, her doctor tore her hands away and took her wrists up, he was breathing harshly through his nose, “Miss Hillard I’m going to have to ask you to sit down and take a deep breath. Listen to me.”

She shook her head over and over, she couldn’t believe it! She was finally sobbing hard, choking on her tears.

Wailing, “No, no, no, please doctor, please!”

Out of the depth of the doctor’s chest came a stern growl, “Sit. Down. Now. Or I will have to restrain and sedate you.”

Her body was out of control, she didn’t want to sit but her arse met the chair cushion anyway. Good omega.

The doctor huffed, shaking his head with disappointment, her head flinched down, cowering and humiliated. She felt apologetic, but this wasn’t the real her.

“Good girl,” he praised, handing her a paper cup filled with water from the sink, “Now drink.”

The water was gulped down in a heartbeat, she needed the refreshment even if she didn’t want it, her doctor nodded, “That’s it.”

As she sipped on some more water the nurse from earlier stepped inside and handed the doctor a sheet of paper. The blood results… she shook on the spot, her red face panicking.

“Pl-please.” She choked on the water slightly, clearing her sore throat she sniffled, “What does it say?”

There was still a chance, maybe he was wrong; maybe this was just a intense Oestrus that was causing her to bleed. Maybe it was so strong her vaginal walls were stabbing themselves, seeking out an omega cock to claim.

Cavill looked from her to the parchment a few times, he shook his head. He held out the medical sheet to her and pointed to a positive cross.

The world went silent even as he was talking to her…it was a distant noise.

“Miss Hillard, you are as I had diagnosed, Omega positive,” he scratched his gland gently, “You are days away from your first Estrus I will give you a choice to either battle through it with medical aids or medical suppressants.”

She dropped the paper and the cup, the shock was as cold as ice. She felt weak and her arms numb, her eyes rolled back and her mouth lulled open. Her life was completely over.

Elizabeth Hillard the Omega fainted.

April 16th 2023, 1:25am, Saint Heiler, Jersey, United Kingdom.

When Elizabeth woke up, she was delirious. The world wouldn’t stop twisting and turning. Abover her was a bright light, she cringed away and whimpered. There was a mean bite at her wrist. She felt cold, washed out. Her body was laid out and angled up a slight. Her cheek rubbed into the soft hospital pillow. She smelt blood, so much metallic salt in the air. And her stomach was viciously growling. She peered down and noticed what was pinching her wrist. Handcuffs. She was handcuffed to the railing of her bed!

Clearing her eyes, she found herself surrounded by three blue curtains. One was quick to open, startling her. The nurse from earlier smiled at her eagerly, her Beta tag was super shiny in the light, forcing Elizabeth to blink rapidly, “Oh look, you’re awake. Can you please tell me your full name sweetheart?”

When she sat up slowly and moaned, “Elizabeth Hendrix Hillard.”

Before she could ask the handcuffs to be removed, the nurse smiled and held up a torch.

“Wonderful, now I am gonna need to shine a little light in your eye, can you please look into the corner of the ceiling dear?”

Doing as she was told, it was quick and over as soon as it had begun. The nurse was pleased, “Fabulous, right, I’ll be right back, Doctor Cavill needs to have a chat with you.”

“B-but my hand…”

Ignoring her, the nurse left.

Something was clearly off. Why did they handcuff her!? She started to tug at the chain, feeling her anxiety seep deep and activate a sense of fight or flight. The curtains reopened. And in stepped the doctor.

He grinned and nodded his head to her, “Hello there Elizabeth, how are we?”

She wasn’t amused in the slightest, quick with retort. “Chained to a bed rail.”

He smiled and whipped out a key, uncuffing her from the bed. She cradled her wrist, murmuring ‘thankyou’.

Her stomach loudly purred, extinguishing the level of discomfort she wanted to send the doctor. “…and hungry.”

“I’ll tell the nurse to get you some jello,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands. Just as he was to leave, she launched herself forward and caught his medical coat, “Wh-where’s my mum?”

He softly assured her, “She is just sitting in my room, we were discussing options after I showed her and your father your blood results.” Oh…dad…oh jesus…

She suspected her father to have been incredibly furious. How much furniture did he break?

“You…” she paused, “options…” she gulped and smiled at the doctor, “….I want suppressants...as soon as possible.” They would surely fix everything! She could have some and go have a coffee with her friends tomorrow.

“Not those kind of options…” He sighed and perched himself near her feet at the foot of her bed.

That was a weird answer…what does he mean? Could they change my DNA? Could they turn me into an Alpha. She had heard of some new sciences like that coming in.

“What other types are there?” she laughed hesitantly.

When he didn’t answer her, she felt the air grow heavy again…there’s a reason they kept you chained like a bitch.

There was only one other option….a correctional institution. She felt ill.

“I want to see my mum,” she gulped and moved to slip out of the bed. The medical gown was scratchy against her skin, she started to feel worse, her fingers scrunched up and unravelled. Her body felt dizzy when she stood up to quickly. The doctor attempted to block her way when she peeled back the curtain to many empty bed and a single door with a sign, “Farewell room.”

No, no, fuck, no! where’s mum and dad!

She hurried to the door and shook at the handle, but it was locked, she was locked in with the doctor. She couldn’t escape. The floor cleaner and bright lights were clouding her senses, blinding her eys and stinging her mouth and nose.

She ripped a heavy breath, not thinking it would be so painful after holding it in too long. I won’t cry, no, no crying!

“Elizabeth I’m gonna need you to calm down,” the doctor informed her, setting his hands over her shoulders, she was fast to slap them away. She lowly growled at him and bared her teeth ferally. Don’t you fucking touch me!

When she realised whatg she had done, especially to an alpha, she felt instant regret and guilt, she choke on more tear and buried her head into the doctors chest. His heart was beating fast too, but not like her rabbit pounding blood.

“N-no,” she cried, “I want my mummy!”

She felt the doctor soothingly rub his hand over her head and down her back. He hushed her until she was just a whimpering woman.

The door unlocked, and finally…“Beth…” her mother spoke out to her.

She snapped back around and saw her mother and father beside the door. Her father barely came him, his lips curled in, disappointed, disgusted and silent.

A tiny smile came to Elizabeth’s face, her hands reached out, “Mum!”

But Mrs Hillard stood back from her. Again and again. The closer Elizabeth sought out her mother, the more Mrs. Hillard distanced herself and stood closer to the door.

“M-mum? H-hug me…” she begged, “pl-please mum?”

She sighed and looked away from her, refusing to look her in the eye. Shame. “Doctor Cavill, your father and I believe it is best if you…go away for sometime, “ she clutched her own arms, “…where people can help you.”

Elizabeth did not see it that way at all, and she knew her mother was lying out of her arse.

“I don’t need to be helped,” Elizabeth sniffled and smiled, “I just-just need some suppressants.”

“Elizabeth,” she seethed through her gritted teeth, “Go with the nice nurses.”

“M-mummy, please,” She put her hands together and got to her knees on the cold tiled floor, “Please don’t do this!”

“STOP!” her mother screamed, “You are making a scene!” she rolled her eyes and turned around to leave, “You will go to ‘Saint Selene’s School For Adolescent Omega.’ We may see you during the summer.” And slammed the door closed.

She ran to the door and found it locked, she pounded the window with her fists and screamed out, “D-don’t leave me, please don’t leave me Dad!…M-Mummy!” her father and mother did not look back as they walked away, abandoning their only child. Their backs and bodies continued to  get smaller and smaller the further they walked. The sight broke her heart. The concept of betrayal could not be clearer. Her breath clouded the glass, her tears sliding down and tapped onto the floor, onto her naked feet.

Doctor Cavill’s hand reached out and wrapped around her bicep, trying to tug her back from the door. “Come on,” he said.

She felt her body move and she went into a frenzy of defense, “Let go of me!”

When he did not, she saw a lonely pen on the end of a bed frame with a clip board. She grabbed it and jabbed his forearm. The blue ink spattered across his skin while he yelled in pain.

“Get the fuck off of me!” she squealed again and held up the pen with both hands, take a few steps back from the now pissed off Doctor. The sound of the door opening again had her heart rushing.

Mum!?

To her massive disappointment, it was the nurse who was shocked by the scene unfolded. Now Elizabeth was surrounded.

“Put the weapon down!” the beta demands, holding up her own hands in defence, “Now.”

“Calm,” was the word she heard him say beside her ear, before pressing her back into him, grasping her jaw and finally feeling an incredibly long sting in her neck followed by the unusual flow of liquidised drugs into her body, “calm.” Her last thought was, that’s a lot of fucking morphine.

[artificialqueens]

Behind the Scenes, Chapter 3 (Jan x Jackie) - Chaoticnachokitten

A/N: Heyy!!^-^

First of all, a huge thank you to everyone who has read, liked and/or reblogged this story, it means a lot to me<3

I know it’s been an eternity since the last two chapters, I’m really sorry TT

That being said, I hope you’ll enjoy this (mostly) fluffy end chapter. Special thanks to my lovely beta @coolaries <3

“Okay baby, it’s time to go to bed for you. And don’t you even think you’ll have to be alone. In fact you’re coming to my room tonight so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re okay.”

If Jan hadn’t been so incredibly tired, she would have argued, not wanting to bother Jackie for any longer since she had been there for her for the whole day already. Instead the only response she could give in her current state was a barely audible “thank you.”

Jackie wished the rest of the girls a good night, and Jan tried her best to do the same thing. She, in return received a ton of get well wishes, and even a kiss on her cheek from Crystal.

Jan tried to convince Jackie that she could now actually walk to the room, but in her already half asleep state it wasn’t very believable. Jackie shook her head fondly in response.

“It’s okay baby, you really need rest as soon as possible. I really don’t mind.”

With that, she picked up Jan, going as slowly and carefully as she could. She wanted to make sure it wouldn’t make the younger girl nauseous after eating. Thankfully that didn’t seem to be the case, if anything Jan looked like some of the leftover tension was starting to wear off, allowing her to relax a bit.

Jackie said goodbye once again to the other girls before heading to her room, making sure Jan was secure and doing okay. A few meters away from the room, she noticed the way Jan was tensing up again, and how the shivering had reached a whole new level now. She decided to take a break from walking to make sure the girl in her arms would be stable enough to finally get her into bed.

Carefully she lowered Jan to the ground, making sure she was supported by a wall behind her. That seemed to do the trick, and Jan settled a bit, the newly built tension was visibly leaving her body, and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down.

“How did you know that was exactly what I needed right now?”

Jackie didn’t know how to answer, it was just a natural thing for her to notice and react to even the smallest details.

“Lucky guess. Are you doing a bit better now?”

Jan felt a pang of guilt for making Jackie stand around in a random hotel corridor because she was too weak to just take care of herself. Jan hated feeling weak, she just wanted everything to go back to normal. Thinking about the entire day was making her eyes all shiny like newly cut glass.

Before the tears could escape though, Jackie spoke up again.

“Whatever it is that you’re worried about, stop, you don’t have to worry about anything but getting better at the moment. I’m here because I want to. Of course I know that you would probably be okay on your own, but honestly, then I’d probably be worried about you for the whole night and I would end up asking you to stay in my room anyway. That being said, you okay to continue baby?”

Jan weakly nodded, she didn’t really trust her voice right now.

“You can tell me if you need another break, I’d rather wait than seeing you suffer any more than necessary.”

They managed to get to the hotel room without another incident. It turned out though, that trying to unlock a door while holding another person was harder than expected. Harder, but not impossible, Jackie decided.

She carefully shifted Jan so one of her arms was free, and after a bit of struggling she managed to open the door. The first thing she did after entering was placing Jan on the bed as carefully as possible. By now the younger girl was shaking like she was about to freeze, teeth chattering included. Her whole body felt numb, muscles so tense she wasn’t sure if she would even be able to move properly in that state.

“You keep shivering, are you okay?”

“I’m just a bit cold, that’s it.”

“Doesn’t it hurt at this point? I mean the shivering.”

Jan sighed, and then silently nodded in agreement. It truly did, in fact it had been for quite a while and therefore at this point, she wanted nothing more than to be able to finally calm down enough in order to stop the excessive shivering to be able to finally get her much deserved sleep.

“Honestly, I don’t know whether there’s a single part of my body that doesn’t hurt.”

Jan quickly forced a weak chuckle to pass it off as a joking statement, but Jackie could see right through it. She knew that at this point the only thing that would Jan help to get better was sleep, preferably lots of it, so her priority was trying to make Jan feel as comfortable as possible as quickly as she could.

Jackie absentmindedly grabbed Jan’s hand, intertwining their fingers, while going through her mental list of things she could do for the younger queen at this point to make her feel better.

“Do you need some more painkillers or water?”

Jan’s eyes widened in shock, almost like she had just been insulted.

“Please don’t make me take anything anymore”, she whispered in an almost pleading way.

Jackie nodded, accepting the answer.

“Okay, I promise I won’t. Do you need anything else?”

When Jan politely declined, Jackie carefully untangled their hands in order to make sure the younger girl was as comfortable as possible, adjusting the blanket, but Jan seemed not to be able to get warm on her own. Other than that, she was on the verge of falling asleep, eyes already half closed.

Therefore, the whining noise was fairly unexpected when Jackie attempted to get up in order to turn off the lights.

“Don’t leave me please, I’m not sure how I’ll survive the night without you.” Jan immediately covered her mouth after her statement, clearly shocked herself by the words that had just left her mouth without her consent.

The fact that now even Jackie was taken aback by the words made the younger girl feel like she had done something wrong.

“I'm sorry, I'm-"

“Jan, no. Stop.”

Seeing Jan act like this, worried she’d be left alone and apologizing for something she was genuinely scared of, was honestly quite heartbreaking.

“Don’t apologize love, I could have just explained. I was just going to turn off the lights. Is that okay with you?”

Jan now seemed embarrassed, blushing (although that could have been just from the fever) and refusing to look anywhere but the ceiling. She wordlessly nodded.

After Jackie had turned off the lights, and found her way back to the bed, Jan immediately gathered her last bit of energy to move closer to her, craving both comfort and warmth. Jackie got the hint, switching positions in the most gentle way she could so Jan was on top of her.

After a few seconds, Jan started to relax once again, this time she was getting ready to finally go to sleep, her shivering was finally slowing down, and her breath started to even out. She was ready to finally give her body the much needed rest to heal and recover. Her mind, however, had other plans.

Every interview, every time a camera had been focused on her, every movement she had made while being filmed, it all started replaying in her mind, all of the ignored thoughts and feelings hit her with a cruel intensity she couldn’t handle in her current state. Every replay made her feel worse about the day. She felt like she had let down the people that maybe were going to be fans of hers.

Jan was so wrapped up trying to analyze everything that happened that might cause the viewers to think of her negatively, completely oblivious to her surroundings, she didn’t even notice how she had started to cry.

When Jackie noticed the hot tears streaming down, creating a wet patch on her shirt, she didn’t think too much of it, it had been a long day after all, and this was probably how Jan handled extreme exhaustion. She tried to comfort the younger queen, gently stroking her back and whispering that everything would be better soon.

However, the second Jackie noticed how Jan’s breath sped up all of the sudden, chest rising and falling rapidly, muscles tensing up throughout her body, she decided she would have to do something to calm Jan down before she would have a full blown panic attack.

Jackie decided that their current position wasn’t ideal for Jan at the moment, so she carefully moved in order to get the younger queen off of her. Surprisingly, Jan didn’t really react to any of it, still too caught up in her own thoughts, breath still way too unsteady for Jackie’s liking.

Once Jan was situated in a better position, on her back, next to Jackie, the latter took a moment to look at Jan before attempting to help her, to get a better idea of what to do next.

Jan was still pretty out of it, now staring at the ceiling with somewhat unfocused eyes, her pupils were completely dilated and her tears wouldn’t stop. If she had been alone in her room she probably wouldn’t have been able to calm down on her own, but thankfully that wasn’t the case. Jackie was very grateful she had insisted on the younger girl staying with her for the night, even if that meant sacrificing some of her sleep. Jan was her top priority right now.

Jackie quietly started talking to the younger queen, trying to get Jan to notice her words, but to no avail. She had been reluctant to touch Jan because she figured since it all had started while they were cuddling, touch of any kind might make it worse and obviously that was the last thing she wanted to do. But seeing Jan this unresponsive was scary enough for her to bite the bullet and gently shake the younger girl while still talking to her, trying to get her back to reality, or at least some kind of reaction.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, look at me, please.” She kept repeating this sentence in different variations.

Around a minute later, the desired reaction happened, Jan finally turned her head to face Jackie, she even looked a bit calmer. Her eyes still didn’t seem to focus properly, but that was the least of Jackie’s concerns, she was just grateful that Jan was finally reacting to her again.

But just when she thought that everything was going to be fine now, Jan's face scrunched up, suddenly looking like she was in pain before going back to her original panicky state. This time Jackie was determined not to let her slip away too far into her head.

“Jan baby, what’s wrong?”

Jan was back to being unresponsive, and Jackie was slowly getting desperate.

“Please, I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

Still no reaction.

“Jan, come on, talk to me please, you’re scaring me.”

This seemed to finally be the right sentence to pierce through her thoughts and force Jan out of her head for good.

With great difficulty she tried to form a sentence in her panicked state.

“Sorry. I am so sorry.”

Jackie was so relieved she could have cried. Instead she focused on what was important, which was trying to help the younger queen.

“Don’t apologize, there’s no need to.”

Jan tried to nod.

“Okay.”

She was only able to give short responses because she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“But, you absolutely need to try and calm down. If you keep this up, you’ll faint and we don’t want that.”

Jan just looked at Jackie helplessly, she didn’t know what to do.

“Let me help you.”

The next thing Jan felt was that she was being moved, carefully being guided into a sitting position, Jackie’s hand on her back, slowly rubbing it up and down in a steady pace.

Then, another hand was placed on her chest while Jackie guided Jan’s hand towards her own chest.

“Okay baby, I want you to breathe at the same speed as me. Just try to mimic what I’m doing, alright?”

Jackie waited for a bit, seeing Jan try her best to do what she had been tasked with. It took her a fair bit of effort, but she was slowly getting there.

“You’re doing amazing, keep going, you can do it.”

Around just five minutes later, the situation was under control, Jan had finally fully calmed down, but something was still on her mind, the expression on her face clearly revealed it, even her usually sparkly eyes were looking dull. It would have been hard for the average person to spot, but not for Jackie. Jan was worried about something and Jackie was going to find out what it was, why, and then she’d try to help Jan solve whatever the problem was. It was important to note that the younger girl usually had a healthy amount of confidence, but tonight that confidence seemed to have vanished into thin air. It was probably only temporary and to blame on Jan’s overall state, but even then Jackie was determined to help her rebuild it until everything would be back to normal. In that moment she would have done everything in her power to get Jan to calm down enough to finally go to sleep and allow her body to heal.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Jan looked genuinely confused, almost scared.

“Panicking like that usually happens for a reason, and I can tell whatever it is, it’s still bothering you, love.”

Jan shook her head frantically.

“It’s so stupid, and it can’t be changed anyway.”

“Baby, it’s affecting you negatively, whatever it is, it’s a valid concern you have, and nothing about that is stupid in any way. And I think it would be good to talk about it, keeping things bottled up is just going to hurt you eventually, and I hate seeing you like this.”

“Alright”, Jan said quietly, gathering her thoughts before speaking again.

“It’s just..I feel like I haven’t done enough, you know? Like, I could’ve used this day like yesterday. Especially since I saw Crystal taking a bunch of videos, and everyone had like tons of pictures, except me. Because I didn’t have enough energy. I feel like I let down the fans, people who I don’t even know, what if they’re going to hate me?”

“Jan, let me be honest there. Every time the cameras were on, you completely transformed into your usual persona, literally no one will be able to tell. And even if they could, which isn’t going to be the case, I promise, the only things they’re going to be is both shocked and impressed. You were so professional, not many people would have been able to do that. And if I were you I would just tell people the truth once everything airs, being sick is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Those few sentences made a lot of sense and Jan immediately cheered up, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her chest, allowing her to finally breathe without issues again. The way Jackie had not only reassured her, but given her advice as well was enough to convince Jan that maybe everything would be okay after all.

“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jackie smiled, seeing how Jan’s face was finally brightening up, how she suddenly looked so relieved.

“Anytime, baby. But please, tell us next time when something is wrong. I don’t even know what you were thinking. However, I promise we, all of us, just want to help you, and for that you need to be honest with us. We all love you Jan, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jan’s eyes were glassy, she was getting emotional, overwhelmed with all of the love.

“Do you think you can try and go to sleep now, love? You need a lot of rest now.”

Jan nodded, feeling tired again.

“Are you okay now? Do you need anything?”

“I’m so cold.”

Jackie opened her arms, motioning her to come closer.

“Come here.”

Jan did as she was told. She was embraced immediately, and a kiss was carefully placed on her forehead. The warmth of the hug was enough to make her stop shivering as much, and it made her feel safe, too. She was beyond grateful that the painful sensation was slowly subduing.

The kiss had an almost magical effect on her. It was like the act of love was having a physical effect on her, warmth and comfort spreading and covering her like a protective layer, ready to shield and protect her from all pain and negativity.

Her worries suddenly vanished, all that was left was a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Soon, they were back into their initial position, under the covers, Jan on top of Jackie. This time it felt peaceful, like everything would be fine in a few hours. With new positive and hopeful thoughts in mind, and feeling the presence of Jackie, Jan finally closed her eyes, feeling safe and a lot better already, allowing her sleepiness to overcome her and letting the next few hours take care of the rest.

When Jackie noticed how Jan’s breath had evened out, she smiled and kissed the younger girl’s forehead again.

“Goodnight baby, sleep well and feel better soon.”

[alitotechelamine]

Hen Bie - Chapter 2

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 1

It wasn’t long before the four of them fell back into their old ways of Zizhen and Jingyi teasing Jin Ling while Sizhui mediated, or Jin Ling and Jingyi teasing Zizhen while Sizhui mediated, or maybe even Jin Ling and Zizhen teasing Jingyi while Sizhui mediated.

There was a lot of Sizhui mediating. He was then promptly teased.

Jin Ling only held the group back long enough to tell Lei Xiaosi he was going out.

“Very well Young Master Jin,” The head disciple said, “Before you go, can I ask how Jiang-Zongzhu was when you left him?”

Jin Ling’s smile turned rather small and bittersweet, “He said he was doing better.”

Lei Xiaosi actually brightened at that, and he was happy to wave Jin Ling on as his friends called after him.

~

“What are they doing here?!” Jin Ling cried as he was pulled into the inn.

“Don’t be like that A-Ling!” Senior Wei cried, holding out his arms, “Come say hello to your uncle!”

“No! What are you doing here?!”

Behind them, Hanguang-jun stood passively observing.

“We heard about how much of a disaster the night hunt was, we wanted to make sure you boys were alright!” Senior Wei said, his grin turning a bit sheepish, “Everyone was so sad earlier, we were worried something happened to you!”

Jin Ling rounded on his friends, pointing an accusing finger.

“You led me here under false pretenses! You lied to me!” He cried, indignant.

“It was meant to be a surprise!” Jingyi protested, not quite managing to look completely innocent. Zizhen was grinning widely, no shame to be found anywhere.

Sizhui was the only one to bow in apology, though he was quick to say, “Now we’re all even.”

“Then that means I don’t have to buy dinner anymore.” Jin Ling sneered, earning a cry from the other three, “No, I was tricked and manipulated! I don’t have to do squat for you deceivers anymore!”

Senior Wei snickered, stepping back to hang off of Hanguang-jun’s arm, “Aren’t they so cute Lan Zhan?”

“Mm.”

“It doesn’t matter though, right? We’ll buy all of them dinner?”

“Mm.”

“See A-Ling, no reason to fuss!”

“That’s not the point!” Jin Ling cried, even though he wasn’t all that sure himself what the point was. Something about lying to him, maybe surprising him too.

Senior Wei and Hanguang-jun made themselves comfortable at one of the empty tables, waiting for the four juniors to join them. Only Senior Wei was allowed liquor, the rest sipping tea, but Jingyi promised he would get his hands on at least one cup next time before remembering who he was with and diving head first into his tea.

“Knowing what happens when a Lan drinks, I certainly hope not,” Senior Wei said as he smirked in Hanguang-jun’s direction, his husband staring at his disciple in disapproval, “Although I am curious as to what kind of drunk you would be Jingyi.”

Their food arrived before anyone could ask what was meant by that, but considering how giddy it made Senior Wei, Jin Ling had to guess it was nothing good.

“So,” Senior Wei eventually said, “What did happen? Why was everyone so upset?”

“No talking while eating.” Hanguang-jun stated.

“I’m not eating right now, am I?” Senior Wei argued, “And once A-Ling swallows, he can tell me.”

Jin Ling resolved to never swallow.

“Everyone was really upset over the results of the night hunt, and then they needed a nap.” Zizhen said.

“I’m sure your Uncle was furious considering what we’ve heard,” Senior Wei sighed, turning to Jin Ling, “How many legs did he threaten to break? Did he go through with any of them?”

Jin Ling couldn’t swallow fast enough to stop Jingyi, the idiot , from saying, “He wasn’t there. That’s probably why it went so poorly.”

Senior Wei blinked, frowning, “What?”

“Sandu Shengshou wasn’t at the night hunt,” Sizhui said, “In fact there wasn’t much of a Jiang presence at all. Only about a handful of senior disciples.”

“Oh?” Senior Wei looked towards Hanguang-jun, “I wonder why.”

“A few of the more minor sects demanded his attention,” Jin Ling said quickly, “He was more focused on that than another night hunt.”

“Still, it’s out of character for him to leave you to your own devices A-Ling, Wen Ning being there or not.” Senior Wei said, and he truly looked worried now.

“I may have… let him assume you and Hanguang-jun would be there…” Jin Ling muttered.

At that, Senior Wei burst out laughing at his “naughty nephew”. Hanguang-jun eventually had to place his hand over Senior Wei’s, silencing him.

Senior Wei pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, “It’s unfortunate that I seem to be rubbing off on you A-Ling. What do you think Jiang Cheng’s going to do when he finds out?”

“Probably actually break his leg,” Jingyi supplied unhelpfully, “Yours too just because.”

Senior Wei huffed, “I’d like to see him try. I may not be as powerful in this body as I was in my last, but I’ll still outrun him!”

The rest of the meal passed much like that, with the juniors regaling their seniors about how disastrous their hunt was, and their seniors responding with their own stories of failure. Jin Ling at first did his best to avoid divulging the parts that led up to his fight with Jingyi, but that simply allowed for his friend to tell his version of events first. Everytime he did so though, he made sure to look back and grin at Jin Ling, as if to tell him everything was still okay. Outside the sun began to sink, the streets slowly emptying out. Eventually, Hangaung-Jun stood, declaring it was nearly time for bed.

“Ah, but we should escort these juniors back to Lotus Pier first, shouldn’t we Lan Zhan?” Senior Wei said, nodding sagely to himself like it was an approval.

“We’re perfectly capable on our own.” Jin Ling snapped.

“But what if you’re not?” Senior Wei whined, “What if some nasty monster jumps out and kidnaps you four again? Jiang Cheng might actually break my legs!”

Jin Ling figured Hanguang-jun of all people would let them go alone, maybe even provide a distraction for Senior Wei so they could escape. He wasn’t a fan of Lotus Pier, his silent grudge match with Jin Ling’s Uncle alive and well if subtler than in the past. He always looked a little more sour if still expressionless when he visited, and in fact was donning such an expression now. There was no way he’d allow himself to be dragged to Lotus Pier tonight, which meant there was no way he was letting Senior Wei leave this inn.

Instead, the whipped traitor held the door open for everyone and brought up the rear of their group as they began to walk back. Senior Wei led the charge, and reluctantly Jin Ling figured he should match pace with him so that he was at least the first one through the gate.

Lei Xiaosi met them in the courtyard, bowing politely to Senior Wei and Hanguang-jun.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t notified of your arrival,” He said, “I haven’t had time to make up a room.”

“We have a room in town Lei-gongzi, don’t worry,” Senior Wei smiled, much calmer than he had been a moment ago, “We simply wanted to ensure the juniors got back safely, and to also say hello to Jiang Cheng.”

“Ah,” Lei Xiaosi smiled tightly, “I’m afraid Jiang-zongzhu is rather busy at the moment, but he’ll be perfectly free to entertain you tomorrow.”

“Is he sick?” Senior Wei asked, looking surprised.

“Earlier, yes,” Lei Xiaosi admitted, “However he’s feeling much better now and requires rest to make a full recovery by tomorrow.”

“Did anyone make him soup?” Senior Wei asked, “The special one?”

“I’m not sure Wei-gongzi.” Lei Xiaosi said, and then after a moment he asked, “Did you want to make it for him?”

Senior Wei’s entire face lit up as he looked between Lei Xiaosi and Hanguang-jun. Jin Ling had no idea how Hanguang-jun was possibly reacting to this, if he approved or not. Lei Xiaosi on the other hand looked somewhat hopeful, and Jin Ling had to wonder whether or not he was pretending to be polite.

“It’s not perfect, but I’ve been trying to recreate my Shijie’s soup as a gift for him.” Senior Wei muttered, “What do you think? Is it too late for soup?”

“I don’t believe Jiang-zongzhu has eaten yet, no.”

His Uncle hadn’t eaten? But it was past dinner time!

“That settles it!” Senior Wei declared marching past, “If I may?”

Lei Xiaosi gestured for Senior Wei to follow him and the two were merrily on their way.

Jingyi frowned, “I thought your Uncle was busy, not sick.”

“He was both.” Jin Ling snapped, feeling sullen. He could feel the guilt returning ever so slightly, remembering his Uncle sitting alone in a dark room. He hoped Fairy was still there.

“That’s not good!” Zizhen fret, “He’ll just get even more sick at that rate!”

“He could get a fever,” Sizhui nodded, looking grave, “Or end up bedridden if he’s not careful.”

Jin Ling swallowed, wondering how best to redirect his friend’s attention to something else.

“Bedtime.” Hanguang-jun declared, breaking up the conversation and staring the four of them down until they started to move. Somewhat relieved, Jin Ling followed his friends at a sedate pace, bidding each of them goodnight before turning in the direction of his own rooms. As he reached his door however, he stopped and decided to head towards the kitchens.

Jin Ling felt like he knew what his Uncle would and would not like most of the time. It came as a byproduct of being raised by someone. He liked it when the disciples he was training kept up or exceeded his expectations. He liked when Jin Ling bought him sweets or new calligraphy brushes from the market in Yunmeng.

He did not like to be seen as weak or foolish. He’d never cried in public, and up until the incident in Yunping, he’d almost never cried in front of Jin Ling.

If Senior Wei managed to barge into his rooms and saw what Jin Ling had, he was a little afraid his Uncle might actually try to break the idiot man’s legs.

It seemed Senior Wei had already managed to make a disaster of everything by the time he arrived. Not that it seemed to matter, Senior Wei was solely focused on the soup which he tasted here and there before throwing more spices in. Jin Ling blanched as he stood in the door and watched, feeling his stomach turn.

Hanguang-jun sat patiently waiting off to the side, watching his husband work.

“I think I’ve almost got it Lan Zhan!” Senior Wei declared, “Or… well, as close as I can get. Shijie was too much of a genius to imitate perfectly.”

“Mm.” Hangaung-Jun replied thoughtfully.

“I can’t believe Jiang Cheng went all day sick and didn’t eat anything!” Senior Wei continued, “Or that Lei Xiaosi let him!”

“Jiujiu was busy dealing with me, so they may not have wanted to disturb us.” Jin Ling said, causing Senior Wei to jump about a foot into the air.

“Jin Ling!” He cried, holding his wooden spoon like a sword ready for combat, “What are you doing sneaking up on people?!”

“I’ve been standing here for awhile! You just didn’t notice!”

“Because you didn’t announce your presence!”

“I made myself perfectly noticeable approaching the door!”

“Obviously not!”

“Wei Ying, the soup.”

Senior Wei turned to see his liquid monstrosity was getting ready to burn and he hurried to save it. Jin Ling stepped closer to watch him work, cringing at how red the stuff in the pot looked.

“It’s a good thing Jiang Cheng likes things spicy too,” Senior Wei sighed, “No one in Gusu appreciates spices like they do in Yunmeng. It’s rather sad.”

“That’s not spice, that’s suicide.” Jin Ling declared flatly.

“And they don’t appreciate it in Lanling either, apparently.” Senior Wei moaned, giving the glop in the pot another stir. Jin Ling rolled his eyes, watching Senior Wei work for a while before turning to raid the cupboards for anything actually edible.

“Didn’t you just have dinner?” Senior Wei snickered, reaching out to pinch at Jin Ling’s waist, “Are you really still hungry?”

“I’m finding something for Jiujiu to actually eat. He’ll take one bite of your poison and spit it out.” Jin Ling snapped.

“He will eat it.” Hanguang-jun declared from his seat, although when Jin Ling turned he didn’t appear to be annoyed or disapproving of Jin Ling, simply as serenely stone faced as usual, “He’s eaten similar.”

“He has not! Not like that!” Jin Ling protested. The offending food bubbled loudly as if to agree with him.

“Actually, we used to have contests to see how hot we could make the food before one of us had to bow out all the time.” Senior Wei said, reaching past Jin Ling to grab a bowl.

“And? Who won?” Jin Ling prompted as Senior Wei started ladling bright red soup.

“Well at first it was your uncle, but eventually I took the lead and I’ve yet to be surpassed.”

“Probably because it got to the point he didn’t want to burn his tongue off.”

“I still won.” Senior Wei sing-songed, setting the bowl on a waiting tray. He then turned and reached above the cupboards, having to jump once or twice before coming back with a large jar. He opened it to reveal several small pastries inside, taking three to add to his spread. He then winked at Jin Ling before jumping up to toss the jar back into its hiding place.

“Don’t let Jiang Cheng know I still remember his favorite hiding places, okay?”

“You must not be clear on where my loyalties lie when it comes to Jiujiu.”

Senior Wei pouted, “But if you keep quiet, then you’ll have access to it too.”

Jin Ling huffed, turning instead to pick up the tray, “I’ll let Jiujiu know you stopped by and made him… this.”

“Hold on! I want to see his face when you give it to him!” Senior Wei frowned, moving to block the path.

“Well he probably doesn’t want to see you, not when you’re making an attempt on his life!” Jin Ling argued, trying to edge past Senior Wei and towards the door, only to have his path blocked more aggressively.

“What’s wrong with him? Why is he working while he’s sick? That’s my destructive behavior!”

“I don’t know, you think he tells me everything?” Jin Ling sneered, “He said he was tired. He’s probably asleep already and all you did was waste your time making this.”

“Well then, let’s go find out.” Senior Wei smiled angrily. He turned to go and Jin Ling briefly considered throwing the tray at his back.

“Wei Ying, it’s late.” Like a deity coming to personally deliver a miracle, Hanguang-jun called out. Senior Wei froze where he stood, turning slightly to frown at his husband.

“I want to check on Jiang Cheng before we go Lan Zhan, it won’t be more than a minute.”

“He’s tired and needs sleep, you’re just gonna make him angry.” Jin Ling snapped, “Then he won’t sleep and I’ll have to deal with it in the morning.”

He hefted the tray up, “I’ll deliver your poison soup okay? And then he can tell you tomorrow how he threw it out when you come to drag Sizhui and Jingyi home.”

Senior Wei arched a brow, “So you’re telling me I should come by tomorrow morning? That you want to see me again?”

Sensing a trap, Jin Ling mirrored the expression right back and simply said, “I’m just stating what you were already planning.”

“And just got express permission for!” Senior Wei cried, twirling around and happily marching off…

In the direction of Uncle’s rooms.

“I told you to leave him alone!” Jin Ling hissed, chasing after him.

“I’m going to get the door for you!” Senior Wei chuckled, keeping just enough ahead that Jin Ling couldn’t stop him.

Playing his last, desperate card, Jin Ling hissed, “I left Fairy with him!”

That stopped Senior Wei short, meaning Jin Ling nearly dumped the tray all over him.

“And there’s no way she’d have gotten out?” Senior Wei asked, voice shaky.

“I ordered her to stay there.”

Senior Wei stood frozen, giving Jin Ling the opportunity to slip past him. Hanguang-jun stepped forward to take his husband’s arm, calling to him softly. Senior Wei was frowning into the distance, before heaving a deep sigh that Jin Ling took as conceding defeat.

“Then I really will just hold the door open for you.”

Dammit!

Jin Ling watched in disbelief as Senior Wei darted forward, Hanguang-jun close behind. Jin Ling debated just yelling at them to leave, or maybe getting Lei Xiaosi to throw them out.

Ultimately he just hurried to catch up, trying to keep the tray balanced so none of the demon soup sloshed out and burned something. He’d done everything in his power to preserve his Uncle’s dignity but it was all for nothing. At this rate, he could only hope he wasn’t on the list of people his Uncle might try to cause bodily harm when Senior Wei threw that door open.

He caught up just as they reached the door, Senior Wei hesitating with his hand raised ready to knock. The earlier confidence seemed to be fading, hesitation keeping him frozen.

“Go on.” Hanguang-jun said gently after a moment of nothing happening. Senior Wei shot him an indulgent smile before seeming to brace himself, rapping on the door before opening it.

Uncle looked up from where he was on the bed just as Jin Ling bustled into the room, setting the tray down on the small table nearby. Jin Ling watched carefully, waiting for an outburst but finding only confused disbelief among the pale shadows and drawn face. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Uncle truly was just sick.

This wasn’t what he’d expected to happen, and he found himself for once wishing he might be threatened.

“Jiang Cheng!” Senior Wei whined, looking as far into the room as he could from the door, “Lei Xiaosi tells me you’re sick and not eating!”

His Uncle just raised an eyebrow, passively blinking as he waited for Senior Wei to continue.

“I made you soup! It’s not perfect, but it should still be good enough.” Senior Wei smiled, “You need to eat, or you’ll never leave that bed.”

His Uncle’s gaze dropped to his lap, where Jin Ling found Fairy fast asleep. His Uncle ran his fingers through her fur a few times, scratching behind her ears. Jin Ling was forced to simply exist in the silence, wanting to leave and yet feeling bound to remain as a buffer between Senior Wei and his Uncle. It’s not like there would be much he could do if an argument broke out, but he was still reluctant to just go.

Just as Jin Ling was becoming convinced the silence would last forever, his Uncle coughed awkwardly.

“Thanks.” He muttered quietly, not looking up from the dog in his lap.

Senior Wei immediately brightened, “You’ll have to tell me how close I got! Lan Zhan says its good whenever I make it, but he has to say that so I need an outsider’s opinion!”

His Uncle grunted, still not quite making eye contact with anyone in the room. Jin Ling feared another stretch of silence, but Senior Wei simply chuckled though his smile seemed to dim.

“Eat up Jiang Cheng! I’ll expect a critique tomorrow!” He turned to go, pausing only to turn back, “Feel better, okay?”

His Uncle just nodded, looking awkward.

Jin Ling tried not to fidget, growing more and more uncomfortable.

Senior Wei seemed satisfied though, and he skipped away from the room, Hanguang-jun presumably right behind. Jin Ling cast one more scathing look at the red death in the soup bowl before turning to look at his Uncle.

He tried to pretend he didn’t see the unnatural shine in his eyes, or how his Uncle seemed to hold Fairy just a bit tighter.

“I saw him dump like half the spice rack in, so I’d be careful.” Jin Ling said, if only to say something , “In fact, I’d just dump it out. I could go make you something else.”

“No... “ His Uncle sighed quietly, “I’ve eaten his poison before, I’ll be fine.”

Jin Ling bit his lip, giving in to the urge to fidget only a little . His Uncle made a passing swipe at his own eyes, breathing deeply before lifting Fairy up and rising from the bed. He crossed the room and deposited the dog into Jin Ling’s arms.

“Here,” He said, running one last soothing palm through the dog’s fur, “She’s a good dog, though I’d advise cutting back on the treats a little.”

Jin Ling sucked in his cheeks in an effort not to pout. Fairy licked his hand for his efforts.

“It’s time for you to go to bed,” His Uncle said, stepping past Jin Ling to inspect the goo in the bowl, “You’re still growing and need sleep.”

“I’m seventeen!” Jin Ling cried.

“So young, you must be so tired.” His Uncle nodded to himself, sitting at the table and stirring the sludge with a spoon. Jin Ling wondered how the wood didn’t burn on contact with all the red.

“Should… should Fairy stay here tonight?” He found himself offering, “She seems so comfortable here.”

His Uncle smirked, the one that meant Jin Ling wasn’t fooling him.

“I’ll be fine A-Ling.” His Uncle said, lifting the spoon and, horrifically, tasting the soup. His face twisted in discomfort and Jin Ling’s horror was assuaged, but then he swallowed and Jin Ling feared his Uncle might not be capable of processing taste or something. His Uncle stared at his mockery of a dinner critically, “It’s way too spicy, but it’s... a decent attempt.”

The shine in his eyes was just from all the spices, Jin Ling forced himself to believe that.

Jin Ling sighed, “Are you sure you don’t want Fairy to stay the night? She never gets to see you.”

“She saw me today,” His Uncle said dismissively, “Now go to bed before I have to order you.”

“You can’t order me around anymore! I’m a Sect Leader, same as you!”

His Uncle sneered and Jin Ling tried not to smile.

“I’m your uncle, and a Sect Leader with more experience than you,” His Uncle snapped, pointing a soup covered spoon at him, “Get going before I make you eat this!”

“If it’s bad I’ll make you something else!”

“Out!” The order was snappy enough, it almost made his Uncle sound like he was supposed to.

Jin Ling huffed in indignation, but quickly lost his annoyance to a smile. He bowed a goodbye, arms still full of Fairy, and slowly made his way out. He caught sight of his Uncle lifting the bowl to his lips as the doors closed and cringed.

The quiet around him seemed less oppressive now, less heavy with trepidation. Fairy snuffled in his arms, perfectly content to remain where she was. Jin Ling also would have been perfectly content to keep her pressed close to him, but his Uncle was right that she needed less treats. Jin Ling’s arms were beginning to burn.

He set his spiritual dog onto the floor beside him and she gave an indignant snort. Then her nose lifted and she trotted past him in pursuit of her own interests.

“Is it gone?”

Jin Ling whirled around to see Senior Wei peeking out from behind a column, eyes wide and shifty.

“The most perfect dog in the world is gone, yes,” Jin Ling huffed, “Probably to get comfortable on your bed.”

“Lan Zhan would never let that happen,” Senior Wei said dismissively, his confidence oozing back into him. He seemed to give Jin Ling a once over before asking, “Did he eat it?”

“Somehow.” Jin Ling wondered how much trouble he’d get into if he tried to check his Uncle’s mouth for blisters or scars tomorrow.

“All of it?”

“I hope not!”

Senior Wei pouted, “How’s he going to get better if he doesn’t eat all of his meal? If he actually was sick he’d never recover.”

Jin Ling swallowed, “What do you mean?”

The withering flat look he received brought a flash of heat to his face.

“I grew up with your Uncle,” Senior Wei said, “I’m not stupid. I know when he’s sick and when he’s not.”

“Maybe he was feeling better by the time you saw him.” Jin Ling argued, knowing it was a weak reasoning.

“A-Ling, we all know what’s going on. Let’s not lie to each other.” Senior Wei sighed, throwing his hands to rest behind his head and stepping past Jin Ling in the direction of the guest quarters, “I’ve seen your Uncle depressed before, but back then I was in a position to do something and only made things worse. These days I can only offer soup and hope it makes things better.”

“You could offer more…” Jin Ling muttered quietly, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

Senior Wei turned back to offer a brief and stilted grin, eyes shining as unnaturally bright as his Uncle’s had moments ago.

“Baby steps A-Ling. Your Uncle can’t handle more.” Senior Wei turned and took Jin Ling by the shoulders, “Until then you’re the one with the most to offer.”

“What do I have to give?”

Senior Wei’s smile turned sadder, “You’re giving him everything he needs, just keep doing it.”

Afraid this was heading towards a hug or some sappy moment between the two, Jin Ling ducked his head and wiggled free of Senior Wei’s grip, “Both of you like to talk in circles, you never make sense.”

“Oh A-Ling, you really are Jiang Cheng’s nephew!”

“Goodnight Senior Wei!”

~

“And that was when Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui came to assist me.”

Jin Ling stood in front of his Uncle in Sword’s Hall, his Uncle reclined on the nine petaled Lotus Throne as he skimmed through his own disciple’s night hunt reports. He’d been here for the last ten minutes giving a detailed oral report of what had happened, hoping his Uncle hadn’t yet noticed there’d been no mention of Hanguang-jun or Senior Wei anywhere.

His Uncle snorted derisively, handing the reports in his lap back to Lei Xiaosi’s waiting arms.

“It sounds like whoever organized this night hunt has never organized one before, let alone faced an actual enemy,” He sneered, turning to his Head Disciple, “Almost every account so far has emphasised how underprepared everyone was. If another one gets called, we’re going to assume authority. If another one doesn’t get called, we’re calling one. This is ridiculous.”

“Yes Jiang-zongzhu,” Lei Xiaosi said, “Shall I return these to your office?”

“Put them with the invitation we received, I want to send a message to the sect responsible.” His Uncle huffed, waving Lei Xiaosi out the door and turning his attention back to Jin Ling, “So the three of you managed to exorcise the pack you were fighting?”

Jin Ling nodded, “Yes Uncle.”

“Then what happened?”

“By then most of the fighting had ceased and we began tending to our wounds. Shortly after we decided our best option for rest and recovery was Lotus Pier.”

“And did Wei Wuxian and Hanguan-jun arrive from Cloud Recesses before or after you did?” His Uncle asked, tone low and flat.

Jin Ling felt his heart stop, “Eh?”

“You heard me.” There was a warning in that voice.

“I… I’m not sure, I met them at the inn last night.” Jin Ling admitted, beginning to shrink with guilt.

“Stand up straight and look me in the eye,” His Uncle barked, waiting until Jin Ling had done so to continue, “You led me to believe there would be someone there to watch out for you and that was clearly a lie!”

“Senior Wen was there!”

“Senior Wen can only be in so many places at once! I should break your legs and strap you to a chair until I’m certain you won’t run off to do stupid things!” His Uncle snarled, “I give you my trust and this is what you do with it? Lie to my face?”

“It wasn’t an… outright lie-”

“It was lie enough you brat! What, you become a Sect Leader and now you think you’re untouchable? Fierce Corpses won’t bother to consider your station as they tear into you!” His Uncle shot to his feet, thrusting a punishing finger in his nephew’s direction, “To the training fields with you! I don’t want to see you until the sun goes down!”

“You can’t punish me! I’m a Sect Leader!”

“How many times are you going to use that line of reasoning until it gets through your thick head that I am your Uncle! I’ll punish you all damn day if I like! Now get out of here!” His Uncle snapped, dismissing him with an aggressive wave of his hand.

With a stomp of his foot, Jin Ling turned and stormed from the hall. He caught sight of Senior Wei approaching as he left, only bothering to roll his eyes as a greeting.

“I see Jiang Cheng is back to normal.” Senior Wei chuckled as they passed each other, and the observation caused Jin Ling to stop short. Memory of the pale face with dark shadows, framed by limp hair. All of it attached to a listless body sprawled out in the dark. Sometimes his eyes were shiny with threatened tears, thought that was the only emotion the husk from yesterday seemed capable of showing.

Compared to just a few minutes ago, his Uncle up and walking around, red in the face with fury as he barks orders and sneers at incompetence. Full of energy - of life .

Jin Ling realized he was smiling as he hurried towards Yunmeng’s docks so he could say goodbye to his friends. Then he was going to train until his Uncle came out to yell at him to stop.

He’d listen to his Uncle yell forever if it meant he didn’t have to look like yesterday.

~

Wei Wuxian watched Jin Ling runoff in the exact opposite direction of the training grounds and snickered. He turned to enter the hall, lingering in the doorway until Jiang Cheng looked up from polishing his sword to notice he was standing there.

His former shidi sneered, though there was less heat in the expression compared to maybe a month or two ago.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“I just came to say Lan Zhan and I are taking Jingyi and Sizhui back to Cloud Recesses.”

“Well good riddance then.” Jiang Cheng said simply, turning back to Sandu.

“How was the soup?”

“It did its job, I’d give it three points.”

“Only three?!” Wei Wuxian cried, “What kind of a ranking is that?”

“You really think you can compete with A-jie’s soup?” Jiang Cheng snapped.

“No! I just want better than a three!”

“Then learn to cook!”

Wei Wuxian pouted, falling back to lean against the doorway. The two stared one another down before Jiang Cheng gave Sandu one last wipe and seemed to deem the sword clean enough. He sheathed it and stood up, stretching until his spine popped.

“I have a lot of work to do,” Jiang Cheng said, “There’s a lot of cleanup and damage control to be done because some idiot in a nothing sect couldn’t do their job. If you don’t need anything else, leave already.”

Wei Wuxian snorted, “Alright, alright, Lan Zhan’s waiting at the docks anyway.”

“Make sure to tell A-Ling he needs to hurry to the training fields when you see him.” Jiang Cheng said, walking past Wei Wuxian.

“Jiang Cheng?”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Jiang Cheng stilled, starting to turn around before aborting and remaining where he was.

“You and A-Ling… were an appreciated help… yesterday.” He said awkwardly before turning to glower, “Now get out! I’m busy!”

Wei Wuxian snorted, waving goodbye as he walked off. Jiang Cheng watched him go, the usually ragged pain in his chest whenever he saw Wei Wuxian not feeling quite as gaping and all-consuming. The thought of the soup last night, an awkward and timid but sincere gesture to show someone cared, managed to keep the sneering vitriol that usually ran constantly through his head quiet just a bit longer.

The phantom aches in his chest were still there, but they were lighter. As though the memory of his nephew lingering as close as he was able, refusing to leave him when so many already had, kept them soothed just a little longer.

He was feeling better. A lot better than he usually did after days like that.

It was nice.

[outshinethestars]

A Weighing of Evils

“How the fuck,” Sirius said, “Did we end up fighting for the establishment?”

“The establishment got itself nearly destroyed by a blood supremacist dark-arts cult, that’s how,” said James sensibly.  James always had been infuriatingly sensible.  Not in a not breaking rules for stupid reasons way or a not rushing headlong into danger way, obviously.  But James was annoyingly sensible in the not getting caught up in depressing philosophical quandaries and the not indulging in melodrama way.  Of Sirius’s friends, the only one with any sense of melodrama at all was Remus, and he deserved it, honestly.

But, Sirius was a Black, and in some ways he would never stop being a Black, and so he felt completely justified in lying on James’s couch and complaining about the general state of things to James’s floor.

He had just finished a longish argument with Regulus about werewolves.  It was the longest he’d spoken with him in ages.  Sirius wondered when the last time he’d had a conversation with his brother that wasn’t an argument was.  He couldn’t remember any examples.

Sirius was fairly certain there was nothing as frustrating and depressing as arguing with Reg about werewolves.

“Remember when we were kids?”  Sirius asked James and the world in general,  “We were going to change the world.  We were going to entirely rewrite the werewolf regulations and end the discrimination against half-giants and who knows what else.  Did you know they just passed some new laws restricting the rights of werewolves even more?  They’re using the whole thing with Greyback as some sort of proof that they’re inherently evil and dangerous.  As if these sorts of laws are what made some werewolves side with You Know Who in the first place.  I don’t know how Moony puts up with it sometimes.”

James hadn’t known about the new werewolf regulations.  Sirius hadn’t either until Reg had told him.  None of them had much time for politics what with everything.  But then again, what was “everything” if not politics?  And if it was the Death Eaters who were making promises to werewolves and treating goblins with respect, and it was the ministry that was becoming increasingly discriminatory against anything that wasn’t “properly human”, what was the point?  The point, Sirius knew perfectly well, was Lilly Evans and Remus’s mum and the many, many other muggle-born witches and wizards, and half wizarding, half muggle families.  The point was all the innocent, helpless muggles who got hurt or killed.  The point was that the ministry might be making life nearly impossible for werewolves and sentient “magical creatures”, but at least they weren’t burning people’s houses down or murdering them just because they could.

Arguing about werewolves with Regulus was the worst, because he couldn’t argue with him.  Because when it came to the ministry, Regulus was perfectly right in saying that their policies on “magical creatures” were complete bollocks and something should be done about it.  But when it came to the nature of werewolves themselves, Regulus was wrong.  Werewolves weren’t all like Greyback, they were just people, just humans with a medical condition.  But Regulus had done research, and when Sirius told him his books written hundreds of years ago were all just wrong, Regulus wanted him to cite his sources, and Sirius couldn’t because his only source was “One of my best friends is secretly a werewolf”.  Although there was a point where Regulus went on about how werewolves needed pack, and Sirius had thought of how it had felt at school, running through the forbidden forest with Moony by his side, Prongs taking the lead with Wormtail on his back.  He thought about how it felt back then, the four of them together and united.  He thought of how Remus-as-wolf had been so much calmer then, how he always followed James’s lead.  He thought of how much happier, how much more settled, Remus had been at school than he is now, and he thought that maybe there was something to at least a little bit of what was in those old books.  And he thought about how even Dumbledore’s best solution to Remus’s lycanthropy was to lock him up all alone in the shack, and he hated the world and the way things were just a little bit more.

“How’d we get so old and jaded,” Sirius said, “That we’re willing to settle for them lesser of two evils.  We were supposed to make things better .”

James sighed tiredly, but then he said, “Cheer up, Padfoot.  We’re still young yet.  Once we’ve defeated You-Know-Who we’ll still have plenty of time to overthrow the ministry too.”

Sirius grinned at that.  They’d be heroes once this was over, wouldn’t they, with all the power they needed to do what they liked.  And maybe, once Voldomort was gone, Regulus would help them.

[goodbyecringe]

(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 15

Éponine

I stood with the rest of the Selected Girls behind the red rope that sectioned us off from the rest of the guests. Most of the girls were smiling with their mimosas in hand waiting in line to be interviewed. Cosette and Iris were being interviewed together in their complimentary shades of pink and blue. Musichetta was pushing Liberty to a place in the shade and Teresa could be heard arguing with Claudia to let her wear a pair of gody sunglasses. I figured that Enjolras would come out with The Queen when she was announced so I sipped on my drink until Cosette was finished with the press.

“Éponine I haven’t been able to tell you yet but Coral looks lovely on you!” Cosette beamed.

“Thank you! I can honestly say I was surprised when my maids showed me the dress since most of the time they design more neutral toned dresses,” I smiled, just in case anyone was taking any pictures.

“You look great in those colors, but it’s nice to see you in something bright for a change.”

“Do you think we’ll have to spend the whole time behind this rope?” I asked, as Cosette accepted a drink from Iris.

“I think I heard Claudia telling Teresa that once the Queen arrives Enjolras will take turns escorting us around to keep the guests engaged,” Iris piped.

“I wonder if we’ll meet anyone of extreme importance,” Cosette said, looking at the crowd.

“We’re guests of The King and Queen, and no one here could be more important than them.”

“The Guest of Honor rescued thirty people from a factory fire a few months ago. I hear the King will be awarding him a medal for his heroism,” I said, remembering that was the reason Enjolras had been late to our date.

“Yes well he’s also an amputee now. Take that as you may,” Iris murmured.

“Don’t be such an ableist,” I stated. “Liberty will run over your foot if she hears you.”

“Well she’ll have to catch me first,” Iris said.

Just then, trumpets began to blow to announce Queen Carolina’s arrival. We turned to watch as Enjolras escorted her down the stairs to a podium. To my right, Iris began to fan herself, but it wasn’t due to the heat. Girls around me began to giggle and whisper as they continued to stare at Enjolras, who was in his military uniform.

“He does look extremely handsome with that sword,” Cosette blushed.

By all definitions, Enjolras was attractive, but I would have thought that after being at the palace for two months the other girls would have gotten used to it. I didn’t realize until Laila had food poisoning a few days ago that I had become reliant on her scalp massages. Now I realized why they made girls Threes, because when I went home I would never be able to live with my parents. Musichetta told us at breakfast that Anne was already engaged to a Two in Angles, less than two weeks after being sent home. When each of us left the competition we would be sought after because of our positions.

Maybe a nice Three would want me and we could take Azelma and move far away from Allens. I thought about if I had any chance with any upper caste men until I heard applause. Queen Carolina had just finished her speech and was beginning her trip around the garden. Enjolras made his way over to our section and requested Liberty, probably because the first section of guests were on tile.

“Éponine, the press would like a word,” Claudia said, offering to take my drink.

“Thank you Claudia,” I said, giving the glass to her and making my way towards the camera and interviewer.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us Lady Éponine!” The cheery interviewer said as I sat on the stool.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I said, forcing a smile.

“So we hear that you recently went on another date with Prince Julien. What was it like?”

“Well this date was a bit different than our previous dates. As I’ve discussed on the Report, we normally watch the new episode of Law and Order. But this time we had a beautiful dinner in the garden,” I said.

“Do you mind disclosing what you talked about?”

“Of course not. We talked about books that we’ve recently read, how incredible the food is here at the palace, our favorite childhood memories, mostly the “getting to know you” topic.”

“Anything more?” She said, holding up the cover of “Illeá Weekly.”

The caption read ‘The Prince and The Pauper… In Love?’ in bold white lettering. Enjolras had leaned over the table to get a dead bug out of my hair after we had finished discussing Joly’s severe case of Hypochondria.

“Prince Enjolras was being kind enough to get a bug out of my hair,” I laughed, playing the cover down.

I didn’t want the other girls to see me as more of a threat to their game.

“I’m sure that was what was going on. How would you describe your relationship with our beloved Prince?”

I had to be strategic and smart here.

“Enjolras has become a great friend to me during my time here. We share a lot of common interests and passions but we also challenge each other. So I would say we’re doing okay,” I said, continuing to smile.

“I’m sure you and Enjolras are doing better than okay,” the interviewer said, smirking.

I immediately realized my mistake and knew that every attempt to downplay my relationship with Enjolras had failed. I made sure that I didn’t let my persona falter while the camera was rolling. I made a beeline for the refreshment station so I could down my pride with a mimosa.

“Make sure you don’t drink too much before Enjolras takes you out to the crowd,” I heard an amused voice say from behind me.

“Thanks Musichetta, I guess I just let that reporter get to me a little,” I said, setting my glass on the bar.

“Please, call me Chetta. It happens to the best of us. If it weren’t for my fair share of warnings I would have been in several scandals by now,” she laughed.

I realized that this was my first time talking to Musichetta by myself as she was very selective of who she allied herself with. She had received a moderate amount of praise from the gossip rags for her beauty and work with the underprivileged.

“Éponine, I consider myself a fairly transparent person and I wanted to let you know that I would like to get to know you. You should stick around the Women’s Room more often,” she winked.

We began to talk about how a few of the other girls appeared to be on the verge of one of the scandals Chetta had mentioned when I saw Enjolras out of the corner of my eye. He was returning to our section while Marissa, a feisty Four, followed a few feet behind him. She looked absolutely dejected as she stumbled into the arms of Claudia, who rushed her inside.

“Excuse my interruption ladies, but may I borrow you, Éponine,” Enjolras asked, his voice tense.

“Of course,” I said, excusing myself from Musichetta, who gave me a smirk.

“Is everything okay, Enjolras?” I asked innocently.

“It appears that Marissa has had a few too many drinks, which I didn’t believe was possible from mimosas,” he said, bringing his hand to the bridge of his nose.

“You’d be surprised at how low a beginner’s alcohol tolerance is,” I said mindlessly as I hooked arm arm through Enjolras’s.

“It was such an embarrassment. I had to excuse us because she was about to throw up on the Viscount de Gillenormand’s shoes. The man is already a raging royalist and I would hate to put his grandson in such an uncomfortable position,” Enjolras grumbled.

“So I’m your damage control?” I laughed.

“You are who I feel most confident in, as long as you don’t mention politics to him.”

“Then why bring me over at all?” I asked, knowing that our relationship was strictly reliant on politics at this point in the Selection.

“Let’s call it a lesson in self-restraint. And to be frank, I feel immensely calmer with you,” Enjolras smiled as we approached a seated old man and a lanky boy.

“Viscount de Gillenormand I’m pleased to introduce you to the Lady Éponine Jondrette of Allens,” Enjolras said, releasing my arm.

“A pleasure to meet you young lady,” the older man said in a thick french accent.

“Please sir, the pleasure is all mine,” I said smiling.

“Marius, where are your manners?” The older man said, scolding his grandson.

“My apologies. Marius Pontmercy at your service, Lady Éponine,” the lanky boy said, kissing my hand.

My skin felt like it was on fire when his lips met my skin.

“Illeá never fails to surprise me whenever I come to visit. Your rituals are most disturbing at times, Your Highness” grumbled the Viscount.

“The Selection has been a time-honored tradition since our country's inception. I’m quite exalted to be able to participate in my own Selection,” Enjolras stated.

If I had just met Enjolras I would have thought he was telling the truth.

“A Selection seems like such an odd custom for a Frenchman like my grandfather. What are your thoughts on it, Lady Éponine?” Marius asked, placing a hand on his grandfather’s back.

“Honestly, I’m honored to be a part of such a fantastic tradition. I’ve learned so much during my time here at the palace and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world,” I lied.

“You seem awfully well put together for a commoner. What’s your rank?”

“Grandfather, Illeá uses the term caste. It’s more to determine a citizen’s job in society, not their worth,” Marius corrected.

“Well with Prince Enjolras present I am unable to disclose that information.”

“I don’t know the castes of any of the Selected Women. I want citizens of Illeá to see that I am impartial to caste,” Enjolras explained.

“Well seems like a waste of effort to me. Marius, would you escort Lady Éponine to get some refreshments for Prince Julien and myself. I have an important matter I would like to discuss in private,” the old man said, sitting up straighter.

“My Lord, I am very confident in Lady Éponine’s-” Enjolras started

“Forgive me but I am not very confident,” Viscount Gillenormand bellowed.

Marius and I began to walk to a bar on the other side of the gardens to give his grandfather and Enjolras time to talk.

“I apologize for my grandfather. His old age has made him quite cynical,” Marius began.

“It’s okay, I’m a little tougher than I look,” I laughed.

“You mean you didn’t grow up in heels and fancy dresses?” Marius gasped.

I impulsively decided that this would be the right time to dust off my old tricks and snatched Marius’s pocket watch while he ordered the drinks.

“It’s easy to tell that you grew up in heels and fancy dresses,” I smirked, holding the watch up.

He immediately grabbed at his vest pocket, only to find that he was actually staring at his watch.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked.

“Let’s just say that castes in Illeá determine a little more than your job in society.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate. You should consider emigrating to France when you’re done here. I can proudly say the worst thing in France is our temper, but I’m sure you already know that,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that your necklace has the Gallic Rooster on it. It’s the French symbol to protest the monarchy in favor of the republic,” Marius explained.

“My friend gave this to me the day I came to the palace. I had no idea what it meant,” I said, reaching for the necklace Justine gave to me.

“Your friend must think you’re quite the fighter, Lady Éponine,” he smiled, handing me a drink.

No one had ever called me a fighter.

“Well, Monsieur Marius, if France and I have so much in common I might just have to consider your offer,” I said as we clinked out glasses together before walking back towards Enjolras.

“If you don’t find it completely inappropriate, I would love to send you some pictures of Paris. So you can prepare for your move, of course.”

“I would deem that as quite appropriate,” I blushed.

I couldn’t help but stare at Marius’s freckles while his grandfather continued to complain about such a large gathering of peasants. Even while the other guests gushed over Enjolras I was the perfect image of trust while I stole glances at Marius, who had escaped his grandfather and found Les Amis. I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol but as the garden party grew longer the butterflies in my stomach intensified.

[starwarringavengers]

our own house [3/6]

Pairing: Rey x Ben Solo

Warnings: some angst, kissing, things get a little bit STEAMY this time around; rey wears a dress and ben can’t control himself; there’s a bit of espionage, you know, the usual

Summary: The five times Ben Solo and Rey of Jakku kiss, and the one time they do more. The jedi au that no one asked for but that I am nonetheless delivering. 

AO3: Here!

The third time Rey and Ben Solo kiss, Leia Organa is laughing.

Coruscant is not Ben or Rey’s favorite place, by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, you’d be hard-pressed to find a Jedi or any living thing that actually likes Coruscant’s overcrowded streets and constant humming of ships and neon lighting. The upper level of the city-planet is calmer - above the swarmed streets instead exists a totally different type of terror: politicians.

Ben had always hated having to follow his mother to meeting after meeting, Threepio trailing behind them and whirling facts and meeting times and Young Master Ben, tuck your shirt in. It’s how he came to be an avid reader and researcher in the first place. There was nothing to do other than bury his nose in a book.

He is not looking forward to going back to Coruscant, least of all with Rey.

“Lose the cloaks, kids,” Luke tells them, tossing them communication devices to take with them. “This is a diplomatic mission, and you don’t want to stand out. You’re guests of my sister, and that’s all anyone should think you are.”

“They’re going to know that we’re Jedi, Master Luke,” Rey says, cocking a hip and looking at the older man with an expression of annoyance.

“Not if you don’t tell them so, Miss Rey,” Luke states, wagging a finger.

“I have to agree with Rey on this, uncle,” Ben says, crossing his arms over his chest as Luke regards the pair of them quietly. “I’m not sure investigating one of the eight members of the New Republic is our best move, especially considering his anti-Order sentiments. He’s going to see right through us.”

Luke sighs. “Borsk Fey’lya is nothing but manipulation tactics and political strategies - you need not let him intimidate you. Do your digging out of his way, and you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe my mother agreed to this,” Ben mutters, shaking his head at the situation they’ve found themselves in. Covert operations are just this side of doable for Ben, given his mother’s incessant need to teach him manners and make sure that he can conduct himself around politicians and the wealthy. But Rey?

It’s not that she has bad manners, but they did take her a few years to learn. And when she says the wrong thing, it always shows on her face. Ben secretly loves it when that happens.

“Ben, you’ll take care of the talking, Rey will take care of feeling out the atmosphere,” Luke tells them, and then practically shoos them away.

It’s been a week since Ben returned to Yavin IV and consequently a week since he’d kissed Rey in the garden. Every time he sees her, he seems to keep fucking up. After the drunken kiss outside her door a year and a half ago, they’d finally gone back to normal and went back to sending each other letters almost every day and talking when they could, but now they’re back on the same planet and Ben just can’t seem to figure out how to act.

After so long away she’s not much different, except now Ben has in the back of his mind that she’s eighteen, and have her cheekbones always been that high? Have her lashes always been long enough to cast a shadow? Were her lips always that red? Did her voice always sound that alluring? She’s caught him staring at her more than once across the mess hall or during meditation, and he’d tried to hide it the first few times. Now though, she doesn’t seem embarrassed by his gaze - she seems almost…flattered? As if she wants him to be looking at her.

He’s waiting by the transport with a bag slung over his shoulder when she comes bounding down the steps of the temple, newly-knighted Paige Tico and their pilot, following close behind. Ben nearly chokes on his breath.

Rey isn’t wearing Jedi robes anymore, obviously, Luke told them not to, but she’s wearing an off-white bodysuit and traveling cloak that’s a stark contrast to his black sweater and pants, but seeing her in white isn’t just what does him in.

It’s her eyes.

Rey has never worn much makeup, and frankly, Ben doesn’t think she needs it, but he’s well-versed enough in women to know that it’s a useful enhancement tool and sometimes a fun artistic outlet. Many of the girls at the Academy wear makeup that represents their home planets or their clans - gold blushes and intricate markings that Ben’s mother would probably be glad to know he does appreciate artistically.

But Rey’s home planet is Jakku, and there’s no ties there for her anymore, except for a sense of longing, and so there’s no cosmetic to represent it. Instead, Rey’s eyes are smudged with a light brown color and lined with pure white. It’s just enough to make her eyes stand out, and look less brown and more green and wow, has it been this warm outside the whole time?

Ben is standing stock-still like an absolute fool when Rey approaches, tossing her bag into the transport before turning to him. A small whisp of hair is falling from her top bun onto her forehead, and Ben doesn’t think about it when he reaches up and tucks the strand behind her ear. If she’s surprised by the motion, she doesn’t let it show. She only gives him a gentle smile, squinting a little in the sunlight.

“Ready?” she asks.

This is going to be a long trip.

***

“Do not, I repeat, do not make me go to a party,” Ben groans to Leia, whose expression resides somewhere between amused and bored. They’re sitting at the table in her quarters having breakfast, and all had been going swimmingly until Leia had announced her wish for Ben and Rey to join her at the evening’s dinner party with guests from the Hapes Cluster.

Though Rey secretly shares Ben’s sentiments, watching him squirm in annoyance under Leia’s frightening use of his full name is too funny to risk interrupting.

“You’re going and that’s final, Benjamin. Rey, dear, please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with when you get ready. For now, I have a meeting,” Leia says, and turns back to Ben. “Please, don’t destroy anything while I’m gone. Either of you.”

And with that, Leia Organa-Solo strides from the room with a purposeful and regal air, leaving Rey giggling in her seat while Ben looks on with narrowed eyes.

“I hate dinner parties,” Ben mutters.

“I’ve never been to one,” Rey admits, though she’s sure he knows that fact. After all, the only people she’s ever taken meals with are the students at the Praexium and occasionally Master Luke. She doesn’t know the first thing about how to behave at a party. This only furthers her confusion as to why Luke sent her here to Coruscant with Ben - she’s not exactly a people person.

Ben looks at her strangely for a moment, with the same gaze that she can’t seem to decipher these past few days. It’s something like wonder, but darker. She finds herself blushing.

“You’ll be fine,” he assures her solidly. “For now, let’s go see what the Senate is getting up to.”

***

Being cramped in close quarters with Ben Solo is strangely not Rey’s idea of a good time, given that she’s flushing darker than the berry juice Leia had put out for breakfast for them. It’s not that she really minds being pressed against him, with her back to his chest as they both peer through the crack in the closet in Fel’lya’s office. How a Jedi Knight and an almost-Jedi got themselves stuck in a Senator’s closet is almost as confusing to them as it would be to anyone else.

They’d been arguing about the best course of action, Ben warning against Rey’s tendency to dive headfirst into the water without looking (she had done so, and that’s how she learned to swim at the Academy. Ben had practically thrown her in after she’d expressed interest in learning. He didn’t see the point in treading lightly when it came to learning). Regardless, they’ve been too busy arguing to notice that Fel’lya was on his way back before it was too late. So, they’d crammed into the coat closet and held their breath.

A bad idea? Yes. Their worst? Probably not.

Now they’re stuck listening while Fel’lya speaks over a channel to someone in native tongue that Rey doesn’t know too well, but Ben has a recording device held up over her shoulder to catch and analyze later. Even if he’d been speaking Basic, Rey isn’t sure she’d be able to listen well enough, given that she’s really, really flushed about the situation she’s found herself in.

Ben Solo is not really a hugger and neither is Rey, so their points of physical contact have been limited to touches on shoulders and brushes of hands, and the two or three times he’s carried her for some reason or another. And, of course, their kiss. Rey’s head is still reeling from it, and the way he’d looked at her when she went out to meet him at the transport and then tucked a curl behind her ear had her practically bursting with the need to confront him about it.

And now, she feels his whole body tall and broad behind her, his lips close enough to her ear that she can feel his breath on her neck and easily pick up the scent of mint in his aftershave.

I wish you’d touch me, is all she can think. No thoughts of the mission, none of translating languages, just a pure, unadulterated desire to feel Ben Solo’s arms wrap around her and his hands wander. Rey lets out a slow breath in an attempt to center herself.

Ben stiffens behind her.

Fuck.

If he’s heard what she’s thought, he doesn’t give any indication. He just continues to hold up the recording device. But, he does slip his hand into hers and tap her palm three times.

Good? The gesture asks, something they’d devised years ago during long meditation sessions, when they’d have to partner meditate for whole hours.

Rey taps back twice. Yes.

They’re thankfully not stuck much longer, because eventually Fel’lya leaves his office in a flurry and Rey lets out a huff of relief, surveying the Force for other lifeforms nearby before opening the door.

“Let’s get this back to Threepio,” Ben tells her quietly, and they make to sneak out the way they came.

They’re thisclose to leaving the hall undetected when they both sense lifeforms nearby. “Shit,” Ben mutters, grabbing Rey by the arm and pulling her over to one of the pillars and abruptly pressing her against it, an arm cradled over her head as his hand rests on her hip.

“Ben, what -“

He shushes her softly, craning to press his face into the crook of her neck. “Wait until they walk by.”

Rey can only nod in understanding, her heartbeat a frantic tattoo against her ribs as Ben’s entire body shields her from view. Their breathing is labored, unsteady, as the guard and Fel’lya near them, and Rey can see them eyeing her and Ben suspiciously as they approach.

They’re looking at us, Rey tells him in her mind, and Ben blinks in recognition, before lifting his free hand and cradling Rey’s face. She resists the very strong urge to once again ask him what he’s doing, and instead goes with it as he presses his lips to her neck, a soft trail leading up behind her ear.

Close your eyes; don’t be suspicious.

Rey wants to shout at him and question how they could not look suspicious in this position, but she vaguely feels when Fel’lya and the guard pass, catching the trails of a faint little chuckle from one of them. She catches the tail end of their thoughts, all along the lines of amusement at a young couple stealing away a few quiet moments in the halls of the Senate.

“See? Not so bad,” Ben asks, but it’s quiet and his voice is low and crackling like a fire and Rey wonders if he’d catch her if she quite literally melted to the floor.

“Yeah,” Rey concedes. “Not bad.”

***

Ben goes about the rest of the afternoon in a haze. Even as he’s getting dressed for the dinner and ignoring his mother’s plea of please wear something other than black, he can’t stop thinking about Rey. But, can he ever?

The scent of wildflowers is still surrounding his senses and the memory of her face in his hands is still raw, and he just can’t focus. He doesn’t like to intrude into her thoughts without permission, but she was practically yelling in the closet, her mind projecting so loud he barely had to do any work to hear her thinking just touch me. If they’d been stuck in that closet a moment longer, Ben reckons he might have done something extremely stupid.

“Ben? Please,” Leia is saying, holding out a cloak to him. He has to bite his tongue not to get annoyed with the whole thing once again. “Wear it.”

“Do I have to?”

“Are you five years old? Stop arguing and put the cloak on!” Leia says, and despite her tiny self, she flings the cloak around his shoulders and fastens it around his neck. It falls to his knees and turns to the side, leaving his arms mostly unencumbered and his lightsaber hidden on the other side. The cloak itself isn’t the issue - it’s the embellishment. It’s from Alderaan, and that’s the only reason he’s letting this happen, because he knows it’s important to his mother. Because here, he is Leia Organa’s son, and however defunct the titles of Princess and Prince of Alderaan are, he carries them nonetheless.

After she deems his hair fixed, Leia steps back and smiles softly at him. “My son,” she says, “You look very handsome.”

“Alright, mom,” Ben rolls his eyes, but can’t hide the smile when Leia turns away. He follows the sweep of her dress down the halls of the Senate to the ballroom, cursing himself yet again for agreeing to this. He’s about to resign himself to night of pure torture when he senses Rey, and in a moment he’s turned from his mother and her conversation and is staring at her as she descends the steps into the ballroom.

“Everything shows on your face,” Leia says then, more a sigh than a scold, as she looks at Ben looking at Rey. He barely hears her

Her dress is far from the sparkliest thing in the room, but she is the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. The dress is dark blue and so silky it looks like water is falling over her, and the top is mesh embroidered with what looks like tiny stars that stretch over her collarbone and down her sleeves, and all Ben can imagine is that she’s wearing nothing but stars, because it looks as if she’s plucked the night sky from above them and wrapped her body in it. The skirt is not huge and thank fuck for that, because Ben is absolutely captivated by the way the fabric clings to her torso and her legs and falls gracefully around her feet.

Ben vaguely registers that she’s walking towards them, smiling shyly as she approaches. Thankfully, his mother possesses far more tact and is decidedly not as distracted by Rey as he is, and so she reaches her arms out for Rey, who goes sailing into them with a look of relief.

“Well, don’t you look lovely! Ben, doesn’t Rey look nice?” Both women are looking at him expectedly, and he thinks he might choke.

“Yeah, yes,” he says, before clearing his throat and nodding. “That’s a nice color on you, Rey.”

A nice color? He thinks, Fucking moron.

Rey smiles at him then, soft and sweet, her lashes touching her cheekbones as she blinks. He finds himself grinning back.

And then, much to his absolute annoyance, he is back to being Ben Organa-Solo, son of the legendary Leia Organa, who everyone wants to talk to. He barely gets a moment to breathe, let alone stare at Rey like he wants to.

Save me, he projects at her as he’s stuck standing next to his mother and trying his best to be polite even though he hates basically everyone in his immediate vicinity and kind of wants to ignite his lightsaber just to incite a little bit of action.

Aren’t you an adult? Fend for yourself. I’m having enough trouble over here as it is, Rey thinks back, and he catches her eye from across the room and nearly bursts out laughing. She’s speaking to a very tall gentleman, who is gesticulating wildly and each time coming close to absolutely sloshing his drink all over poor Rey, who is furrowing her brow and giving her best attempt at a sincere smile.

Balcony? Ben asks, and Rey practically lights up as she excuses herself from the man and Ben mutters a quick apology to his mother before following her from across the ballroom. There’s a giddy sort of smile on Rey’s face as she slips out onto the balcony, her dress melting her into the scenery seamlessly, like she was made to be near the stars. Ben slides out to meet her and practically catches her in his arms as she pulls them away, into a dark spot in the corner where they can breathe.

“I like your cape,” Rey tells him then, reaching a hand up to trail her fingertips along the embroidery over his chest. Ben rolls his eyes.

“I look ridiculous.”

“No, you look like a prince,” she jokes, grinning wildly at him. Ben catches her hand and keeps it pressed to his chest on some sort of pure instinct, taking in a deep breath of the night air, clean and fresh this high up. It makes him feel a little dizzy.

“Then you’re a princess,” Ben tells her, touching the beading on her sleeve.

“I could never,” Rey laughs, “Your mother has the royalty thing down, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Oh, there are so many things he wants to say to her as he watches her giggle, eyes lighting up and crinkling a little at the corners. He wants to tell her how lovely she is, how unworthy of her he’s always felt - but would she even want him? Lust and attraction are a different thing altogether from loving someone.

And there’s the question of their vows, which they’ve technically already broken. Or, was there even anything in the vows about relationships? Ben can’t recall clearly enough.

“I have a question,” Rey says suddenly.

I’ll give you anything you want, he thinks. If she hears it, she doesn’t respond.

“So, I guess I never really apologized,” Rey begins, looking down and staring out at the cityscape around them to avoid meeting his eye. Ben feels like his lungs will explode. “For being drunk that one night and kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that and I didn’t mean to make you feel like then you had to kiss me the other night on my birthday,” she stumbles for words, “I was so worried when you left the next morning that you’d never speak to me again and then I was worried that the kiss the other night would ruin everything all over again, and so, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, and also, thank you? I suppose? For the kiss?”

Ben stares at Rey as she speaks, his mouth half-open in amusement and amazement, as she blushes and stammers and continues not to meet his eye. “You’re welcome,” is all he can think to say, because his big fucking brain still has no idea how to function when Rey is around. Her responding laugh is musical.

She nods a little, her cheeks still rosy and the wind picking up a stray hair from her updo. Just like in the morning, Ben reaches up a hand and brushes it away, catching her face in his hand as he does. Her lips are soft when he runs the pad of his thumb across them and Rey’s eyes flutter shut, as if she’s breathing him in with the night air. He doesn’t think too hard about it when he turns her face and presses their lips together.

She tastes like semi-sweet champagne and chocolate and she’s warm in his arms when he pulls her close, hands skating over the beading of her pretty dress and feeling her spine beneath his fingertips. Rey keeps kissing him, lets him lead but responds with an equal amount of fervor, however cautiously.

Just kisses, Rey thinks to him, Just kisses - oh this is so wrong, we’re going to be in so much trouble - I love your lips.

So, perhaps she’s not thinking at him, but he’s hearing it nonetheless. When Ben reaches up and cups the back of Rey’s neck she sighs against his mouth and he wonders if that’s what peace feels like, what wells up inside of him at the sound and the feel of her kiss.

Unbeknownst to either of the two Jedi, Leia Organa-Solo is standing at the door to the balcony, laughing quietly to herself and reminiscing that Ben is truly his father’s son.

[lisinfleur]

Arrangements

Author’s Notes | Being honest, I didn't find a way to have a Saxon princess being sent to Kattegat due to the fact Christians were pretty more sexist and unless she was already negotiated for marriage or some kind of deal with the Vikings, hardly the Saxons would trust a woman to go among Vikings and prevent a war, but yet, I found a way to adapt your idea and I really hope you like the final work!

What if Ubbe's deal with the Saxons had gone right...

Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ubbe x Saxon Princess! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by @cris101071 for 5CW4  Words | 4698 ⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, romance.

"Við viljum kröfu landið okkar."

The voice of that Norseman was strange. A low tone you didn't have heard anywhere before.

The two men in front of the table where your older brother and your father were sitting alongside Bishop Heahmund were totally different from anything you have ever seen.

Their hairs were braided and long, they were taller and that one who spoke had eyes of intense blue you could almost say were pieces stolen from the sky on a sunny day.

They were beautiful. Both of them. A wild beauty you couldn't deny, but yet, both of them were scary for you.

For a long time, you saw your father and your brother speaking to those men and more than once, you saw the older of them looking at you. Your father also mentioned your name sometimes, so as that strange man - yet he couldn't speak your name properly, sounding strange in his strong accent.

The two Norsemen were dismissed for a moment and your father, Alfred and the bishop started to deliberate in between them, not really minding your presence into the tent: you were there just because your mother asked you to serve some drinks to your father's table while she was too busy taking care of Aethelred's wounds after the last battle against the Norsemen in York. You were about to leave when those two arrived and so, the curiosity kept you into the tent.

"They want peace," your father said, causing you to smile.

It was a good thing, after all, right?

"Two sons of Ragnar Lothbrok into my camp, after taking one of my towns, and they want peace."

Your smile kinda vanished. It was something good, but your father and the bishop didn't seem to be leaned to accept their proposal.

"It's a good deal, you must admit," Alfred said "We could settle them out of York and recover the power over the city they stole from us. The lands my grandfather promised to them are idle anyway. With the right way to work with them, we could turn this into something good for us," he insisted "The lands would start to produce, more tributes would be taken to the crown and we must admit their military skills are better than ours or we wouldn't be here after all," Alfred wisely settled, "Giving up on these lands for them could mean a good alliance that could include teaching our men their ways to fight. It would make us stronger."

"They're heathens, my lord," Bishop Heahmund stated, trying to sound respectful when his voice was only sounding arrogant to your ears. "We could have nothing to learn from pagans like them."

"I believe they're just... Into the dark," Alfred said, trying to argue with the bishop, "Which just make the situation a little more favorable to us: we could take the chance of convivence to show them the way of our Lord and open their eyes to the light. How many of them could we earn to our Lord Jesus Christ and turn into fellow Christians, my Lord Bishop? Think about it: to end a war, spare the lives of our men, make our military stronger, take lands out of idleness, and maybe earn some souls to Our Lord. I don't see where it could be a bad deal for us, of course, if we keep control over this situation. We have what they want... Set conditions they shall not deny. Rules that shall not be broken."

"They won't trust us," it was the time of your father to doubt, causing the bishop to sigh relieved.

You could see Bishop Heahmund didn't want that deal to happen. But how many of your father's men would have to die until that stupid man could give up on his pride? Wasn't pride a terrible sin under the eyes of your God?

"Then give them something that will make us trustable. If you want to be trusted, then, earn their trust, father," Alfred said "Ubbe has a good proposal, after all. It seals our bloodlines together in a way you shall not lose the hand of the royalty over those lands, in the end."

"Forgive me, my lord, but this would be stupidity."

Should you say how much the voice of that bishop was bothering you?

Nah. You shouldn't even be there!

But you kept your silence, paying attention to what they were talking, wanting to know the destiny of that conflict that had taken you from your home and almost took your brother's life.

"To mix your bloodline with the impure blood of the heathens would only condemn your family and expose Wessex to their lineage." the bishop continued, causing some shivers down your spine...

What exactly did he mean by "mixing your lineage to theirs”?

"My father has two heirs to the throne of Wessex, my Lord Bishop. They wouldn't be able to claim anything over two lines before them unless our Lord decides to take both lives, mine and my brother's, to let in their hands the crown of my father. And yet, it would be our Lord's will, proved in front of our eyes. We shall trust our God's will, shall we not?"

You started to make the math in your head.

Were they thinking about...

"Are you suggesting we should marry my Lady Y/N to that heathen and accept their absurd proposal peacefully, my Lord Alfred?"

"What?!" you squealed, unable to hold back your voice when the bishop delivered the whole conversation in a single sentence.

Your eyes went large to Alfred's and then to your father's.

"Should we be talking about this in front of your sister like that? Y/N, go see if your mother finished her work with Aethewulf and bring me news about my son." your father ordered.

As if you weren't completely paralyzed by the news you just discovered.

Married...

To a heathen?

To a son of Ragnar?

To which one of those men you saw?

The youngest one?

No. He didn't look at you one single time...

The oldest?

Was Alfred speaking seriously about this?

"Y/N!" your father's voice caused you to jump from your chair "Go. Now!" he ordered again and you bent before leaving the tent.

Your heart racing into your chest, your mind disoriented...

You weren't even paying attention to your way. Your steps were automatically following the way to the other tents as your mind was diving into all those questions once again.

Would you have to live among them?

The heathens?

Those some of your people called demons?

Would this be the sacrifice you would have to do to see your people finally free from the horrors of that war?

What about the horrors that could be waiting for you in those men hands?

Lost in thoughts and questions, you weren't able to see the two of them stopped in the middle of the way and your steps took you straight to that man's back: you stumbled and hit the oldest of those Norsemen in the middle of your way.

Your surprised squeal caused your men to unsheathe swords, all of them pointed to the two Norsemen in the middle of the circle of soldiers formed around them by your men, all ready to protect their princess from the two heathens they were being obligated to receive into their camp.

The youngest one among them also unsheathed his sword, ready to defend himself, denouncing how nervous and tense he was - maybe as tense as your soldiers were with their presence.

However, calmer, the older one just helped you to straighten your position after preventing you to fall straight to the muddy ground.

You lift your face to see those blues looking straight into your eyes. It was like he was able to read your soul, but also, it was like his eyes were windows to his and you didn't see fierceness or fire in his eyes... Instead, you saw kindness when he helped you to find your balance one more time.

What was that man?

"I'm sorry..." you mumbled and he nodded before Alfred, your father, and Bishop Heahmund invaded the circle, probably warned by the sound of swords being pulled.

"What is happening here?" your father started, already alarmed.

But you answered him before it could put the two Norsemen into a bad situation - they were outnumbered... The more the Norsemen were skilled and devilish, yet, it would be a massacre.

"I fell. And he prevented me to hit the ground and helped me to stand once again, my father. It was just a misunderstood for he acted too fast and the soldiers were scared by his fast reaction. He just helped me. Once again, I'm sorry. And thank you." you said, politely bending your head in a respectful greeting towards the Norseman.

Your father ordered the men to sheath their swords and you saw that man touching the younger's shoulder, in a mute ask for him to sheath his sword as well, what he did without question.

"Come back into my tent. I think we already have a counter-proposal for you," your father said, inviting those men into his tent once again.

And you observed as the older one kept his eyes on you until they were inside the tent that was closed, preventing you to see or hear anything else about that deal.

You went to your mother, to fulfill your father's orders and the hours passed until you were finally allowed to get into the main tent to speak to your father once again.

"Come near," he called.

Those two Norsemen were still there, but the tension into the tent was different now.

Bishop Heahmund wasn't there anymore, probably unsatisfied with whatever decision was made that was making your brother Alfred to keep a small smile on his lips, victorious.

You stood next to your father and spoke in a low voice, kinda feeling strange with everyone in the room looking at you as if they were waiting for something to happen.

"Aethelred is getting better. Mother said his fever is diminishing and she believes he'll soon start to heal the wound in his shoulder."

Your father sighed in relief: his precious son would be recovered soon.

But then, the expression in his face became tense once again.

"Y/N, these are Ubbe and Hvitserk, sons of Ragnar and leaders of the army that came into our lands to avenge their father's death, murdered b King Aelle. With my father's cooperation..." he sighed as you looked at them, noticing that man he named Ubbe was still looking straight at you. "They came for a deal and we negotiated with them the best way to settle peace for our people and give them what..." he sighed "What your grandfather granted to them before he... Passed away."

So, as you, Ubbe seemed to be attentively listening to the words your father was saying.

So as Bishop Heahmund, the one he named Hvitserk seemed to be unsatisfied with whatever they dealt with your father but, unlike the bishop, he stood in his position, not leaving like a spoiled child.

"Your grandfather granted their people the lands of East Anglia and I shall warrant his words are kept and his desires are accomplished. However, it is pleasing to us to keep those lands closer to the crown of Wessex so..." your father's voice failed for a second.

He wasn't pleased with that decision, but you could see he was doing it for he had no other choice and he had to admit Alfred's plan was perfect for all the involved parts.

"We shall celebrate an alliance among us and the Norsemen. Ubbe agreed in being baptized and as soon as it happens, we shall celebrate your marriage to him, as a symbol of the union of our people and the friendship among the crown of Wessex and the new crown to rise at East Anglia. Meet your soon-to-be husband. I'll see my son." your father got up, leaving the tent in a rush.

He was completely annoyed with the situation, but his way to speak seemed to amuse the older Norseman and Ubbe opened his lips on a beautiful smile that caught you for a moment.

"Your father is too easily irritable," Ubbe said, using your language almost with perfection, despite the strong accent that was making his voice even hoarser. "As he said, I'm Ubbe. And it's a pleasure to meet you, princess Y/N."

He extended his hand to yours and you landed your hand on his, accepting his court when he gently kissed the back of your hand, tickling your skin with his beard.

Smiling he was even more handsome than with that frowned expression he came at the first moment. However, his brother was still frowned, seeming to be very annoyed with the interaction in between the two of you.

"It doesn't seem your brother is too different from him," you said, looking at Ubbe.

Attracting the pissed glare from the younger one.

"He's bothered by the fact I accepted the baptism under your God. Formalities... He forgets my father was also baptized under the Christian God, and also my uncle Rollo. So, it's not something new among our family."

Hvitserk sighed, bothered again. But Ubbe smiled at you a little bigger.

"Don't bother yourself about him. Hvitserk will understand. However, I fear we won't have too much time to talk with each other for now, my lady. I must return to my own camp to warn my brother Ivar about our deal and start the preparations for my men can be moved to the new lands." his eyes went to your brother and Alfred smiled at him when he continued. "At the rise of three suns we shall be ready to leave and York shall be given back to your hands, young prince. But keep my words, Alfred: our fathers had a friendship and your grandfather and my father might have negotiated with each other. But I'm not my father. And I won't accept to see my people treated the way that happened before. Keep your word and I shall keep mine. Break your word and things will be done according to my brother Ivar's will."

Alfred knew what he was talking about.

Despite you couldn't understand exactly what he was saying, something told you that his brother Ivar's will was something really bad for you and your people, enough for Alfred to agree with his words readily.

"As you said, our ancestors had relationships, but you aren't Ragnar Lothbrok, nor I am King Ecbert. Our ancestor's mistakes shall not haunt our steps."

Ubbe nodded, satisfied, turning himself to you with a soft smile.

"I'll see you soon, my bride," he said, kissing your hand one more time before touching Hvitserk's shoulder and leaving the tent with him.

"It won't be so bad, you shall see, Y/N," Alfred came, with a tone that sounded as if he was trying to console you.

However, his expression changed when his eyes found yours and he leaned his head, smiling.

"Or maybe it will be better than I thought. You liked him, don't you, sweet sister?"

Your face became instantly red as a tomato and you pushed your brother's chest, causing him to laugh.

"Stop it, Alfred! What do you mean by liking him? I'm just... I'm just accepting my face humbly as our Lord tells us to do! A woman's fate belongs to her father and brothers to decide and after then, to her husband to rule. It is my..."

"I know. I know, sweet Y/N," he cut you, touching both of your shoulders, with a calm smile in his face, "I know. Don't worry. I was just playing with you, my sister. But listen to me closely, if he ever hurt you or does something you think it's wrong, you can always pick up a horse and come back to me. I'll find a way to help you, ok?"

You smiled.

After all, your sweet brother would always be there for you.

"Thank you, Alfred."

He smiled and kissed your forehead, respectfully.

"Now come... Let us see Aethelred. He must be awakening soon."

  The following days were strange. You didn't see Ubbe or any signs of his brothers, however, the watchers your father settled around York warned the Norsemen were really moving. Some of them were preparing the boats to leave. Some were preparing packages and chariots to move.

At the end of three days - as Ubbe promised - the caravans were ready. However, the Norsemen that weren't moving with him were still there to protect the ones that decided to stay: the trust in between your people was thin.

You had a heavy-weight in your shoulders: to make that trust thicker and to strengthen the bonds that deal was forming among your people and your fiancé's.

Despite the clear unsatisfaction of Bishop Heahmund, your father kept his word and the men were taken to the lands of East Anglia where the Princes were settled into the empty castle that should be prepared for you and your future husband to occupy soon after your marriage. Like the bishop, Ubbe's brothers were unsatisfied as well, but as your father, Ubbe kept his word and accepted the baptism rite, denying his false gods and accepting your Lord in order to become a fellow Christian and seal the alliance in between your nations with your marriage to come.

A huge celebration was prepared to seal the marriage and settle his people on the new lands that would be properly divided to receive the new farmers to come from his lands as well.

You watched as a nation was about to be born when you got into the church of Wessex - where your marriage was to be celebrated before your husband could take you back to your new home.

The more he was a Christian now, Ubbe was still looking like a Norseman: cleaner than the men around him, his hair still long and braided with beads you never saw before so as his beard was combed and well straightened. Everything in him was different from the rest of the men you ever knew. And you had to admit your future husband was hella attractive.

He respected the rites of your church, sealing your marriage to him with a chaste kiss that barely allowed you to taste his spicy flavor. Something that changed drastically when the two of you arrived the feast his people had prepared in his lands to celebrate the new lands conquered, the new settlement and, of course, their prince's marriage, converting him from a prince into a King to his people.

There were mead and music and despite the mood of his younger brothers - that settled their departure back home to the day after your marriage party - the party was really full of happiness. Soon, Hvitserk got drunk and you saw your husband laughing alongside his brother who left the moody ways of his younger brother Ivar and started celebrating for real, mocking your husband for being collared now and joking in their native language, sometimes leaving you out of the contagious laughs they were having together.

However, you observed the more his brothers were drinking, Ubbe was keeping control over the amount of alcohol he was drinking and at some point, he stopped drinking from his cup, just smiling and laughing when Hvitserk joked or throwing some words away with his hand all the time around your waist, keeping you near him as if he wanted you to feel safe despite everything was so different around you now.

At some point in the party, Ubbe leaned his face towards you and spoke almost whispering into your ear.

"Come. Let them celebrate..."

You knew that moment would come, but you didn't imagine you would be so nervous when he took you inside the castle, away from the feast and the music, inside the room the two of you would share from that day on.

He locked the door and sat beside you on the bed, caressing your face, straightening your hair, softly sliding his fingers on your cheek.

"Don't worry... I won't hurt you."

"I don't know what to do," you confessed causing him to smile.

"I know. Just follow me. I'll teach you everything."

His face came closer and his lips covered yours, but this time, there wasn't the same chastity of the church. Ubbe's hands brought you closer to the warmth of his body and you saw yourself involved by his scent as his spicy taste was spreading all over your mouth.

His tongue touched your lips and you softly opened them, feeling the way he deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth, degusting your reactions as if it was some kind of delight to him.

His hands started running your body slowly, searching for breaches in your dress, finding your skin in some points, causing you to shiver against his chest. Somehow, it seemed to be what he wanted, for soon he found a way to sneak his hands into your skirt, touching your skin where nobody dared to touch you before.

But he was your husband...

He should be allowed to slide his hands in between your thighs like that, right?

His lips should be allowed to run the skin of your neck in a warm and humid trail of kisses as he was doing, right?

Your mother told you it would happen. She never really raised you like the other women or like your father wanted you to be raised - completely chaste or pure. She knew how the men's world worked so, she taught you about the way men were pleased by the touches of your hands or the flavor of your skin. So, it wasn't such a surprise when his voice became a hoarse grunt in the back of his neck after your hands reached his skin into his shirt Ubbe helped you by taking out of your way.

His hands started untying the knots of your dress and you felt your heart racing into your chest.

You never had been naked in front of a man before. But the sight of your nakedness made his eyes to glow with a different color. The beautiful blues you saw before became darkened as they ran over your curves and Ubbe smiled.

"You're more beautiful than your dresses allow us to see, sweet wife," he said, causing your cheeks to burn, red once again. "Don't be ashamed... You shall get used to being praised very soon, for I couldn't be more satisfied with the wife I was blessed with."

His kisses became deeper. His touches, firmer. Soon your body was arching against the bed as you were trying to deal with the huge amount of different new sensations his lips, beard, and fingers running your body were making you feel, all at once. He seemed to know exactly what to do, where to touch, to take out your self-control and cause your voice to fill the room in sounds you never thought you were able to produce.

So, as you never thought a mouth was made for the things he showed you he could do with his tongue, running your nipples, your breasts, your bellybutton, and places of your body you never thought could be licked or kissed.

Your mother told you your husband would want to take your chastity. And she told you about the pain it would bring at the first moments. She just forgot to tell you how delicious it was to ride a man as if he was a wild horse under your body or how higher were the notes your voice could reach while your walls were pulsating around his hardness, taking smiles from your skilled husband due to the several times he was able to send you to heaven and above.

You were always taught men were touched by the sin of lust and heathens were demons that would lure you into hell. However, at the end of that night, it was you who was still mounting Ubbe like an Amazon, your belly full of his seed, but not enough he couldn't come into you one more time, growling the way you took a single night to learn it was your favorite tone of his voice.

Some few movements more and you collapsed in pleasure into his embrace. Tired, Ubbe leaned back at the bed, laying with your body over his; your skins glued by the sweat and fluids of a whole night of lust and pleasure.

For the first time since it all begun, you felt a little bit ashamed.

"I should be the one to lead you into heaven's way... And here am I, luring you into hell with the sin of lust... I must pray for our souls, husband. This way, we shall be lost to paradise," you mumbled, causing him to giggle, caressing your back that delicious way with his fingertips sliding through your skin from your nape to your hips and back, causing good shivers to spread all over your body.

"Then we shall feast in Valhalla instead," he said, causing you to look up at his face, seeing his beautiful smile. "It's not like the baptism really changes something in a man like me, wife. I mean... I saw Odin with my bare eyes and I was surely blessed by a Freya with one of her mares to be my wife. I might have accepted your terms, but my gods are still with me and if your god will punish us for being happy with our marriage, then I shall stick to the ones who will happily turn my seed in a child into your womb to celebrate what we become tonight, my dear wife."

His words making a sinful sense in your head.

"I should thank Alfred for this plan..." you said, smiling at him.

Ubbe came up to be a terrific thing in your life, after all.

However, he giggled.

"I suggested the marriage, sweet wife," he said, surprising you. "Your brother really cooperated a lot with my idea, but the initial idea of a marriage was mine. I saw you in that tent and I knew you should be mine... So, I asked the king if you were his daughter. If you were his servant, I would have bought you from him. But since you were his daughter, then I saw the perfect chance to seal the deal among us and having you mine the way I wanted."

You looked at him, surprised and impressed.

So, it wasn't a plan from your brilliant brother, but something your husband showed himself very smart and kinda audacious in trying.

"It seems my people were right and you are devilish minds, after all, sweet husband," you joked.

Ubbe held your waist, swirling the two of you in bed to put his body upon yours before pecking your lips and smiling against them.

"Devilish, you say. Smart, I call. One way or another, I have exactly what I wanted: Lands to my people, the end of this war and my beautiful wife, right where I wanted to have her."

You giggled.

"An evil mind... Poor me, married to such an evil man." you joked and he smiled.

"I didn't even start torturing you yet."

His fingers ran your belly, tickling your skin, and you laughed, oversensitive from the pleasure of moments before.

It all ended in a loving and passionate kiss before you smiled at your brand-new husband.

After all, the bishop and people of your lands were wrong about those men. And you couldn't be happier with your marriage.

You would pray your God for his words to be right. Or maybe you would pray his gods as well. But it would be good to think one of them would hear your prayers and make a child from his seed in your belly.

It would be good to see his offspring growing into you and put some more of those beautiful smiles on his lips.

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[myfangirllists]

Fanfiction List (USUK)

A compilation of my favorite USUK works!

Completed and uncompleted

Dead Ringer by Fire_Bear

Arthur is having lunch with a co-worker when a couple pass by and tell him he looks exactly like the man an entire art exhibition is based on. Dragged to the gallery, he finds not only some amazing art but also someone he has not seen in years...

Type: One shot

-

Keep Quiet by AkaiShinda (orphan_account)

Starting from a prompt. After being saved by a stranger, Arthur is waken by his savior; a young man with an unusual mission in the evenings and who protects him even from himself in a surprisingly natural, tender way. They don't know each other, but Alfred is determined to help him in recovery. After getting to know him slightly better Arthur is dazed to realize, Alfred's personality is the unification of enigmas and on the other side, pure and clear intentions. He can't help but stick around and carefully mend the pieces together... only to find entirely new purposes to live for.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Incomplete

-

The Languages of Love by merakily (fengbi)

Arthur and Alfred first meet as university students in a coffee shop. This is how they came to spend their lives together.

Type: One shot 

-

From Me To You by a_forgotten_note

After going through three several years of schooling, Alfred comes to the startling realization that he had no plans after college. Without much else to go for, he enrolls in the military for four years of initial deployment. But Afghanistan becomes very lonely very quick... In hopes of rekindling an old friendship, Alfred writes to his old college roommate. The only question is: will their letters relieve his homesickness, or will it only become worse?

Type: One shot

-

A Week in a Hotel by bluekujira

This is a fanfiction I wrote for my friend (zombiepurplefox on tumblr) based off a prompt she sent me!

I apologize for any errors I did go back an edit this but I still might have missed stuff!

Also I changed the prompt slightly. Instead of living together they stay in a hotel together.

The Prompt: 'You live in the apartment above me and your water pipes burst and is flooding into my apartment and you can hear me yelling so you come down to my apartment to see what's going on and witness me standing in my kitchen/bathroom/whatever, holding an umbrella, screaming at the water pouring out of my ceiling and crying because I have no idea what to do and we both just kinda stand there in shock as my stuff gets ruined and you let me crash at your place til my place gets fixed cause you feel bad' (CREDIT TO shittemore on tumblr for this prompt)

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Complete

-

Forever Mine by anon posted at hetalia_kink

Dating a serial killer!AU. Arthur was attacked by a serial killer on the bus on his way home.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

Complicated Shadow by Ellarose C  

The US government's witness protection program has never had a witness die while under its protection. After innocent civilian Arthur Kirkland witnesses a murder ordered by the Vargas mob, will a hero's protection be enough to keep the record clean?

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

♡ Cuckoo in the Nest by PennyLane

Human AU. Arthur is a famous novelist in hiding from the paparazzi after he is publicly humiliated when he is left standing at the altar. Alfred is the very competent personal assistant hired by Arthur’s agent to keep him hidden and safe while he completes his newest novel, the novel that just might change all their lives. [Previous Spain/England relationship.]

Type: One Shot

-

American in America by Ferrero13 

America, being America, says something he should've known better than to say in his own airport, whereupon he is taken in for questioning and finds it very difficult to explain why this particular nineteen-year-old seems to be as politically active as the President himself.

Type: One Shot

-

Work Your Magic by PixieDust291

Arthur is a wizard who's being forced into an arranged marriage despite his protests. Though, it seems he is saved by a magical Scottish fold named Iggy. With Iggy as his familiar Arthur finds himself not only falling in love with a human but also surrounded by a sea of lies and deception. When nothing else makes sense, what can one believe to be the truth?

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

Divination's Greatest Flaw by rae1112

Arthur Kirkland, master of Divination, fancied himself a prophetic matchmaker. His best friends would agree...if only he could make a prophetic match for himself.

Pottertalia.

Type: Two Shot

-

Day One by mandathegreat

“Day One: My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am currently in Atlanta, Georgia. I am recording myself, and my experiences, because—well, I don’t know. I think it’s the end of the world—“

Arthur and Alfred meet at the end of the world. They are going to have to learn to survive.

USUK Walking Dead AU

Type: One Shot

-

A Proof of Diplomacy by orphan_account 

“If you leave me, I’ll kill you. I could kill you here and now.”

After the war, in his most vulnerable years, Arthur, or Great Britain, is at his most dishonest. He lies to himself more than anyone. Apart from Alfred, the United States, perhaps. He lies when he says that he doesn't believe Alfred's lies and hopes, his beautiful, beautiful lies.

Type: One Shot

-

Standing In Your Heart by amine  

"Arthur had gone from spending the afternoons with his friend to having his magical training increased tenfold. Warlocks would be needed to ensure that Spades maintained the upper hand in the war, and the Kirkland family had a long tradition of powerful magic. Arthur hadn’t complained and had instead thrown himself into his studies so as to be an asset to the new king. His love for the kingdom of his birth demanded it.

More than that, his love for Alfred demanded it."

Type: One Shot

-

Communication is Key by inkwells_writing

Arthur had good friends he supposed.

But right now, Arthur hated them. They were just trying to be nice, but really. They thought he was single, and that he had been single for a very long time. And yes, he had been single for two years before he started dating Alfred, but he was now in a three month-long relationship. A three-month long happy relationship. A three-month long happy, and sadly, secret relationship.

They just had to go and set him up on a bloody blind date. Arthur just had no idea how he was going to tell his boyfriend.

Type: One Shot

-

Hospital Flowers by hoshiko2kokoro  

A firefighter has done more than just save Arthur's life. He's giving him a whole new perspective on life.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

Where The Most Beautiful Roses Grow by fakiagirl  

Arthur moves into a quiet American suburb with the intention of starting a new, calmer chapter of his life. It doesn't take long for him to meet Alfred, one of his new neighbors. Little does he know that this is a place where romance can bloom.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

A Distance of 3000 Miles by fakiagirl  

5000 kilometers; the distance between their two closest shores. A safe distance, close enough that they can see each other occasionally, but far enough away that neither of them will ever get hurt again. Then, one summer, Alfred visits. 

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

♡ Starships by PixieDust291  

Blind and held prisoner, Arthur finds himself at the mercy of Alfred, a space pirate with a truly curious crew. Alfred is determined to seduce Arthur, and Arthur fears his resolve won't last. His duty is clear, but so is his desire. As the days tick by Arthur begins to question what loyalty means. He begins to realize that being a prisoner may actually set him free. 

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

Look to the Future Now, It's Only Just Begun by Teenage Mouse  

Pottertalia. Arthur and Alfred are paired up to read each other's love fortunes in Divination class. Naturally, they're both too obvlious to realise that the signs are pointing to each other. 

Type: One Shot

-

♡ We'll Meet Again by George deValier  

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred's charms... just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war. 

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

Keep Smiling Through by George deValier   

'We'll Meet Again' mini-sequel. Keep smiling through, just like you always do; 'til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away! USUK

Type: One Shot

-

♡ Pointblank by worldaccordingtofangirls  

WWII AU: Arthur is a gifted volunteer doctor. Alfred is a bomber pilot. Love strikes us pointblank, right between the eyes, in the most inconvenient of places. The battlefield is no exception.

Type: Multi chapters

Status: Completed

-

Man's Best Friends by Inkblooded Witch  

Monty doesn't consider himself a needy sort of cat. He and his human have an understanding of how things work, and Monty was under the impression that part of this understanding included a 'No Dogs' rule. So he's not best pleased when his human finds a mate that has one of the beasts.

Mostly pet POV, USUK on the side. Experimental slice-of-life style, be nice! :)

Type: One Shot

-

Smart Pranks by SillyKwado  

Alfred and Arthur were famous throughout the school for not getting along. Even though the two history teachers and had to set an example for the students, they still ended up resorting to petty pranks and arguments. For some reason, the two always found something to argue about or a new way to rile the other up. But perhaps there's a deeper meaning to the pranks and insults…

Type: One Shot

[park-lane-blog]

Negativity

“I'll always use the negativity as more motivation to work even harder and become even stronger.” Tim Tebow

So, before I begin, I little something about me. If you’re reading this then we’re probably followers of each other on Twitter. I’m a Twitter veteran of about 10 years or so, but last year I shut down my account. I was surrounded on all corners by negativity, to be fair, mainly around politics and the state of our country. At that time in my life, negativity was the last thing I needed so closing down the account was the natural thing to do. However, what I did miss was the interaction with my fellow spurs fans. So, I opened a new account, set my name as Park Lane (more on that later) and proceeded to follow and interact with the Spurs family, players, ex players etc etc.

My name is Jon Matthews. I’m 38, a father of 3 and have been married to my wonderful wife since 2004.

I’m a relatively mild mannered person. Like everyone, I get irritated by the day to day grind of life but at the same time I try to stay as positive as possible. I manage a branch of a multi national builders merchant and have done for the past 17 years. I live on the South Coast in a sea side town in Dorset.

The reason I chose to go under a pseudonym is simple. I wish to stay as anonymous as possible. That way, most things aren’t taken personally and helps me to blend into the background. However, saying that, I’ve managed to rack up almost 1k followers since I returned to the Twitter format. 

So, Park Lane? Simple. It was always our home growing up. When I say home, I mean our WHL home. I live in the South West, right down on the coast but we were frequent visitors to WHL during the 90′s (and still am of course) and my Dad always preferred the Park Lane end, so that’s why. These days, I’m more fond of the Paxton road end, especially now, looking across at the wonderful 17.5k single seater. Maybe one day I’ll venture across but for now, Paxton upper, 518 is my preferred home. I visit as much as possible. My kids are all Spurs fans. My Son comes to all the games with me and my girls accompany us from time to time.

The reason for my blog?

It’s really easy to get carried away in the heat of the moment. Especially off the back of a frustrating result. Case in point, last night. With our depleted squad, the first leg against a buzzing young side like Ajax was always going to be a tough ask. Even more so without Son and Kane. Lets not be stupid about this, most of our goals have come from them this season so my worry was always about where the goals come from and last night proved that point.

I had numerous heated debates last night on twitter about positivity and against those that used the format to basically abuse the team, manager, club etc due to how this season is ending. But after everyone had calmed down and gone to bed, I found myself lying in bed questioning why I found it necessary to argue, online, with complete strangers. They’re allowed an opinion aren’t they? Even if their opinion differs to mine. Of course they are. 

That’s why I’m starting a blog. I shall attempt to write one after each game. Some will be long winded rants. Some will be quick thoughts. But either way, I aim to write them with a clear head. Maybe after a good nights sleep and with a calmer view on what has passed.

Firstly, my apologies to those who I swore at or insulted last night. I think most if any was in retaliation but either way, we need to stay calm don’t we? 

So onto last nights game. I’ve already alluded to the fact that we were far from full strength. Let’s be clear. The squad isn’t good enough for a full on attack on multiple fronts. Yes, I believe we were wrong to not buy or freshen up the squad over the last two windows. I understand that it’s hard to buy players that maybe told from day one that their playing 2nd fiddle to the likes of Kane, Dele and co, but surely we need to think about depth? When you see certain players that have gone for a small fee or even a loan. Tielemans at Leicester for example. He would of added much needed flair and pace into our tired midfield. The whole Greilish debacle in the summer (holding them to ransom cause they were desperate and then not) plus a few others that now escape me. The fact is, there was business to do and we didn’t, for whatever reason. The game was a tough watch. I made a promise to a mate of mine who travelled with me to the City game, who couldn’t make last nights match, that if we couldn’t go together, then neither would. So instead we met up after work, got some pizza on the go and sat down with the boys and waited for the inevitable. I wont go through the game, we all watched it but my opinion was simple. We took too long to settle, we let Ajax get a foothold and their goal could and maybe should of turned in to 2 or 3. However, we dug in, survived without conceding any more. The second half was a different story. Sissoko made a huge difference in the mf and took complete control. Who’d of thought we’d be relying on him like we have been. I don’t think he’s our player of the season but lets agree to give him most improved! If it wasn’t for the lack of firepower up top, I really think we’d of got something out of the game. Let’s be fair, Ajax defended pretty well. Lucas ran and ran but without doing much. Llorente did all he could. Dele and Erikson, the two we really needed to stand up and be counted really didn’t. Are they tired or are we asking too much. Sanchez looked overwhelmed but I think the rest of the defence did pretty well. It was evident pretty quickly that a back 5 was the wrong tactic. Poch realised this, post goal and we looked a lot tighter. I really do hope that Jan is ok. That looked horrible on the tele. I can’t see him playing Saturday and hope that we go with Toby and Foyth at centre back. Start Davies at LB and push Danny (mom in my opinion) in to a midfield role. Like the 2nd leg, we’ll have Sonny back. Not only will that add much needed pace and a goal threat in the final 3rd, it should add a bit of confidence back into the team. 

We’re at bare bones. That can’t be disputed. We have to make do with what we have now. 

We can blame Levy for a lack of vision or commitment to the squad?

We can blame Poch for his stubbornness. 

We could all probably make a list of reasons but at the end of the day, we don’t run the club. We don’t spend the time with the players. We don’t pick the squad.

So what can we do? We can support the team. We can maybe ease off the abuse of Tripper, Sanchez, Dier. Maybe we can all wait until the final whistle of our final game before we start an autopsy of the club. Cause let’s face it. Our squad maybe depleted, maybe not good enough, maybe carrying dead wood but we are 1-0 down at half time in a Champions league Semi final, sat 3rd in the best league in the world, have some of the most talented (on their day) players in Europe and one of the best managers out there. I’ve not even mentioned the state of the art training facilities, oh and the best stadium in the world!

Maybe we are all fickle bastards who like to moan a lot. We’re allowed an opinion. We’re allowed to argue with each other but at times, let’s not forget the bigger picture because at the end of the day, even if we lose the 2nd leg, even if we drop out of the top 4, we’ll keep coming back again and again.

Why? Because this is our club. Our one and only club.

J

[sincerelykhim]

divine 05

description; You’ve made a terrible deal with the one and only Devil; Taehyung after your almost-tragic death. Little did you know it would lead you to life in Hell.

Pairings: Devil!Taehyung x reader

Genre: Romance/ Angst

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | bonus

에이미: The idea of this story may not be suitable for all audiences as it is not Biblically correct; read at your own risk. There is a little bit of Jungkook in this one! It’s been a lonnnnnggggg time but I hope I’ve still got this. Enjoy and cry me a river~

MASTERLIST

There was no doubt that he had been more than terrified when he ascended down from Heaven; glorious wings -black, and his heart -heavy.  And there was no doubt that you wouldn't have had a clue as to who he was, or why he coming to see you. .

December always brought on flashbacks; these scattered memories that don't seem like mine continuously strobed in my mind. Were they real events? Do I have amnesia? They seemed far too real to be fictional.

'I keep seeing this man...no....I think he's the Devil.' My eyes flicked to the ticking clock in the consultant room as my head rested on the arm of the chaise lounge, 'I feel like I know him very well.' Then I realise what I said sounded mildly disturbing. I sprung from the chair to sit up straight, 'Wait! That sounded really bad -I'm not in a Satanic cult or anything like that!'

My therapist just smiled, 'That's alright,' I knew what he was going to repeat next, 'This conversation is confined to us only; I'm not allowed to speak of my patient's matters.' His eyes moved back down to the piece of paper on his clipboard, 'Any more flashbacks recently?'

I swung my legs back onto the chair's arm and laid myself down, 'There was one last night...' I reconstructed the images that had been playing in my head several hours ago, 'I think I know where I've been in those flashbacks.' My therapist nodded his head, not looking up from the paper he was scribbling notes on, 'I think I've been in Hell that whole time.'

He finally shot his head up, but this time, I was staring straight ahead into the wall. 'How do you know it's Hell? Can you please describe it to me?' He asked softly, sounding genuinely concerned.

I stared harder into the wall, trying to think of a way of putting the vivid images into words, 'It's...' I pause to rethink my choice of wording, 'It's humid and dark...everything is grey, and...' And I realised that I couldn't describe Hell, 'I can't -I don't know how to put it into words...I'm sorry.'

'No, it's fine.' That was a lie, 'Would you like to try again sometime? Maybe an appointment next...' He flipped through the extensive amount of pages that were surprisingly not popping out of his clipboard, 'Thursday?'

'Yeah...' The seconds of the clock hand seemed to have slowed down for a fleeting second, 'Thursday sounds good.' Swinging my legs off the velvet blue couch, I made my way to the door, 'Thank you.' Although I didn't mean it.

You can hear the pitter-patter of the rain in December crisper and calmer than any other month; my boots carelessly stepped and splashed into puddles that collected in the uneven hollows of the pavement of my street.

My phone rang, 'Yes?' A greeting wasn't necessary from the caller ID.

'How many times this week?' Her voice pooled with worry.

'Mum,' I sigh, contemplating whether to lie or not, '...six.'

'Six?!' I rolled my eyes at her tone; I couldn't see her but I knew she would be running from the kitchen to her lounge -ready to tell my Father, 'Christ! Honey, we have to get this fixed! Y/N, you can not live like this!' She threw herself into panic mode while discussing this topic with my Father for the umpteenth time, 'Christopher, I will not see our daughter like this anymore; I can't. We have to give Dr Bronwin a call tomorrow. This is unhealthy!'

'Mum,' Her pointless rambling overpowered my exhausted voice, 'Mum,' No reply, 'MUM.'

'Yes sweetie,' I could literally hear her brows furrowing from her silence, 'What is it?'

'I'm going to go now,' I stated as politely as I can. She tried to butt in but I bet her to it, 'If you get the appointment with Dr Bronwin; fine, I'll go...just text me the time and the address.'

Sliding the phone back into the pocket of my coat, I resumed in getting lost in my own thoughts. What if this was real and not some drastic illusion my mind was making up? No one would believe me anyway; as much as my Mother loves me, she'll silently back off when the psychiatrist stamps the seal of approval to formally diagnose me with delusional disorder.

Maybe I wasn't seeing the right people...

'Are you serious about this?' Jungkook sat opposite me in the booth of a small coffee shop, 'You know how dangerous this could turn out to be?'

'Really?' I slid him a cutout of the address, 'You can't be serious right? You really believe in all that hulu voodoo Satanic shit?'

'What, I just happened to very careful.' He read over the advertisement, 'Do you want me to come with you?'

'I'm okay.' I answered unconvincingly as his brows furrowed deeper, 'I can handle it.'

He continued to strike a deal with me, 'How about I'll stand outside the door just in case anything unexpected happens?' He slides the piece of paper back to me.

I scoff jokingly at him, 'You think she'll rape me or something?'

Jungkook's face hardened immediately, 'Don't.'

'Fine,' I downed the last bit of my tea, 'Monday, ten: thirty, and don't be late.'

The black SUV rolled into the richer area of Seoul when I sensed an uneasy feeling breathing down my neck. My hairs rose, 'Actually...,' I turned to Jungkook in the driver's seat, 'could you come in with me? I'm getting a bad feeling.'

His doe-eyes stared back at mine before he started to process what I had asked of him, 'Yeah, no problem.'

Despite the rich exterior of the neighbourhood, I could quite literally see the charcoal grey smoke that lingered around the particular house...it was a familiar grey smoke... It didn't just linger, it laughed sinisterly; devouring the building in a thunderstorm of wickedness.

'You alright?' Jungkook parked us across the house, 'You don't look so good.'

I tried to laugh it off with a joke, 'When do I ever?' Not giving him the chance to argue back -I opened my door -unready for whatever hid behind those walls, 'Come on, I already smell Satan making tea for us.'

'Do you see that?' I pointed at the grey veil surrounding the house.

Jungkook stared back at me with his doe-eyes again, 'The house?' He couldn't see it.

I shook it off, 'Yea, it's hideous.'

Walking across the lawn, Jungkook caught up with my nervously fast-paced steps, 'You can't lie you know, I can tell when you're nervous.'

I kept silent as I grabbed his hand.

He stayed that way too.

Luna; despite her name, was middle-aged, hippie-looking Satanist who bore serious frown lines that cut deep into her skin. Her teeth had already stained a yellow hue and her grey hairs already started to thin; it showed whenever she turned her head too fast -you could see the bald patched hidden at the back of her skin. She almost looked undead.

Laying down a set of cards that were lavishly decorated with paintings of demons and tokens, Luna's eyes seemed to have rolled up to meet mine, 'Pick whenever you hear it screaming at you.'

I look hesitantly back at Jungkook who was sitting on a deep violet, velvet couch and then back at the deck of cards; waiting for it to scream out to me.

'How long is this procedure-' Jungkook uncrossed his legs as he looked to Luna for an answer before he was cut off by my spastic screaming.

When it did happen it wasn't a scream at all -it was a shattering screech that rung and panned from the left ear to the right; piercing my eardrums with an aching pain.

'God! Oh God! That one!' I pointed feverously at the card that sat in the centre, 'Make it stop!' But it wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop.

'Christ!' I attempted to cover my ears to muffle the intensifying volume, 'Make it fucking stop!' I crouched to apply more pressure to my ears, 'Make it stop!'

Jungkook bolted from his seat only to be stopped by Luna, 'She needs to touch the card.'

'We'll she obviously can't,' He snapped back; fuming with worry, 'What are you doing to her?'

'She needs to touch the card.' She repeats.

Jungkook was enraged by her lack of care for my suffering, 'Well she fucking can't, okay?! Look at her! I swear if you try-'

'She needs to touch the card!' Luna speaks out more urgently this time.

'Make it stop!' I ran myself into the wall as tears started to form from the pain, 'Stop!' I sobbed.

Jungkook shoved past Luna's smaller figure to hold my head in his hands, 'Y/N!,' I squeezed my eyes shut; unable to process any sound other than the unexplained frequency, 'Damn fuck it! Y/N! Focus!'

'Make it stop,' my voice was weak from the screaming and the crying, 'Make it stop...' my line of vision blurred and refocused and then, blurred and refocused again, 'Please,' I placed my hands over his, 'Kook, make it stop.'

I didn't only mean for the murderous noise to stop but also the dreadful nostalgia that came along with it. I couldn't pinpoint what about the entire experience was so familiar...it just was. The smoke, the cards, the velvet, the scent, the house...the beast that fed upon this house...I was caught, dazed...afraid.

So when Jungkook forcefully pried my hand away from his to then place it on the card I had picked, I didn't fight back. I let it happen. .

'It happened,' disappointment washed over Micheal's face as he spoke through the phone, 'She did it.'

'Did you see her do it?' Taehyung's voice rang through the other line.

'I'm standing outside, of course, I couldn't see her do it,' he ran a hand through his gold locks, 'But her screaming did stop so...'

'Fuck.'

Micheal began to back away from the demon-possessed home, 'What now? She'll know who you are, she'll remember what happened, won't she hate you-'

'Shut up already,' Taehyung hissed harshly -stopping Micheal from tormenting him any further, 'Fuck off, you had one job.'

Micheal's smug grin was his only reply, 'So?' he beckoned him to make a decision, 'What's it going to be? Are you still going to see her?'

Taehyung massaged his temples and sighed, 'Well I don't have a choice, do I?' He paused, 'I'm dying.' .

It was traumatic. Horrific, overwhelming...disgusting.

Everything came back to me like a developing film; motions that were significant from my last one thousand years of existence flickered like shots taken from an old Kodak...everything.

I remembered that fight, I remembered how savage his words were, how much I loved him, how much he broke me; my heart.

I relived that moment.

'What,' he yelled harshly, 'you can't speak now?' He paced in a circle just to return back to where he was, 'I didn't ask for this.' He ran a shaking hand through his hair, 'God damn it.' He breathed out. 'God-FUCK!' His leg swung to kick the chair that sat in one corner of his room.

This was the real Devil; this was what he was like before I came around -angry and resentful.

The chair flew across the room and barreled into the wall -creating a hole, ‘You want me to carry on?!’ He didn’t leave me time to answer, ‘Okay! Fine! On the two hundredth year, I thought about feeding you to the demons so I could clean up the mess I had made!’

His words burnt holes through me -his words that once built me up; ‘So I get the pleasure of seeing you ascend to Heaven,' -tore me down piece by piece; ‘Just LEAVE! How fucking hard is it for you to understand! -I don't give a fuck about your problems, just fucking leave! I don't even know why I spent so much time on you!’

I felt like I was drowning in a murky whirlwind of emotions so clear to understand when they were experienced alone, but suffocating when they were all thrown in at once.

Through a gap in the whirlwind, I could hear Jungkook again; calling me.

'Y/N,' he sat on the Persian carpet rug with my head in his lap, 'Has it stopped? Can you hear me?'

If I did hear him, I didn't process it at all. I simply sat up to press my face into his chest; the wash of emotions were still heavily present, 'I just wanna go home.'

'Out! Out you witch!' Luna burst, suddenly angry after she picked up to look at the picture on the card.

She threw it by my side, 'Satan killer!' .

Forty-six missed calls, a hundred and six unread messages, and one voicemail.

I picked up my phone that sat lonely under the mountains of french fires packets. 'Dial two to hear your latest voicemail-You have one voicemail from;' the monotone voice recited a familiar number, 'zero-two-one-five-six-eight-six-four-one-five.'

'Y/N, it's been two weeks since that reading,' Jungkook's voice sounded drained, 'Come on, weren't you the one who didn't believe in all this?' He sighed, 'What really happened? It's like it's dragged you into a depressive state. Y/N, it's not just me who's worrying; your Mum, your Father...even your therapist is starting to worry.' He paused to steady himself, 'Just...I don't know, call. We can figure this out together.' And then the line went flat.

I didn't want to call back or reply; they would've never have believed me, I didn't want to call and pretend that everything was fine because I had no more energy to lie; I was emotionally drained, it felt like I had to relive one thousand years of emotional turmoil in a few short minutes -in fact -that was exactly what happened.

Tuesday welcomed a storm that brewed steadily a few miles from my apartment, 'Can I get barbeque swirls on those?' I repeat my order through the phone, 'How much was the total again?'

'That'll be twenty-five dollars and the barbeque swirls are fifty cents for each pizza, Miss.' The receptionist chirped too vibrantly for a rainy day.

'Yea, okay.'

'We'll be fifteen minutes away, Miss.'

'Sure.'

If fifteen minutes seemed like forever, I was more than glad to wait for eternity because when I opened the door to my apartment; I automatically wished I hadn't.

'Hey old friend,' His eyes were still held the same fire, but the rest of him seemed...worn. His crisp suit was replaced with a white pullover and a pair of black jeans, and he held my pizza's in one hand, 'The delivery guy said it was for you.'

I was still frozen from the sudden affirmation that everything I saw a couple of weeks ago was true.

He seemed to act like our fight never happened as he gave me a warm smile; something he never did, 'May I come in.' Not waiting for my answer, he closed the door behind him.

I didn't know how to feel, the only thing I wanted to do was to embrace him; he looked tired and beaten but my head wouldn't let me, it reminded me of where we had left off. After he placed the boxes on my kitchen counter, I finally spoke up, 'Get out,' It was colder than I had anticipated it to sound, 'I can't do this, not now.'

'That's it?' He was obviously upset with my tone, 'Fine, you have every right to be angry with me but just give me chance to tell you why I'm here for.'

I scoffed, sickened at the fact that he was playing this fight like a children's game, 'Angry!' My anger turned into frustration and then, into tears, 'I'm more than angry with you! I hate you!'

The Devil's face softened along with his voice, 'You don't mean that.'

I let a tear slip from my eyes...then another...and another, 'No! I do!' I back stepped as he tried to reach out to me, 'I hate you for playing with my feelings, I hate you for hurting me, I hate you because you put me here in this position! I-'

'Y/N, listen to me.' He grabbed my hand and it physically stung.

I swatted it away out of pain, 'Don't touch me.' I hissed at him as distanced our bodies even more, 'I hate you for cursing me!'

'You're not anymore.' He seemed to have found a second of silence to squeeze his line in, causing me to shut up.

My eyes fluttered and my heart constricted; it seemed to have cramped up. I wanted to, I desperately wanted to crash my lips on his and feel his warmth again. Despite his nauseating words, the thought of him still felt like home.

Yet, I let the overwhelming emotions take control, 'Is that all? Are you expecting a 'thank you?' because that's never going to happen. Getting my life back was the least you could've done.' My words reflected the Devil of the past; stabbing into him and dragging the knife along the wound to tear it even more.

But he didn't lose it, he stayed frighteningly calm and what happened next took my soul and crushed it in its palms.

His hand came up to hold my damp cheek, he lowered his head to press his forehead against mine, 'Shhhh, don't cry anymore okay?' That's when I realised that he had been crying the whole as well. His voice was as soft as my favourite lullaby, but his words pulled at my heart, 'It's all my fault alright? I blame me too, okay? I was stupid and it's all my fault.'

I sniffled as his hand snaked to the back of my head and he pulled me into his chest as I cried; he was willingly showing me affection for the first time in a long time.

I wasn't wrong; he still did feel like home, but when I recollected myself, I foolishly told him to; 'Get out.' It was a whisper, but it was enough.

Before he left, he proceeded to kiss the top of my head, 'I love you.'

I shouldn't have hidden the tear that slid down my face at his confession...I should've told him I loved him too.

☽  

Next chapter: 06 

[ijustwant2write]

Falling Into The Wrong Crowd-Part 11 (Jax Teller x Reader)

(GIF credit to owner)

Masterlist

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10/ Part 12

Summary: Alex has been thrown in jail, facing charges of supplying and holding illegal drugs. No one knows if this is true or not, obviously not wanting to believe it. However, as the club goes into lockdown, they find it hard to work out how to get their friend out of jail.

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name

Warnings: Mention of drugs, prison and swearing

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What do you mean she’s been arrested?” Bea exclaimed.

Unser looked uncomfortable.“We got an anonymous tip from someone, checked it out, and it matches up. Caught her on her way over here.”

“What? But she doesn’t do that! We run a clean business at the Cara Cara Club, why would she do that?”

“You three have a track record of selling drugs, it’s not looking good for her.”

I tried to take the calmer approach.“Will she go to jail? H-how long are we talking?”

He sighed.“Three to five years.”

I could hear the sighs come out of the girls mouths, our bodies slumping. What the fuck had happened? Why was this all happening today?

“Can we see her?” Frankie asked.

“No. She’s being questioned. All I can say is that it’s not looking good for her. We’ve got a warrant to search your house too, so I need you to come with me.” he turned, waiting for us to follow.

“They can’t.” Clay stated.

Unser stopped.“And why not?”

“Chief, you’re gonna have to trust us on this.” Gemma said.

“What’s going on here guys? What sort of trouble is going on in Charming?”

“Look, I’ll go. Is it alright if one of the guys comes with me?” Bea spoke up.

Unser nodded.

We watched as Juice left with Frankie, the sound of their bikes fading away. Sitting back on the bar stool, I tried to not get out loud, my chin trembling.

“Fuck me, what the hell are we supposed to do now?” Tig groaned.

“We’re still going into lockdown. Call everybody. As for Alex, you know damn well that we’ll get her out of this shit.” Clay said determingly.

“This has to be a setup. The Predators could have easily done this!” Frankie threw her arms up in the air.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions-”

“Excuse me? You think Alex would be selling drugs without telling us? We left that shit ages ago!”

Tig stepped in.“You know she was hooked on selling that stuff. Hell, she was hooked on them herself!”

“She was never that bad. The occasional session once every couple of weeks maybe, but we would have known about it.” I added.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Jax interrupted our arguing,“we’ve got some big problems on our hands, so we need to stick together.”

Everyone had separated after that. They needed to prepare for the lockdown, there would be loads of people living in one space. Frankie and I were to meet up with Bea later, after the search at the house, so that we may collect the things we needed. Who knew how long we would be stuck in here? Frankie and I sat on one of the sofas, still trying to figure out what could have happened to Alex.

“She wouldn’t go behind our backs. Of she was selling drugs, she would at least be spending the money on something that would be a benefit to us all.” I started.“Why would she be doing that anyway? That would just put the business in jeapordy.”

“This has to be setup; first the Predators show up and now Alex is accused of selling and witholding drugs? This isn’t just a coincidence.”

“Even if that’s true, how would we prove that to the police?”

“We couldn’t.” I shrugged.

Watching the Sons rush around trying to organise everything was making me tired. Standing up, I offered to get Frankie a drink, heading to the kitchen after. Leaning against the counter, I waited for the kettle to boil. The bubbling of the water inside it reflected how I was feeling. I sighed into my hands.

“You alright, darlin’?” Jax startled me.

“No. Jax, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

He stood in front of me.“We’re gonna figure something out, (Y/N). Alex isn’t gonna get locked up.”

“I just hope she wasn’t stupid and didn’t fall back into supplying. Oh god, is that wrong of me to think about her like that?”

“It isn’t. You got to keep your mind open to these things.” he wrapped an arm around my shoulder.“They probably won’t find anything at your house, they’ll have to see something is wrong.”

We were silent for a few moments, soaking up the peace. I leaned into him, enjoying comfort from someone else rather than the girls. The kettle finally boiled, making me turn around and pour it into the mugs, offering Jax one who politely refused.

“I’ve got to take this to Frankie. I’ll see you later Jax.” I forced a smile, beginning to walk away.

“(Y/N).” his voice stopped me.“Uh, if you want to, or if you ever feel a little unsafe while you’re here, you know where my dorm is.”

I nodded, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see the blush on my cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I held on tightly to Frankie’s waist as we rode towards the house. Jax and Happy came with us. As we pulled up, Bea was sat on the steps, smoking a cigarette. She looked fed up, slowly getting up as we climbed off the bikes.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

“Didn’t find anything, luckily. But they’re still adament that she’s got drugs. Say that she’s storing them somewhere else.”

“They’re going to go to the club.” Frankie realised.

“They’re waiting for another warrant.”

“Let’s just get our things and go.” I stated. Packing our things like this again made flashbacks come back to my mind. It reminded me too much of when we were running away from the Predators in the first place. The Sons were doing perimeter checks, though what would it matter? It was obvious that they would follow us wherever we went.

“You guys ready?��� Jax asked.

“Do you think they would let us take some things to Alex?” I wondered, looking to the others.

“I don’t see why not. But we really need to get back to the Clubhouse.” Juice pointed out.

“Well, what if one of you took me to the station? That way Frankie and Bea are back and I’m with someone.”

Jax sighed.“I’ll take you. Make sure the others get back safely.” he ordered Happy and Juice.

As they were leaving, I rummaged through Alex’s things, trying to work out what would be best for her to have. Jax watched me in the doorway, I could feel him wanting to comment on something.

“What is it Jax?” I kept focused on packing.

“You sure you want to see her right now? When she’s locked up?”

“I’ve seen her actually go to prison Jax, I’ve seen all of them go. This won’t be anything compared to that.”

It felt good to be holding onto Jax again. Who was I kidding? I had the ultimate girls crush on him. In some ways, I could see how he was a player, sleeping with random women to satisfy his needs; however, he was a total sweetheart too, always looking out for his family. For some reason, my nerves had increased as we arrived at the station. I had made the girls promise that they would never go to prison again, which they hadn’t. Alex was innocent. Plain and simple.

Jax would wait outside, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Hopefully the Predators had some common sense, and wouldn’t come anywhere near the police. Walking through, I explained the situation to the man at the front desk. He took the clothes, stating that they needed to be inspected, ensuring that I wasn’t sneaking anything in. As I waited, I recognised one of the men.

“Miss (Y/L/N), guessing you’re here to see your friend?” Deputy Chief Hale said as he sorted through some papers.

“Yes, is that possible at the moment?” I bit my lip.

“Not sure. She’s just come out of questioning, so it might be ok.”

“How is it looking for her?”

“I cannot discuss that with you.” I pulled a face at him when he wasn’t looking, acting normal as he bid me goodbye. It was obvious that he didn’t like the Sons, meaning that he didn’t like anyone associated with them. The receptionist came back, handing me Alex’s things in a sealed bag, before directing me towards her cell. I was searched just before entering, desperate to greet her.

She leapt up from her bed as she saw me, eagerly waiting for the cell door to be opened. I slipped through, hugging her tightly. We stayed in each others embrace for a while, until the officer told us off. Placing the items on the bed, I looked her up and down.

“How you feeling?” I asked.

“It’s not that bad. Not as bad as the bunks in actual prison.” she tried to joke.

“We’re getting you out. This is all set up, you’re innocent right?”

“Of course I am! This is bullshit.”

“The club is doing everything they can to figure out what’s happening. We’ll get you out.”

“Ma'am, you need to leave now.” the officer.

I looked at him and nodded.“You’ll be ok?”

Alex smiled.“Course I will. Get back to the club, they’ll be wanting to start the lockdown soon.”

Hesitantly, I stopped hugging her, feeling like a mum leaving their kid at the gates of school (though I was leaving her in a jail cell). Sending a small smile her way, I quickly got out of there, trying to keep my breathing regular.

“She good?” Jax asked as I put on his helmet.

“Yeah, she’s just Alex.” I felt a little better after seeing her, even if it was briefly. I just wanted to get back to the clubhouse, have a big drink and go to bed. The sooner tomorrow came, the better.

Jax suddenly braked, making me hold onto him tighter. I’m front of us were five men, all wearing the kutte of the Mayans. We knew about these guys, I was guessing they were in close range to the Sons though.

“What the hell is this?” Jax exclaimed.

“Shut up.” the leader’s Spanish voice rang out.“We need a talk.”

“Maybe this would be better discussed with the President of my club, deal with him.”

They wouldn’t let us pass.“One of our guys had just gone down for possessing drugs. We hear that a girl from yours has been locked up too. Seems like a strange coincidence, si?”

“You sure your guys aren’t just drugging it up?” I spoke out.

“Who’s this bitch?”

“No one. Look, let us pass and we’ll set up a meeting to discuss this.”

“Watch your back. If my guy gets thrown away cause of a setup, we won’t just be asking questions.” he warned, finally letting us past.

What the hell was that all about?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’ll be ok in here?” Jax asked Frankie and me.

“Jax, would you just fuck off?” Frankie joked, making me laugh.“If you want to watch us get changed, at least be secretive about it.”

He smirked, shutting the door.“Night girls.”

Frankie headed into the bathroom, taking her toiletries with her. I began to get changed, excited to go to sleep. Peacefully unconscious for at least eight hours? Yes please.

As I slipped off my hoodie, I felt something fall out of the pocket. Bending down to the floor, I picked up a piece of paper, my eyes widening as I read it.

‘What naughty girls,

If everything goes to plan, you might just get out of this alive…

…if not…

Well, you’ll just have to see what happens.’

[silver-and-ivory]

A Thing that I find extremely upsetting is fatphobia against men.

A lot of feminists I know are really fatphobic- against men. A lot of anti-colonialists I know are really fatphobic- against Americans. The antiracist (”antiracist”) I know is really fatphobic- against whites. There is a long litany of fatphobic comments and statements, all of which disturbed and upset me.

This really hammers home the point that I’ve been trying - and failing - to articulate for a while now. Even if your subject is privileged on almost every axis, you are still able to hurt them.

But no, I want to go further than this.

Sometimes the way you are hurting them matches up to an axis of oppression - like fatness, or disability.

But other times, the way you are hurting them is simply through being very mean. Or what you are doing is a perfectly ordinary thing to do that happens to interact badly with emotional needs and experiences they have.

Structural harm isn’t always more painful than nonstructural harm. In fact, nonstructural harm has at times hurt me more than structural harm. Each person’s experience of structural and nonstructural harms is different based on their positionality.

I am hurt less emotionally by an incident of racism than I am by, say, one  one incident of someone arguing in favor of antifa violence. I suppose you could wrangle my experiences into somehow being a legitimate axis of oppression, but they’re really not.

On average (?), structural harms injure more people. The average example of “an incident of verbal racism” is probably more emotionally harmful than the average of “an incident of someone arguing for antifa violence”. This does not apply to a smaller scale always.

A lot of things that are currently filed under the ”nonstructural hurt” category probably fit societal patterns. These patterns probably are structural in some way. But a lot of them probably don’t!

But it actually doesn’t matter, since you should just avoid being very mean to people even if this is a completely new type of being very mean. And if someone has an apparently arbitrary emotional need, then you might be able to accommodate it or it is a competing access need, in which both of you need to negotiate a solution. (Or maybe they are lying and a fake. I do not know any good procedures for dealing with lying fakes other than setting your own boundaries, which falls under the same idea as competing access needs.) (Or you can take the tactic of just leaving. Which is what I did, but which also is like your least good option.)

This is crucial to a good leftist social justice. Noted trans activist Julia Serano talks about holistic feminism and myriad double standards in contrast to fixed perspectives; I’ll quote her here:

Generally within feminism and queer activism, we have a fixed idea of the system that we are challenging—e.g., the patriarchy, heteronormativity, the gender binary, kyriarchy, and so on. Being fixed models, each of these acknowledges certain forms of sexism and marginalization while overlooking or dismissing others. The forms of sexism and marginalization that are ignored tend to become points of exclusion—for instance, if your concept of “patriarchy” does not include transphobia/cissexism, then your movement will exclude trans people; if your concept of “the gender binary” does not include biphobia/monosexism, then your movement will exclude bisexuals. And so on.

And (if I might take the liberty to argue so) this applies to literally everything. If your concept of “things that hurt people really badly that I shouldn’t do” doesn’t include “being very mean to them in nonstructural ways”, then you will tend to hurt people in “nonstructural ways”.

(A particularly snide commentator might notice that this is in fact systemically biased and harmful, especially since we might not have discovered some marginalizations, and also because you’re flat-out ignoring the harms that you could do to some people just because they’re “nonstructural”. A particularly snide commentator would be right on the money.)

I want to be clear that you don’t have to include nonstructural issues in your Official Activism About Society. But if you apply your activism to your personal life, then yes, you do have to include nonstructural issues in your Personal Activism.

This sounds like a dauntingly immense goal. However, it might be good to remember that, most of the time, “hurting people really badly on accident” can be solved by apologizing to them and having an honest conversation.

I think that sometimes people feel a lot of pressure to be intersectional feminists to the extreme hilt - policing their every word, advocating for others, constantly being on their guard for other people violating these guidelines. I would know, since I felt this pressure.

And I want to be clear that that’s not what I’m asking, and I think that asking people to pour this much of themselves into activism is absurd. No, people are not responsible for policing other people’s actions. You do not have to take on an insane amount of self-questioning, pain, and guilt in order to be kind to others.

I can’t make universal prescriptions, and what is necessary for someone might be awful for someone else. But in general, I would suggest that you make it possible for people to tell their emotions to you, not only by listening to them, but also by having boundaries and a backbone. “Listening” means here “carefully evaluating and thinking about their stated concern”. “Having boundaries and a backbone” means here “paying attention to your own emotional health and needs, and not immediately conceding everything, and also being willing to ask them to be more polite or to rephrase”.

Sometimes it’s not possible for someone to talk to you about their needs without being extremely aggressive. Unless you are in a position of clear official authority over them, I suggest that you pay attention to your own emotional needs and be clear about setting boundaries.

“I don’t feel comfortable when people talk to me loudly and I would prefer it if you could lower your voice” is a reasonable thing to say. “Can we please discuss this later, when both of us are calmer? This is something that I need for my emotional stability” is also a reasonable thing to say. Many other things are reasonable things to say also. Be clear that this is not a value judgement of them - just your own personal emotional need.

(Different rules apply in different situations, and this deals with relatively equal relationships between friends or fellow activists.)

Establishing norms like this, where everyone’s needs are recognized and respected, means that later, when you’re in pain, your needs can be recognized and respected by the same standards.

If you can’t tell someone that they’re hurting you, that you think what they’re doing is kind of mean sometimes, and you are afraid of them a lot - that’s a warning sign. A really, really bad warning sign.

And yet that’s a norm that I’ve heard espoused a lot, from people who really should know better. - Or at least, it’s a norm that predictably results from following some of these suggestions.

As intersectional feminists, we need to recognize the individual positionality of people’s emotional needs and the ways they might be hurt or harmed. In order to create inclusive communities, flexible mindsets whereby myriad oppressions can be recognized and addressed ought to be cultivated.

In order to concretely achieve this, activism in our personal lives must simultaneously broaden its scope and diminish its intensity. In pro-sj communities we must encourage the setting of boundaries, by everyone and for everyone.