#in part because even in her darkest hours she was still more principled than those who had killed her daughters

[violetren]

When Inigo Montoya experiences immeasurable loss and mental anguish that propels him to a path of vengeance that he temporarily gets lost on, becoming a worse version of himself, a roving mercenary who even inadvertently ends up furthering the goals of his sworn enemy until he meets an opponent who makes him stop take stock and recognise how lost he has become and how he doesn't have to be in this alone, swiftly followed by him killing the target of his revenge and riding off into the sunset with his new friends everyone is lining up around the block to applaud,

However when the Dragon in Damsel follows the same story beats in a font just different enough to keep from getting sued...

[heliads]

Traitor

Y/N L/N has had a treacherous past as a HYDRA sleeper agent, one that she was grateful to put aside when she started dating Peter Parker. The one thing she wasn’t counting on was Peter’s reaction when her secret comes to light.

masterlist

With everything that had happened to you, how did you still have Peter Parker by your side? The boy seemed like an angel, always smiling and happy despite the darkest of storms. You look at him now, beaming and leading you through the streets of New York, and wonder how on Earth you got this lucky.

Well, it didn’t start out so well. As a child, you were raised by the Soviets and trained under HYDRA principles. You knew how to kill a man twelve different ways before you could read a chapter book. Like the other girls of the Red Room, you were cold and calculating, always willing to pull the trigger no matter the cost. The Black Widow, Natalia Romanova, had been displayed before you as a hero, someone you should aspire to be, no matter the cost. Then, she had betrayed the Soviets by becoming an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and her image was wiped from the teachings of the Red Room just as quickly as she had entered them.

When you were around the age of ten, you were transferred from the Red Room to a small town in the United States, and told to remain undercover until you were given new orders. You were a sleeper agent; living life as an ordinary American but prepared to strike at a moment’s notice. There, you had lived for six years, and then you had gotten a call telling you to move to New York. 

You were placed next to Peter Parker so the Soviets could monitor Spider-Man and see if he posed a threat to HYDRA or the Red Room. They had told you to get close to him, and be able to kill him if necessary. Luckily, that particular order had yet to come through.

After getting to know Peter, though, you were faced with an all too tricky predicament. Despite your training, you had fallen for the brown-haired boy, and you knew you couldn’t kill him. Whenever you spent time with him, and saw the same love reflected in his eyes that you felt in your own, it was like a knife slowly twisting in your heart. It would be wrong to hurt this boy after he trusted you and even loved you, and so you started to keep your distance from him.

Yes, it hurt more than anything to see the pain in his eyes when he realized you were avoiding him, but wasn’t it better to know that you were protecting him from himself? You hadn’t counted on one flaw in your plan, and that was Peter’s determination to be true to those he cared about.

He had confronted you about why you were avoiding him, and you were forced to come up with some excuse that didn’t involve you being a Russian spy. You confessed that you had made mistakes in the past, mistakes that haunted you to this day and that you knew you didn’t deserve to be with him. That much was true, at least. Yet despite this tearful attempt to push him away, Peter refused to leave. He had taken your hand, promising that no matter what you had done, he would stand by you. Even your best attempts at getting rid of him were unsuccessful, and so you had allowed yourself the happiness of getting close to him once more.

Natasha Romanoff strides briskly across an office room in the Avengers Tower. She scans over a screen in front of her, quickly poring through pages of data and code. Behind her, the door opens and Tony Stark steps into the room, drinking from a mug of coffee he clings to like it’s a sacred talisman.

“What’s that, Romanoff? S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets or HYDRA?” Natasha turns to face him. “A mix of both, actually. After S.H.I.E.L.D. was revealed to be riddled with HYDRA agents and I revealed all their secrets to the world, I noticed that not all of the files were as easy to access as others. Some, specifically the HYDRA ones, were locked away under heavy firewalls.”

Tony walks over, intrigued. “Judging by the fact that I can read most of the words on that page, I’m assuming you’re almost done hacking your way in.” Natasha nods. “This file is pretty important, too. It’s got a list of all the sleeper agents HYDRA assigned to New York. The other files in the folder cover the rest of the states, but I figured I should start at home and work my way out.”

Tony contemplates this. “I would agree. I better not see any of my interns on that list, though. How much more do you have to do before we read it?” Natasha types in a few last characters, then reloads the file. “Actually, we’re done now. Let’s start from the beginning.” The two friends lean forward, beginning to read the list of names.

It’s a beautiful day in New York. You happen to be on a date with Peter, which makes it even better. The two of you are strolling through the streets, window shopping and laughing until everything seems perfect. Peter loops his arm through yours, and pulls you close to press a light kiss on your cheek. You smile at him, and he smiles back at you.

You’re just rounding a corner to walk another sidestreet when you spy two figures heading briskly towards you. You peer at them, confused, and then a weight starts to solidify in your stomach when you realize it’s Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff, both heading your way with stares that could kill.

Peter has spotted them now too, and seems confused, as if he didn’t expect to see them. You’re about to tug on his arm and encourage him to go another way, but it’s too late. They’ve stopped in front of you. “L/N, please step away from Peter. Immediately.”

Peter looks at you, bewildered. “What’s this about, Mr. Stark?” Romanoff folds her arms across her chest, fixing you with an icy glare. “I’d bet she knows exactly what this is about. See, we just found a file with a list of Soviet and HYDRA sleeper agents in New York. Guess who showed up on that list?”

Peter looks back at you, and the confusion in his eyes slowly turns to betrayal when he notices you can’t quite meet his gaze. “Y/N, tell me this isn’t true. Please, say they’re wrong and you’re not a literal HYDRA agent.” You say nothing, and turn your head away, unable to meet his eyes. Peter steps away from you, horrified. “Are you kidding me? I trusted you. God, all this time when you were talking about ‘mistakes you’d made’ I thought you yelled at your brother, or cheated on your last boyfriend, or something small. Not that you worked for HYDRA!”

He suddenly turns to face Tony, an awful realization starting to crash across his face. “What was her task, Mr. Stark? Why was she in New York?” Tony folds his hands across his chest. “She was here to get close to you, and to kill you if necessary.” The heartbreak and anguish in Peter’s eyes makes you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.

He speaks now, in a voice barely above a whisper. “You wanted to kill me.” Finally, you find your voice. “No. I didn’t want to. Once I met you, I knew I couldn’t kill you. That’s why I tried to distance myself from you, remember? I couldn’t hurt you. I love you, Peter, and I left HYDRA behind when I got close to you. They would kill me if I did anything to jeopardize the mission. You know that’s why I had to stay, right? They would kill me!”

Peter fixes you with a deathly stare. “Maybe they should have killed you.” He glares at you one last time, then turns around and walks away. You feel your heart shatter in your chest. Romanoff seems a little surprised at his harsh words, but then she ushers you away from the city. “I didn’t want to do it. I never wanted to hurt him.” You’re babbling nonsense, desperate for someone to understand you, and surprisingly, Romanoff seems to hear you. “I know. I’ve been there too.”

Peter feels numb. It just doesn’t seem real. Y/N- happy, confident, brilliant Y/N- a HYDRA spy? Sent to kill him? He can still see the pain in her eyes when he left her, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt when Mr. Stark had told him that she was a traitor. She had betrayed him, and so she meant nothing to him. She had to mean nothing to him.

Peter hasn’t seen Y/N since that day he found out the truth about her. She doesn’t show up to school anymore, and he hasn’t encountered her at all, not even a brief glimpse of her face from across the street. Mr. Stark keeps asking if he’s alright, if he wants to talk about Y/N, but Peter just says he’s fine. He doesn’t want to talk, because he knows if he thinks about her for more than a second it will destroy him.

Peter is walking home from school, mind lost in these swirling thoughts, when he notices there’s been a few people following him for the last few blocks. Feeling a little paranoid, he switches to the other side of the street and takes a few quick turns. He checks over his shoulder, and is worried to see that the men are not only still following him, but gaining ground. He speeds up, moving faster and faster. If he could just get to the main part of town, people could see him and he would be safe-

Too late. Hands close with an iron grip on his shoulders. Peter starts to turn around, ready for a fight, but then the pricking sensation of a needle flickers to life on his throat and he stumbles once, twice, and then again. He feels dizzy, and the edges of his vision fade to black.

When Peter wakes up, he’s in some small room. The walls are bare, and the floor is poured concrete. Peter tries to stand up, but he realizes his arms and legs are bound to the chair he’s sitting on. The sudden movement makes his head spin, and the pounding of his head overwhelms him and threatens to knock him unconscious once more.

Peter’s not sure how long he waits in that room. It could have been just a few minutes, or maybe hours. He’s still trying to recover from whatever drug was injected into him when he was taken. Finally, a man dressed all in black enters the room, a handgun clearly visible on his side.

“Parker. Spider-Man. How wonderful to see you.” Peter squints up at the man, silhouetted against the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. “I wish I could say the same.” The man chuckles coldly. “I apologize for the rough treatment. We just had to make sure we got you here before anyone else found us. The Avengers can be such a bother sometimes.”

The man continues on with some speech, full of idle threats and guarantees that Peter has lost. Oddly enough, about five minutes after the man starts monologuing alarm sirens begin to blare across the building. The loud noise makes Peter’s head want to explode. The man in black looks startled at the alarms, but quickly reassures Peter that the large number of HYDRA troops in the building will easily extinguish any threat. Besides, no one knows that Peter is here.

Despite these reassurances, the sounds of gunfire and general panic start to grow in volume until they sound like they’re right next to Peter. The man in black seems tense, as if he is no longer confident in his large number of troops. Suddenly, the door to the room is kicked down, and a shadowy figure enters the room, gun in hand. Peter’s eyes go wide as he recognizes the newcomer- it’s none other than Y/N.

She stands in the doorframe, gun pointed at the man in black. She must have fought her way in, as her clothes are torn and there are lines of blood tracing their way down her face and arms. The bodies of the guards who had once monitored the building lie unmoving in the hallway behind her.

The man in black stares for a moment, then claps his hands together in relief. “Ah, Agent L/N. Just in time. I need you to complete your mission.” Y/N just stares at him in silence, and the man in black continues on. “Kill Peter Parker. Now.”

Peter looks from Y/N to the man. This is it- this is where it all ends. Of course Y/N will kill him now- it’s been her task since she moved here. Yet, she moves her arm quickly, cracking the man in black across the skull with the butt of her gun. He falls to the ground, unconscious, and Y/N races over to Peter and starts untying his bonds.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. This is all my fault- I should have told you everything from the beginning!” Once she finishes untying his bonds, she ushers him to the door. “The way out should be open from here. I’ll hold off any other guards.” She points down the hallway, and cocks her gun, checking the halls for possible HYDRA agents.

When Peter doesn’t move, she looks back at him again. “You have to go, Peter. You have to get to safety.” Peter just puts his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not leaving you.” Y/N shakes her head emphatically. “You don’t have to feel bad for me. I know what I did, and this is my way of paying it back. Go!” Peter still doesn’t move. “It’s alright, Y/N. You did what you had to so you could survive. Please, leave with me.”

Y/N looks at him, surprise and doubt flickering across her face. “I betrayed you, Peter. I betrayed your trust. I don’t deserve your love.” Peter just laughs lightly. “I’m afraid you don’t exactly have a choice about that. Now come on, we’re both getting out of here.” With that, he grabs Y/N’s free hand, and the two of them run off down the hallway.

When they finally make it out of the HYDRA complex, Peter’s able to find a road that leads them back to New York. As they walk back to the city, Peter looks over at Y/N. “I meant what I said, you know. I would rather you survive then turn your back on HYDRA. I don’t want you to risk your life because of me.” Y/N lets a rare smile slip across her cheeks. “I just wish I told you. I was afraid that if you knew the truth about me, you would have left a long time ago.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I love you.” Y/N takes his hand. “I love you too.”

[ghafahey]

@mdzswomen Appreciation Week 2: Day 5 — Repentance

Rated:

 G

Pairing:

Lan Yi/Baoshan Sanren

for you: repentance.

Lan Yi sits and waits, her knees cold and her mind a thousand leagues away with the one she loves, even after centuries.

i.

It’s so cold all around her that sometimes she forgets who she was, who she is, who she may never be again.

In the darkest nights, when all around her there’s nothing but a deep pit of emptiness, all she remembers is a pair of dark eyes and a mouth set in a determined line and the silent call to please stay, stay stay stay.

ii.

There’s Lan set into every single frame of his bones. Lan Yi can tell from far away before he even enters the cave she’s been stuck in for centuries. There’s a deep sense of duty, a commitment to justice, a grief that seems too old for his young body. The other one, laughter and smiles and teasing stitched into his skin, is so different that she can’t help but chuckle to herself when he falls into ice-cold water, emerging spluttering and soaked to the bone. But then, her great-great-great-great-something takes off his headband – the sacred headband no one is supposed to touch, well unless… - and binds their wrists together so they can approach her guqin. It makes her falter for a moment, her mind recalling, trying to reach out to someone – far away and still breathing and missing from her like a limb. She doesn’t think they realize the full extent of their fate which has been intertwined so irrevocably now.

  iii.

“Don’t you think,” Baoshan Sanren says, the comb halting on a particularly stubborn knot in the long dark waves of Lan Yi’s hair. Fingers brush her shoulders, clad in pale blue robes, shuddering from the touch. “It’s a bit ridiculous to need a piece of cloth to practice self-restraint.”

Lan Yi raises one eyebrow at her friend in the mirror.

(Friend seems, she muses, too little a word. Not nearly enough, not even right in her mind, no less on her tongue. There’s another, one dripping with a meaning that leaves her lungs empty when she thinks of it and so, she hasn’t dared to voice it just yet.)

(One day, she promises herself, she’ll look Baoshan Sanren in the eyes and tell her, drenched in all the heaviness of her heart. She’ll tell her: “You’re the one I was looking for before I even knew. You’re the one my soul recognized upon our first meeting, down in the forest so close to midnight, your mouth smiling around some fruit and my own tipping up involuntarily. You’re the one I know will understand my every word and doing because I would understand yours too.”)

(But not tonight.)

“I mean, simply, that if that is all it takes for you to practice restraint… does that not in itself deem you weak.”

The knot loosens. Lan Yi turns, eyebrows still raised, and mouth curled in amusement. Their shoulders knock and Baoshan grins down at her, her eyes two pools of mystery it could take a lifetime and more to decode. Their breaths mingle in the small space between them; growing smaller each time, Lan Yi notices, they’re together at night before both retiring to their respective beds.

“Maybe I am,” she muses, her voice a teasing whisper through heavy nighttime air.

Baoshan's eyes flicker, just for a moment, and her mouth twists as if there’s something else to say, something else to do. The moment passes. There’s still a handful of distance between them.

“Personally…,” she rises from where she's been sitting behind Lan Yi, stretching until the joints of her bones crack with a loud pop. “I would like to see you unrestrained.”

 iv.

It’s still cold. Not unbearably so. Not after centuries. But the ice has never been the problem. The problem is hundreds, thousands of leagues away, on a mountain, hidden by green and secret passageways and shrouded in mystery. Still alive, still breathing, still warm from the blood in her bones while Lan Yi herself is a shred of who she once was. Her power fades each day, drains and leaves her more and more a shell unable to reach out towards the mortal realm.

The problem is: there are so many things left unsaid.

The problem is: she had the chance to make a different choice but was too blinded by ambition to listen.

The problem is: the day Lan Yi went against her soul’s mate she left part of herself with her and never got it back. Until then, how will she find peace? Until then, does she even want to?

The problem is, the problem always has been: Baoshan’s laughter and the crinkles that come out around her eyes and her head thrown back in joy and the image of it branded like fire into Lan Yi’s mind.

  v.

He sits and reads and stares, frost between his brows, at the wall.

“We could carve him from stone and put him in a courtyard. He has the face for it.”

Sometimes Baoshan visits her. It’s a hallucination, of course, Lan Yi is a smart woman who doesn’t fall for simple tricks of the mind baked in hope and loneliness. She knows it can only be a hallucination because she hasn’t had the courage to seek her out herself. She makes excuses for preserving energy, for guarding the Yin Iron – yet she knows the familiar feeling of dread and shame pooling in her stomach.

Still, it’s nice to see Baoshan perched on the ice altar next to her guqin, much like the boy one of her disciples gave life to years ago now. In contrast to Wei Ying, no one scolds her for so carelessly sitting down next to the powerful heirloom. In fact, the sight is welcome. She looks exactly like the day Lan Yi last saw her, not a single wrinkle around her eyes or a grey hair in the waterfall of black flowing down her back. Maybe she hasn’t aged after all or maybe Lan Yi’s imagination just doesn’t like to be realistic.

“He is in mourning,” Lan Yi replies gently.

It’s a feeling she knows too intimately herself. But while the boy – a man now, not the young soul who stumbled into this cave years ago and bound himself without thinking, now hardened by war and loss and heartbreak – mourns for the love he lost to death, Lan Yi mourns for the love she lost to life.

“Tell me,” Baoshan says from her place at the altar, not taking her eyes off Lan Wangji and the stiff set of his shoulders while Lan Yi can’t seem to take her eyes off her. “Do those descendants of yours truly think sitting in an ice cave for unbelievable amounts of time will cure one of love?”

Lan Yi had gotten a glimpse of said descendant once, a man set in his principles and beliefs and pride dripping off his mustache. She’s also heard the story that the very same mustache once got shaved off by one of Baoshan Sanren’s disciples, the mother of the man being mourned in these halls. It would not surprise her if that man thinks solitary confinement in the hidden cave of a mountain, blood and scars on your back and your heart in shambles, was the cure to heartache and grief.

"They have not gotten much smarter with the centuries, I fear," she replies after a moment and Baoshan Sanren's lips quirk in a smile she misses more than sunshine on her skin and the smell of flowers. Centuries locked in this place seem suddenly bearable at the sight that once greeted her every day - sometimes mischievous, sometimes gentle and sometimes, dare she hope, loving.

"This one though, I think... he'll be fine." And then the smile dies on the hallucination's lips and suddenly, finally, her eyes meet Lan Yi's across the cave, her gaze so intense that for a few short moments she's fool enough to believe Baoshan is truly here. "He won't have to mourn forever."

  vi.

“Lan Yi,” a hand shakes her awake, not too gently. When she blinks her eyes open, morning light greets her first, then Baoshan’s furrowed brows. Her back and neck ache from the position she fell asleep in, her head on the desk between books and scrolls.

“Oh,” she winces when she straightens again, her back making a painful sound. Baoshan’s hand is still on her shoulder, gripping a little too tightly.

“You fell asleep over this again?” She eyes the contents on the table, then huffs out a breath. Her hand falls from Lan Yi’s shoulder and Lan Yi swallows down the sound of disapproval that forms in her throat. “I should have never told you about the Yin Iron.”

It’s not the first time they’re having this argument, not the first time Baoshan has found her in the library at an early hour, not the first time her eyes have clouded with anger and disappointment like that.

Lan Yi rises, shakes out her shoulders as if that could also shake off her friend’s glare and the cold grip around her heart at having disappointed the most important person in her life.

“I am simply researching a bit,” she says but doesn’t meet Baoshan’s eyes. “There has to be a way to neutralize the Yin Iron, to use it for good.”

Her friend is silent, maybe run out of arguments against her because they keep going in an endless cycle of back-and-forth, neither of them ready to budge, to admit they might be wrong. It’s been weighing on them for months now, slowly carving an abyss between them that has never been there before.

When once they would sit together at night, brushing each other’s hair, sharing stories and laughter and wine, now Lan Yi retires to the library instead and avoids Baoshan’s judging eyes and harsh words.

“Even if there is,” Baoshan admits after a moment, her voice lowered and no longer angry. When Lan Yi looks up she finds the other woman moving closer, her eyes pleading even before she reaches out a hand to grip Lan Yi’s elbow. “Have you even spared a thought to what it might cost you?”

She has. Of course, she has though she has pushed it all away to not be distracted from her goal. This has to work, has to go well, and earn her the respect among the other clan leaders she has always deserved. No matter the cost, she is willing to pay it, she thinks. Has to trust in her own abilities and mind to see this through and come out of it victorious and unscathed and a legend for the future generations to marvel at.

So, she raises her chin and stares Baoshan down. “I am willing to pay that price.”

Her friend swallows and as her eyes lower, so does her hand, falling from Lan Yi’s elbow and once again opening up the chasm between them she was trying to bridge with a simple touch. One that had once brought so much comfort.

“I am not.” She turns as if defeated though her words prove the opposite. “So I hope you will forgive me for praying every night that you never find the Yin Iron’s true location.”

 vii.  

Sometimes, when she curls around herself on the ground and lets the rabbits settle next to her as if she had a need for sleep, her mind flicks through memories like pages of a book. It stays on the good parts often enough, on laughter with wine on her lips, on the comfort of arms wrapped around her, on her name whispered against her neck one night when they had gotten too drunk and lost themselves; on the bright eyes of her disciples when she had instructed them, the girls especially, on the respect some had paid her; on days even longer past when she would be surrounded by her mother and father and brothers for dinner.

Most times it makes her relive the bad parts too, death upon death, insults whispered behind her back but just loud enough for her to hear, the sneer of men thinking themselves above her.

And then, Baoshan’s sword raised against her, the one thing she never thought to live through. It still hurts just as much as that night, no matter her intentions. She’s unable to say anything but her mind screams I thought we were bound for life and death. I thought you would never raise your sword against me. I thought we were destined to stand and fight and live side by side.

It was an illusion perhaps, a dream she had crafted of a reality that could never be true just to console herself that maybe, some version of them had gotten to that part they had always dreamed of.

They didn’t in this life.

In her dreams, which aren't dreams at all because she cannot sleep, a hand runs through her hair and a familiar voice whispers her name, followed by apologies she is so eager to return but can't because she has no voice.

When Lan Yi opens her eyes, still tired, her face wet from snow and tears, it’s to the same cold walls as the last thousand days.

  viii.

There is a wedding happening. Something tells her, maybe a whispered prayer or a flow of energy filled with a particular shade of happiness.

“You were right,” she tells Baoshan Sanren's illusion, who has her head in her lap and her dark hair spread out like a fan. Lan Yi cards her hands through it slowly, gently, savoring the moment that seems so real she feels it pricking behind her eyes. “He did not have to mourn forever.”

Baoshan looks up then and raises a hand to the corner of Lan Yi’s mouth, her thumb gliding over it like a kiss she never dared to press there.

“It was supposed to be us.”

  iv.

Her biggest regret, her biggest dream lives thousands of leagues away on a mountain, secluded and centuries-old and Lan Yi hopes selfishly that she has not been forgotten. That maybe Baoshan Sanren too wakes up sometimes and aches for the love they never spoke but knew too well, for the future they could have had if only, if only…

Locked away in an ice cave is as much repentance for playing at power, for not listening, for breaking the seal on an object that once more has caused so many deaths as it is for taking a knife to the thread that connected her to Baoshan and cutting right through it. She's sure she deserves this.

So, Lan Yi sits and waits and fades slowly and thinks that maybe, once she has gone from this world entirely, she’ll be given another chance.

I’ll get it right this time, she promises.

[stressa-bessa]

Graduation Gowns Lie in Rags at Their Feet

High School!Peter Parker x Reader

Fluff with a lil angst and some light swearing!

Word count: 2312

Today was your last day of high school. After 4 years of commitment, heart ache, perseverance and friendship, it was time that you and your friends graduated. You were so grateful for the people you had met in your time at Midtown, MJ always made you feel normal as you were never like the popular girls at school, Ned always giving you something to laugh about, whether you were laughing at him and his thousand piece Lego sets or something silly that he whispered in class, he was always able to bring a smile to your face on the darkest of days. And finally, Peter. Peter was the boy who never ceased to give you butterflies. His big brown eyes would constantly melt your heart, and his gentle touch could send shivers down your spine. You had met him in Grade 9 in Biology, the two of you had been paired up as lab partners and that is where your friendship began. Well, more like the day you fell in love with Peter Parker.

Over the years, you felt that maybe Peter liked you back. He would do little things here and there that would make you think that he was hinting to potential feelings, like bring you a sandwich from his favourite shop and would write a cute note on the napkin. You had built up enough courage to ask him out at lunch one day, but before you had the chance he had started to ramble about Liz and how beautiful she is. You had felt so defeated. MJ knew of your feelings for Peter and she sympathized for you. That night she had come over with Ben & Jerry’s and let you cry it out on her shoulder, sans sarcastic comments.

From that day on, you tried to suppress your feelings for Peter and decided to focus on the genuine friendship that the two of you shared. One night at the beginning of your final year, you heard a soft knock at your bedroom window. You truly thought you were about to die because who else would be at your bedroom window past 10pm? As you slowly pulled your curtain aside, you saw a disheveled Peter, wearing a Spiderman suit. It was that night when he told you he was Spiderman, and ever since then you were even more in love with him. All your efforts for almost an entire year were flushed down the drain. The two of you hand shared such an intimate moment after Peter had climbed through your window. He had been injured in a fight and needed help, just so he could get through the night without Aunt May worrying. Peter had said that you were the only person he could trust with his secret, other than Ned and Tony, but he knew that neither of them would be able to help him. Peter had stayed over that night and you nursed him back to health like the good “friend” you are. He told you stories about his time as Spiderman and it was those stories that drew you in. His compassion, bravery and sheer goodness spoke so much about who Peter was as a person, the kind of person you wished to have as your own, all to yourself.

You often found yourself thinking about that night, wishing you had told him your feelings.

With a sigh, you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and place your cap on your head. You were supposed to meet the gang at school in 20 minutes, so you could take some silly photos and find your place before the actual graduation started.

“So, you both have tickets?” You ask your mom as you sling your purse over your shoulder.

“Yes, honey. We will see you in a little over an hour.” Your mom smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Alright! I love you!” You say quickly as you rush out the door, the sound of it slamming behind you.

 --------------------------

You could see MJ and Ned standing by the gymnasium waiting for you and Peter.

“Hey guys!” You smile as you walk up to them.

“Hey, have you seen Peter?” Ned asks, looking incredibly concerned.

“No, I thought he was with you guys?”

“No, I haven’t seen him yet. Even Tony Stark is here and said he hasn’t seen him.” MJ replies as worry slowly grows on her face. She scrunches her eyebrows together as she pulls out her phone to call the spider-boy.

“Maybe he’s late?” You suggest, trying not to think of the worst possible outcomes.

“No way, May is here and is sitting beside Mr.Stark.” Ned answers, pointing behind him in the direction of the gym.

“No answer.” MJ sighs as she puts her phone back into her pocket.

“I’ll text him.”

You pull out your phone and draft a text.

Y/N: Hey Pete, you okay? We’re all looking for you!

Within seconds you get a reply.

Pete💕: I’m in the locker rooms. I can’t do this.

“You guys, he’s hiding in the locker rooms. I’ll go get him. Ned, can you hold my stuff?” You ask as you take off your cap and hand your friend your purse and gown.

You walk down the hallway, past the gym and open the boy’s locker room. You didn’t have to worry about getting caught as there was barely anyone around. All you could hear were the soft click of your high heels on the tile.

“Pete? Peter?” You call out, listening attentively for a reply. You could faintly hear sniffles from the benches behind the lockers.

Peeking your head around the corner, “Pete?” you call once more before coming face to face with a red eyed Peter Parker.

“Peter, what’s wrong?” You ask sympathetically, pulling your dear friend into a hug.

“It’s just a lot. Today is a lot.” He sighs, sitting down on the wooden bench. “I’m so overwhelmed. Tony had a party for me with everyone last night and there were three people that I wanted so desperately to be there. Those three who I wish could be sitting with May and Tony.” Peter cries, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Peter. I am so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask you lately as to how you’ve been feeling.”

“It’s no one’s fault, and that’s what I have to keep telling myself, but today…I just can’t.”

“You know, Peter,” You say as you crawl beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Just because you can’t hear them shouting your name when you cross the stage, doesn’t mean that they aren’t still here.” As you say these last words, you grab his soft hand in yours.

“Ben’s compassion is here, your father’s intelligence is here, your mothers sacrifice, and kindness is here. They are all in here.” You say, tapping his chest lightly with your finger, over his heart. “Your family will always be with you, and my god Pete, they would be so fucking proud of the man you’ve become.” You smile, wiping a running tear from his cheek. “I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You always know what to say. I don’t know how you do it, but it works.” Peter smiles, leaning back to rest his head against the concrete wall. “Your earlier comment…It made me think about something that I’ve wanted to get off my chest for a while.” Peter admits.

“What comment Pete?” You ask, completely confused as to where this is coming from.

“When you said that you didn’t ask how I was feeling. You are always so thoughtful, and I haven’t always been to you. I want to apologize for last spring…MJ told me about it and I feel horrible, Y/N.”

You felt your heart stop. Part of you was humiliated that MJ had told Peter that you not only had a massive crush on him, but that he broke your heart. The other half made you feel like you wanted to crawl into a ball and die.

“Peter, it’s-“

“No, it’s not okay. I was lying not only to you, but also to myself. I liked Liz, yes, but I didn’t love her. Y/N, I have been in love with you since the day we dissected that frog together in Bio, back in grade 9. I was always so nervous to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin things, you are my best friend and I can talk to you about anything and everything. Like that night when I had my ass kicked, you were the only person I could think of that would help me and not be freaked out because you always know what to do and what to say.” Peter sighs, running a hand through his messy curls.

“I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I love you. And I am going to miss you like crazy next year. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but I’d rather you know then have it never be said.” Peter’s voice trails off towards the end. His eyes were looking down at his dress shoes to avoid looking you in the eye.

“Peter. I love you so much.” You reply, grabbing his chin to match his gaze. “I love you, Peter Parker. I am your third person in the audience today. I know I can never replace them, but maybe I can help expand the family you do have.” You smile, brushing his matted curls out of the way of his eyes.

“Y/N, I want you to be mine. My parents, Ben, they would have loved you. I just worry about next year-“

“Peter, we are both moving to Boston. Relax.” You chuckle, shaking your head at the silly boy. I guess the wives’ tales are true, men don’t know how to listen!

“Oh.” Peter breathes, looking up at you intently, “I guess, Y/N? Would you like to come over after graduation to watch a movie?”

“Peter Parker, are you asking me on a date?”

“Yea-Yes, I think I am.” He smiles bravely, looking right at you. Peter leans in slowly and places a soft and delicate kiss to your lips. You could feel him start to smile as your return his kiss.

“I think we should get going, we don’t want to miss our graduation.” You mumble before stealing another kiss from Peter.

“Aunt May would kill me if I missed it!”

 ------------------------

Ned and MJ had already crossed the stage which meant that you and Peter were the only ones left in your friend group to “officially” graduate. You crossed the stage with poise, shaking the principle’s hand as the secretary announced the awards you’ve won and which school and program you will be attending in the fall.

Next was Peter. As he crossed the stage, you could hear Tony and Aunt May hooting and hollering from the front row. At the back of the gym you could see Steve, Natasha and Bruce, disguised but equally as proud. The look in Aunt May’s eye made your heart sing. She looked as if this were the best day of her life. There was one photo hanging in their hallway, back at the apartment, where she shared that exact smile. It was a photo of her and Uncle Ben leaving the church on their wedding day.

Once the ceremony had ended, it was time for all the parents to request photos of their children much to their disapproval.

As you and Peter were posing with the crew, he pulled Aunt May aside and asked if you could join them back at the apartment.

“Doesn’t she want to spend time with her family?” Aunt May asked Peter as she licked her finger to try and fix one of Peter’s unruly curls.

“Well, it is kinda our first date…” Peter mumbles before scoffing at his Aunt for trying to fix his hair.

“Oh, I see…” She smiles with a wink. “How about I go for a drink with Tony to discuss your plans for next year and how the internship might be affected, let’s say I’ll be home around 8?”

“You’re the best May.” Peter smiles, pulling his Aunt in for a hug.

“I larb you, you know. You’re my boy, I’m so proud of you. Ben would be so proud of you.” She says softly as she wipes a tear from her eye before messing up Peter’s hair.

“I larb you too, Aunt May.” Peter replies with a smile, even though he could feel tears burning at his eyes at the thought of Uncle Ben.

Peter walks up to the bleachers where the three of you are waiting for him. He snakes an arm around your waist before plastering a smile across his cheeks.

“I see you finally grew a pair.” MJ smirks as she rests her elbow on Ned.

“I think that’s her way of saying she is going to miss you.” You joke, poking Peter in the rib.

“We will all see each other soon, we have all summer.” Ned replies, looking intensely at Peter. “What am I gunna do without you man?”

“Ah, Ned! You’ll see me plenty! You’re only an hour away.” Peter replies bringing his buddy in for a hug.

A shrill voice breaks up the boy’s hug, as Ned quickly says that he must go before waving goodbye at everyone.

“I should get goin’ too.” MJ sighs, “I’ll see you both soon.” She adds as she hugs you both before walking towards her parent’s car.

You and Peter stood there for a moment, just embracing the silence and letting the events of today slowly sink in.

“I’m hungry.” You announce, grabbing Peter’s hand.

“Thai food?” He suggests, looking down at you.

“Thai food.” You smile up at him as he leans in for one more kiss.

A/N: a small blurb I wrote based on a prompt I found, the prompt was “even thought you can’t hear them, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t here”. It has not been edited as I am just too sleepy but if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please send them to me!  I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts @spiderlingsweb

[laurelsofhighever]

Unlocking the Door

Demi!Cullen, also on AO3

CW: PTSD, psychological trauma, sexual/psychological abuse, sex work. Nothing explicit but I want you guys to be ok!

Cullen is sixteen when he decides there might be something wrong with him. Not physically – like many of the other recruits at the templar training school in Bournshire, his has discovered the pleasure to be gained from discreet stimulation of the organ between his legs – but he feels a disconnect between his experiences and the way his fellow trainees talk about theirs. Who do you think of when you do it? is a question asked of him more than once, and when he blushes and shifts his feet and stutters that it’s nobody at all, the others decide he must be giddy on someone important or out of bounds. The truth is, on the rare occasion he indulges himself, it’s the base enjoyment that drives him, the anticipation of the end that gets him hard, and there is nothing more to it than that. At first, he wonders if his interests lie in another direction, but there are others at the school who do prefer the company of their own sex, and they, too, show more than enough inclination for the act itself.

Cullen decides to let them think him a prude, because the alternative is that they think him broken.

At eighteen, he catches the eye of an apprentice about his own age from across the hall at breakfast, and his stomach flutters. It’s alien, this feeling, terrifying and delightful all at once, and when he lies in his bunk, listening to the snores of the people around him he wonders if this is what they mean by desire. He wants to be close to Amell, to talk to her and maybe hold her so he can feel the warmth of her against his skin, maybe even kiss her, but his imagination falters upon trying to go further. Perhaps it is because she is a mage, and so forever beyond his reach anyway, but the darker, inward-turning part of his mind knows this is only a comforting lie.

This is why, when the Circle falls and his comrades are slain, he is not entirely surprised when the desire demon keeps him alive. He must confound it, lacking the urges other men have, and it spends hours – days, weeks? – peeling him apart, enjoying him, driving his body into raptures while his mind, frozen in place, is stripped bare of all he was, is, and hoped to be. The creature uses her image, when it suits, and finds great amusement watching him writhe, beg, melt away from pain and pleasure so intermingled he can’t tell which is which.

And still he confounds it.

They send him to Kirkwall. At first, he’s grateful for the change, though the air in the Gallows is close, its walls high, all too reminiscent of a cage. He has his own room, at least, for which he is grateful, though he knows it must be because word travelled ahead that he has trouble sleeping these days, and shouts to drive the nightmares away. He tries to keep to himself, to do his duty, to forget, but the men he is posted with these days don’t care for the dignity required of their position as templars. When it becomes clear he will not break his oath of duty just to cool his appetite – the very thought disgusts him – his unit trick him to the Blooming Rose with rumours of an apostate hiding among the clientele. When they suggest he interview one of the young ladies, privately so as not to cause alarm among the public, he, fool that he is, takes the suggestion at face value.

And young lady? Oh she is skilled indeed. He’s not the first to come to her inexperienced, or oblivious to intention, and she knows the right mixture of coyness and command to get what his friends have paid for. She knows where to find the buckles on his armour.

Afterwards, he’s not sure what it is he feels. Part of him feels used, like the demon used him for sport, because his comrades guffaw and raise their drinks to him when he emerges in perfect order from the lady’s chamber, hair tousled, but that is not quite everything. This is not the cage at Kinloch Hold. The workers at the Rose are not demons, and their custom runs on the same principles as those of a blacksmith or a tailor. Nothing is offered that is not first paid for, and it is these clear-cut boundaries that licks at the back of his skull like the song of lyrium in his mind. The next time he wakes shaking with the laughter of the demon too loud in his ears, he counts his pay and finds himself slipping along darkened streets.

He learns much in the months that follow. He does not feel desire for any of the women he beds – still does not, though the demon tried its best to plant the seed in him – but he discovers other benefits to sex that help keep the worst of his nightmares at bay. He learns the mechanics of the act – an endless study in how to pleasure and be pleasured that requires both focus and attention to detail, a twitch here or a whimper there, a dialogue of control ceded and gained, a way of distancing himself from the less beguiling aspects of the deed. In the exhaustion that follows, sleep takes him so deeply that he often does not dream at all.

Desire requires tenderness. This he realises one night as he wakes to find his partner for the evening slumbering beside him, too far away to touch. In that moment, still hazy with sleep, it strikes him as deplorable that he cannot reach for the person with whom he shared such intimacy not hours before, that his caress would be unwelcome without the chink of silver. She cares nothing for him; to her, he is a transaction. He remembers his parents, for the first time in too long, and recalls all the little touches they would share throughout the day, how they would gravitate toward one another’s space and how it leant them strength when times were hard.

It should not be like this, he thinks, then dresses, leaves his coins, and does not return.

He is not made for love. As the years pass this truth becomes easier to bear. He gains the rank of Knight-Captain, which sets him above the jibes of the rank and file, and as the problems in Kirkwall deepen, he accepts his abnormality as the Maker’s will. How else is he to remain focussed and carry out the task that has been assigned to him, if not to lay aside personal thoughts in pursuit of the greater good? Meredith whispers in his ear, she thinks him merely dedicated to his duty, and he is, but she does not know his particular suitability to be Kirkwall’s shield against the wickedness of mages. It does not nag him. It is for the best.

When the world falls apart and he flounders with the rest in the rubble of the city, he has no time to wonder at his past certainty of mind, except sometimes, at night, in bed, alone. Is there a point to fighting if you’re fighting for nothing? True, he has nothing to lose, but every day he looks and sees people protecting each other, their lovers and their families and their friends. And what, Maker, does he have? Nothing more than his crumbling faith and his need to atone for all those years spent blindly following orders. Perhaps, he thinks in his darkest hours, his peculiarity of spirit is a punishment sent by the Maker, who knew before he did himself how he would sin.

But the Seeker comes – Cassandra – and offers him a place to try and build a new world. Punishment or blessing, he thinks no more of it.

Then her. She falls out of the Fade, the Herald of Andraste who is going to save them all, and now he’s sure his inclinations must be a punishment, because the first time his eyes meet hers across the table in the vestry, something steals his breath away. He covers it with good humour, but the truth is he’s never been knocked so far out of his depth, because the lurching of his stomach is something he never thought to feel again. It’s an infatuation, he tells himself, like last time – it will pass, or the world will take it away from you. He is not made for love.

And yet, they grow closer. He yearns to touch her, to feel her warmth, make her laugh, be lost in the scent of her hair. Sometimes when his mind drifts, he imagines the taste of her lips, and it terrifies him. This doesn’t happen to him. The feeling she sparks in his chest is a wildfire, and with every smile she flashes his way it spreads, until he is all panicked edges and bright heat and desire.

Yes, he decides, when he stands with her on the battlements and lays his heart bare. This is desire. This is what his parents had and what he read about in books and thought would never come to him.

There will be more to say in the days to come, about who he is and what he wants, but as she stands with him in the open air and shares a kiss, it is enough to realise that he is in love, and that, whether by the Maker’s will or not, he was never broken. Just waiting for her to unlock the door.

[childoftheempire]

a sense of adventure 4/4 (DJxOC)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

I take a peek in the main street. “It looks like they’ve abandoned,” I say victoriously. 

Now that the streets are clear and that the thrill of the chase has abandoned my veins, I am left wondering what to do next. It is clear to me that DJ wants us to leave on his Nubian ship. However, I am not sure about the decision to take. I have a reputation here and it would do it no good to slip unnoticed into the night, leaving behind  Mr Rosario’s corpse. But I can hardly come back, sweaty and wearing stolen shoes, claiming my innocence in the man’s unfortunate death. I consider going back to my flat in downtown Canto Bight and calling the pink office to announce my resignation, pick up a few belongings and take the next flight to Coruscant to my family. I could still sell the necklace there... But as the plan takes shape in my mind, I find myself not truly believing in it. 

“Right, I guess I should be going home,” I say, but my voice is weak to my ears. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says briskly. 

I scoff at this. “We’re not bound in any way. You can’t order me around.” 

He shrugs. “You’d be right if you were any girl, but you’re the Pearl. Can’t pass the occasion, it’s against my p-p-principles.” 

What? I thought he was only after my money. But there is now a definitive possessive edge to his gaze and I don’t like the way he is nonchalantly leaning against the stone wall. 

“So what if I’m the Pearl? What’s the difference?” 

“You’ve got something precious that a lot of people would kill for.” 

A tingling sensation settles in my navel. Without thinking, I unclasp the gems around my neck, and stammer “Well… uh, then take that, and leave me.” 

He pockets the necklace without looking away from my face. “I wasn’t talking about the diamonds.” 

I suddenly become very aware that I am alone in a poor lighted backstreet with an undoubtedly dangerous man I have only met less than a hour ago. I inadvertently stumble backward and he lunges to right me. His hands are hot against my bare shoulders. He nods, as if he were agreeing with something he earlier thought to himself.  

And I know I should be afraid. I know I should shout for help, though I know he has a gun in his coat and maybe many more weapons that I am not aware of. But I don’t cry out. I don’t lash out. There is something about his rugged appearance that beckons me to stay, the fleeting feeling that there is much more about him that I don’t know yet, and I cannot repress the growing, magnetic attraction he exerts upon me. 

“Come with me,” he says simply. This time, it is not an order. But I will follow him, as I have during this evening, without questioning his decisions, and surely he has to know it because his smile is too knowing to be entirely innocent. To hell with caution! I have spent a year easily resisting the longing looks of many men and women, all alike in their adoration of my body, and this time, all this man needs to do is to share a little adrenaline for me to fall prey to his actions. I am used to pretty faces asking me out but this man oozes both a sense of adventure and of danger, a lust for trouble that I have rarely, if ever, seen; and I cannot deny that the thrilling glimpse of life that he has shown me makes me want to beg for more. 

Coruscant has not seen me for a long while, it can wait a little more. 

“I can’t believe I am doing this,” I admit quietly. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” 

“You better get used to it, sweetheart,” he grins, dropping his arms. “Now come on.” 

The road to the space port is easy, our pace lighter as we leave the darker corners of the city to bigger avenues, and find ourselves navigating again the never-ending flow of those of who live during the night, whether by choice or by biological need. Now that the flamboyant necklace has left my throat, I am again a girl among a sea of others, my little black dress and high heels a common sight in the colourful, boisterous frenzy of the almost warm evening, and though DJ still has that palpable aura of danger around him, and the less drunken party-goers unconsciously avoid his immediate proximity, his presence does not feel incongruous in the crowd as he fits in the standardized role of the man who brings a pretty girl to his ship for the night. 

The streetlamps dot the way to the station, revealing sparse clusters of young night workers raucously attempting to drum up business before the oldest, dirtiest commercial spaceships. But we do not go in that direction, and instead turn left to the private hangars hiding out of sight the most luxurious cruisers when their owners are in town. 

I feel sorry for the sleeping security guard as we step over the low gate, and we continue our way without coming across anyone except a few late workers and pilots heading with hurry to the core of the city. 

After a series of twists and turns among the buildings, DJ stops in front of a golden gate, frowning. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice unsure, “I think it’s this one, but I’m really not sure.” “You don’t even know where you parked your ship?” I ask in disbelief. 

“It’s not exactly my ship,” he mutters. He ducks his head as I shoot him an angry glare. 

“What do you mean, it’s not yours?” I distinctly recall the conversation over the Nubian ship. 

“It’s gonna be mine a few seconds, just you wait,” he answers evasively. I shrug. I guess I will have to learn patience if I am going to travel with this man. 

He produces the white device and waves it uncertainly before the identification panel. The little thing is seriously beginning to intrigue me. 

“What is it?” 

“This is the secret of my success,” he announces casually as he swiftly puts in back in a hidden pocket. I elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t boast, or I’ll steal it from you next time it’s out in the open.” 

“What was that for?” he asks. 

“I still haven’t seen any success,” I retort playfully. 

At that very moment, the door slides open, revealing an old-fashion Nubian ship. The sleek, elegant design is unlike everything I am used to see. This is the stuff of legends, the kind of ship you only see in forbidden engineer books or on the darkest parts of the holo-net. Nowadays, ships are designed to be efficient, not beautiful. 

“And here’s my beauty,” DJ announces. “The canons on each side were added a few years ago. It used to be a transport ship, and I think every c-c-component inside have been upgraded too. She’s about sixty years old, you know.” 

DJ waves again his bypass device before the ship, which opens slowly. “Get in!”

The interior is very lavish. Whoever decorated it obviously felt some sort of nostalgia for the artistic period preceding the rise of the Empire. It feels like a Jedi master could burst out at every corner, brandishing his lightsaber like in the days of old. Or maybe the décor has never been redone, and everything is still as it was intended to be so many years ago. 

We advance to the flight deck. DJ unceremoniously sits down in one of the pilot seats while I take the other. 

“Well, I trust you to fly that thing, because I’m not really familiar with that type of starship,” I announce. “Don’t worry,” he grins as he takes control of the ship.  

“So, this isn’t your ship, right?” 

“Now she is, but she used to be Firenze’s. Man is so rich he doesn’t even think about locking her when he’s not using it. He thinks he’s above theft or something.”

“He doesn’t fly her himself, does he?” 

DJ laughs. “Kriff no! I’d be damned if he even knew how to manage a speeder.” 

The engines roar to life, and the rooftop opens. I hear DJ shouting to me “Buckle up, this is going to be rough!”

I only have the time to reach for the belt when DJ removes the brake and the ship takes off at an astouding speed. A minute later, we make the jump to hyperspace, leaving behind the decadent city and its corrupted inhabitants. 

DJ then turns to face me, a smug grin on his face that spends shivers down on my spine. 

“So, about that deal we made…” 

The tingling in my stomach returns. I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not being paid in stolen ships.” 

“Yeah, I figured that out. I take it you don’t want d-d-diamonds either.” 

“That’s right.” 

“You said you wanted credits, no?” 

I usually take credits. I believe that if someone wanted to really unite the galaxy, they would have to do it using credits, the only universal thing that everybody wants. They have a value everywhere, and the First Order struggles to control them. DJ produces a considerable amount of credit chips and hands them over to me. “How much do you take?” 

But I have a better idea. 

“You know,” I begin slowly, and I know there is a wicked smile dancing on my lips, “I’ve spent the past months satisfying halfsleeping old men and too quick younger ones.  It’s been a while since someone has properly pleased me…” 

“That’s your price? I make you come and then you’re mine?” He shakes his head. “Too easy.” 

“Oh, but I haven’t mentioned the duration. You only have the length of the trip, which is – I check the flight data screen – six minutes and thirty-four seconds.” I half expect him to strip me of my clothes immediately, but to my great astonishment, he pushes some buttons on the control panel and pulls another two levers. The ship suddenly jumps out of hyperspace, the white trails of stellar light turning into the black emptiness of outer space. DJ leans towards me and gives me a knowing smirk. “You have no idea how to fly that thing, have you.” I had not thought about that at all. 

Lust darkens his eyes and he playfully adds: “Little Pearl, what is it that makes you so famous?” 

And I know he reads on my flushed face and the way I press my thighs together, trying to contain the burning fire he instils in me, that I am not wholly opposed to his idea of spending the next few hours. 

Cheeky bastard.  

And that was the end! I hope you enjoyed my story, and thanks to everyone who liked it!

[fialleril]

Replies to ‘Flowers for the Emperor’

So I’m hideously behind on my replies. (Seriously. So far behind that the folks I’m replying to probably don’t even remember what they said, lol.) But dang it, I’m getting them done! Eventually.

I’m gonna do a post for each fic I owe people replies to, so I don’t spam people.

Here’s the replies for the last DAV fic, Flowers for the Emperor.

@w3-4r3-th3-f1r3 said

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH OH MY GOD GUYS GUYS THE FLOWERS OH MY GOD

OHHHH MY GOD I LOVE THE IDEA OF THE WHOLE FLOWER LANGUAGE BEING WRAPPED UP IN FOLK HISTORY SO MUCH

AND THAT POOJA COULD RECOGNIZE AND UNDERSTAND IT BECAUSE SHZ KNEW THE STORIES THATS SOMETHING THAT MAKZS MY RESEARCH-HAPPY HEART FUCKING SOAR I SWEAR TO GODDDDD

and Leia’s line, “and we’ll have flowers”.. I PUNCHED THE AIR SO HARD I HURT MY ELBOW BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I HEAR HER SAY THAT CLZAR AS DAY IN MY HEAR. AND IT WAS GLORIOUS

Thank you! :) Apparently the moral of this story (and arguably the entire DAV universe) is that it pays to be a nerd. The revolution is fought (and won) with folk tales and poetry and flowers.

@threadsketchier said

  #I HAVE NEVER HIT REBLOG SO HARD IN MY LIFE    #i'm so thirsty for naberrie family fics  #& my thirst is slaked  #night: made  #crack!fic goals  #majestic    #*flaming elmo gif*  #it's ok that we're still not at bespin   #because we get more quality content like this   #the family that slays together  #say it with flowers  #that may be my new tag for this lol  #lastly  #YAAAASSSSSSSSSS

Ha ha thanks. :) This fic basically turned into a vehicle for all my Naberrie headcanons, with a side of double agent Vader shenanigans, so I’m glad you enjoyed that.

Also “say it with flowers” sounds like a catchy advertising slogan and now I’m picturing Darth Vader doing TV ads, so thanks for that.

@miriannemiri said

fabulous!  absolutely fabulous!  the way he told her to get out was fabulous  and just all the inside jokes possible with this  and the way he almost tested her the first time!  Also   as someone who used flower language in literary analysis while getting my master's   this just tickles me   fabulous addition 

Oh my goodness, I’m delighted to get a seal of approval from somebody who actually knows flower language!

I imagine the scene just after the end of the fic is Pooja telling Ryoo all about the different bouquets, and Ryoo cracking up laughing at each one.

@themoosejthm said

#A NEW FIC  #AND IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD  #READ THE THING  #ALSO THAT FAM REUNION IS GOING TO BE AWKWARD AS FUCK  #we also see more of Anakin being an awkward duck and just...swanning away from conversations midway through them  #the language of flowers on naboo is also a thing of beauty  #also it was really beautiful how present Padme was in this piece even though she's been dead for years  #just...FIA AT IT AGAIN WITH THE GOOD FIC   

Yessss, I’m so glad people are commenting on awkward turtleduck Anakin. He’s so awkward, but he gets away with it because people are so terrified that they think he’s being intimidating, when in fact he just...doesn’t know how to end a conversation.

Padme keeps popping up in dreams and memories because the idea of writing a story without her in it at all is just too terrible to contemplate.

@stereden said

#when someone who married into your culture knows your flower language better than you Palpatine it may be time to admit that you're an idiot #can I just say how much I adore the idea of Ekkreth basically telling Palpatine TO HISFACE that he's acting against him and will kill him #FOR PADME #and using Padme's culture to do so #imagine Anakin and Padme spending time together and Padme teaching him about Naboo and her traditions #and Anakin tells her stories of Tatooine #because for all that he hates the planet and what it represents #he learned a lot there #and in his darkest hours it's those lessons he remembers and uses to free himself #one story at a time #one bouquet at a time 

Thank you for these lovely tags!

Palpatine is a Serious Galactic Political Force, the inane superstitions and provincial traditions of villagers and slaves do not concern him.

By the time Pooja sees her first bouquet, Anakin’s been sending them for several years already and got his delivery down to a science, but I think the first time he sent the flowers he actually thought that Palpatine would be able to read them, and he fully expected his Master to take his anger out on him, even if he didn’t suspect Vader as the sender. Anakin was just too depressed to care. But then to his surprise it turned out that Palpatine couldn’t read the secret language of his own people (which, to an Anakin who’s now thinking largely in Tatooine terms, is practically a moral judgment itself). And once he knew he could get away with it, he got really into it.

Both Pooja and Anakin think of the bouquets as Padme’s flowers, though for different reasons.

kiralamouse said

Y’all, if you aren’t reading Double Agent Vader, you’re missing out. It’s fractally beautiful, the little details mirroring the big picture mirroring the middle-ground means, that injustice must be shattered (and shall be, by the reassembled broken bits reforged into immutable objects). Also, secret admirer flowers being secret death threats. Details.

#best au  #incidentally thanks fia for the fact that i can no longer not see your religious worldbuilding in canon  #no seriously thanks  #this fills the hole so perfectly that canon has yet to contradict

Thank you so much for this really beautiful image, wow. I’m flustered.

Also delighted that you like the Tatooine culture. :)

@thecookiemonster77 said

#!!!!!!!!!! #EEEEEEEEE DAV UPDATE!!!!! :DDDDDDD #IM YELL #I love ani what a nerd #*enters conversation* *doesn't know what to do* #*scuttles away* #same ani #same #but also!!!!!!! padmes family!!!!!! pooja!!!!!!!!!!!! #and flower fic!!!!!! #I'm so excited the hate bouquets became an official part of this installment omg #ani u nerd #I'm just. so in love w how they throw their disdain in palatines face #literally #like???? I just love their resistance and how they take whatever humor they can get #and!!!!!! using tales and flowers for rebellion!!!!!!!!!!! #dex as a part of the rebellion!!!!!!!!! #ITS WONDERFUL 

:D I’m so glad people enjoyed awkward!Vader because honestly, he’s so much fun. A giant terrifying nerd. Someday in the future, once a lot of things have come out, Pooja is going to tease him so hard about this.

There’s an old saying that the thing that infuriates the Devil most is being laughed at. I feel like that’s true for Palpatine, as well. Of course, right now he doesn’t realize he’s being laughed at, but there’s a certain satisfaction in that, too. And it keeps people going. Laughter is important for a rebellion.

Also I am literally incapable of not name-dropping Dex at some point in my AUs, so the biggest surprise here is that he took so long to show up.

@fairandfatalasfair said

This was fantastic.

I love the parallel between Ryoo’s research and the traditional stories of Naboo, ignored because how could romantic poetry be relevant? and the insignificant folk stories that inspired Anakin’s change of alleigance.

I love the awkward conversation between Pooja and Anakin, and her complete unpreparedness for being questioned on the floral arrangements by the emperor’s right hand. (I’m not totally sure whether he’s reminding her not to give away the joke, or just checking whether she shared her aunt’s interest in flower language, or something else entirely, but regardless it’s a delightful exchange.)

I love the flower Pooja leaves behind - a last message for the emperor. It’s so in keeping with the rest of what we see of her in this, very different in tone from the gloating, personal hatred of Vader’s bouquets. That principled declaration of unflinching intent to see democracy victorious, hidden in something fragile and beautiful and insignificant, is exactly what she’s been doing here all along. And Palpatine will never know.

#Stories are important

#And everyone knows this except Palpatine

#I'm not even going to go into the dramatic irony because at this point that's just the defining reality of the AU

#But it's still simultaneously delightful and also killing me

#because Pooja's like inches from putting together who sent the flowers and misses it because it just seems too implausible

#okay maybe I'm going into it a little bit

#anyway beautiful story

Thank you for such an epic comment!

This entire AU is not so secretly centered around the power of stories to inspire and create resistance, so I’m glad people are enjoying that. :)

Also I imagine that to someone like Palpatine, things like flower language and folk tales and poetry are all considered childish and feminine, and therefore unimportant. So there’s a double sense of enjoyment in seeing those things lead to his downfall.

Anakin originally approached Pooja in that awkward exchange because he wanted to see if she really understood the meaning of the flowers - and if that meant he actually had an audience for them now. (Anakin’s a little bit of a showboat, tbh, and he hasn’t really been able to exercise that tendency in a long time. Sending messages to Palpatine that the Emperor can’t understand is satisfying, in its way, but it’s much more satisfying to known someone else does understand.)

Only once he’s confirmed that yes, she definitely can read the message, he has no idea how to end the conversation. So he just kind of...leaves. Like the awkward duck he is.

I’m glad you like Pooja’s flower at the end. :) And the important difference, ultimately, between her (and Leia) and Anakin. Anakin’s doing this in some sense for Padme - she loved the Republic so he’ll fight to bring it back - but ultimately, he still doesn’t really believe in the ideal of the Republic, and democracy is still a pretty meaningless concept to him. He’s out for a personal revenge, and he is actually invested in the Tatooine revolution, but the Rebellion as an organization is a lot more abstract to him.

Pooja, though, is really Padme’s ideological heir, even if she’s crafted her public image to be Padme’s opposite. She is fighting for democracy, for a core set of principles, for the ideal of the Republic she genuinely hopes to create.

@astudyinimagination said

#dammit uncle ani pls talk to your niece like a normal person#honestly when everything finally comes out this is going to be the most awkward family reunion in history#in other news#yes that is a washington post reference#i couldn’t resist#and of course the naboo have multiple flowers representing democracy#of course they do#the lyane rose is the flower padme’s parade dress in tpm is made to look like#also i’m continuing my one person campaign to write fema baab as a master spy#in all universes apparently#and finally it’s possible the bits with mon mothma at the end#conflict in minor ways with rogue one

Well, for starters, this is an AU so if anybody minds that it conflicts with Rogue One, that’s just… silly. (And I adored the movie and I ain’t bothered. ;) )

YES ANAKIN TALK TO YOUR NIECE AND DON’T BE SO RUDE. PADME IS PROBABLY FACEPALMING. HONESTLY, ANAKIN.

And what I probably should have started this sort-of review with is that I’m SO GLAD that one tumblr post snowballed into something that made you want to write something as glorious as this. Thank you so much for actually doing it!

AND POOJA IS SO AMAZING. I just… I love the potential of Padme’s nieces as characters. I bet they were amazing. <3 And I love the way you flesh out the Naberries. *gives them all some much-needed hugs*

Oh yes, and the way that this fic is predominantly female characters is lovely. That’s always a plus. :) (Mon Mothma was great. I loved her. And she’s totally enjoying the knowledge that Darth Vader sent an important message through flowers. :D )

I love Pooja’s assessment that Palpatine had never forgiven Padme for being a better person and not being as ambitious as he was. That’s great. :D

I love Leia and Pooja being friends (oh my gosh, they’re cousins and they don’t even know it and cousins who are good friends is a thing I love). And Leia being so gleeful about her bestie’s symbolic shenanigans is wonderful. (I just… it’s odd, maybe, but I just feel like Leia and Anakin are sort of besties—they have a lot that they share with each other that they can’t share with anyone else. They’re unknowingly biological father and daughter, basically adoptive father and daughter… and they’re besties. And that makes me so happy. :) )

“One day we’ll tell all the stories again. And we’ll have flowers.” —I LOVE THIS LINE.

I have to admit, I wouldn’t have thought that there could be a purge of Senators when the Senate is abolished, but it makes sense. And honestly, that part was truly scary in a way that I haven’t felt from any fics in a long time. Maybe because it was a little more real? Pooja’s amazing, but she’s not Force-sensitive and she doesn’t exactly have the Skywalker luck to get out of Situations. (Heck, maybe it even connected with some old recurring nightmares of mine subconsciously, now that I think about it.) That was genuinely scary. *shivers*

So thank goodness Anakin could give Pooja that message, and thank goodness Pooja and her handmaidens and her family got safely away! Here’s hoping she and Anakin saved a lot of lives!

Oh my goodness this comment is epic! :)

Anakin’s always had an awkward streak, but combined with the additional awkwardness of interacting with someone he hasn’t seen in years, who happens to think he’s dead and to be terrified of the person she thinks he is...and then on top of that the realization that, having determined she can indeed read the flower message, he has no idea where to take the conversation next.... Welp. Better to just nope on out of there.

(Also Darth Vader is frequently awkward in the movies and I feel like fandom doesn’t talk about that enough, so I’m on a quest to write awkward!Vader as often as possible.)

I’m glad you enjoyed all my Naberrie headcanons! I had lots of fun with them and I really need to write them more.

Mon Mothma was great. I loved her. And she’s totally enjoying the knowledge that Darth Vader sent an important message through flowers. :D 

She so is. Honestly she’s probably hoping for The Reveal just so she can finally tell people this ridiculous but true story.

I love Pooja’s assessment that Palpatine had never forgiven Padme for being a better person and not being as ambitious as he was. That’s great. :D 

Thanks! I suspect Pooja is right on the money, too, though of course she doesn’t know that Palpatine also has the joy of tormenting Anakin with his endless parties on the anniversary of Padme’s death. But I think he’d have done the same thing even without Anakin, because he really did hate Padme on her own account.

Pooja and Leia already having a pretty close friendship is going to make at least one part of The Reveal easier. And yeah, I think Leia and Anakin do see each other primarily as friends, with a father-daughter dynamic because it’s a friendship with that level of age gap. It’s not unlike the relationship between Shmi and Anakin, actually: a parent-child relationship that’s really a partnership, a relationship between equals. Leia calls Anakin her teacher, and he does consider her his student (though he’s never actually used that language), but the relationship doesn’t look anything like any teacher-student relationship in his experience. He’s not her master, and neither of them have ever called her his apprentice. He doesn’t give her orders. He doesn’t tell her not to ask questions. They’re friends.

My headcanon for this ‘verse is that the entire Senatorial contingent of the Rebellion got out before Palpatine dissolved the Senate, so this operation, at least, was a resounding success. :) And while Palps must think that someone tipped them off, it certainly couldn’t have been Vader, who was light years away chasing down Princess Leia above Tatooine, and who has always hated politicians anyway.

[conepines]

There, sean is not on my arm anymore lolol...

i was thinking about how happy i am to have found him and how getting married feels natural and almost like it’s already a part of my life...and how hard it is for me to share it.

when we started dating, understandably I was really torn about things and it took me awhile to decide it was even an option to consider him realistically even though i did really like so much about him. While most people told me I needed to go for it and we would be perfect together and some at least told me they understood my dilemma and were sorry I had to be in such a position of conflicting ideas...some blatantly encouraged me against going into the relationship. Which again, i do and can still understand that mindset. 

But here is what I don’t understand. Even I went into this thinking, well it isn’t really going to work and at some point we’ll find the impasse and move on like adults and at least we will know why it couldn’t have worked out for us. But as time passed, I realized finding our “impasse” was not necessarily as guaranteed as I thought. I found that even though we have different backgrounds and I would profess faith in God while he would say there could be a God but if so there are too many unanswered questions....that we were coming from a wildly similar moral standpoint that IS based on the teachings of Jesus. Like...principles I’m seeing actual professing Christians ignore or explain away for the sake of image, for the sake of principal. The church feels to me like the ones yelling at Jesus for healing on the sabbath. Today’s Christianity is the one that would put letter over spirit, sabbath over man. The exact bullshit Jesus corrected and blatantly spoke out again over and over. And I know plenty of men like that, but Sean is the one that doesn’t turn a blind eye to the oppressed, and REFUSES to turn a blind eye to the oppressors. Sean is deeply compassionate and too wise to be complacent. Sean is willing to be challenged but firmly convicted of what he believes to be morally right. Even when he wants to do things he knows are shitty he can’t bring himself to do them because his conscience is always so loud. And more often than not, our conversations about the Bible are times when he says “Wouldn’t it make sense if...” or “I just think that...” and then I tell him yeah, actually there is a verse that says that. 

So what is this then? What is it about us that people want me to “be careful” of? I was admonished to “guard my heart”. I literally don’t know what that means anymore. I imagine that’s good advice in the right context but my whole life it has been used in the context of telling me to stop talking to someone who is being vulnerable to me. I’m honestly shocked by how often christians tell me to “be careful” when they are so much more dangerous than any other people I spend time with. Just be careful of this. Just be careful of that person. Be careful of those thoughts. Be careful. 

Like I said...it’s not even like that’s bad advice I guess but the amount of times it comes across as completely subjective robs some power from it. I was talking to a friend of mine and mentioned a mutual friend, and she said “be careful of him.” I was hanging out with him a different time and he said something about her unprompted and then when I didn’t want to gossip he said “Well just be careful of her.” Then I tried to go back to church and was told “be careful of that place”. You people are afraid of everything? Including eachother? 

Anyway Sean and I have been together for almost 2 years now and thinking about how much has changed and how much WE have changed in that time is crazy, it doesn’t feel like that much time has passed and comparing my first impression of him to how well i know him now already feels like comparing obama’s 2008/2016 photos. To see him deal with his darkest days and never waver in his commitment to me is more than inspiring. The comfort we feel sharing silence, sharing space, sharing noise, sharing pain, sharing laughter...it’s all so right. He’s shown me an incredible amount of patience...an incredible amount of respect. I feel like such an obnoxious person, or that most people I’ve known don’t like me anymore, or that i’m too sensitive for even thinking like that, and too self absorbed to be overthinking all of those things, and too judgmental of people that stress me out, and why are there so many of them, and how can anyone take me seriously? I’m a confident person, but being loved by Sean has shown me the parts of myself that are harder for me to confront, much less appreciate. But he always encourages me to work through my feelings and thoughts. 

I’ve also discovered I have reactions similar to PTSD regarding my family. One day we were having a hard conversation about where we were going to live and I started flashing back to how it feels to know how little my family thinks of me, what it’s like to interact with them when they cut me down....and i cried for three hours. I was inconsolable. I could hardly stop sobbing to explain to him what was happening and I was genuinely embarrassed because I did not know how to calm down. At home my mom would literally get angry at me for crying, or tell me I was “playing the victim” or accuse me of putting on the waterworks to make my dad feel bad for me and pit them against eachother. At home, feelings were not to be trusted because they were trying to trick you- fact and emotion don’t mix. At home if you want anyone to take you seriously you have to stay calm and present everything like a court case, everything worded exactly the right way or they take your misstep and run around you in circles. One shot to say it right and it has to be quick. If you take too long to do this, they are impatient and yell at you for being a deer in headlights. 

Sean waits if I’m overwhelmed. Sean tells me it makes sense that I can’t stop crying and I shouldn’t try to hold it in. Sean rubs my back and lets me sob and stare until I can figure out my own thoughts. Sean reminds me how strong I am and how much I’ve proven that I can accomplish, and how gentle and kind I can be. Sean doesn’t get hung up on the things that make my family think I’m annoying and stupid, he genuinely sees value in me and he doesn’t even have to tell me that for me to know it. 

I don’t know how much more energy I have to write or where I’m going with this at this point. I just feel like I haven’t been proclaiming to the world very much that sean and I are getting married, because I don’t want their input. I don’t want any of the people that give me the most canned advice and show me the most conditional love to tell me why I should “be careful” of someone who has proven their commitment to me in ways I never expected. I feel so safe with him. I never want to leave.  

[senyoun]

[Delayed Affection] Ch.1: Witnesses of Time

Fandom: One Piece

Relationships: Roronoa Zoro / OC

Tags: ANGST!, Unhealthy Friendship, Unhealthy Relationship, Therapy sessions, OC´s, Toxic Relationship, Depressions, Anxiety, later on smut

Word Count: 2.298

I jump onto the Angst-train guys.  You can also find this fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17509382/chapters/41244938

"Scars are the witnesses of time. They will follow you all your life and make you remember your mistakes."

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"Tell me about your past friendship with Ms. Reynolds, Lienna."

Sitting in the comfortable but cold leather chair the young woman starred into her hands she folded and unfolded nervously. She eyed the woman seated across from her carefully and somehow pleading, maybe she would change her question to something more... comfortable. It was obvious that sooner or later Dr. Robin would address the difficult topics and Meg, or how the therapist called her, "Ms. Reynolds" was such a topic she would rather avoid talking about. By merely hearing that woman´s name lots of different and also opposing emotions started to boil up inside of her.

"Didn´t we already go through that? There is not much to talk about it anyway. We were best friends until I realised I was nothing more than a tool for her. She used me to make herself look better in front of others. She´s a slu-"

"Ah, ah, language, Lienna. We are civilized and won´t put ourselfs on the same level as the people who hurt us." Dr. Robin interfered and after murmuring a quiet ´Sorry´, Lienna continued: "She is... a woman who enjoyed snatching the things I wanted right under my nose. When I told her about a dress I thought of pretty, she bought it to herself 2 days later. When I wanted to get a new haircut, she got it first. And do you know what the worst is? She always surpassed me. The dress I liked, she was stunning in it. The haircut? She rocked it better than I ever could. All I aimed for, she was always first and better in it than me." Lienna didn´t know when she started to get mad or when she began to clench her fists into the leather seat. She hated herself for letting that get so close to her since she now knew what kind of person Meghan was.

Putting her pen on the lips the raven-haired therapist thoroughly observed her client. "You were saying "what the worst is". Do you still consider her as superior?"

Shooting her gaze to the therapist as if she was caught off guard, Lienna nearly gasped at that question. "Of course not!" She hesitated and bit her lip before going on, "But I can´t deny that she still has something, someone I wanted so much. She could´ve taken everything from me. All the clothes, all the things. But she decided to take him as well. And that is what will make her always superior to me. Also because he chose her since, again, Meghan was faster than me."

"You are talking about Zoro, right? I assume you are trying to avoid any thought of him, is that the reason why you refuse to use his name?" And after Lienna nodded sadly Robin added: "But what strikes me as odd: I learned a lot about Zoro´s character from your previous stories. You are still not ready to talk about him directly, but to me it doesn´t make sense how he could even fall for someone as Ms. Reynolds?"

Lowering her head, Lienna starred at her thighs. She lost a lot of weight in these past 5 years, hunger simply wasn´t present and in the first months all nutrition she took to herself was puked out some hours later. Instead her alcohol consumption increased a lot but thankfully she started to get slowly rid of this unhealthy habit. "Meghan has a really unique talent: She wraps everyone around her finger. She is very good at manipulating people, I mean, I am the prime example, right? Even headstrong and cautious people like him are an easy prey for her."

Satisfied with the answer, Dr. Robin started a different topic. "Tell me how you met Ms. Reynolds."

Taking a deep breath and collecting all the courage she had Lienna started to speak.

Now that she stood in front of the still closed classroom door, the young girl´s anxiety reached a new high and restlessly she plucked on the hem of her skirt. Today was Lienna´s first day at the East Blue Middle School and she would prefer to just sink into the ground than going into the -with lots of strangers filled- classroom. But she promised her mom to not cause any problems and she really didn´t want to upset her, so when the teacher opened the door and winked her in, Lienna held her breath and stepped in.

It was lunch break when she approached Lienna. The brown-haired girl was wearing twin-tails which fell over her shoulder and on the desk she was supporting herself with. She starred down at the blue-eyed girl with a big smile. "Hi, I´m Meghan but you can call me Meg. Welcome to Class 1-C! I hope we can be good friends in the future!"

"I swear to god maths is killing me. Who needs something as useless and overly complicated as Integrals? I mean where in daily life would you need that anyway?" Meghan was walking besides Lienna sighing painfully. She pushed out her big chest annoyed. The whitette giggled slightly. "You only have to know it for the exams, after that you can just forget about it." Upon hearing those words Meghan swayed with her hips. "I can´t wait to get out of school and into university." She turned to Lienna. "And I can´t wait for us to move into our own apartment, we´re gonna be the coolest commune on the campus! Also..." Meghan licked her lips seductively. "... I can´t wait to lay my eyes and fingers on the boys." Now it was Lienna´s turn to sigh. "As long as you don´t forget to keep studying." The Brunette grinned. "That´s what I have you for, Lia. You will help me out if I need you, right?" Her gaze was intense and after some moments Lia answered. "S-sure."

Dr. Robin listened carefully and occasionally wrote something in her notebook. "I see. Did the friendship start to crumble when Zoro came into your lives? Or did something happen before?" She shifted in her seat and eyed Lienna carefully waiting for a reaction.

The Doc was a tall and beautiful women with long, black hair and hazel eyes which gave off a friendly and warm feeling. She was someone you know you can trust and can talk to. When Lienna first came into her practice for her first session she immediately felt that she could even entrust her darkest secrets to this woman, hell, the Doc would most likely even join her for a murder. Sometimes, when topics became rather difficult for Lienna to talk about, Dr. Robin knew exactly what buttons to push to make the Whitette spill what she wanted to know. The sessions were rough with her but Lienna was thankful for the Doc´s direct attitude. Dr. Robin doesn´t talk things pretty, she states out even the most uncomfortable facts and it was not unusual that Lienna started to cry like a baby in some of the sessions.

"I honestly don´t know. I mean, when we went through puberty both of us changed, I guess. She became more and more confident since her body was pretty well developed and she has always been popular with the boys. And I... well I just became more..."

"... submissive? Obeying?" Dr. Robin ended her sentence.

Lienna stayed silent and played around with her hands again. She couldn´t deny the truth of it as much as it hurt and before she could think of anything to reply to the Doc, latter spoke again.

"Where you scared of her? Were you afraid of the things she eventually could´ve done to you if you disobeyed?"

Shrugging, the younger woman impatiently pulled at her fingers. She knew that the Doc studied her body language just as much as her verbal answers so there was no need to actually say something. Closing her eyes and smiling softly, Dr. Robin stood up. "I think we made good progress today." Walking over to Lienna who also raised from her chair, the black-haired woman placed a hand on her clients shoulder in a soothing way. "Let´s continue there next week, shall we?"

------------

While she was sitting in the tram on her way to the office Lienna thought about Dr. Robin´s last words.

´Where you scared of her?´

She was. After they moved into their shared apartment, Meghan started to finalise her authority over Lienna and she was at her mercy, not able to do anything. And when he became part of their lives it only got worse since Lienna didn´t want to give Meghan any area she could attack and in front of him she also wanted to leave a good impression. She wondered what he thought really of her, did he only see her as the friend of his girlfriend all this time? Did he consider her as friend of him? Geez, she hated the post-session hours. Her thoughts went completely on rampage and made her forget her principles, for example to waste as less thoughts as possible on him. It only hurt her in the end and caused her sleepless nights she spend with crying into her pillow.

When the robot-like voice announced the trams arrival at Blue Water Station, Lienna forced herself back into reality and made her way to the exit. From here on it would only be a good 10-minute walk to her workplace and some fresh air would help lifting her spirits, even if it was just for a bit. Though she had to admit, the work at the Galley-La Company really did help a lot coping with her anxieties and depressions.

The Galley-La Company became famous in the 17th century as one of the largest ship-building companies in the city. To adapt to the industrialization they changed their business model to architecture. And nowadays the company is responsible for most of the buildings which were built in the vast city. When Lienna finished University and passed her exams she took the chance to apply for the assistance job the company was offering. Not only was this a huge step in her career, it was also her long-awaited possibility to leave. She couldn´t believe it when the chef, Iceburg told her after her interview that she convinced him to be the right choice for it. Especially, since she was directly working under him.

It was also Iceburg that got her on top of Dr. Robins way too long waiting list. Despite trying her best to keep her depressions and anxiety out of her workplace and at home, Lienna one day bursted out in tears when she messed up the model of a new Health Care Center Iceburg was working on. But instead of scolding her, Iceburg helped her out of her panic attack and talked her through it. When some of her colleagues told her that Iceburg treats his employees like his family, there weren´t exaggerating.

Waving to the twin-receptionists Mozu and Kiwi, Lienna went to the elevators, which carried her to the floor where her office was. The elevator was entirely empty besides her and especially after sessions she was happy to just listen to the lame elevator music before the turmoil of daily life comes haunting her. Stepping out of the elevator she was greeted by a tall, blonde man who looked way too stressed for his own good. "Morning, Paulie, going for a smoke?" The addressed man sighed exhausted and scratched the back of his head. "Morning, Lienna. Don´t ask, it´s only 10 am and I´m already done with everything and everyone for the day. We have way too much work. Anyway, see you later at lunchtime." Poor man, being Iceburgs head-engineer surely was an exhausting job since that man could come up with some really crazy stuff which Paulie had to put into reality.

"Good Morning! How is Robin doing?" Someone approached her as soon as she stepped through the door of the main office. Iceburg was leaning against Kalifa´s desk and both looked up when they heard someone entering. Before answering, Lienna took off her coat and placed her handbag on her desk. "I think she´s doing good. She doesn´t really talk about herself, so her private life is more or less a mystery to me. But she seemed to be happy with the progress we made today, so..." The Whitette shrugged but Iceburgs eyes lightened up, he came over to her and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. "That sounds really good, I´m happy for you!" Kalifa who still sat on her desk adjusted her glasses and narrowed her eyes: "Direct body contact without getting permission of the employee, thats sexual harrassment." she stated bluntly and Iceburg shuddered upon her words. Lienna though waved it off. "It´s fine, Kalifa."

The following hours went by without any exciting events. She finished transfering some paper-plans to the computer and constructed the 3D-Model for it and during lunch time she tried to take part into some daily conversations her colleagues held. It was around 5 p.m. when she decided to call it a day and made her way home. Saying her goodbye´s to Iceburg and Kalifa who both tended to work until late in the evening -damn workaholics-, Lienna stepped out of the large building and instantly pulled her warm scarf deeper into the face. The late afternoons really started to get cold and if not for the city lights everything would´ve been engulfed in darkness.

Drawing a comparison, Lienna decided that it has been a good day. Sure, her early morning session with Dr. Robin has been exhausting, but her work and the constant but somehow cute bickering between Iceburg and Kalifa made up for it. She managed to eat most of her lunch and drank a lot of water and as soon as she came home she would take a nice relaxing bath and end the day with a good book. She smiled, her nose and cheeks slightly red from the cold she strolled out of the tram station which was closest to her apartment.

Lienna just turned around the corner when she saw him standing there. And the whole world seemed to freeze. With a pale face and wide eyes she starred at him, frozen at her spot, talking to two men which seemed to be his friends. There goes her good mood. She wanted to run away or hide but the sheer sight of him turned her legs into stone and she was unable to move. Her heart hammered in her chest and cold sweat made its way down her spine and set off a weird contrast to her bodyheat. She tried to calm her breathing as the Doc taught her, else she would run into the danger of hyperventilating and just as she closed her eyes to soothe herself and opened them again, their gazes met.

Over the range of approximately 15 meters blue eyes looked into grey ones which looked more surprised than shocked. She saw his, still so kissable, lips moving but the chattering and traffic noises of the environment made it impossible for her to hear his words. Not that she wanted to hear them. She wanted to get away, as far away as possible, somewhere where she doesn´t have to see him, even though, at the same time, there was nothing more she wanted. He gestured something to his friends and started to move towards her with fast steps. That´s when reality finally woke up her senses and her legs seemed to function again. She turned around and dived into the sea of people, desperately trying to escape his gaze and his entire being before he could even reach out to her.

Closing the door to her apartment behind her she sank down to her knees, trying to catch her breath. She practically ran all the way to her apartment, taking small detours to stay out of sight. Thank God that man had a way too bad sense of orientation.

Why is he here?

This question kept echoing in her head and only when she felt her face being wet, Lienna realised she had started to cry uncontrollably. With shaking deep breaths she tried again to calm herself and after a while she was able to stand up, take off her shoes and coat and pulling out her phone to dial Dr. Robins number with shivering fingers.

-------------

"Oi, you have been searching now for nearly an hour, Zoro. She´s gone." The raven-haired man slapped him on the back, trying to compensate his friend. "Shit! I never expected her to be here out of all places. And damn, she´s fast. I need to find her, Luffy!" Zoro gasped between his heavy breaths and braced the hands on his knees. The man named ´Luffy´raised an eyebrow. "What´s your relation with her, anyway?" The Greenette erected himself and sternly looked into the distance where Lienna had run off to. "She is the one I should´ve choosen instead."

[katsindiebookblog]

I love both covers – so I posted both 🙂 Its no secret that Nalini is my Favourite Author, and I am happy to say I wasn’t disappointed with the new Arc in the Psy-Changling world, The Trinity storyline has gotten off to a great start with Silver Silence, check out my review below.

Blurb

New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh returns to herextraordinary Psy-Changeling world with a story of wild passion and darkest betrayal…

Control. Precision. Family. These are the principles that drive Silver Mercant. At a time when the fledgling Trinity Accord seeks to unite a divided world, with Silver playing a crucial role as director of a worldwide emergency response network, wildness and chaos are the last things she needs in her life. But that’s exactly what Valentin Nikolaev, alpha of the StoneWater bears, brings with him.

Valentin has never met a more fascinating woman. Though Silver is ruled by Silence–her mind clear of all emotion–Valentin senses a whisper of fire around her. That’s what keeps him climbing apartment buildings to be near her. But when a shadow assassin almost succeeds in poisoning Silver, the stakes become deadly serious…and Silver finds herself in the heart of a powerful bear clan.

Her would-be assassin has no idea what their poison has unleashed…

Buy Links

Publisher ~ Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Kobo ~ B&N – Audible

Review

Silver Silence by Nalini Singh

Kat’s rating: 5 of 5 stars

Valentin…

I didn’t think someone could knock the Cats off my top Changling group but the bears are gaining ground!

Nalini will have your heart on stop go mode as you read, I had a brief breakdown in the middle of the office break room (trying not to outwardly cry while my heart was breaking at the situation Silver and Valentin end up in) and then had to wait 3 more excruciating hours till I could get home and continue to read, and I did last night, finishing up at about 1 am.

No spoilers here guys and gals – just a recommendation that this book goes to prove that Nalini Singh deserves my top Author spot on my bookshelf.

I will be re-reading before the next book is published. The first 15 books have been my go-to re-read series, followed closely by a binge of Guild hunters.

If I had to pick a series to be a castaway on a desert island for 10 years It would be the whole Nalini Paranormal Back Catalogue.

Nalini’s writing and world building are deep, her characters multi-faceted and they delve deep into your heart, This world astounds me as I read and read again and pick up new nuances of information each time.

I know she has a system to keep track of who what where and why, as we got to hear about it when I had the pleasure of meeting Nalini in Auckland at the release of Allegiance of Honour, (going gaga in her presence) I know that once a reader finds Nalini, they become lifelong fans.

I was so pleased that there is this new series as I would be heartbroken if this world stopped evolving… Long may Psy-Changling world continue to the next century!!

And I can’t wait for the next book in this new Trinity ARC.

PS Nalini thanks for not breaking my heart!

View all Kat’s reviews

Favourite Silver Silence Quotes

“This time, his bear stayed quiet, finally getting with the “sneaky like a cat” program. Today” ― Nalini Singh, Silver Silence

“Raw pain scored his insides, but the bear was in agreement with the man: as long as Silver lived, he could take the pain, take the loss that would haunt him always. He had this big body for a reason. It could take a lot of punishment. As long as she breathed, he’d survive. He’d watch over her from afar, and he’d survive because his mate was alive.” ― Nalini Singh, Silver Silence

  Excerpt

Chapter 1

To be a Mercant is to be a shadow that moves with will, with intelligence, with pitiless precision.

—Ena Mercant (circa 2057)

Silver Mercant believed in control. It was what made her so good at what she did—she was never caught by surprise. She prepared for everything. Unfortunately, it was impossible to prepare for the heavily muscled man standing at her apartment door.

“How did you get in?” she asked in Russian, making sure to stand front and center in the doorway so he wouldn’t forget this was her territory.

Bears had a habit of just pushing everything out of their way.

This bear shrugged his broad shoulders where he leaned up against the side of her doorjamb. “I asked nicely,” he replied in the same language.

“I live in the most secure building in central Moscow.” Silver stared at that square-jawed face with its honey-dark skin. It wasn’t a tan. Valentin Nikolaev retained the shade in winter, got darker in summer. “And,” she added, “building security is made up of former soldiers who don’t understand the word ‘nice.’” One of those soldiers was a Mercant. No one talked his way past a Mercant.

Except for this man. This wasn’t the first time he’d appeared on her doorstep on the thirty-fourth floor of this building.

“I have a special charm,” Valentin responded, his big body blocking out the light and his deep smile settling into familiar grooves in his cheeks, his hair an inky black that was so messy she wondered if he even owned a comb. That hair appeared as if it might have a silken texture, in stark contrast to the harsh angles of his face.

No part of him was tense, his body as lazy-limbed as a cat’s.

She knew he was trying to appear harmless, but she wasn’t an idiot. Despite her offensive and defensive training, the alpha of the StoneWater clan could crush her like a bug, physically speaking. He had too much brawn, too much strength for her to beat him without a weapon. So it was as well that Silver’s mind was a ruthless weapon.

“Why did you need to see me at seven in the morning?” she asked, because it was clear he wasn’t going to tell her how he kept getting past her security.

He extended a hand on which sat a data crystal. “The clan promised EmNet a breakdown of the small incidents we’ve handled over the past three months.”

Those “small incidents” were times when Psy, humans, or non-clan changelings needed assistance in the area controlled by StoneWater—or elsewhere, when members of the bear clan were close enough to help. As the director of the worldwide Emergency Response Network run under the aegis of the Trinity Accord, Silver was the one who coordinated all available resources—and in this part of the world, that included the StoneWater bears.

Of course, she had no ability to order them to do anything—trying that on a predatory changeling was an exercise in abject failure. But she could ask. So far, the bears had always come through. The data crystal would tell her how many clan members and/or other resources had been required to manage each instance; it would help her fine-tune her requests in the future.

She took the crystal, not bothering to ask why the alpha of the clan had turned up to personally deliver the data.

Valentin liked to do things his way.

“Why does Selenka let you get away with breaching her territory?” The BlackEdge wolves had control over this part of Moscow when it came to changeling access. The city was split evenly between the wolf pack and the bear clan, with the rest of their respective territories heading outward from that central dividing line.

This apartment building fell in the wolf half.

Valentin smiled, night-dark eyes alight in a way she couldn’t describe. “StoneWater and BlackEdge are friends now.”

If Silver had felt emotion, she may have made a face of sheer disbelief. The two most powerful packs in Russia had a working relationship and no longer clashed in violent confrontations, but they were not friends. “I see,” she said, refusing to look away from those onyx eyes.

Predatory changelings sometimes took a lack of eye contact as submissive behavior, even when interacting with non-changelings. Bears definitely took it as submissive behavior. They weren’t exactly subtle about it either. In fact, bears were the least subtle of the changelings she’d met through her work as Kaleb Krychek’s senior aide, and as the head of EmNet.

“What do you see, Starlight?” Valentin asked in his deep rumble of a voice that spoke of the animal that lived under his skin.

Silver refused to react to the name he insisted on calling her. When she’d pointed out he was being discourteous by not using her actual name, he’d told her to call him her medvezhonok, her teddy bear, that he wouldn’t mind. It was difficult to have a rational conversation with a man who seemed impossible to insult or freeze out.

Bears.

She’d heard Selenka Durev say that through tightly clenched teeth on more than one occasion. While Silver’s conditioning under the Silence Protocol remained pristine, her mind clear of all emotion, in the time she’d known Valentin, she’d come to understand the wolf alpha’s reaction. “Thank you for the data,” she said to him now. “Next time, you might wish to consider an invention we in the civilized world call e-mail.”

His laugh was so big it filled the air, filled the entire space of her apartment.

The thought made no sense, yet it appeared like clockwork when Valentin laughed in her vicinity. She’d told herself multiple times that she worked for the most powerful man in the world; Valentin was only a changeling alpha. Unfortunately, it appeared changeling alphas had their own potent brand of charisma. And this bear alpha had a surfeit of it.

“Have you thought about my offer?” he asked, the laughter still in his eyes.

“The answer remains the same,” Silver said as a burn spread through her chest. “I do not wish to go have ice cream with you.”

“It’s really good ice cream.” Smile disappearing, Valentin suddenly shifted fully upright from his leaning position against the doorjamb, the size and muscle of him dangerously apparent. “You doing okay?”

“Quite fine,” Silver said, even as the burn morphed into a jagged spike. Something was wrong. She had to contact—

Author Bio

I was born in Fiji and raised in New Zealand. I spent three years living and working in Japan, where I took the chance to travel around Asia. I’m back in New Zealand now, but I’m always plotting new trips. If you’d like to see some of my travel snapshots, have a look at the Travel Diary page.

I’ve worked as a lawyer, a librarian, a candy factory general hand, a bank temp and an English teacher, but not necessarily in that order. Some might call that inconsistency, but I call it grist for the writer’s mill.

Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Website ~ Instagram

Review: Silver Silence By Nalini Singh @Nalinisingh I love both covers - so I posted both 🙂 Its no secret that Nalini is my Favourite Author, and I am happy to say I wasn't disappointed with the new Arc in the Psy-Changling world, The Trinity storyline has gotten off to a great start with Silver Silence, check out my review below.

[garynsmith]

How I had to change to increase diversity at Redfin

http://ift.tt/2pToSdP

Reposted with permission from Glenn Kelman.

I realized my company had to change after talking to an African-American woman who’d just quit Redfin. When I asked her what it was like being black at Redfin, she simply said “lonely.”

I wish all the people engaged in culture wars and political-correctness debates could have been there to tell me what I should have told her then.

She didn’t judge the company based on our diversity efforts; she experienced it based on our actual diversity, as one of a small number of African Americans in our Seattle office.

It was easy to decide then that I had to change the company because I hadn’t yet realized how much I’d have to change myself.

This essay describes those changes, personal and organizational, but it isn’t aimed at the diversity advocates. It’s for the people in my seat, the ones accountable for delighting customers and generating profits, who will lose our jobs and our identities if our businesses don’t grow at a berserk rate.

Redefine hard core

The unholy power we draw on in our darkest hours as an entrepreneur is not our intelligence or creativity, but the intensity of our work ethic.

Our companies are fighting for their lives against giants with more money and people. Often there’s a billion-dollar prize at stake. Once our survival seems assured, we never quite get over what we went through, and we never want to get over it. What we fear most is becoming as complacent as the companies we’ve challenged.

But in many startups, this pressure to work hard is so overwhelming it becomes a form of aggression against anyone with other commitments, including people with children and aging parents.

It follows you into the bathroom and down into the parking garage. It’s why startups are often run by a cadre of young men, single or married to stay-at-home spouses.

When a Redfin team slipped a deadline, I used to ask why their offices were empty at 6 p.m. Our chief technology officer, Bridget Frey, has been militant in objecting to such questions on principle. “You want to know where they are?” she said. “They’re picking up their kids from daycare, just like you.”

Bridget suggested an alternative performance criterion: results. We invested in measurement systems that an entry-level engineer could access on her own at 9 p.m.

It took a year to warehouse data from across the business in one place, to figure out which metric to assign to each team, and to train the team on how to move it.

But it was worth it. Since the two of us embraced this approach four years ago, I’ve stopped asking why people aren’t in the office. Redfin’s traffic has accelerated from 26% year-over-year growth to 45% now.

In roughly that same period, the percentage of engineers in Redfin’s Seattle office who are female has grown from 0% to 33%.

Objective measures such as these are the ultimate refuge for people who have faced double standards and moving targets all their lives, but are also the happy place for CEOs eager to have someone else responsible for hitting a number.

I realized this at a dinner with a portfolio manager who was the mother of five. I told her that the macho hedge-fund world would be the last industry I’d want to work in as a mom.

“It’s the best,” she said. “If I worked for you, my career would depend on whether you liked me. Here, I’m judged on my trades. My partners make too much money from my trades to be sexist.” The most convincing arguments for diversity come from the capitalists, not the socialists.

Embrace bureaucracy (the good kind)

Since we at Redfin are coders and customer advocates, not traders, many Redfin promotions are still subjective, but that conversation got me thinking about how to make them less so.

For years I’d resisted writing down the criteria for hiring and promoting employees. I believed that check-box promotions, where people move up by doing everything right except generating results, create a confederacy of do-nothings.

I preferred promoting people based on the manager’s discretion. That changed when another woman left Redfin for a bigger job at another company, without realizing she was about to get promoted at Redfin.

Her manager never knew what the standard process was for promoting her, because there wasn’t one. That left the departing employee to worry about our basic fairness.

No one should have to worry. It’s your job as a manager first to be fair, but also to convince people of your fairness. Fairness, after all, is the starting premise of any collective activity, whether it’s a kickball game or a technology-powered real estate brokerage. And the only way to be fair about a promotion is to write down what it takes and refer to that regularly.

Redfin has documented the promotion criteria for every engineering role above entry level, and for all directors and vice-presidents.

We now require managers to make the case in writing for every promotion, and also, because the process should be rigorous, the case for rejecting or deferring a promotion. These documents overwhelmingly focus on results.

Does all this documentation sound like bureaucratic baloney to you? Well, bureaucracy was originally conceived in 134 BC as one of the foundational innovations of modern society, where Chinese mandarins were chosen based on a civil-service exam rather than by political or family affiliation with the king.

It helped an entire continent avoid the dark ages. Like all great ideas, it spread to the rest of the world. A bit of it should come to the technology industry too.

Train people to be strategic

Board members who decide someone shouldn’t be promoted view promotion criteria as bureaucracy in its worst sense. We often simply conclude “she just doesn’t have it.” I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard that phrase, about men and women, from me and others. It sounded innocuous enough, until one day I realized it was the sound of someone’s head hitting a glass ceiling.

But it’s also often a fair assessment. The would-be executive being passed over may chase off-base ideas, or get overwhelmed by the sheer number and ambiguity of projects he or she has to handle at a senior level. Promotion denied.

When our chief technology officer first heard that someone just wasn’t strategic enough, she responded with a question no one had ever asked before: “So what are we going to do about that?” My initial response: nothing. If there’s one belief boards hold sacrosanct, it’s in God-given talent, which it is their job to find, coddle and lavishly overpay. You either have it or you don’t.

But most engineers don’t believe in the kind of God who anoints people for corporate leadership. They believe in humans’ power to make things better, and that includes all things, even other humans. They abhor the waste of writing off one of your most talented employees.

So Bridget and I have worked on a program to train Redfinnians on the un-trainable: how to be strategic. We go through the calendars of up-and-comers to clear time for chasing big ideas.

We expose them to board-meeting materials so they’re ready to contribute, not just listen, the first time they participate. We turn their writing upside down to put their conclusions first. We teach them the business, explaining our technology stack and financial statements, even if it isn’t directly relevant to their jobs.

About half the time, none of this makes a difference. Talent still matters, and the would-be executive really has hit his or her ceiling. But half the time, the person breaks through. And this in turn has increased our money-making capacity.

Redfin could never have launched a mortgage business this year while also building an automatic system for scheduling home tours, because one executive was responsible for both projects.

Fortunately, we’d been developing another executive to take over on-demand tours. Since the new executive is an Asian-American woman, this increased the diversity of our executive team, but we think of that increase in diversity as a means to an end, not an end in itself.

Diversity as a product

We still have a long ways to go to take advantage of all the talent the world has to offer us. This is in part because for years, I focused on short-term results, hiring the folks nearest at hand, elevating the loudest voice in the room.

In Silicon Valley, we talk about the technical debt that piles up from years of hacking in quick-and-dirty features, but we also accumulate debts from such short-sighted business practices. To grow into a great company, with better talent than our competitors, Redfin has to set aside time to pay those debts too.

It has helped to approach diversity at Redfin like other challenges our engineers have to solve, first because it brings a relentless mindset to the problem.

When I hear that there just aren’t enough qualified candidates to diversify Silicon Valley, that the problem is too hard, that it’s not our fault, I try to recall another time when Silicon Valley tried to solve a problem, failed on the first or second try, then resigned itself to defeat.

We’ll increase diversity the same way we solve every other problem: by iterating fast, thinking long-term, trying out risky ideas, valuing progress over perfection, analyzing everything.

This is why at Redfin engineering has taken the lead on rewriting job descriptions, retooling career ladders and recruiting from new sources, developing a prototype for improving diversity beyond engineering in the same way we develop prototypes of our products. We never assume we’ve solved the problem, instead measuring whether we’ve made it better, then fixing another round of bugs to make it better still.

The crazy thing is that I still believe in all the utopian stuff that brought me to the technology industry in the first place. I think Redfin is a work of art. I want it to be a meritocracy and a sea of love, for everyone.

We’re still figuring out how to be a city on the hill, and I’m still figuring out how I need to change to make it so, but this is what has helped us get this far.

Glenn Kelman is the CEO of Redfin, a technology-powered real estate broker. Follow him on Twitter. 

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