#making me think of an old friend/mentor from back in London who had a 5 drug rule for partying

[veenaspakistanlitblog]

Ten Interesting Pakistani Novels

Under the Persimmon Tree by Suzanne Staples (Summary by Amazon)

Najmah, a young Afghan girl whose name means "star," suddenly finds herself alone when her father and older brother are conscripted by the Taliban and her mother and newborn brother are killed in an air raid. An American woman, Elaine, whose Islamic name is Nusrat, is also on her own. She waits out the war in Peshawar, Pakistan, teaching refugee children under the persimmon tree in her garden while her Afghan doctor husband runs a clinic in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan. Najmah's father had always assured her that the stars would take care of her, just as Nusrat's husband had promised that they would tell Nusrat where he was and that he was safe. As the two look to the skies for answers, their fates entwine. Najmah, seeking refuge and hoping to find her father and brother, begins the perilous journey through the mountains to cross the border into Pakistan. And Nusrat's persimmon-tree school awaits Najmah's arrival. Together, they both seek their way home.

2.) The Diary of a Social Butterfly by Moni Mohsin (Summary by Amazon)

This is the hugely entertaining journal of a socialite in Lahore. Pakistan may be making headlines - but Butterfly is set to conquer the world. 'Everyone knows me. All of Lahore, all of Karachi, all of Isloo - oho, baba, Islamabad - half of Dubai, half of London and all of Khan Market and all the nice, nice bearers in Imperial Hotel also...No ball, no party, no dinner, no coffee morning, no funeral, no GT - Get-Together, baba - is complete without me.' Meet Butterfly, Pakistan's most lovable, silly, socialite. An avid party-goer-inspired misspeller, and unwittingly acute observer of Pakistani high society, Butterfly is a woman like no other. In her world, SMS becomes S & M and people eat 'three tiara cakes' while shunning 'do number ka manual. 'What cheeks!' as she would say. As her country faces tribulations - from 9/11 to the assassination of Benazir Bhutto - Butterfly glides through her world, unfazed, untouched, and stopped short only by the chip in her manicure. Wicked, irreverent, and hugely entertaining, "The Diary of a Social Butterfly" gives you a delicious glimpse into the parallel universe of the have-musts.

3.) Maps for Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam (Summary by Amazon)

If Gabriel García Márquez had chosen to write about Pakistani immigrants in England, he might have produced a novel as beautiful and devastating as Maps for Lost Lovers. Jugnu and Chanda have disappeared. Like thousands of people all over England, they were lovers and living together out of wedlock. To Chanda’s family, however, the disgrace was unforgivable.  Perhaps enough so as to warrant murder. As he explores the disappearance and its aftermath through the eyes of Jugnu’s worldly older brother, Shamas, and his devout wife, Kaukab, Nadeem Aslam creates a closely observed and affecting portrait of people whose traditions threaten to bury them alive. The result is a tour de force, intimate, affecting, tragic and suspenseful.

4.) A Season for Martyrs by Bina Shah (Summary by Amazon)

October 2007. Pakistan’s former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto returns home after eight years of exile to seek political office once more. Assigned to cover her controversial arrival is TV journalist Ali Sikandar, the estranged son of a wealthy landowner from the interior region of Sindh. While her presence ignites fierce protests and assassination attempts, Ali finds himself irrevocably drawn to the pro-democracy People’s Resistance Movement, a secret that sweeps him into the many contradictions of a country still struggling to embrace modernity. As Shah weaves together the centuries-old history of Ali’s feudal family and its connection to the Bhuttos, she brilliantly reveals a story at the crossroads of the personal and the political, a chronicle of one man’s desire to overcome extremity to find love, forgiveness, and even identity itself.

5.) Karachi, You’re Killing Me! by Saba Imtiaz (Summary by Amazon)

Ayesha is a twenty-something reporter in one of the world’s most dangerous cities. Her assignments range from showing up at bomb sites and picking her way through scattered body parts to interviewing her boss’s niece, the couture-cupcake designer. In between dicing with death and absurdity, Ayesha despairs over the likelihood of ever meeting a nice guy, someone like her old friend Saad, whose shoulder she cries on after every romantic misadventure. Her choices seem limited to narcissistic, adrenaline-chasing reporters who’ll do anything to get their next story—to the spoilt offspring of the Karachi elite who’ll do anything to cure their boredom. Her most pressing problem, however, is how to straighten her hair during chronic power outages. Karachi, You’re Killing Me! is Bridget Jones’s Diary meets The Diary of a Social Butterfly—a comedy of manners in a city with none.

6.) How It Happened by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Summary by Amazon)

Dadi, the imperious matriarch of the Bandian family in Karachi, swears by the virtues of arranged marriage. All her ancestors including a dentally and optically challenged aunt have been perfectly well-served by such arrangements. But her grandchildren are harder to please. Haroon, the apple of her eye, has to suffer half a dozen candidates until he finds the perfect Shia-Syed girl of his dreams. But it is Zeba, his sister, who has the tougher time, as she is accosted by a bevy of suitors, including a potbellied cousin and a banker who reeks of sesame oil. Told by the witty, hawk-eyed Saleha, the precocious youngest sibling, this is a romantic, amusing and utterly delightful story about how marriages are made and unmade---not in heaven, but in the drawing room and over the phone.

7.) A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Summary by Amazon)

Intrigue and subterfuge combine with bad luck and good in this darkly comic debut about love, betrayal, tyranny, family, and a conspiracy trying its damnedest to happen. Ali Shigri, Pakistan Air Force pilot and Silent Drill Commander of the Fury Squadron, is on a mission to avenge his father's suspicious death, which the government calls a suicide.Ali's target is none other than General Zia ul-Haq, dictator of Pakistani. Enlisting a rag-tag group of conspirators, including his cologne-bathed roommate, a hash-smoking American lieutenant, and a mango-besotted crow, Ali sets his elaborate plan in motion. There's only one problem: the line of would-be Zia assassins is longer than he could have possibly known.

8.) Home Fire: A Novel by Kamila Shamise (Summary by Amazon)

Isma is free. After years of watching out for her younger siblings in the wake of their mother’s death, she’s accepted an invitation from a mentor in America that allows her to resume a dream long deferred. But she can’t stop worrying about Aneeka, her beautiful, headstrong sister back in London, or their brother, Parvaiz, who’s disappeared in pursuit of his own dream, to prove himself to the dark legacy of the jihadist father he never knew. When he resurfaces half a globe away, Isma’s worst fears are confirmed. Then Eamonn enters the sisters’ lives. Son of a powerful political figure, he has his own birthright to live up to—or defy. Is he to be a chance at love? The means of Parvaiz’s salvation? Suddenly, two families’ fates are inextricably, devastatingly entwined, in this searing novel that asks: What sacrifices will we make in the name of love?

9.) She Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by Zeenat Mahal (Summary by Amazon)

Zoella didn’t know whether she was devastatingly happy or happily devastated. Zoella has been in love with Fardeen Malik, her best friend’s gorgeous older brother, since she was ten, but he’s always seen her as a ‘good girl’—not his type—and he can barely remember her name. Besides, he’s engaged to a gorgeous leggy socialite, someone from the same rarefied social strata as the imposing Malik family. In short, Zoella has no chance with him. Until a brutal accident leaves Fardeen scarred and disfigured, that is. Suddenly bereft of a fiancée, Fardeen is bitterly caustic, a shell of the man he used to be, a beast that has broken out of the fairy tale world he once lived in. And a twist of fate lands him his very own beauty—Zoella. This man, however, is a far cry from the Fardeen of her dreams. Stripped of her illusions, Zoella creates her own twist in the fairy tale, beating him at his own game. Order now and read this modern, unusual interpretation of the old-age fairy tale, in which Zeenat explores the themes of love, longing, and arranged marriages.

10.) Undying Affinity by Sara Naveed (Summary by Amazon)

Twenty-two-year-old, Zarish Munawwar, has everything in life she could ever ask for; an elite family, a high profile status, a bunch of good friends and a childhood sweetheart. Being childish, stubborn, imperious, extravagant and a bit impulsive at making important decisions pertaining to her life, is what perfectly describes her overall personality. She takes life easily and can get anything she desires. To her, life is a bed of roses. It is only when she meets, Ahmar Muraad, her mentor and finance professor at university, her perspective towards life completely changes. He looks quite young for his age as every girl at the university thinks he is attractive, seductive, intellectual and rather intimidating. This charming man is every girl's fantasy and Zarish also finds it hard to resist him. But is he fascinated by her? Little did Zarish know how one little interaction could bring about so many twists and turns in her life. After continuous unsuccessful attempts to avoid him, she feels that she is gradually falling for his charm. Ahmar, however, remains oblivious to her feelings. She is ready to abandon her childhood sweetheart for him. Eventually, there comes a time when only he matters to her and nobody else. Awestruck by the sudden revelation, she is dazed to find out that he feels exactly the same for her. Before their love blossoms, a slight tragedy falls into their lives. Zia Munawwar, her father, has some other plans for his daughter. Will Ahmar fight against the world for his lady love or step back? Do not miss this romantic tragedy as it will encapsulate you totally and will stay in your heart forever

[caydesgirl-uldrensprincess]

More about my Warlock

Guardians name: Isabelle Aubrey Brigham

Age: 27

Race: Awoken

Pronouns: She/Her

Class: Warlock

Preferred subclass(es): Void

Ghost's name: Hermoine

Fireteam name: The Sisterhood

Fireteam teammates: Chloe Brask, Tori-3, and Sage Heathcliff

Favorite legendary weapon: The Supremacy

Favorite exotic weapon: Hawkmoon

Favorite exotic armor: Felwinter's Helm

Favorite ornament armor set: Celestial

Favorite weapon ornament: On Ashen Wings

What stats do they focus on: Mobility and Recovery

Are they offense, defence, or support: Support

Do they prefer being close, mid, or long range: Long

Do they lean more "Element of Surprise" or "Upfront and Aggressive": Element of Surprise

Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible: Crucible

Who was their mentor(if they had one. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!): Ikora Rey

What ship do they have: Starfarer 7M

What is their Sparrow: Always on Time

Favorite Ghost shell: Star Map Shell

Favorite shader: Dawn and Dusk

Favorite color: Pink

Favorite food: Italian

Favorite piece of Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any): Her Nook e-book portable reader

Favorite Pre-Collapse music(if they've heard any): Disney and pop

Favorite place in The Last City(if it's a place you created, give a little description!): the giant park in the middle (it's kinda like Central Park in NYC)

Favorite NPC(s): Uldren/Crow, Ikora, Orisis, Saint-14, Shaxx, and Eris

Favorite patrol location: The Dreaming City

5 things your Guardian likes(can be anything): read, cook/bake, dance, sing, and going to Disney

Least favorite food: Kale

Least favorite shader: Indigo Matrix

Least favorite patrol location: Nessus

Least favorite Pre-Collapse tech(if they've seen any):  not really

Least favorite NPC(s): Asher Mir

Least favorite weapon ornament: Bound Hammer

Least favorite ornament armor set: Intrepid

Least favorite legendary weapon: any pulse rifle

Least favorite exotic weapon: Coldheart

Least favorite exotic armor: Sunbracers

5 things your Guardian dislikes(this can be anything): Mess (Isabelle has major OCD),  liars, Spider, Riven, and cats (she's allergic)

Your Guardian has to rest. What is their living space like: A very clean and spotless apartment.

Does your Guardian have any casual wear?:

What hobbies and/or skills does your Guardian have: Cooking, memorizing (she's a walking encyclopedia), and strategy

What would your Guardian's lore book be called: Forbidden

Where was your Guardian reborn?(If you created the location, give us a little description!): London, England

What were they wearing when they were reborn: a blouse, dress shorts for women, and flats

What was their reaction to being reborn: "how is this possible?"

What was their reaction to their first rez: *looking at her ghost* "You can do that?"

After being reborn, did they meet friendlies first or hostiles: Hostiles, Isabelle ran into the Hive

Who was the first other Guardian they met?(Same thing! If you made them, give a little description!): Osiris

Did your Guardian get reborn with, or find, any indication of their past life? If so what do they have/found: no

How did your Guardian get their name(if they didn't rez with past life momentos): Her ghost just knew that her name was Isabelle

Going back to your Guardian's lore book, what would be some some quotes or passages from their book: "I love you, Uldren, unconditionally. Your dark side won't scare me off." "You're my best friend, of course I'm coming with you!" and "Dreams are something that we truly wish, we only need the courage and perseverance to make them come true."

Does your Guardian have a significant other: Uldren/Crow

Did your Guardian go explore first before going to The Last City? If so, where to: Isabelle explored this old library in London, she found so many books that peaked her interest

What was their reaction to first seeing The Last City: "This place is so bloody crowded!"

Is your Guardian a part of a clan: no

Does your Guardian's clan have a back story? If so, what is it?(if you want to or able to share): nope

If your Guardian would have a quote as a flavor text for a weapon and/or piece of armor, what would they be:  "Do you want to know you I call her Belladonna? It's because death is the deadlist poison put there."

If your Guardian has had any interactions with any civilians (The Last City/The Farm), Eliksni, Cabal, Vex, Hive, Taken, Scorn, Rouge Lightbearers, or Iron Lords/War Lords(if your Guardian is an Old Light) tell us about it!: not really, Isabelle prefers books over socializing

Does your Guardian have any unconventional allies or connections(By Vanguard standards): no

How does your Guardian feel about themselves or others using Stasis: Isabelle doesn't like it, she thinks that if guardians use it long enough, it'll start to slowly corrupt their minds.

Did they run The Last Wish raid? How did they react to seeing a live Ahamkara a.k.a Riven: She felt nothing but anger towards Riven, the wish dragon was the reason Isabelle lost Uldren.

Did they run The Deep Stone Crypt raid? How did they react to the Crypt and seeing Exo Eliskni: She thought it was interesting and wanted to know more.

Is your Guardian from D1? How did they react to seeing Taniks alive once again: Yes, Isabelle is from D1, she had to calm Chloe down, but she was equally shocked.

Where did they go and what did they do during The Red War: She helped the children at the Farm calm down by reading them stories like Harry Potter or Percy Jackson

Here are some characters that are either polarizing or have created a strong enough mass emotion within the community. What opinion does your Guardian hold on each of them(These are only a handful of characters!)>>>

Osiris, First Warlock Vanguard, originally exiled: A great friend

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm: A really close friend

Cayde-6, Sixth Hunter Vanguard: A great friend

Ikora Rey, Second Warlock Vanguard: Mentor, teacher, friend

Commander Zavala, Second Titan Vanguard: respect

Saint-14, legendary Titan, First Titan Vanguard: even more respecr

Lord Saladin, Iron Banner handler, One of the last remaining Iron Lords: she does really mind Saladin

Lord Shaxx, Crucible handler, Hero of Twilight Gap, living megaphone: She praises him for the encouragements during Crucible matches

The Crow, New Light, Ex-Enforcer to The Spider: The love of her life, Isabelle would do anything for him.

The Spider, The Shore's Only Law, founder of "House" Spider: She never trusted Spider

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Master of Crows: The love of her life, the first person would made Isabelle feel loved and wanted by someone romantically

Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef, Queen of the Awoken, Ex-Kell of Wolves: Isabelle's Sister-In-Law, she respects Mara

Variks, the Loyal, founder of House Judgement: very good friends

Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of Light, founder of House Light: very good friends

The Exo Stranger/Elizabeth "Elsie" Bray, Granddaughter of Clovis I and Sister to Ana Bray: Isabelle, like Chloe, found Elsie to be closed off and hard to read

Eramis, of House Salvation, Kell of Darkness: Eh, just another day at the office

Empress Caiatl of the Cabal Imperial Empire: Isabelle is weary about her.

Taniks the Scarred, the Perfected, the Abomination, the Shadow Thief: when it comes to this bastard, Isabelle sides with Chloe

The Darkness is fast approaching. How is your Guardian handling it: She nervous, but Isabelle tries to keep a level head

And finally, does your Guardian have any advice for any New Lights: "Out on the battle field things aren't always what they seem, but it's important not to lose sight of what truly matters and that's protecting the Traveler, the Light, and those who can't protect themselves."

[ofcloudsandstars]

Hey, dear! I've missed seeing you on my dash, how are you doing? What would you say your summer has been like? Sending lots of love and good vibes!

Ahhh this is so kind! I hope you have been well too. I am working on September’s forecast but I have been a bit slow since I am tired with some stuff going on. I am working on a sacred geometry virtual gallery for the plant alchemist mentor so I have been dizzy with motion sickness throwing this gallery together before the full moon haha. 

Last week I just got back from the most insane adventure that I may probably get around to writing another endlessly long post about haha. (editing this post, it turns out that THIS has become the endlessly long post about it haha so I am having a read more added). CW: sex details. It may be TMI but I added a warning before lol 

  Anyway I was having this mutual attraction with this italian guy I met through work who ALSO has a venus in Scorpio like me. We were going to go on a date but the world succumbed to The Plague. He returned to Puglia to be with his family as he quit the company and his apartment so he can just chill and live for free while he figures stuff out, but he was flirting with me through text all throughout lockdown and begging me to visit him when it was safer to travel so I was like: Oh yeah?!?!?! And I booked a 5 day long first date/vacation to Puglia to be with him lmaoo. Venus in Scorpio is intense as hell but we just be like that. My close aries witch friend moved to Southern Italy with her BF too for the time being so I was like ok if stuff goes south she can come save me but this guy like took me FARRR AWAY on the southern coast like 3 hours from her omg. He booked beautiful places like old medieval stone villas (omg one place had a wooden four poster bed, a stone fireplace with a cauldron and a huge color-changing hot tub jacuzzi next to the bed lmaoooo) and we ate endless seafood and went to the beach everyday. Only set back is we were NOT SEXUALLY COMPATIBLE at ALL and it’s really sad cause yeah I got his star chart and over analyzed it before going over there but sometimes I doubt myself like ohh not everyone is their starchart to a T, like you should give people a chance. But he was  e x a c t l y  like his star chart.

First he has A LOT of trines like a lot of fire energy which is great. He’s super passionate, but the trines means he is too chill and positive which is nice but it means he has little motivation to do anything. (Think when there are great trine transits happening, it’s FANTASTIC for doing magic and manifesting things but those days the energy is so chill and harmonious you don’t even want to do anything and they can easily pass you by.) Meanwhile my chart?? It’s fucking SQUARES ALL DAY BABEY like Squares, Oppositions and more Squares. I have something called the grand cross on my fucking chart lmao. So that means I overthink, I can get stressed easily, my life soundtrack is just this long anxiety ridden drum and base background music as I fucking parkour through endless obstacles of racism, sexism, gender identity, fleeing the states cause it’s becoming a totalitarian government, learning a bunch of european languages and skills in case I gotta flee england next, thinking about the future, thinking about my actions in the present, thinking about how I can learn from the wounds of my past, lmao everything is thought about at least 1000 times. I also have a lot of Saturn energy my chart is Saturn dominant so there is a lot of planning, structure and organizing to me. Meanwhile since he is hosting he never has a plan and is always ‘go with the flow’ so sometimes it makes me nervous cause the first place he booked was some GHETTO sex motel that looked like sex traffic was happening in there and I was in the middle of no where with him and I was nervous like praying to the Spirits of Nature and Venus to help me work this out haha. But it was ok. 

His life is so easy cause he’s like a handsome italian man with a mom that wants him to live at home with her until he finds a wife to mommy him. He never has to do any house work or really any work at all cause his parents will support him cause that’s normal in Italy. Honestly if I got with him I would never get that same treatment I would also be hauling ass in the background to cater to him and our kids until the day I die. He also doesn’t really understand what it’s like to be of a group of people ostracized by society. He is a hot cishet white man and has a whole community of good friends and a mom to support him with whatever he does.

He’s also like really traditional and was raised Christian. I told him I was a witch and he was like ohhhhhhhmyGOddddddd and thought it was fucking weird haha and I was like: YOU NEVER NOTICED ME AND ROXANNE (my aries witch friend who moved to Italy who literally wears massive metal pentagrams everyday) ARE WITCHES?! And he was like: I do not know about this haha. 

Lastly about his starchart which worried me when I first reviewed it is that our natal mars are at a square. I mean I have had sex with someone’s Mars in Aries before and it was great but his sex?? Was TERRIBLEEEE!!!!!!!!! TERRIBLEEEEEEEE OHHHH MY GOD. I am going to add a CW for some sex details in case you want to scroll but like: 

--

My Mars is in Cancer so I do like it to be sensual and cuddly with some oral action but he was like so terrible and disgusting and I feel like he probably only slept with girls in his country who may have been traditional like him and never said anything to him cause I am like I dunno how you got away with this for so long having terrible sex like this. Like so grabby and aggressive it fucking hurts like he would have left bruises and I hate that shit like sex is supposed to feel good!! I don’t mind if you grab my ass cause it’s just sacks of fat lol but my boobs have shit in them like glands you can’t be grabbing that!! And sorry this may be TMI but like I’d communicate with him all the spots I’d like him to go to cause they are the most sensitive ones and he’d just ATTACK THEM like some type of police dog sniffing hidden cocaine I am like BITCH CALM DOWN I literally would have to stop him so many times so he wouldn’t hurt me. And he once said: Oh but I like that (being aggressive in bed) and that annoyed me so much I was like: Oh so if you like aggression do you want me to grab and twist your balls in the same way? And he was like: no. lol 

And then his kissing was tErrible. He wouldn’t even start out sensual he would literally just shove his whole tongue in my mouth and it’d be slimy and terrible and tastes like the ash from the weed he’s always smoking and once during sex I bent down to make out with him and he literally just stuck his tongue out in preparation I paused like: NO!!! Like omg he got me so heated I am so heated just typing this lmao. I am also really sensitive with like sensory things and have misophonia so sometimes if certain stimulations are stimulating me the wrong way I get more put off than the usual person and sex is so intimate like every time he grabbed a sensitive part of me I wanted to slap him the fuck back haha. The funniest part though is when I’d give up on him trying to pleasure me (everything was terrible, the fingering was like someone who is in a rush to get the elevator and is jamming the button impatiently; the actual fucking was like.. off beat?? And he could NEVER LAST; he gave me head once but that was interesting I felt like he was trying to karate chop my clit with his tongue lmao I was like please stop omg) I was like fine ok just lie down and I will give you head and we can get this over with.. And when I gave him head for the first time he did not moan or anything he would just say: Mamma Mia!!; and FUCKING HELL it would kill the mood but also I couldn’t concentrate cause I’d be fucking laughing just choking on him laughing like I could NOT. 

-- End sex detail mention lol 

Anyway I am always wary of sex with Mars in Aries people but this experience is going to make me avoid them and have trust issues haha. Anyway I got a lovely free vacation in a beautiful region with incredible food. His friends were nice though my Italian is really terrible and nonexistent (omg also speaking about communication, he forgot most of his english so it was a challenge speaking to him haha). We were both wild as hell to do this even though we didn’t really know each other but whatever that’s the Scorpio in Venus. And in a perfect Scorpio fashion we may never see each other ever again because he may not return to London, I mean we pretty much fell out of infatuation with each other cause of the terrible sex chemistry and the only reason I have to return to that region of Italy is to see my witch friend there but there is a chance she is going to move to London again and she lives in a different city from him lol. 

So yeah I have been quiet over here but this is my current life. If you want to look at the gallery I am working on it’s in it’s rough draft form but you can find it here! 

https://www.artsteps.com/view/5f4946b290389d2f7d705e86

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

Solus

Pairings: None

Warnings: Nightmares, parent death (past, not described in detail),

Masterlist Ao3

Spoilers for the Rome Arc

I’ve been having a lot of Feelings about Sasha, Rome, and the letters so have this. I’m planning on having a sort of series follow-up, but we’ll see how I much I get done of that. 

Some quick notes: 

1. The title "Solus" is Latin for alone. 2. There's some Latin interspersed in the text, it should be translated right after. If not, please let me know. 3. My personal headcanon is that Sasha did name a kid Brock and just didn't mention it because none of the people receiving this letter actually knew Brock.

Enjoy :)

Sasha Rackett has had her life torn apart a thousand times, a thousand ways. She’s lost her parents, her friends, her rivals, her mentors, and everyone in between. Growing up in Other London though, you learn to be tough. To have a thick skin so that if you can’t dodge the knives they still can’t leave a mark.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. So much has happened in the span of three days. She went to Rome, saved Beaming Gusset and the other hostages, time traveled, lost her friend, and watched the fall of Rome in real time. And here she is trudging along in the countryside that surrounds what was once Rome. The gutted empty shell she’d seen 2,000 years in the future now that the dragons had had their fill of revenge.

Sasha is not alone for once, though sometimes she can’t quite decide if it’s a blessing or a curse. She thinks maybe somewhere in the middle. She’s grown used to being around company, even just those few friends, the past couple months. Gods, it’s only been a month or two since she left London behind, likely forever. Does London even exist now?

Cicero follows doggedly behind her. It’s his turn to hold the kid. Sasha couldn’t save everyone. Hell, she could barely save anyone, but they couldn’t ignore the child they found, half buried under the rubble. Somehow he had survived. And somehow they had found him. Sasha couldn’t save everyone, she couldn’t save Grizzop, but she could save him. 

Cicero looked up to catch Sasha’s eye and she realized with a start that she’d been staring at him. She nodded at him awkwardly and he nodded back. 

“Water?” Sasha asked, forgetting where she was for a minute. “Um, right sorry,” she continued seeing Cicero’s confused expression. “Right. Á-áqua? Right? Or is that Spanish,” Sasha mused to herself. Judging from the change in Cicero’s expression she’d gotten it right. He carefully laid the kid down and took the water skin as Sasha offered it.

As he drank, Sasha took stock of their combined injuries. Cicero is looking a lot better than he did yesterday, even going on with no sleep as they are. His main injuries were healed by the potion and he had gotten over the shock well enough. Sasha had had worse. And the kid probably had some head trauma, fading in and out of consciousness like he was. So all in all, they might look like hell, but they were surviving. 

“Témpus?” Sasha tried in her broken Latin. The potions they’d taken back in Rome had long since worn off, leaving a language gap with a thin bridge across, held up by the few Latin lessons she had taken back when Barret had sent her to Upper London for “an education.”

Cicero held up 4 fingers. “Quáttuor hóra.” 4 hours. Sasha nodded and took a deep breath. She took the water skin back and hooked it onto her belt. She counted her daggers obsessively, checking and double-checking that her spring-loaded wrist sheaths were loaded. Finally satisfied, she lifted the kid as gently as she could, muscles screaming in protest as she lifted him, and continued in the direction Cicero had pointed in as they left the destruction of Rome. 

“I know a place,” he had said. “This way.” Sasha had followed because what else could she do? She was alone, alone, as out of her element as it was possible to be. So she followed.

It took them just over 5 hours to reach the house. The villa really. It was large, with wide sprawling grounds and tall pillars that surrounded the courtyards. Sasha slumped slightly with relief. Here was a place to rest, if only for a little while. 

Cicero gestured her inside, staggering in behind her, his legs weak beneath the kid’s weight. He wasn’t particularly large, but they had been trading him off for hours with little to no rest. They had been too anxious to get away from Rome. Sasha didn’t know much about the fall of Rome, and certainly if the dragons had decided to pick off the few people who had escaped the city no one would have known about it regardless. Cicero seemed to share her anticipation if not her thought process, and had agreed without question not to sleep for the night. 

Sasha sighed, rubbing her forehead. She was going to have to learn Latin wasn’t she? 

She made sure the kid was taken care of. The villa seemed pretty empty, but she trusted Cicero a moderate amount at this point. Something about living through an apocalyptic event with someone makes you want to trust him. Sasha would not be surprised to learn later that the villa was owned by a rich family. All of whom were in Rome at the time of its fall. At its center. The chances of their survival were slim to none. They did not turn up to reclaim their home.

Finding a room for the kid, she’s started calling him Brock in her head, was easy. Sasha sits in a chair across from the bed, intending to keep an eye on him for just a little while. It wouldn’t do for him to wake up alone. Sasha has woken up alone before.

The dark she loves so much, suddenly pressing in close. The bedsheets, blankets, her own clothing, suddenly tight and strangulatory. Her panicked heavy breathing as she pads down the stairs to her parent’s bedroom, silent as ever, only to find a pristine, empty bed. Huddling, knees close to her chest as she instructs herself over and over not to cry. Failing. 

Sasha wakes up with a start, knife immediately in hand and held to her attacker’s throat. Cicero blinks uncomfortably, shaking slightly as he carefully removes his hand from Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha wrenches her dagger from his neck in a motion so quick it looks as though she was never holding a dagger at all. 

Looking outside she can see the sun setting. She must have fallen asleep. She’s no stranger to nightmares, though that one’s worse than most. Sasha rubs at her eyes as Cicero tries to lead her out of the room. 

“No. No, wait. We shouldn’t leave him alone!” Sasha pulls away, only to be caught by Cicero again. “Um, um.” Sasha racks her brain. “Solus,” she says, pointing at the kid. Alone. Cicero nods, pushing her towards the door again. Sasha tries protesting again, when he lets go of her to sit in the chair he had found her in.

Sasha nodded with understanding. “Grátiās.” Thanks. Cicero returns the nod with a tired smile. 

“Sómnus.” Sleep.

Sasha understands. And she sleeps.

Not without nightmares.

There’s the usual contenders; losing Brock, losing her parents, Barret’s manipulation, a particularly gory end to a co-conspirator from an Other London heist. But over the last months, she’s gained oh so many more. In her dreams she listens to Mr. Ceiling tear her mind and body apart, feels her humanity slip away, sees Zolf leave, and Grizzop die. Over and over she sees and feels spears plunge, needles prick, knives slice, and magic burn. Sasha does not remember the last time she slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, but the dreams have only increased in number and intensity.

Sasha does not remember the last time her eyes were clear of their deep circles, that against her pale skin give her a sickly glow even when she’s not mostly undead. 

Sasha wakes up, and stays awake when the sun rises over the gently sloping hills surrounding the secluded villa. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gives a small smile at the beautiful scarlet red sunrise. Her smile fades when she sees the thick wall of smoke at the edge of the horizon, assisting the sun in painting a blood red sky.

A painful reminder that Rome has fallen and Sasha was here to see it. Alone.

Years later

They went back. Back to the city once they were sure the dragons had had their fill of it. They found so very few to save. Mostly children. So many children. Sasha’s heart broke to hear their cries, to see them clutching at the torn clothes of their parents as they came to save them. They aren’t alone anymore.

Some were too young to know their names, too young to remember their families in a couple of years. Sasha gave them names. Amidus, Wilde, Brock, Azu, Grizzop, Sagax for Zolf, even Bertus. It took a couple years for the sad smile she had whenever she said their names to turn genuine, but it did happen eventually. It was as much a way to remember her friends as her yearly trips to the temple of Artemis in the nearest city were. 

She taught them everything she knew. Acrobatics, stealth, throwing daggers, how to detect traps, the whole lot of it. Cicero covered the more academic side of things, the villa had a decent library, and all things considered he was a good teacher. 

Sasha had never expected to live long. It just didn’t happen in Other London. Before she left, Barret was the oldest person she had ever seen and he wasn’t far past fifty. Besides, her line of work was dangerous. Yet, here she was, living. Passing down a legacy to these kids. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted someone to learn what she knew, how much she wanted to pass down her knowledge. 

She found that fulfillment in the children and teenagers they rescued from the still-smoldering ruins of Rome. And they found new lives with her and Cicero.

Still, on the days she felt like she was forgetting her old life, Sasha would slip away. To a secluded spot in the orchard that only she knew about and slide on her old leather jacket, and she would just take a moment to remember. 

Remember gruff Zolf, with more rough exterior than a ship covered in barnacles. The first to make her a partner rather than someone to order around. Flighty little Hamid, gods Sasha missed his hugs. Out of all of them, he was the one who’d stuck around the longest. The soft, kind Azu and her complete understanding. It was rare that Sasha could find someone to be silent with, and yet there Azu was. Grizzop, who practically vibrated whenever he got angry. Sasha always started crying by this point. Grizzop, who had given everything to protect her. And Wilde. After all their time spent together, Wilde had grown on her. Sasha still thinks of puns he would like sometimes. She writes them down on a sheaf of paper. Maybe he’ll get them one day. Even Bertie’s sharp edges have been softened with time, and memory always puts a hazy glow on the past. Sasha knows he was horrible, but he’s still a part of the best and worst months of her life, so she can’t just forget him.

One day, many many years after Sasha has been trapped in the past she sits down to write a letter. One that she hopes might someday reach her friends. Her only way to say goodbye. 

She’s been writing them letters for years. Hamid, Azu, Wilde, even Zolf in the vain hope that they will find them. 

They are a mix of English and Latin, it’s been so long since she’s spoken or written in her native language, she can hardly remember it anymore. As time passes, they become almost entirely Latin. Sasha knows they’ll find a way to read them. 

She’s getting on in years now, so much older than she ever dreamed of being. So she writes each letter knowing it might be her last, not that she ever believed any different. 

She signs each one with the name her family gave her. Both of them.

Whosaskinus “Sasha” Lolomg

So... Here. Like I said, I have plans to make a short series with some letter Sasha writes to the party (because there’s no way it was just the one) and I really like writing in her voice. If you’d like to be tagged in that when I post it please let me know. If you just want to chat my inbox is open. Stay safe :)

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 5: The Way It Was

Chapter summary: Fluff and angst. Price finally makes an appearance! First fight between Alexis and Alex and an interesting revelation...;) & glimpse of Alexis’ childhood. [2404 words]

Warnings: Shitty childhood (mention of alcohol & rough childhood.)

26 OCTOBER 2019, 2200 "Alexis" and "Alex", Codename Aces CIA agents with Urzik militia Al-Raab, Urzikstan.

"What was that?"

Alexis stormed forward, harshly jabbing her partner's back. They were taking the scenic walk back to the militia's base. While Farah and Hadir walked ahead of them, Alexis and Alex lagged behind to breath in the scenes of their victory.

"What was what?" Alex perplexed, cheekily plucking a few yellow chrysanthemums off the road and waving it in her face.

Alexis took the tiny flowers, a warm smile on display as she admired the adversity these flowers had to bloom in a place like this. Then it faltered upon realising it was an attempt to distract her. "You radioed Viper for me. That's against the rules."

Alex quickly brushed her off and walked into the militia's armory, Alexis hot on his trail. Standing in silence as they waited for the room to clear. "Since when are you one for following the rules? What, you wanted to personally say bye to him?"

What the hell, that took her by surprise. Where did that come from? "I only follow the rules to keep you out of trouble. Sorry for caring."

The hardened look in Alex's eye softened, "I was doing you a favour, come on! Viper was outrightly hitting on you over the comms. If Laswell wanted to bitch about it, you could get dragged into his mess." He shrugged and busied himself with removing his gear.

"Because minor flirting is worse than trashy comms etiquette?"

Alex stretched obnoxiously loud.

"No, fraternization is." That stung more than it should.

"That's a bit hypocritical, isn't it?" Spurts of anger gnawing at her rationale incited her to spit those words without hesitation —instantly regretting it. From the nostalgic look on Alex's face, he must have realised they were in a loop again. The last time they had this conversation, it didn't end well.

To put this delicately, Alexis and Alex were no strangers at fraternization. It happened one time after she returned from St. Petersburg, a drunken mistake that Alex agreed. Overtaken by choking wave of emotions —vulnerability, lust, the need to feel safe. It was the first time Alexis was desperate enough to ask for something, and Alex gave it to her. Like moths drawn to a flame, lonely agents like themselves, cut off from the rest of the world, take whatever comfort they can get.

They left that night without ever mentioning it again. Only the next drunken time (clearly not a good drinker) when she accidentally mentioned it —her mistake for assuming it meant... more.

Alex assured her it wasn't. It did some serious damage to their friendship for a while. After a few weeks, everything snapped back into the exact same, best friends and partners for life.

Now, leaning against a counter, she searched for any answers in his eyes. One thought crossed her mind —maybe he was jealous...? Impossible, she deserted the thought, Alex had never been the jealous type.

Plus, what happened was a one-time thing. It wouldn't, or rather, couldn't happen again. Alexis couldn't lose him too.

"Maybe." Alex murmured, refusing to meet her eyes, his jaw clenched tight while cleaning his rifle, the chiselled jawline highlighted from his profile. Wide-eyed, the female agent slowly cleared her throat, scattering to form a reply.

Alex's satellite phone rang, breaking the tense silence. Saved by the bell.

Speak of her and she shall appear —it was Laswell.

Alex hesitated, did Laswell really wanted to bitch about it? He was blindly shooting from the hip. The palpable tension dissolved, replaced by a flustered Alexis. His lips pursed in amusement, "Laswell wouldn't. I'm pretty sure she has a soft spot for you."

Alexis was smart, confident, witty, resourceful, strong —the strongest person he knew. Resilience built steadily like a rock, he could write lists after lists. Alex wasn't blind, who wouldn't have a soft spot for this woman.

"This is Bravo 6, Echo 3-1 and Saint, do you copy?" It was Price.

A nudge shook Alex out of his trance. Excited at the appearance of her mentor, Alexis snatched the phone from his grasps. It was a relief to know Price was on the mission too. Looks like this assignment was really bringing her old friends back together.  "Price? Send traffic, Cap."

"Good job, hitting the airbase. Now that you have limited Barkov's air capability, we'll do our part."

"Glad we could help. What's the plan?" Alex replied to his field commander.

"We traced the masterminds of the Piccadilly attack to a townhouse in North London, we'll take care of it. You can put your feet up and rest."

"That is a command I can follow. Have fun, cap." Alexis spoke, ready to end the call.

"Not so fast, young lady. I was at the debrief, I managed to keep you out of trouble. If it was up to Norris, you'd be running laps like Viper. Don't get stupid, Alexis."

Alexis exhaled frustratedly. "Thanks, Cap." She replied in between scowls in response to the burning triumph look from Alex. His hands covering his mouth to muffle his wide smile. By taking his side, Price had inflated his ego unnecessarily bigger.

"But, you still have to run 5 miles for your insolence towards Laswell." Price delivered the ultimatum.

Her jaw slacked. "You're joking. Says Norris?"

"Colonel Norris." Price corrected with a sigh. "Says me. I told you one day that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. 5 miles. Alex?"

Alex exploded into laughters, no longer trying to suppress it. "Hah, roger that! I'll make sure of it. Out."

The call ended. Alexis had respect for authorities, to a certain extent. It wasn't impertinence, but rather her conditioned nature to bypass it. Coming from Task Force Black —a tier-one task force in the JSOC that didn't even answer to the President, falling into the chain of commands was never needed. Also might have to do with the fact that she started to detest the political bureaucracy over the years in the CIA.

John Price, Daniel Maddox —Alexis' commander in Task Force Black, and Samuel Forbes —her CIA handler were the only ones she would willingly abide. Kate Laswell was also close.

"Is this a bro code thing?" Alexis motioned in between them and the satellite phone, inspecting Alex as he raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. "Price doing the dirty work on your behalf?"

"You heard the man, he said it was for your insolence."

"Wipe that smirk off your face." She mumbled, trying to use a dirty cloth to wipe his chin but he stopped her. If looks could kill... you know the rest.

"Let's go, babe. I'll time you."

"Aw. How kind." She retorted, thinking how badly she wanted to dig those blue eyes out from that arrogant face of his.

40 minutes later, a very sweaty and out-of-breath Alexis returned to the starting point. "5 miles... 5 god damn miles." She breathed, catching a towel and water bottle tossed her way. The entire 40 minutes was filled with killer glances towards Alex. They both knew the punishment wasn't for her insolence. Price wasn't the type to demand respect for other officers, the man could care less and so could Laswell.

This was an indirect way to lecture her, the brotherhood they had caused Price to take Alex's side. Judging from the glowing delight, this ought to satisfy him. Her punishment attracted a few audiences, including Hadir and Farah, who watched happily with her enemy on the roof.

"40 minutes on the dot. Impressive." Farah shouted from above. Hadir excitedly nodded, showing thumbs-ups.

Past the fourth mile, even her vision started to swirl. Blame the ever humid Urzikstan, it was insane she completed it without hurling. "I don't want to impress... I need a seat!" So she willingly fell on her butt and sat in the middle of the carpark.

They joined her shortly, grinning at her flushed cheeks and breathless words. Farah extended a hand and pulled the CIA agent up, "Steady now. Alex, why did you make her run so much!" She chided, elbowing him.

"Not me. It was Price."

"Keep lying, I'll harvest your toes." Farah gave a weird look at her insult. "All I have to do is look Price in the eye and he's a goner." Alex remained suspiciously silent, but yelped when Farah jabbed him in the gut. As revenge, Alexis smacked her sweaty towel against his tattooed arm, disgusted as he failed to swat it away.

Farah, who supported her to walk, didn't seem to care about her sweaty state. "Farah."

The commander hummed, bringing her inside the kitchen to sit. Hadir refilled her bottle.

"Would you like it if Alex and I trained your people? We can teach them some proper fighting tactics and medic courses. With your permission, of course."

Farah took a seat opposite her, mouth opening slightly before closing, as if she was unsure what to say. Hadir, witnessing this, said with a smile, "That would be extremely kind, Alexis."

A bright glint that could be interrupted as a tear reflected in the commander's eyes. Farah's hand squeezed hers tightly. Eyes crinkling upwards, Alexis knew that was her way of saying thanks.

"Great. We start tomorrow."

The two siblings soon left Alexis and Alex in the kitchen to unload some trucks that just entered the compound. He replaced Farah on the seat, "That is a great idea, Lexi."

Finally, some wind started blowing into the kitchen. She closed her eyes at the relieving night breeze. After today's mission, seeing how Farah's people fearlessly ran into the battlefield was reason enough to help them. Although a good trait, fearlessness can also be dangerous. "I want to help them. We were trained by the best in the world, it would be cruel not to share some of that knowledge."

They sat in silence, feeling the cool air while quenching their thirst. Putting their feet up, as Price ordered. Outside the kitchen, playful insults were thrown around by the pair of siblings. It was heartwarming, seeing genuine smiles and watching them be... normal. It was nice.

Growing up, Alexis wouldn't complain she had a bad childhood. Her dad was an honest man, a construction worker. For a man with such a harsh job, it translated into his personality. Her father wasn't affectionate, but he played a good father by putting a roof over their heads and food on the table.

Her life was normal, up till the very day her mother got into a fatal car accident, then everything changed. It was never said but Alexis knew her father blamed her for it. She only grew up to realise it was ridiculous. How could it have been her fault? But grief knew no sense.

Life waited for no one, years later, her father remarried. Lily was a great stepmother, not conforming to the stereotypical evil stepmom Alexis was so afraid of. Lily loved her, but not as much as her blood-borns.

Loved her, but not enough to stop the drunk shoutings, that much Alexis understood.

Alexis didn't remember much of her mother, only recognizing her face through photos. They looked nothing alike —her mother was blonde and had bright blue eyes, while Alexis inherited dark brown eyes and hair. For a man who held an imperative amount of self-loathing, imagine raising his reflection.

She envied the pair of siblings, even after everything, they still had each other. Seeing them together somehow felt lonelier. Emptier.

"I can hear the gears turning." Alex placed his chin on her shoulder, the action bringing her back down on Earth. She sniffled inconspicuously, pretending to use the damp towel to wipe her sweat. "What's wrong?"

"Why must something be wrong?"

"You're making that face."

Friends for five years, it would be foolish to assume something could escape his eyes. Goosebumps raised over her arms, feeling the stubble on his chin tickling her skin. She turned to examine the man who had been through everything with her. Hell and back, literally.

Alexis didn't know how she could ever live without him.

"Just reminiscing." She replied, a distant look in her eyes while she continued smiling at the siblings' bickering. Alex followed her gaze, knowing.

"The past is the past, Alexa–" Alex almost uttered her birth name but stopped in the nick of time. "Sorry, it slipped." His voice was muffled by Alexis' hand.

"You get my point. What matters is the now, and now you have me."

"I'll always have you." She recited, hands intertwined.

The usual smirk on Alex's face was replaced with a heartfelt smile, their gaze connected meaningfully. "And I, you." He laid a gentle kiss on the top of her hand.

Alexis and Alex stayed like that for a few more minutes, her head resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, a sound pierced through the peace —it came from Alex's stomach. Alexis laughed before tossing him her rations pack.

"Uh-huh. No. You two are not eating that." Farah walked in to snatch the rations away. Their mouths fell open, watching their favourite ration pack out of their reach.

"Hey! That was shrimp fried rice, proper good stuff!"

"Closest to gourmet." Alex backed her up. It was the tastiest ration pack. Alexis even secretly raided the base's stockpile to neat pick the most decent ones —there goes her efforts.

Farah tossed the unopened pack to Hadir, who caught it with ease and wiggled it higher when Alexis tried to reach for it. "You cannot win this war with... that." Hadir inspected it, face twisted with distasteful when he opened it, revealing an unappealing mash of rice compressed into a box.

Farah tugged on her wrist, already pulling her down the stairs. "If you don't throw it away, I will tell Captain Price about your horrible English accent.

Alexis groaned, "If this war wouldn't kill me, Price would."

"Better yet, he'll make you run the miles for real."

Her lips parted with a gasp, pointing accusingly as Farah continued to drag her down the stairs. "So you admit it was you!"

"Come." Hadir pulled away the agent who tried to jump Alex with a punch.

"We will show you the real gourmet."

taglist: @flyboidameron​

a/n: it was my birthday yesterday so i decided we need this fluff.... it's so 🥰. masterlist here. want to be tagged? let me know!

[disgruntledkittenface]

digging deeper meme

I was tagged by @homosociallyyours @runaway-train-works and @evilovesyou, thank you!! I really enjoyed reading your answers. I’ll tag @crinkle-eyed-boo @hazzabeeforlou and @uhohmorshedios!

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Definitely black. My husband brings home the complimentary pens they give out at his work because they’re really good pens, and I have a whole bag of black after he accidentally got some blue ones for me. 

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? I like living in the suburbs of a city so it’s quiet but you have access to events etc in the city.

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? I don’t knowwwww, I feel like right now I have tunnel vision getting better at skills I already have

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? I don’t with coffee, but I do put splenda in green tea.

5. What was your favourite book as a child? Anne of Green Gables and The Baby-Sitters Club

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers to get clean, baths for fun

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Definitely a mermaid

8. Paper or electronic books? Paper books, but fic on my phone or laptop

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? I really love my Little Mix hoodie, I’m ready for summer (and this never-ending heatwave) to be over so I can wear it again

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I do like my name. I used to think it was really common because through eighth grade, there were three Maggies in my grade of 30 kids, but I don’t meet a lot of Maggies nowadays and I like being the only one. Last year someone told me it was old school and then got nervous they offended me, but I’ll totally take it. I don’t think it goes well with my married name, but that’s okay. (Side note, I’m totally un Google able with both my maiden and married names, which I kind of like.)

the rest under the cut!

11. Who is a mentor to you? I don’t think I let people mentor me, to my own detriment.

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? Here’s what I would like: to be interviewed for a documentary as an expert or a witness. That is the level of fame I would like to achieve someday. 

13. Are you a restless sleeper? No, I’m usually a heavy sleeper and I don’t move around much. I didn’t sleep well a few years ago when my dad got sick and for a few months after he died, and it was torture. 

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? Yeah, I’m definitely the Charlotte in the friend group.

15. Which element best represents you? I’ll say water because I’m a double scorpio.

16. Who do you want to be closer to? If we mean like physically, my mom. It’s only half an hour, but it’s too far when she needs help at a moment’s notice. If we mean like relationship wise, I always kind of crave being closer to everyone (again, double scorpio) even though I have trouble opening up, especially at first. 

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? yes.

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I have this vivid memory of my grandma teaching me how to spell the street name in my uncle’s address when I was really little. She always had to look it up because it had two e’s and two i’s and was hard to remember.

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I’m a picky eater so I’ve probably said no to everything strange offered to me. 

20. What are you most thankful for? Harry Styles

21. Do you like spicy food? No, not at allllllll

22. Have you ever met someone famous? When I went to Communicon, I met Yvette Nicole Brown (who is LOVELY) and knocked a sharpie out of Dan Harmon’s hand. I feel like he’s kind of the worst, but he was really nice about the sharpie.

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? I bullet journal, it’s about half lists and organization and half feelings.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? pen!

25. What is your star sign? Both my star and rising sign are scorpio and my moon is sagittarius 

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? medium

27. What would you want your legacy to be? I’m going to be gross and copy and paste from one of my fics: Connection, telling the people who you love that you do, being as honest and kind as you can, that’s what life – or at least, Harry’s life – is about. And the most that Harry can ask for is to feel ready for it when it’s his time to go, so he’s going to make the fucking most of it while he’s here.

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? yes! I reread The Royal We before starting the sequel The Heir Affair. The last book-length fic I read was Wait For It by dimpled-halo which was amazing and made me nostalgic for HIMYM, which is a real feat because the finale burned that bridge good.

29. How do you show someone you love them? I feel like my love language is acts of service

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Nooooooo I have sensitive teeth and it bothers me

31. What are you afraid of? Dying. (*Harry voice* that got dark. Also spiders.)

32. What is your favourite scent? coffee

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? It wildly depends

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I think I would live similarly to the way I do now, but I would buy Chanel purses.

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? I think pools, just because I rarely get to the ocean.

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? Spend it at Target

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Probably, but I don’t really remember

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? I really try to pay attention to stuff like if my nephews don’t feel like hugging, they don’t have to

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I would probably get more hearts in Harry’s handwriting tbh

40. What can you hear now? The air conditioning kicking on

41. Where do you feel the safest? When my husband reaches out to touch me after noticing that I’m upset or stressed

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? depression

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? 1940s

44. What is your most used emoji? Any of the heart ones, I use them a lot

45. Describe yourself using one word. sensitive

46. What do you regret the most? It’s tricky because for me, my regret is not talking about it with my dad when he got sick, but he didn’t want to have those talks and I wanted to let him go the way he wanted to.

47. Last movie you saw? Palm Springs

48. Last tv show you watched? Ladies of London

49. Invent a word and its meaning. My sister and I always say bizhausted to mean like extra exhausted so I’m going with that!

[dreammthief]

dig a little deeper

tagged by @gcralts​ and @quaffled thank u both ily 💕

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? black

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? oh 100% city

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? I always wanted to learn how to tumble/gymnastics so that would be cool but my eighty-year-old knees could never

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? tea never, coffee always

5. what was your favorite book as a child? I always loved series so i primarily went from magic treehouse to percy jackson and harry potter

6. do you prefer baths or showers? showers regularly, but baths for relaxing with wine and a book

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? sksksksk if not a dragon, then definitely a faerie

8. paper or electronic books? paper or not at all 

9. what is your favorite item of clothing? my two, very oversized crewneck sweaters they’re ariana grande merch shut up I know

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? i like it enough not to change it, but sometimes I wonder if I would have preferred my “almost name”, victoria

11. who is a mentor to you? my mom??? I mean I literally cannot make a decision without calling her so

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? it’s my dream to publish a book one day and of course i’d want it to do well, so, yes, i’d like to be famous for that (copying this verbatim from wik because we’re the same person but what else is new)

13. are you a restless sleeper? oh god no I don’t move at all but it does take me fuckn forever to actually fall asleep

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? i am... so soft, yes

15. which element best represents you? fireeee

16. who do you want to be closer to? this is probably not what this question is asking for but i wish my good friends on here lived closer to me (or at least on the same continent) so i could see them irl (im copying again its too good also ily)

17. do you miss someone at the moment? literally everyone back home that I moved away from, especially my mom :(

18. tell us about an early childhood memory. i don’t know how I remember this but my mom has assured me its real, but when I was eighteen months old (I swore in the memory I was like seven hahahha nope) I thought I saw my nana so I waved at her and got my arm caught in the train door of the london underground and had to be rushed to the ER and my parents missed our flight back to the states ooooops also my nana was 1000% not there at all 

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? probably some various form of bug on a dare from my brothers whenever we went camping

20. what are you most thankful for? my friends, family, and my resilience? like I keep finding myself leaning back into depression and constantly fight to stay out of that dark place 

21. do you like spicy food? yessssss

22. have you ever met someone famous? uhhhh no? no one comes to mind

23. do you keep a diary or journal? no but I really, really should

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? pen, unless its math math then pencil

25. what is your star sign? libra

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? if my jaw doesn’t ache after eating it I don’t want it

27. what would you want your legacy to be? i want to save lives and leave people better, more hopeful, and happier than when I found them

28. do you like reading? what was the last book you read? god yes, and red white and royal blue which wrecked me

29. how do you show someone you love them? i like to spend time with them and I like to know them, as well as let them know me

30. do you like ice in your drinks? its nice but not a necessity

31. what are you afraid of? losing a loved one, forever being alone alone, and not being good enough

32. what is your favorite scent? sawdust, sandalwood, pine, and literally anything “manly”

33. do you address older people by their name or surname? mostly first name I think?? I can’t think of an instance where I wasn’t familiar enough with them not to use it

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? bitch I would travel the earth until I died

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? por que no los dos??

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? i mean if I didn’t see anyone drop it or anything, then I would probably keep it and pay it forward somewhere

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yes and no

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children? *nieces/nephews, and to be independent, clever and funny lol

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I have several, but the next one I want is inspired by a drawing called self love by frederic forest and on the back of my elbow if that makes sense

40. what can you hear now? a storm, rain pelting on the window

41. where do you feel the safest? surrounded by my friends and family, doesn’t matter where

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? being more open about my past trauma

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? god, it would be horrible as far as how far we’ve come in so many aspects of life, but I’ve always been interested to know how it would be to live in the 15th/16th century 

44. what is your most used emoji? 😂 + 😭 + 🥺 

45. describe yourself using one word. resilient

46. what do you regret the most? trusting certain people  

47. last movie you saw? the half of It

48. last tv show you watched? sex education

49. invent a word and its meaning veration - (noun) extreme happiness for fictional characters or ships that causes a real, physical response; ex: kate’s veration over pynch deepened when she realized they were canon. 

tagging: some new mutuals @ughdraco @chlamets @fleurdlacour @avilareyna @henriettia @eorwyn @ivashkov + anyone else who wants to (also feel free to ignore this)

[jostenminyrd]

Dig a little deeper

tagged by @strawberrylight and @theleavesoflorien thank you sm!!💛✨🌸

1. do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? black

2. would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? def the city, i could visit the country but it’s too quiet for me to live all the time

3. if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? continue learning languages, also i really wanna learn adobe (illustrator/photoshop etc)

4. do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? nooo

5. what was your favorite book as a child? my first favorite book was goodnight moon. 

6. do you prefer baths or showers? since i probably only take a bath once a year...showers

7. if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? vampire obvi!

8. paper or electronic books? paper/physical books for sure

9. what is your favorite item of clothing? anything i bought from balance athletica aka the best brand of workout clothes

10. do you like your name? would you like to change it? i’ve grown to like it more ya. elizabeth is a really pretty name but it’s way too formal for me so i’m glad i go by libby. 

11. who is a mentor to you? honestly i think my parents

12. would you like to be famous? if so, what for? yes, but for making a huge contribution to the field of neuroscience, id love to contribute to alzheimer’s or parkinsons research, find a better way to treat them...

13. are you a restless sleeper? mmm idrk??

14. do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? eh yes and no

15. which element best represents you? water 🌊

16. who do you want to be closer to? my friends

17. do you miss someone at the moment? a bunch of my friends...haven’t seen many in months😔

18. tell us about an early childhood memory. my earliest memory is actually when my mom and dad brought home my brother from the hospital...i was a year and a half old and remember missing my mom for a few days, my grandparents were staying at the house to watch me. but then when they brought my brother home I went over to the carrier to look at him and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

19. what is the strangest thing you have eaten? uhhh idk?

20. what are you most thankful for? my friends and family, also my job.

21. do you like spicy food? oh my god yes! gimme all of the spice! 🌶🌶🌶

22. have you ever met someone famous? nope

23. do you keep a diary or journal? nooo....i’ve never been able to keep up with it. i know it helps so many ppl but i’ve always found it to be such a chore

24. do you prefer to use pen or pencil? both

25. what is your star sign? aries ♈️ 

26. do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? don’t come for me but......i don’t like cereal

27. what would you want your legacy to be? my contributions to science

28. do you like reading? What was the last book you read? ohhhh yes i do! currently reading tales from the shadowhunter academy and a clash of kings

29. how do you show someone you love them? just asking how their day went, sending links/photos of things i know they like, being happy for them when something goes well etc

30. do you like ice in your drinks? yes yes yes

31. what are you afraid of? heights, failing

32. what is your favorite scent? peppermint, rose, citrus, cinnamon, pine trees

33. do you address older people by their name or surname? usually surname. i only just started calling a few older ppl i’ve known since i was born by their first name...it’s weird

34. if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? i honestly don’t even know....what’s it like to be financially stable??

35. do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? both! i love my pool at home, public pools are another story tho..and the ocean is my happy place

36. what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? Depends on the context. If I found $50 on the ground but I know that someone has lost it, I give the money back to the person. If I don’t know whose money is that, I keep it to myself. (keeping this answer bc same)

37. have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yea, and im pretty sure lol

38. what is one thing you would want to teach your children? don’t every be afraid to express your emotions, let them out. whatever you’re feeling is valid

39. if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? ik it’s like frowned upon now but i still really want a harry potter tattoo...probably the three stars in the books and probably on my wrist

40. what can you hear now? my ac unit and the princess and the frog movie

41. where do you feel the safest? my parents house, also my apartment

42. what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? the next 6 years of my phd lol

43. if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? i’ve always been drawn to 19th century london...also colonial america idk

44. what is your most used emoji? “🥺”

45. describe yourself using one word. loyal

46. what do you regret the most? i have so many....

47. last movie you saw? the princess and the frog 

48. last tv show you watched? currently watching hannibal

49. invent a word and its meaning yea no yea....means yes

tagging: @quaffled @mollyweasly @severusnpe @killjoylouis and @hathawaywrites

[beardpeak1]

Females Training Bursary Spotlight 2

Women Coaching In Football

Content

Join My Winning Females Service Community On Facebook.

Improving Sex Equity Within Sport Coaching Labor Forces.

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[someone-always-cares]

[image description: a q&a for the webcomic someone always cares. full desc under the cut because its long and wordy sorry]

post chapter 3 Q&A

first - previous - next

thanks for yalls questions!! it was fun to answer! if anyone still has questions feel free to ask whenever i am always 100% down to ramble. even if i did go slightly off topic in some answers

additional: went off topic with the hair question a bit. their bright hair is all part of the transformations. regular hair dye does exist though. best way to tell is that if the eyebrow matches the hair its probably not dyed. also, quartz’s hair is naturally ginger.

also for more on ages, check out the character bios here

also was gonna keep this in the tags but thought i might as well actually try to answer it: the question i found it hardest to answer was someone the song one. my taste in music is. a mess really. ive been listening to like the same 5 songs on repeat all day. more under the cut because i was rambling again and now its uhhh half 1am

if it helps at the time of answering that specific question i had home by cavetown on repeat, and that song reminds me of both rami and lewis. but that may be because i project onto those two a lot, and as a aro trans dude. who sucks with people skills, yeah of course i love that song.

specifically the vibes of like not knowing how to communicate (rami is fine with his friends but other people are different), the lines “ Turn off your porcelain face, I can't really think right now and this place, Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane” idk what the porcelain face line is supposed to mean but im picturing it as like. a mask. that you need to take off and stop hiding and rami does tend to hide when hes feeling upset, and the next two lines kinda could tie into that, like the feeling of when youre overwhelemed and just want the world to stop so you just hide somewhere. also the colours could go with chapter 3 with the chromatic abberation.

also the bit with “ my eyes went dark, I don't know where, my pupils are, But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here” just kinda sums up ramis whole hero thing with his powers and all. anyway this has turned into less what songs rami would like and why this particular song reminds me of him and lewis (lewis specifically has the hair cutting/chest hiding, [big transmasc mood], and also messy haired trainwreck who doesnt know who he is yet. also the ghosts bit)

i did end up picking upbeat songs because ramis a dude who like to try and be upbeat even if things arent. even if hes not really feeling it he will pretend to.

[full description: Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: “hi ily!!! do characters like quartz who have colored hair have that naturally or did they dye it?”

“its both natural and not! while most supers can do a magical girl ish transformation, including a change in hair colour, there are some exceptions.”

theres two small full body drawings of rami, one in civilian clothes, one fully transformed.

“if a superhero were to have a biological child, the child will inherit the powers of the parent(s). however, the child will not inherit the full transfromation. they do inherit any physical transformations, but not the outfit.”

theres a drawing of a woman in blue, quartz’s mother, fully transformed, holding her mask in her hand, smiling down at a much younger quartz as a child. hes smiling back up at her with the same blue eyes, pointy ears, and blue hair, but hes still in normal clothes.

“in the case of quartz, both of hisparents had superpowers, and he inherited those powers and the physical transformations.he can also pick and mix whatphysical traits to change.“

next is a headshot of adult quartz, his face split down the middle with one side having hair and eye like his mother, the other like his father. theres a list of traits from each parents, blue hair and eyes and pointy ears from his mum, and purple hair and eyes and pointy teeth from their dad.

 “Anonymous said to someone-always-cares:  Are all the characters the same age? If not, how old are they? Are they irl friends or just superhero friends?”

theres some headshots of rami and his team lined up with ages labelled: cam is 15, rami himself is 17, lin, mateo, and dante, are all 18, and cap is 20.

“rami and xandra were somewhat friends before she got superpowers, so when, after the incident with her old team, she found rami had developed powers, xandra stuck close to him. their other teamates started off as superhero friends but soon turned into irl friends too”

theres a headshot of lewis and jade. theyre both 17

“when lewis first decided to start being a vigilante,jade quickly found him and decided to help train himand offered to be a mentor of sorts, as they both have similar powers. that quickly derailed.”

“ cinder5555 said to someone-always-cares: How long does it usually take to make a comic page? I'm curious because they're so freaking good that they must take FOREVER”

theres a drawing of myself, a fluffy hair tired bastard in a hoodie, smiling

“Thanks! Ive been doing this shit since like 2017 and i still have no idea how long it takes me. i can get a page done in a day if i have nothing else to do or if its a simple page, but if i have work then maybe 2-3 days? i spend like, most of my free time doing this.“

another drawing of me, now looking frustrated muttering “how the FUCK does time work”

“but i can never do it all on one sitting.i will inevitably get distracted and zone out daydreaming mid drawing so its very hard to get an accurate read on how long it takes. so however long a piece of string is i guess“

the only qustion not from tumblr is a discord message from RuneStone Cabin:

“Q: Can you talk about the incidence of superpowers in this world? Like many people are supers, which powers are more or less common, how long they've been a thing for, stuff like that. Also does Omen know I'd die for them “

theres a drawing of omen pointing at a date circled on a calender marked “decembuary”, theyre saying “i know. i already wrote your death in my calender.”

then a giant wall of text reading: “Supers have only existed for a relativly short time, since the early 1940s. momento mori was the second person to have ever gained powers.

Only a small number of the population are supers! the chances are higher in more populated cities, but unusally london has oneof the higher percentages of supers. while nobody in universe has any idea of the origins of superpowers, it does seem that powers are more likely to occur in people who would actually use their powers.

as for what powers are most common, after making a badly catagorized spreadsheet of every superpowered character ive made for this world (70% of which will probably never even be seen), turns out that elemental powers are the most common. although not all elemental powers manifest as the straight up 'controling this element' as seen in characters like lin or tsunami. for example, iris's powers would fall under shadow elemntal powers, but theyre a lot more weird that just controlling shadows.there are some abilities that have never been seen before,such as ressurection or full on time travel (aka anything that could bring a character back to life), but powers are certainly allowed to toe the line eg healing, powers involving undeath, immortality, pausing or manipulating time.

aside from that, anything goes. you could get plain old superstrength, but you could also get the ability to create dogs with your mind. other not quite rules, more guidelines are that supers are immune to their own powers hurting them (unless they were pushing themselves too hard), although the way the imminuties occur may be inconvinient to the super.

while some powers may be 'more powerful' than others, powers dont really get to be way underpowered or overpowered in comparision to others. sure being able to talk to animals may feel a bit useless compared to someone who can lift 4 tanks at once, but nobodys going to end up with a power like 'can turn into a goose but only once' or 'can grow toenails twice as fast' or 'if i sneeze i can change my hair colour'. at the same time, youre not going to get someone with the power to snap their fingers and level a city, or instantly blow up the moon or whatever.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: I love rami PLEASE tell me his favorite song(s) and why. I will die for you”

a drawing of rami saying out loud “i dont really have any specific favourite song, really? i just listen to whatever sounds catchy and then listen to that on repeat for hours until i hate it. i guess i do like upbeat songs? ones that make you feel happy even if the lyrics are sad”

“ un1c0rnhh said to someone-always-cares: tell me,,, please,, cam,,, are they a cat person or a dog person?? ily"

theres a drawing of cam a metre away from a cat lying down. she has her arm out and is making ‘psspsspss’ noises at it. end id]

FUCK i am so glad i didnt hand write all of that, it would have been a major pain in the ass to write it all and then have to transcribe all that next. but nope i could directly copy paste the asks and word answers. cheers if anyone made it this far down. if anyone wonders why this is uploaded late, you know now.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Harry Potter and the Best Summer (5 | An Unwelcome Visitor)

Summary: AU - canon divergence. Harry had barely been back at the Dursley’s for two weeks, when an unexpected visitor arrived at the door. He quickly finds himself spirited away back to the wizarding world and learns some secrets that have long been kept from him.

A sequel to Of Family and Unexpected Friendship. Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

And for anyone who’s interested, I made a Harry Potter discord server! Introducing, Virtu Alley! (like “virtually”, get it?) Feel free to pop by and chat if you’d like. (https://discord.gg/AUq3eXY)

[Sorry for the lack of hyperlinks, but my posts have once again stopped showing up when I search for them when I include them. I will reblog later to include links at the bottom of the post.]

- - - - - - -

5 | An Unwelcome Visitor

If Harry thought his first day at Oakstone Manor was hectic, it was nothing compared to the next morning, when he awoke to a loud crash coming from the hall, quickly followed by a stream of apologies from Nymphadora Tonks (who threatened to hex him if he dared called them by their full first name) and Andromeda's much quieter admonishment.

Harry found himself grinning despite the rude awakening. It was so much better than getting woken up by Aunt Petunia.

He'd met Tonks the night before when they arrived just as dinner was being arranged on the table. The very first thought he had was that they were the embodiment of everything the Dursleys hated. Short, bright pink hair was shaved on either side of their head and the length on top was gently spiked upwards. Several piercings dotted their ears and whenever they gestured with a wild flourish Harry could see that their fingernails were painted pink to match their hair.

“Wotcher, Harry,” they said with a wink and their hair shifted from pink to purple to blue and then back again.

Harry thought they were brilliant.

Andromeda's husband – Ted Tonks – was a cheery and friendly man who engaged Harry in effortless conversation about growing up in the muggle world and how shocking it was to be thrown into the magical one. He spoke only a little of his work in the pediatric ward of St. Mungo's, instead choosing to focus on learning more about Harry, as well as catching up with everyone else.

Altogether they were the picture of a healthy, functioning family.

Morning flew by and all Harry could do was sit back out of the way and watch everyone rush around in preparation for the rest of the day. Ted was the first to leave, kissing Andromeda on the cheek before flooing away to St. Mungo's. A short while later, Tonks headed out the front door, giving an explanation that they were meeting their mentor in a secret location. Harry watched as they spun on their heel and vanished with a popping sound.

Andromeda sat them all down for lessons after that. She gave Leona and Aquarius worksheets to do and then cast a silencing charm around Harry's chair so she could verbally quiz him and help fill in any blanks in his basic knowledge. He was pleased when he remembered most of what Leona had taught him, but faltered when it came to naming other Heirs he attended school with.

From there he listened with rapt attention as Andromeda covered the current active Lords and Heirs of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of which House Black was one.

Their studies took up the rest of the morning and it was only after lunch that Harry was saved from going back to it.

Remy went with him to St. Mungo's for his appointment, only stepping out of the room for the examination and vaccinations and returned once Harry said it was okay. He wasn't terribly surprised when his healer – Adam Rue – told him that he was undernourished and that his eyeglass prescription was out-of-date.

“I am prescribing a nutrient potion for you to take with dinner each evening. I understand you'll be going back to Hogwarts in September and I will make arrangements to inform Madam Pomfrey that you are to take one each day,” said Healer Rue.

Harry fidgeted, a little worried about his schoolmates finding out he needed potions. “Do I have to take it in the Great Hall?”

“If you truly wanted to, you could always travel down to the hospital wing each evening however, the way we typically handle potions like this is to simply charm it into your goblet so that no one else is aware. The house-elves of Hogwarts are quite talented when it comes to matters of secrecy,” Healer Rue said with a reassuring smile.

He then told Harry and Remy that they could visit the offices just down the hall to either update Harry's eyeglasses or have his vision corrected completely.

“Mr. Potter, I don't mean to make assumptions about your care growing up, however I'd also like to recommend visits with one of our mind healers for the rest of the summer,” Healer Rue told them. “If for no other reason than to ease your transition into a wizarding household. All of our mind healers are sworn to keep the secrets of their patients, but if you are still uncomfortable with speaking to someone in Britain considering your status, you could hire a private healer from overseas. I would be happy to recommend a few who I have personally worked with in the past.”

“Healer Rue, can I ask about the damage left by the Magic Block?” Remy asked.

“We have removed it, of course, and taken the time to examine the damage from the curse scar. It seems that the block prevented your magic from fully cleansing it, Mr. Potter, and now that it is gone you'll see a significant ease in using your magic. That being said, our recommendation is a minimum of two weeks before you cast any spells in order to give your core time to adjust to the influx of power. A month, if you can manage it,” said Healer Rue.

Harry nodded. It wasn't like he was allowed to use his magic during summer anyway. He was sure it would be easy to go another month without casting.

Remy asked a few more questions about Harry's health and then Healer Rue handed her the prescription for the nutrient potions, which was signed and marked with his magical seal to prove its validity, as well as a list of recommended mind healers. He then guided the two of them down the hall to the office which specialized in eye-care, stepping inside to inform the receptionist that they were there for a thorough exam.

While they waited for one of the healers to become available, Harry got the chance to browse through the different frames that were available and, at Remy's urging, tried on a few to see if he liked any.

Each one was an improvement on the cheap, circular frames the Dursley's had “graciously” given him.

Remy chuckled as she glanced over a selection of frames catering to the older crowd. “Your father was always fond of horn rims. He thought they made him look rather smart. Your mother always said it made him look like more of a ponce than he already was.”

“She really said that?” Harry asked, looking away from a pair of frames that was continually shifting colors.

“Well, at first,” Remy corrected herself. “Your father was a good man and a good friend, Harry, but as a teenager he was... well, a bit entitled. Sirius was as well. I imagine it comes from being part of an old pureblood family. It all made it so your mother was less than impressed by him which only made him try harder. He came around by our sixth year, but I'll have to tell you more about it later.”

She nodded towards something over Harry's shoulder and he turned to find a woman in soft green robes walking towards them. Her badge bore the name Healer Agatha Newmark.

“You must be Harry,” she said in a chipper tone. “I'm Aggie. You can both come with me and I'll get you sorted out.”

Harry and Remy followed her back to a smaller room, where Harry sat down in a chair that faced a poster with differently sized numbers and letters. She first had him remove his glasses and attempt to read the lowest line, which he found impossible. He couldn't fully make out any letter until the third line down, but even that was blurry enough that he struggled.

A few waves of her wand had an enchanted quill scratching out the details of his eyesight and once it finished, Healer Newmark went into detail on the options available to him. Harry could get a new pair of frames with his updated prescription, charmed unbreakable and scratch resistant for up to two years, or he could get his vision corrected completely and no longer need glasses.

“Everyone is a little different and I know just as many people who like the way they look while wearing glasses as I do people who jumped at the first opportunity to have the correction done,” said Healer Newmark. “The correction is, of course, more expensive than a pair of frames, but we do have a finance program for anyone who prefer a staggered payment.”

“Harry, it's up to you,” Remy said quietly.

He didn't think about it for long. From the moment he first heard there was a chance he wouldn't have to deal with his glasses any longer, he hoped it was true. No more crooked frames. No more feeling around for his glasses every morning. No more worry about a bludger knocking them from his face and leaving him completely blind.

“I'd like to get it corrected.”

- - - - - - -

Harry expected that they would be heading home after he was finished at St. Mungo's but instead, Remy whisked him away into wizarding London to a street near Diagon Alley named Asymetric Alley, which looked like a village out of a history book, with rough, winding cobblestone streets and old timber-framed shops all pressed close together.

It gave a cozy, warm vibe that Diagon Alley didn't have, giving the impression that loitering was welcome on the streets and stopping to chat with those you walked past was a way of life.

Harry didn't spare that more than a passing thought, too busy marveling over the clarity with which he was able to see the world. There were so many details that he hadn't been able to see before! Things that he'd come to accept as being blurry around the edges suddenly had sharp outlines and signs that he once had to squint just to read he only had to glance at and know what they said!

Remy treated him to ice cream and then they were off to visit a number of shops where Harry was asked to pick out clothing, new shoes, and then helped pick out ingredients for dinner that night so Cici could make his favorite meal. Their last stop was a used bookstore, where Remy picked up an order that was waiting for her and she encouraged him to take a look around.

Harry wasn't terribly interested until he spotted a small book titled Fallacies of the Rankings of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and after reading the back cover thought that if it turned out to be something he didn't like, Hermione was likely to find it fascinating.

He was about to turn to go when a heavy thump stopped him. When he looked, he saw a dark green book laying face-up on the floor. Swooping gold lettering informed him that it was called The Magical Court of Camelot – The Truth Behind the Legends and that it was written by someone named ML Black. He picked it up and took it to the counter.

“Aunt Remy, look at this,” he said, holding up the book for her to see.

Remy examined it with interest, her eyes lingering longest on the name of the author. “ML Black... It's not a name I'm familiar with, but it Andy might know it. Would you like to get it?”

Harry nodded. “And this one too,” he said, as he passed to her Fallacies of the Rankings of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

She seemed a bit amused by the second book but didn't say a word against it, quickly passing it off to be rung up. Remy paid for it all and even got Harry a tote bag to carry them in and then they were off once again.

“I think it would be best to side-apparate on our way back. Floo travel is more difficult when you're carrying packages,” said Remy.,

She explained what it was and how it worked as she lead him towards a sectioned off area marked: Apparation Point. One side was designated as Arrival and the other Departure, which Harry supposed helped keep things more orderly. He felt a little nervous as he looped his arm around Remy's and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as she directed him to spin on his heel with her. Harry felt the weight of pressure all around him and his stomach roiled uncomfortably, and then it was over and they were on the road just outside of the gate to Oakstone Manor.

“Unpleasant, isn't it?” Remy asked, sounding apologetic. “I know it's not a comfort right now, but you will get used to it as you get older. By the time you learn to apparate, the most you'll feel is that pressure around you.”

Harry didn't know how to respond to that and simply shrugged his shoulders before following her through the gate (which opened at their approach) and back into the manor.

“Evie?” Remy called out.

There was a popping sound and then a new house-elf in gray and blue appeared. She immediately bowed, which caused the bright yellow kerchief to start slipping off her head until it got caught on her massive ears. When she straightened up, she beamed at the sight of the bags in Remy's arms. “Do you need Evie to take them to your room, miss? And put them away?”

“That would be wonderful. Only the books go to my room. Everything else will go to Harry's,” Remy told her.

Evie nodded quickly and turned her attention to Harry. “Evie will organize them very nicely, young sir! If it's not to your liking you can call for Evie or Cici and we'll come help!”

“Oh, um, thank you, Evie. I'm sure you'll do great.” Harry wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but Evie didn't look upset as she bounced over to take the bags. Once she had them in her arms, she popped away without another word.

“Tonight I think we'll burn your hand-me-downs,” Remy said conversationally. “But for now, you deserve a chance to rest and do whatever you'd like until dinner. Leona still has another hour of tutoring to get through, but Aqua should be free by now. She'll be in the library, if you'd like to find her.”

Harry needed a refresher on how to get there and once Remy gave him directions on the easiest path to take – up the main staircase to the second floor, take a left and go to the end of the hall, where you take another left, and enter the second door on the right – he set off to find Aquarius.

Just like Remy said, she was sitting in the library in a squishy armchair beneath one of the windows, a heavy looking book open in her lap. Aquarius looked up when she heard the door open and beamed when she spotted Harry peeking inside.

“You're back! And you're not wearing any glasses?”

Harry grinned at her as he stepped fully into the library. “I don't need them anymore.”

“Brilliant!” Aquarius responded. “You have a letter, by the way. Butternut brought a response from your friend while you were away.”

Harry looked to the side table where she gestured and saw a envelop sitting there. When he walked over and picked it up, he found himself recognizing Hermione's tidy handwriting and eagerly ripped it open to see what she wrote.

Dear Harry,

I'm so glad to hear you're alright! Ron and I were terribly worried that something awful happened to you once you got home. Please thank Aquarius for sending me the letter saying that you're safe with her and Leona. She says that you're not going back to your muggle relatives. Is it true? Did they do something to keep you from receiving letters? I know you are all looking into what happened, but I think I'll do some research of my own and see what I can find. I'll keep you updated!

I've talked to my parents about visiting you this summer and they have agreed to it, though they'd like to talk to Leona's mum about it first. I think they want to make sure it's alright with her. Will Ron be joining us as well? He hasn't mentioned any visiting, but it does sound like the Weasley's have a full house anyway and I would hate to add to that. I think meeting up at Diagon Alley would be a far better idea, especially since it would let my parents meet the Weasley's. They didn't get much time to talk at King's Cross.

It probably won't surprise you but I've done quite a lot of reading so far this summer. Most of my homework is already complete, except for that essay on goblin wars that Binns assigned. I must admit, even I find it a bit droll and difficult to complete. All I can hear is his voice droning on. If you'd like, we can review our summer studies together when I visit! And please tell Leona that I've finished the books she recommended. I suppose I should just write a letter to her instead of using you as a personal owl.

What's Oakstone Manor like? It must be exciting to see a wizarding home!

Hermione's letter carried on like that as she wrote about whatever came to mind. She spoke a little of her parents and how excited they were to hear about her first year at Hogwarts and then went into more detail of how she spent her summer when she wasn't studying or reading. Every now and then she'd circle around to ask him a question about what it was like living with Leona. Was there a library? Had he had time to do any of the summer homework?

There was only one reference to Professor Quirrel, who had disappeared sometime before the End-of-Term feast, and that was to say there was a small article in the prophet about there being a warrant for his arrest and how any sightings should be immediately reported to the DMLE.

Harry wondered if Tonks knew anything about that. Would they be able to tell him anything if they did?

He folded up the letter and stuck it into his pocket, resolving to answer Hermione when he had time later. “Reading anything interesting, Aquarius?”

She silently tilted her book so he could read the cover and Harry was delighted to find he could see the words without having to squint. The Complete Beginners Guide to Potion Brewing was the name of her book and Harry wondered just how in-depth it went to make it so it was at least five centimeters thick.

“Leo says that Professor Snape will probably look for any reason to take points from me or give me detention, so I thought if I start studying now then he won't be able to find as many,” she explained with an easy shrug.

There was something about the idea of Snape harassing Aquarius that rankled Harry. She was a ten-year-old girl who hadn't done a thing wrong and she was already prepared to be utterly humiliated by one of her professors, who took issue with who her parents were.  It was bad enough that Snape targeted him and Neville – though he still didn't know why he demonstrated such loathing towards Neville.

Instead of saying anything, Harry left Aquarius to her reading and took a seat in a nearby chair to check out his two new books. The first one he grabbed was the one on Camelot, which reminded him of a question he had.

“Hey, Aquarius? Do you know of anyone called 'ML Black' who might be related to you?”

“Not in recent history,” Aquarius said slowly. “It does sound familiar, so there must be someone with those initials on the family tree. Why do you ask?”

“They wrote this book I found. The Magical Court of Camelot – the Truth Behind the Legends,” Harry told her.

Aquarius marked her page and set it aside, her eyes alight with interest. “And it's written by a Black?”

Harry nodded.

“Follow me!” Aquarius said, hopping up out of her chair.

Feeling a little bewildered, Harry left his things in his seat and got up to follow her through the tall shelves of the library and to a spot tucked away in a back corner. There was a heavy, navy blue curtain hanging across an elaborate archway and stepping through revealed a rounded alcove. Candles on either side of the arch lit themselves when they stepped through, illuminating the nearly black walls to reveal a massive tree painted in silver ink, its branches rigid and following a clear structure.

Most notably, it was upside down, with the base of its trunk resting where the wall met the ceiling.

“This is the Black Family Tree, which dates back to our earliest magical ancestor, Ambroise Fabron,” she said, pointing up to the top. “They were blacksmiths. He brought his knowledge of the craft to the magical world and then applied enchantments to make it even better. His greatest achievement was a charm embedded within cookware that made it easier to clean without repeatedly using scourgify.”

Harry's brows knitted together. “But that means... he was muggleborn?”

“If you go far back enough in a pureblood line, you'll find many muggleborns. It just didn't matter as much back then,” Aquarius said. She reached out and placed her hand on the wall, waiting for the space to light up silver before dragging her hand down. As she did so, the tree scrolled down until the trunk was nearly eye-level with them and the rest of the branches danced across the floor.

“Ambroise had three children. Two were girls who married into other lines and the other was a son, Michel, who continued the name Fabron and took up his father's work...” Aquarius continued to move down the three, explaining a little more about what little they still knew about their ancestors, until she came to Michel's third son, Célestin, who moved to the UK and changed his surname to Black before going on to revolutionize the production of cauldrons. “Oh! Harry, here she is! Mnemosyne Lucinda Black! She married Célestin! No wonder the name sounded familiar!”

“There could be another ML Black somewhere,” Harry pointed out.

“There could be,” Aquarius agreed. “But considering she was born in the seven-hundreds, I think it's probably her. It's too bad the tree doesn't list maiden names. I would have loved to know which family line she came from but I don't think any of our records have it listed. We can always ask Leo or Andy.”

Harry almost wanted to continue looking at the family tree to see if there was anyone else, but there were so many names. Not to mention Aquarius had a good point about the timeline. Mnemosyne would have been born close enough to the era of King Arthur's reign that she could gather correct details about that period. Maybe the book itself would have something in it to confirm his thoughts.

Aquarius released the magic that lowered the tree, allowing it to move back to its correct location across the wall. “I bet the Potter manor has a tree showing all of your ancestors too. You must be excited to go see it.”

“I hadn't thought much about it, to be honest,” Harry admitted. “Haven't had the time.”

There was a lot he suddenly had to think about and he wished he had the first clue where to start. Maybe if he had a moment to himself, he could slow down to think things through.

“If you want some time to yourself, you don't need to stay here with me in the library,” Aquarius said, sounding sympathetic.

“You don't want to look at the book?” Harry asked.

Aquarius shook her head. “It's yours to read first. I may take a look around and see if we have a copy on one of the shelves. Its likely, since it was written by a Black.” She pushed the curtain aside and then walked through, continuing to hold it for Harry as he followed.

After a bit of thought, Harry remained with Aquarius in the library and the two sat silently read their books until Leona came to fetch them for dinner.

“Hey, bookworms, it's time to eat!”

She grinned at the pair of them when they looked up, both surprised at how much time had passed. While Aquarius marked her page and set her book aside to read later, Harry put his back in his bag so he could take it to his room after dinner.

“How were your lessons, Leo?” Aquarius asked.

“Dull,” Leona responded with a groan. “Andy has me practicing with old speeches so I know how to properly present myself during Wizengamot meetings. It's important, sure, but I can't think of anything more boring.”

“History of Magic,” Harry responded immediately.

“The Annual Yule Ball at Malfoy manner,” Aquarius supplied cheekily.

“Brats,” Leona said affectionately. “Yeah, you might be right. Those are both pretty boring as well.”

Harry almost asked about the Yule Ball, wondering what it was and whether or not he'd be expected to attend it as well, but Leona changed the subject before he could say anything.

“Mum and Andy say that you'll officially start lessons tomorrow, Harry. She wants to go over a few things before you go back to Gringotts and talk to the holder for the Potter accounts. Mostly etiquette and stuff so you don't accidentally insult someone. Easy stuff,” Leona said with a shrug.

Harry hoped she was right about that. There was so much he felt like he didn't know. Stuff that Leona and Aquarius spent their entire lives learning and experiencing. He felt hopelessly behind compared to them.

Was it the same at school? How many of his peers had he unintentionally affronted with his behavior and language? It never seemed to matter that much in Gryffindor, but was that because he spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione?

Harry resolved to do better.

- - - - - - -

Andromeda smiled as she watched her family merrily converse over dinner.

Ted and Remy were in the middle of a rousing discussion on experimental medicines; a topic she hadn't expected Remy to show much interest in knowledge in, but the younger woman seemed to be holding her own even as Ted delved into more advanced potions.

The kids were all at the other end of the table with Leona and Nymphadora leading most of the conversation while Aquarius made comments and Harry primarily listened. Every now and then laughter would break out and Harry would grin, bright and carefree, and Andromeda was reminded of the way he was treated by his relatives and how glad she was to have gotten him out of there.

Dinner went well until just before dessert, when Milla popped into the room and got Andy's attention with a single tap on the arm.

“A guest has arrived, Miss. Milla be telling them it is rude to intrude over dinner but they insisting.”

“Thank you, Milla,” Andromeda said as she gently set aside her utensils. She patted her mouth with a cloth napkin and then excused herself from the table with a soft apology. She briskly walked to the foyer and made sure to compose herself before entering the room.

Standing near the door was an old man with a long beard and twinkling periwinkle robes.

“Albus,” Andromeda cordially greeted. “It is considered rude to visit during dinnertime.”

He met her aloofness with a polite smile. “I do apologize, Lady Tonks, however there was no other time I could get away and there is something of grave importance that I must discuss with you.”

Andromeda arched one eyebrow. “Oh? And what is so important that you would arrive completely unannounced and interrupt a family meal?”

“It has come to my attention that you removed Harry Potter from the care of his Aunt and Uncle. You have to understand how important it is that he remain with them,” Albus told her. “There are blood wards in place around their residence. So long as he calls Privet Drive home, he will be protected from those in our world who would do him harm.”

Andromeda had a myriad of choices before her. She could play along with his little game, letting him try and garner sympathy for his actions. She didn't doubt that he genuinely thought he was doing the right thing, but she wouldn't stand there and allow him to speak up in defense of those horrid muggles.

“Harry will not be returning to that place and especially not by your hand.”

“My dear-”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You have no right to determine where he lives. You had no right to send him to those people; the only people who Lily herself specified he was never to go to. We have heard their Will, Albus. The boy will stay with his Magical Guardian and there is nothing that you nor anyone else can do to change that.”

Andromeda stepped back, never once taking her eyes off of Dumbledore. “Bastion!”

With a pop, a house-elf appeared. He was clad in the same gray and blue as the others, but he bore the Black Family shield across the back of his shirt and carried a tiny dagger on the belt around his waist. He bowed to Andromeda.

“How may Bastion help?”

“Please escort the Headmaster from the property and place a ban on the wards to prevent him from returning without permission,” Andromeda instructed.

Albus looked pained by her words, but politely inclined his head and went without a fuss, leaving Andromeda to stand in the foyer by herself. A few minutes later she felt a slight shift in the wards. Only then did she feel comfortable returning to the table.

“Everything alright?” Ted quietly asked as she sat down.

Andromeda nodded. “Nothing to worry about, dear. Just an issue that needed to be handled sooner rather than later.”

She would tell him and Remy more about their guest later. For the moment, she wanted to sit and enjoy dessert with her family.

[coraxheartfield]

⌠katie mcgrath, 35, cis female, she/her ⌡welcome back to gallagher academy, cora heartfield! originally hailing from gallagher, this alum specializes in covert operations. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a knife hidden in a perfectly tailored power suit, heels clicking against a checkered marble floor, passports with different names, a charming red lipstick smile, and the fizzle of champagne being poured). it’s the (capricorn)’s birthday on 01/19/1985, and when they were still in school their most requested dish was pekking duck from the school’s chefs. hopefully their presence can help ease the minds of gallagher students. ⌿ kendal, 24, she/her, est ⍀

About Cora

Full Name: Cora Margaret Heartfield

Age: 35

Birthday: January 19th

Zodiac: Capricorn

MBTI: ENTJ

Gender: Cis female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthplace: London, England

Bio

For six generations the Heartfield family had had only boys and before Cora was born, her parents expected the same thing to happen a seventh time...until it didn’t, making her the first female heir to Heartfield Enterprises.

Heartfield Enterprises is a private espionage organization, masking as a consulting firm in the public eye, that has been run by the Heartfield Family since World War 1. They work closely with both MI6 and the British royal family, but can also be hired for assignments by other companies or people or governments for the right price. They recruit from various spy schools around the world.

Her mother died on an assignment when she was a toddler and Cora only has pictures to remember her by (she’s the spitting image of her). She was raised only by her father, who in his own odd and subtle way gave her all the love in the world, and her tutors and instructors. 

She grew up on the Heartfield Estate in the countryside outside of London. What looked like an old and grand English manor to most was really a high tech fortress that was visited by agents and royals and dignitaries alike. Her daily lessons consisted of topics like Russian, horseback riding, ballet, advanced mathematics, and marksmanship before etiquette and more.  

Cora was privately educated and trained at home until at 18 she was sent to America to attend the best girls spy school in the world, Gallagher Academy.

Gallagher was a great adjustment at first, going from England to America, from a private education to a public, to constantly being around girls around her own age and having her posh upbringing making her stand out amongst brash and bold American mannerisms. But Cora knew how to adapt and Gallagher quickly became her home, where she excelled in her Covert Operations classes.

When she graduated she went back to London and immeadiately went to work for her father and Heartfield Enterprises. She spent half her time on missions in the field and the other half on the Estate and in London high society being groomed by her father to take over the company once he retired.

Last year on an assignment in Shanghai, Cora let her guard down for a moment and she was shot in her stomach. It’s only thanks to her partner that she didn’t bleed out and die right there on the street.

She spent months in recovery on her family estate and has only recently found the strength to go about her normal, daily routine. She is retired from the field....for now and has taken over many of the duties of running Heartfield Enterprises as her father is starting to step back more and more as he gets older.

When she got the call and the offer from Headmistress Sutton to mentor at her old school for the semester, Cora jumped at the chance. Gallagher will give her a chance to recover even more, to get her strength back so that she can go back into the field, and to get out of London for a bit. 

She wants to help the Gallagher students as best as she can, and to be a firm but fair mentor. 

Personality

Level-headed, analytical, and practical, Cora always tries to think things through, especially as a spy and since she’ll soon be head of her family’s company and have to continue the Heartfield legacy.  

Raised in British high society, she has a tendency to be posh and likes things to be a certain way, with an air of elegance and sophistication.

Having grown up groomed for leadership, Cora has a take charge and get shit done attitude, with little patience for laziness. She’s the boss and won’t tolerated being treated as anything less. 

She’s passionate about what she does and expects others to be the same. 

She also doesn’t have any time for anyone’s bullshit and will let people know it. 

While firm in her opinions, she knows how to negotiate and find compromise. 

Cora is incredibly charming and also knows how to use that charm to be very persuasive. 

She will fight to the end and work as hard as she can for what she wants. 

Deep down, beneath the spy and the CEO, is a soft heart that has a great capacity for compassion when allowed to show. 

Misc

Speaks fluent Russian, French, and Mandarin and has a killer American accent.

May be friends with Meghan Markle, she doesn’t like to gossip about it.

Knows how to ballroom dance.

A better marks-woman than hand-to-hand combat fighter.

Wears her trademark red lipstick and Coco Chanel perfume everyday, as well as her silver ring with her family crest on it. 

Loves a good power suit but also a beautiful couture gown if the occasion calls for it.

If she wasn’t a spy she would probably be the CEO of a fortune 500 company. 

Very tall at 5′10 but will wear 3 inch heels on a daily basis. 

Brought her own tea supply with her to Gallagher because she refuses to compromise on it and drink any “tea” produced in America.

Her injury still causes her pain if she pushes herself too much but Cora refuses to take painkillers for it, not wanting to risk becoming reliant on them. 

Possible Connections

Friends from her Gallagher days

Exes both from school and from when she worked in the field

Old school enemy / rival

People she knows from the field / has worked with in the past

Students that she mentors

Give me drama, give me angst, give me love, give me friendship, give me all

[nehawriter16]

7th October, 2018 23:05 pm Average, Mediocre, Loser

For the longest time, I had myself fooled. I was on a secret mission – to study for all 8 papers even though I hadn’t done classes for 4 of them (the really tough ones) and there was hardly any time to prepare for them without sacrificing my marks in the others. I didn’t tell any of my friends or the senior who was mentoring me this. I just picked up the books and began to try to figure things out myself, going into panic and frustration when I couldn’t understand something.

I’d spent time drawing up timetables that required studying 300 pages a day, which was obviously impossible, even if I sat for 16 hours a day with barely any breaks. All of my friends were appearing for only 4 papers, which was the sensible thing to do because it meant passing with good marks and a part of me wanted to do the same, to make things easy for myself, because it meant I wasn’t going to have to resort to extremely unhealthy sleep/eat/social patterns such as alienating every single person I know, completely switching off from social media, and most importantly, sacrificing my creativity in terms of writing. Giving up everything else seemed like a small price to pay – and I have endured years of mental, emotional and social sacrifice for this course already, so I’m used to it – but writing is in my blood. Writing is the one thing that brings me immense happiness. I can’t give it up. Even if it’s not monetarily viable, even if nobody is reading what I have to say, it is as important to me as breathing.

But I wanted nothing more than to somehow pass. To wake up one morning in January close to my 23rd birthday and find that I was a Chartered Accountant. I knew that seeing that four letter word on my marksheet wouldn’t mean pride for having “made it.” It would mean giddy happiness for finally being DONE. Done with this course that I never wanted, would never be good at, would never enjoy no matter how hard I tried.

I just wanted to slap the degree in my parents’ hands, pack a bag, move to Bombay as soon as my articleship ended in March. I had so much to do – my unfulfilled creativity, a half written book to finish, a part time job in poetry waiting for me, and most importantly – the new-found freedom of being a young, single, self sufficient wild thing in a city where nobody knew who I was. It was a new beginning and when I was falling asleep every night, when I woke up every morning, and when I couldn’t force myself to keep going – it was all I would think about. I associated Bombay with the first breath of fresh air after being in jail for 5 years, because that’s how sickening this city, the course, and the people had become for me.

I knew I would never fit in the minute I walked through the doors on the first day of class for the first level. These people weren’t like me, and I wasn’t willing to change what I enjoyed for the sake of a 5 year period, or even for a single day. Words would always be my poison. Not law, not numbers, not the robotic ways in which the students around me seemed to be able to sit in one place for hours, learn things I couldn’t get myself interested in despite trying so hard.

But from the first day, I forced myself to study, because what choice did I have? I’d shunned science when my parents offered it to me, and arts was not a choice. I passed, faltered once, but landed a big four articleship and kept going. On the surface, everything seemed to be working out. Inside, I felt suffocated. The artist in me was screaming for release, which is how I started to get more involved in my Instagram account. For 2 years I spent all day at work, trying to excel in a field I was starting to dislike more and more by the day, but convinced that quitting so close to the finish line was stupid and out of the question.

There were only 2 things that kept me happy – a boy I was in love with, and narrating stories for my Instagram account. I relied on them heavily and hopelessly as reasons to wake up every morning and go to work, or class. I watched the girls I call friends do much better than me and began to develop a serious inferiority complex. They loved what they were getting to learn and wanted to be better. I was trying to chameleon their behaviour, and failing miserably.

In June of 2017 I lost the boy. But like Nikita Gill and Rupi Kaur would remind me in numerous poems, he lost me, not the other way around. Either way, it was a loss, and my happiness took a monumental blow. I held on hopelessly to hope till my hands turned to scabs. I did things I’m not proud of. I resorted to reckless behaviour to replace the big, gaping hole that seemed to have opened up in my heart. But heartbreak was not a new concept to me, so I gritted my teeth, wrote some poems, and pretty much managed to put it in the past. I still had the writing, after all.

Still, emotional loss can leave you marinating in nostalgia forever, especially if you have the tendency to feel things deeply. As Pablo Neruda so beautifully put it, love is so short and forgetting so long.  

Writing kept me alive in those months. I began to compile a collection of poetry and stories that I would someday turn into a book. That people were excited to buy.

Work was getting worse and worse because I had been allotted to a team that was not welcoming at all. I travelled for almost 4 hours every single day. I got into several fights with my seniors, who were rude and callous and made me feel worse while I was already dealing with coming out of emotional trauma. The deadlines we were asked to meet were insane. I began to fall sick a lot. I would look out of the window and sob in silence every single day.

But I decided to put my health first and left. In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t. Because even though I didn’t realise it then, work, no matter how bad, kept me distracted from the terrible thoughts that were forming in my head every time I let it be idle for a few minutes. I moved into a smaller firm and suddenly had a lot of free time. The jobs I was assigned there were much more mundane, and the people working around me had no ambition at all. I stopped making the small but relevant amount of money that was guaranteeing my financial independence of sorts, and brought a completely self-dependent girl back to her parent’s allowance.

All in all, it’s safe to say that in the beginning of 2018, I walked myself into a mental trap. On one hand, my heart was broken and it was extremely hard to get over the fact that even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, somebody I was convinced would stick by my side chose to hurt me when I was least expecting it. I began to distrust people and alienate them as an impact. Lots of good, kind friends were lost. Romantic and platonic connections that could have been beautiful if I had allowed someone past my suddenly very high walls never got a chance.

Second, my workplace and academic environment was choking me with monotony. There was no incentive – earlier, at least the ping of money credited into my bank account made me show up and put on a show, but now I didn’t even have that.

Third, and most disheartening of all, was nothing to look forward to for the rest of the year but this endless tunnel of having to stay home and study for exams that were in November. I felt handcuffed all times of every day. The only momentary happiness I felt was when I was well sedated with alcohol or hanging out with two of my best friends, one of whom moved to London for the last year of his university and our conversations became limited to Facetime calls.

Writing got spotty because every time I opened a word document, this voice in my head would remind me that I needed to study. When I tried to study, I could never get enough done because I simply hated it. I fucking hated it all.

In April of 2018 I decided that if I kept going this way, I would send myself into chronic depression. I already felt like I was there – what with the self-imposed ban on writing. It made more sense to space out the papers, even if it took 6 months more than I had originally planned. At that point in my life, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Giving 4 papers in November and 4 in May of 2019 meant I wouldn’t be pulling 16 hour days for 6 months. This way, I could balance my dislike for the subjects with allotting enough time for social outings and just being a normal 22 year old. But on 20th July, the results for everyone else’s exams came out.

I found a seething jealousy begin to build in my heart because the girls and boys who were my age were now done and would be embarking on the life that I would have to wait a year for. It consumed me. I couldn’t sleep at night. I screenshotted their marksheets and stared at them. I would check their facebook pages and compare every little detail of their lives to mine, causing my already fuelled inferiority complex to grow. I completely forgot that CA was not my gift, art was.

It felt as though I was standing in a room of overachievers holding bulky files of their accomplishments, and the only thing I had was a knack for poetry. Except, nobody CARES about your knack for poetry in the Chartered Accountancy world. No one gives a fuck if you can write. And so I felt like the biggest loser in the room.

I still do. It is October now, just days away from the exam, and even though my secret mission was always impossible, I was unwilling to accept it. Even if I was able to sit for 16 hours, even if I was able to study for all this time like everyone else probably had, I would never have been able to complete the course by January. This is not because I am dumb. It’s because I put myself into the wrong race and I’m trying to compete with people who are in love with what they do. Put me in a room of poets and I will outshine most of the room (or so I like to think).

But all these 5 years – and especially these last 5 months – have done for me is cause my brain to believe its inferiority. Everyone else my age has either graduated from university, or is months away from getting a well paying job. Their lives are starting to bloom, while mine just looks dark till May of 2019. Till July, in fact, because that’s when results come out.

I am handcuffed to my identity, to this city, to my mediocrity, to my parent’s supporting me financially for the next 8 months, with absolutely no way out. I have no space for writing. I have nobody to call my own that doesn’t live oceans away.

I wanted to be great at something. I wanted to be doing well in at least one thing, you know? But it seems impossible now. I am not good at anything. I feel mediocre at best.

The voice in my head does not fail to remind me that I am standing in a room where nobody sees me as competition or a threat. That they never will. Accept it, she says to me incessantly, you are average. You will always be average.

What do you do when your self belief in your own failure is so deep rooted, your brain is mocking you constantly? How do you fight your own mind?

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 60928/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10

Read on: Ao3

“Emma no-middle-name Swan,” Belle announces, as she fills up the screen on Emma’s phone. “I have the greatest beyond greatest news for you.”

It’s Friday night in Emma’s apartment. Facetime is open, her phone propped up by a stack of books on the coffee table as she drinks a mug of tea in her pajamas. Her hand is wrapped in a complex bandage. Killian insisted on having her stop by a clinic on the way home from the farm. The doctors had assured her that she didn’t need stitches for the cut on her hand, but they did some testing to make sure it hasn’t been infected and then gave her a butterfly band aid to keep it together. Killian had then set off to his evening shift, after Emma reassured him for the ninetieth time that she actually fine and he didn’t to fuss over her.  In turn, she headed back to her apartment to skype her best friend.

Who apparently has the greatest news.

“Tell me,” Emma says, pulling her grey blanket around her and smiling at the camera.

“I got a grant to do a bit of research in London at the end of the month,” Belle tells her. “I’m coming to Europe! And you have to hang out with me.”

Emma bursts into a huge smile. She doesn’t realize how much she’s needed her best friend until now. Killian’s been great, more than great. But Belle is her soul-sister, the only friend she’s ever managed to make. And she’s going to see her in person. They’ll be able to talk, really talk. And see London.

“Belle, this is amazing!” Emma ooes. “I’ll book my trip there right away. Do you think it’s cheaper to fly or take a ferry or a train? What days are you getting here?’

Emma dives to grab her planner off the coffee table and starts to pen in the dates as Belle lists them off.

“Wow,” Emma exclaims, running her hand through her hair as she stares fondly at the newly penned dates in her planer. “This is really going to be amazing. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know,” Belle says, “You’ll be able to tell me everything about your little schemes and teaching foreign undergrads and your thesis and oh, yeah, the boy.”

“What boy?” Emma repeats.

As if she doesn’t know who Belle is talking about.

“The opera boy,” Belle says.

“Oh, him,” Emma says.

Who else would it be? Killian is her only friend in town, if she didn’t count the Queen of Misthaven. And maybe Professor Hood.

“Killian,” Emma tells her, “His name is Killian.”

“Hmm, now tell me about him,” Belle prompts. “Have you seen him again?”

Ugh, Emma is totally not ready to talk about him. About earlier.

“I mean we hang out most days a week,” Emma explains, hiding her blush in a gulp of tea.

“Oh, do you?” Belle asks, flashing a cheeky smile.

“He’s been showing me around,” Emma tells her, rolling her eyes, “Taking me to see different parts of Misthaven, going to the opera with me, teaching me how to horseback ride- just normal stuff.”

“Teaching you how to horseback ride? Shut up, Emma! That’s super romantic,” Belle ooes.

Emma ducks her head, her blush unable to be blocked any longer.

“Emma,” Belle gasps, “I’ve never seen you make that face before.”

“God, I know, Belle,” Emma mumbles.

“Did you kiss him?”

Emma doesn’t reply.

“Emma Swan! You kissed a boy!” Belle squeals.

“It was just a one-time thing,” Emma says quickly.

“No, no,” Belle says, “You like him. It’s not allowed to be a one-time thing. I forbid it.”

“You can’t forbid it,” Emma says, “I am a strong independent academic woman and I don’t need a man.”

“Obviously, you don’t need a man,” Belle says, “But the marriage plot isn’t about women needing a man. It’s about women making choices that make them happy and fulfilled.”

“My thesis makes me happy and fulfilled,” Emma protests.

“Yeah uh huh,” Belle laughs, “I wish I believed you.”

“I’m not doing any dating until this dissertation is turned in,” Emma sighs, “No matter how much I might be secretly in love with my Misthaven best friend.”

“We need to have a serious conversation about this at some point. In London, shall we?” Belle tells her, “But until then, don’t hurt that boy too much.”

Emma rolls her eyes.

“No, I’m serious, Emma,” Belle tells her, “He obviously likes you a lot. Be careful with his heart.”

Emma runs her good hand through her hair.

“I will,” She vows.

“What about you?” Emma asks, trying to change the subject.

“What about me?” Belle asks.

“How are things for you? Boys?” Emma prods.

Belle sighs, “Delightful. But complicated. Delightfully complicated? I’ll tell you all when we are in London. I can’t explain here.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m glad you are coming to Europe, you loser. Or else I’d never hear all your gossip,” Emma laughs.

“And I’d never have the opportunity to persuade you to stay with your boy,” Belle teases back.

“Ugh, okay. I promise I’m booking my ticket soon,” Emma tells her, “But I should probably sign off now. I’m going riding with the queen tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Oh, horseback riding with the queen,” Belle says in a horrible British accent.

“She has a Misthaven accent, you goon,” Emma tells her.

“Oh, horseback riding with the queen,” Belle repeats in an even more atrocious Misthaven accent.

“I’m hanging up with you,” Emma says.

“Alright, let me know when you buy that ticket, will you?” Belle says, “And seriously, girl, don’t be afraid to kiss that boy again.”

“Bye Belle,” Emma laughs, turning off her phone before her friend can give her any more advice.

It’s the next morning when Emma finds herself astride a horse. Again.

Seriously, she never expected her dissertation research to involve so much horseback riding.

But it seems that Prancer is even better behaved than Blaze was, so that’s something. Clearly someone has been riding this pony even though Princess Emma isn’t.

Which brings about the worst part: this pony is tiny.

Seriously, the poor thing was made to carry around 4-year-old Princess Emma, not 25-year-old Fake Princess Emma. What if she squishes the poor thing and it dies? Then the queen will hate her and never give her the money? This is such a mess.

“Do you ride often?” The queen asks her. She’s astride her mount, a large, dark horse named Diego.

“No, not at all really,” Emma says, “I had a lesson with a friend yesterday and it didn’t go very well.”

Emma raises her hurt hand.

“Oh you poor dear,” The queen exclaims, “Are you quite alright now? Is this frightening?”

Emma shrugs, trying not to say, “Get me off of this fucking horse.” Because honestly this pony is too tiny to be scary.

“Oh no, I’m grand,” Emma says, smiling kindly. “It’s so nice of you to take me out to ride.”

And it’s true. The forests here are very well maintained. Clearly the queen employs an extensive grounds crew. While the Du Bois forest was wild and whimsical, the Royal forests are neat and regal. There are tall trees that must have been there for centuries of Nolan rulers. There are ancient looking fountains, classical statues, and strategically planned flowers in color schemes. Emma is refined enough to appreciate it, but she thinks she prefers the enchanting feel of the Du Bois woods better.

And then there is the horses themselves. They are kept in tip top shape, groomed, well, preened more like it. Each horse has identical neat manes, saddle pads with the royal crest on it, and shiny saddles. If anything, Emma feels underdressed in her cable knit sweater and ankle boots that she picked up from the New Look in Old Town. If she ends up getting asked to ride this often in Misthaven, she’ll likely have to invest in some actual riding boots. She can’t believe it. Her, Emma Swan, foster-child-orphan-fraud, buying boots just for horseback riding.

“So, what does your mother think about you spending so much time with the Queen?” Mary Margaret asks, “I know I’ve been mentoring you a bit, but I hope she doesn’t feel like I’ve replace her.”

Emma stops her horse. It’s a conversation that they definitely should have had before now. But even in a situation like this, even when her whole deception relies on her being an orphan, a ward of the state, she hasn’t brought it up yet. It’s still a secret she guards carefully. She always has. It even took Killian a few weeks to coax it out her, Belle even longer.

But it’s got to come out at some point for this whole thing to go any farther.

“I don’t have a mother,” Emma whispers, her soft words echoing into the chattering forest, “Or a father.”

She tries to brace herself for the pity in the Queen’s face. That’s Emma’s life, always the subject of pity. The emotion is raw across Mary Margaret’s visage- grief, sympathy, and a hint of hope.

Oh. It’s that tiny glint of hope that Emma recognizes in her eyes that lets her know that she is really deep in this.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” The queen murmurs.

She reaches out to take Emma’s hand, despite the horses. It’s a solemn moment. To be honest, Emma’ a little annoyed by it. She’s not in the mood to relive her sad story. She doesn’t want to think about the trauma of growing up moving from house to house. Emma just wants to enjoy the gorgeous autumn weather and the daunting task of horseback riding.

But then again, this woman watched her family and friends get murdered. She lived in secrecy and exile for years. Maybe Emma can reveal a bit of her hardship to her.

“When did they pass?” Mary Margaret asks and Emma has to try not to roll her eyes in front of royalty. Because oh my god. This lady is totally fishing. She has it bad.

But maybe it’s more than that. The Queen also lost her family. They have that in common.

“I don’t really know,” Emma tells her. “I was found in an airport when I was three. They could be out there, but clearly they have no interest in me.”

“Emma-“

And Emma truly hates everything because just like with Killian, when she told him everything, it’s not a story she can tell without turning into an emotional, vulnerable, sobbing thing. This story is part of her neat little wall of bottles. And well, un-corking the bottle, is like un-corking a heaping grossness of emotion.

“Like people forget their water bottle in airports, and sometimes their winter gloves. But when they forget their luggage or their cellphone or some valuable, they go back and get them. So clearly I wasn’t valuable to anyone. Not to my parents. Or Aunts or Uncles. Or Grannies. Or whatever. And it’s taken my whole life to feel like I’m valuable to anyone.”

Queen Mary Margaret sees the unshed tears in Emma’s eyes and dismounts her horse. She gives Emma a gentle nod, and Emma slides off her mount. The mud squishes underneath her ankle boots. She looks down at her hands.

“Do you feel valuable to people now?”

Emma nods.

“To my best friend, Belle. She’s the first time I felt like I could trust anyone truly. Like I actually had a friend entirely on my side.”

She grits her teeth because she isn’t sure she’s ready to say it, but adds, “And Killian.”

“Killian Jones?” The queen grins.

“Yeah,” Emma says, “Him. He’s really great and I care a lot about him. Which is weird for me to care about other people. Sometimes caring for myself seems like a full-time job. But yeah.”

“And you like him?” The queen prods.

Emma sighs, “I don’t know. Maybe? The fact that I’m even saying that is impressive. I don’t like people. I just like surviving.”

The queen takes a step forward and puts her hands on Emma’s shoulders.

“You should know that you are valuable to me,” She says, her voice firm.

Emma swallows a sob that tickles her throat.

“I know I’m a crazy queen of a tiny country that swooped you up under my wing, but you matter to me. I really care about you, Emma.”

Emma wants to run for a moment. Because this is like Ingrid all over again. Because this whole thing is super fake and Emma has become the master manipulator she never wanted to be. Because Mary Margaret can’t actually love her, she just loves the idea that she’s her daughter. Because once someone cares about her, then they have infinite power to break her.

But for the tiniest flicker of a moment, she feels something stir inside that she’s never felt so entirely before. She feels like she has a mother.

And somehow she closes the space between her and Queen Mary Margaret. Here they are in the middle of this random ass fairy tale forest crying together as fake-mother-and-daughter and Emma knows this isn’t her thing. But it feels right. And recently she’s discovered that she can feel things she didn’t think she could feel before. So she hugs her, and lets her snot stain the sovereigns’ elegant riding jacket, and lets herself for the second time in two days, take a risk and feel something for someone.

“Have you ever cantered?” The queen asks, decades later, when they pull away.

“Uh no,” Emma replies.

“Would you like to learn?”

“Sure I guess, but I’m a little worried about my hand,” Emma murmurs, raising her gloved hand, that’s a little chubbier with her complicated bandage.

“You’ll be fine. Come on, get back on your horse. Let’s go.”

Emma remounts Prancer. Luckily, the pony is so tiny she doesn’t need a mounting block.

“Now, take up your trot,” The queen says, as she begins to bob up and down as her horse takes up its uneven rhythm.

Prancer and Emma follow. She tries to remember Killian’s instructions the day before on how to post, using the momentum of each stride to rise up and down.

“Alright, now give Prancer another firm squeeze,” Mary Margaret tells her, demonstrating on her own horse.

Emma thumps her legs against Prancer and the pony switches to a smooth, faster motion. Emma’s face breaks out into a smile. There is something so freeing about this. She feels connected with the horse, the world around her.

Suddenly the forest trail gives way to a valley, it’s nestled between two mountains, but it’s all open field. Emma’s heart skips a beat because there is something achingly familiar about this field, this valley. It’s like she knows it. She can’t know it. She’s never been here before.

It’s probably some fake déjà vu. She probably hiked in a valley similar to this with Killian. She probably saw something like it with Belle during their road trip to DC during college. Something, anything.

She pulls on the reins and slows the horse the down. She shoves the thought into a bottle, into the wall. But dang it. She’s getting worse at the wall thing. She’s getting worst at bottling things up.

“Are you okay?” The queen asks.

“Yeah,” She replies, “it’s all just a little overwhelming.”

“It’s okay, Emma, we can start slow,” She tells her.

Start slow. She breathes out and in. It sounds like a solution to more than one problem.

She glances at the queen who gives her a warm smile. Emma smiles back.

Trust. Emma thinks that the word. That’s why she’s having trouble bottling things up. She’s starting to trust people.

Emma and Queen Mary Margaret finish their ride an hour later. A groom meets them at the stable doors. He helps them dismount, before whisking the ponies away to be untacked and cleaned.

“Would you like a cup of tea before you head home?” The queen asks.

Emma nods, “Sure.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Mary Margaret tells her, “I so want you to see the house here. It’s the one that was meant to be my daughter’s.”

Emma remembers this. Princess Emma’s future home in the Southern Valley. Except there is no Princess Emma, so the house sit ominous empty.

“I still have a few staff who keep it running, of course,” Mary Margaret adds. “It’s a nice place to go to pepper up after a long ride.”

Emma smiles. They walk through the gardens up to the entrance. While these gardens are more subdued compared to those at her hilltop palace, the plants are still well cared for, flourishing in autumn colors- oranges and soft reds. Clearly the grounds are well taken care of.

“The library here is very nice as well,” The queen explains. “It’s bit more subdued than the library at the Summer Palace, but it’s cozier I think.”

Emma grins, already anticipating another book filled room. She wonders if this one will contain any secrets about Misthavian fairy tales. Her fingers already begin to tingle at the thought of all the books and worlds that they open up.

“Oh, Regina, how lovely to see you,” Mary Margaret remarks suddenly, as they watch a tall, elegant woman walk through the gilded doors out into the garden.

There is something incredibly familiar about this lady. Emma’s sworn she’s seen her before.

“Your Majesty,” The woman replies, giving a small curtsey to the Queen.

“Emma darling,” Mary Margaret says, “This is my dear friend, Prime Minister Mills. Regina, this is my friend Emma.”

The Prime Minister gives Mary Margaret a sharp look, raising one eyebrow incredulously.

Emma shifts uncomfortably, “Nice to meet you Madame Prime Minister.”

She puts out a hand. The woman gives it a dubious look, but shakes it.

“Please to meet you as well, Miss…” The woman waits for Emma’s reply.

“Swan,” Emma tells her, “Emma Swan.”

“Emma is an opera aficionado,” Mary Margaret explains. “And a literature Ph.D. from the states. She’s working on a research fellowship here.”

“From the states?” Regina repeats.

For a moment Emma is lost as to why this woman hates her so much. They’ve only just met. And she’s like the Prime Minister of the country and Emma is just a nobody.

“Can I speak to you a moment, your Majesty?” Regina requests, “Alone.”

Emma cringes as she watches the two step into the building. Emma sits down on one of the stone steps in the garden, bending over to wrap her arms around her legs. All of a sudden, the autumn air feels chilly.

All of a sudden, the feelings of trust that Emma felt so strongly before flicker before her. She wants to believe that she can trust the queen, but well, she’s been through this so many times before and she knows what’s going to happen.

As Emma holds herself together through the cold, she imagines the conversation going on inside the house. The Prime Minister is probably convincing the queen that she is delusional. She’ll explain how Emma is obviously a fake. I mean it’s ridiculous to be true- a girl named Emma who is from America, who loves literature and goes the opera. It’s like someone created to simply manipulate the queen into believing that it’s her daughter. And Emma knows it’s all true. She is the perfect person because it is all true. But that doesn’t prevent the tendrils of worry from wrapping their way around her stomach. What if the Prime Minister convinces her that she’s an imposter?

The jig is up, is all Emma can think, as tears threaten her eyes, her worries swimming before her. She’s going to be deported for impersonation. She’s going to be sent back to Duke and never finish her thesis and she’s going to go back to being a lonely-ass foster child with no friends and no prospects. God, she’s so stupid. She never should have trusted anyone. This happens every time she does. Why did she even think-

“Emma?” The queen interrupts.

Emma looks up at the sovereign, who sits down beside her.

“Oh, sorry, you shouldn’t have to sit on stone, you’re like a queen and-“

“It’s not a bother to me,” the queen says, “abet a bit cold.”

Emma chances giving her a smile.

“Is everything okay?” She ventures to ask.

“Regina,” The queen says softly. “Prime Minister Mills, that is. She worries about me.”

Emma is silent. Her stomach still fluttering with worry, the tears from earlier still stuck her in eyes- not yet shed, not yet dried.

“You must know, I suppose, that I’ve had a problem over the years. I don’t like giving up hope. And because of that, I’ve convinced myself that a variety of imposters were my daughter,” she admits. “I’m not proud of it. I know I’ve made myself into a fool in front of the kingdom and I know that Regina is just trying to prevent that from happen again.”

So, Emma isn’t wrong. Regina is on to her. Regina did just try to talk some sense into Mary Margaret. Which granted, to honest, Mary Margaret probably does need some sense talked into her at some point.

“But I told her that it’s not like that with you,” Mary Margaret says and Emma looks up.

She still doesn’t know what to say, some she swallows and raises her eyebrows and widen her eyes, hoping the expression will beckon a response out of the queen.

“I told her that you’ve become something of a mentee to me. That we share a love of books and culture. But regardless, that you’ve lived a life where people have left you. And I’ve lived a life where people have manipulated me and used me. Maybe our friendship is something that is purely healing for both of us.”

The tears that been threatening her eyes start to trickle down a little. Just the day before Emma vowed to cry less, but clearly that isn’t happening. This is now twice in just one outing.

“I told you that you are valuable to me, Emma,” the queen says, “And I wasn’t lying. You are valuable to me.”

Emma sniffles. The word trust echoes in her ears from earlier. A wave of something, some emotion, rolls over her. She’s right to trust Mary Margaret. She can’t believe it, but she is. She’s not like Ingrid or someone from her past who is going to desert her. She’s actually going to stand by her when it counts. Emma’s heart swells a little.

“It’s cold out here, isn’t it?” The queen says suddenly. “Let’s go inside, shall we? Find that cup of tea we discussed?”

“Yes,” Emma manages.

As she stands up, the queen pulls her into a hug and Emma feels herself melt a little. Then they walk inside and the queen talks to a servant and asks them to prepare for them tea in the library.

The library, it turns out, is Emma’s new favorite she’s seen in Misthaven. It’s not as big as the university one, or even the Summer Palace library. Instead, it’s circular and cozy. There are tall windows around the room and the ceiling is painted like the night sky. There is a crackling fire and blue armchairs. Emma has always assumed she’d be a Ravenclaw and this here is exactly how she’d imagine the common room.

They sip their tea together, munching on fresh pumpkin scones, as they discuss books they’ve read and horses and autumn, until the late afternoon cusps on evening. The October sun sinks slightly low in the sky.

“I suppose I should return home,” Emma says.

“Yes,” The queen responds, “I’ll call the car for you.”

“Do you mind if I grab a few books while I’m here?” Emma asks. She wonders if this library will have any more interesting fairy tales volumes.

The queen gives her a smile, with a slight twitch in the corners, “Help yourself my dear.”

The sovereign leaves the room as Emma takes to the shelves. She finds that many of the books here are Princess Emma’s own books. There are many more children’s stories than she’s seen in the Queen’s collection. Despite this, there are still a decent amount of fairy tales scattered through the shelves. Emma helps herself to a pile of books. She finds a volume of Dutch fairy tales that look promising. She’ll have to translate it, but that could be an adventure of its own. The she discovers a book of literary criticism on fairy tale based literature, which is pretty weird to find a kid’s library, but whatever. She adds it to the pile. Then finally, she comes across a thin hard covered book with an black cover embossed in gold reading, “Misthaven Fairy Tales.” Emma flicks open the cover to see an inscription from the queen herself.

“Shall you stop by on Tuesday for tea, as usual?” The queen asks, returning to the room.

Emma hastily shoves the books in her tote bag. She knows she has permission to take books, but this last one seems intimate. She didn’t get a chance to read the inscription, but she has this feeling as if she’s stumbled upon something precious. She nods, “And I’ll bring some things to study after if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, darling,” The queen says. “Thanks for joining me for tea and a ride today.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Emma says, offering a shy smile. “And for all the kind words.”

“Hey, I think you might be glowing,” Ruby tells Killian, as they swap shifts.

“I’m not glowing,” Killian tells her, though he can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks to the top of his ears.

“You are. Are you pregnant?” She teases, as she tosses her hair up in a ponytail.

He rolls his eyes. Then smiles, because he’s clearly taking up Emma’s mannerisms.

“So did you and Emma bang?” Ruby asks.

“Ruby, no,” He says, “I would do no such banging with Emma.”

“Okay fine, did you and Emma make love?” She says it super dramatically, mimicking his accent.

“No,” He snorts, “We kissed. That’s all.”

“You kissed? Killian that’s great!”

“It was just a one-time thing,” He shrugs.

“Uh huh,” Ruby grins, “That’s how those things always start.”

“Honestly, I respect Emma and if that’s what she wants-“

“Oh please. One kiss from you and I bet she’s dreaming of another.”

“Whatever Rubs,” Killian groans.

“You can doubt me if you want, but I bet you are going to get laid before Christmas,” Ruby remarks.

“It’s just October.”

“Exactly, I’m giving you a wide berth just to be safe.”

“Maybe never say wide berth again,” Killian replies, as he exits the bar area.

“Hey, I did say you were glowing!”

“Good bye,” Killian says, turning promptly away from his ridiculous friend.

He heads out of the bar and into the heart of old town, smiling as he feels the autumn sun on his skin, his eyes adjusting from the darkness of the bar. He knows that Emma is off with the queen and he probably won’t hear from her for a couple hours. But he can’t stop thinking about her and that kiss. It was like everything he dreamt about. And better. God, she’s a marvel.

He decides to wait for her return by finding a book to read. For such a literary city, Misthaven has a woeful number of bookstores. Which of course is even more reason for him to want to open his own- he’ll definitely have the market. So instead, he heads towards one of the many charity shops in town. They’ve been his favorite place to find books, since he arrived in Misthaven years ago. What is the point of spending a fortune on books, when he can adopt orphaned ones for pennies?

He turns into his favorite shop along high street and walks inside. After nodding at the woman at the counter, he heads straight to the back where the books are. As usual, the section is stocked full of paperback mysteries and romance novels. Not that Killian doesn’t like these kind of books, or looks down upon them, but today he wants something classic. Emma is so well read, and while Killian knows that he isn’t too shabby himself, he feels the need to prove himself regardless. He studies the shelves and eventually decides on Jane Eyre. He’s never read it before, but knows enough about literature to think that the gothic themes might strike a nice autumnal tone.

He purchases the book and heads outside. It’s nice enough that he can take a seat outside Mamie’s, reading and drinking coffee in the autumn air. He’s drawn in immediately by the young foundling girl and her lonely childhood. He knows a thing or two about lonely childhoods. He’s so entranced in the book that he startles when his phone rings.

“Hello?” He asks, frowning at the unfamiliar number.

“Is this Mister Killian Jones?” A voice asks with an English accent.

“It is,” He answers.

“I’ve got some new for you,” The voice replies.

And the news makes Killian drop his phone.

Tagging some pals: @sambethe @lenfaz @pocket-anon @the-corsair-and-her-quill@kmomof4@kiwistreetswan@princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story@shady-swan-jones@katie-dub@1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob@midnightswans

[cherrynika]

It’s nice to see Alex again though he usually avoids former partners. It’s simply been long enough since their breakup that no trace of awkwardness is felt, simply a sense of familiarity. He’s more or less the same, having decided to keep the facial hair Jipyeong had always hated. It’s as sleazy-looking in real life as it is in the instagram photos he pretends he’s not scrolling through. That’s a pointless exercise that makes him wonder if he’d be more successful if he had chosen to stay in San Francisco, or if he’d still be the same person but with shittier fashion sense. It does, however, answer many questions that he’d like to ask (have you neutered Tim Tam yet, yes), prefer not to (are you married, 2 girlfriends and what was probably a sugar baby later, the answer is no), and never wondered (Crossfit is indeed life-changing; hot yoga gives you 10 more IQ points!).

Alex is cordial and professional at the Sandbox, offering Jipyeong nothing but a handshake before they sit down to grade the baby startups. But he lingers conspicuously in the meeting room after all the other judges leave. Jipyeong fingers a piece of his hair that’s come loose despite the pomade and waits.

“You look fluffier. Fatter.” Of course Alex’s first words are about his weight.

“I started eating rice again. I hated low-carb.”

“Rice or tteokbokki?” Alex smiles. “Anyway, it’s not a bad change. Let’s go to Gotgan. I have a reservation for 7pm.”

“You made a reservation for two?” Alex has always been overly confident, but that’s his charm.

“If you say no, I’ll ask Dongchun.”

Jipyeong considers him, looking almost exactly the way he did when Ms Yoon first introduced them 5 years ago. She’s always been able to look right into him and see what he wanted. As much as he respects her, he’s never wanted to tell her that her matchmaking attempt worked. Nothing he does today will have the tiniest effect on the future. All that’s in the past. All that’s waiting for him are Yeongsil and his big silent bed. So he gathers his notes into his satchel and fishes out the keys.

“Let’s take my car.”

“Let’s take the subway. It’s not far and we’ll probably get drunk.”

__

They stay sober. While getting drunk is fun, Jipyeong’s most regrettable moments (bar one that has surfaced intermittently for the last fifteen years) have all occurred when he was intoxicated (crying at a class KTV when Mrs Choi’s favourite song came on, dancing to Wonder Girls in front of a girlfriend’s parents). Staying sober is for the best.

Alex makes some noises about heading back to his hotel room. They both know he doesn’t mean it.

“I want to show you my new place,” Jipyeong says when they’re halfway there. He’s forgotten how private the sidewalks can be at night, cars on one side, the river on the other, blanketed in the dark. “It’s bigger than the one I had before I went to America.” Waves of headlights wash over them, illuminating Alex’s face before dipping them back into darkness. Everyone is rushing somewhere that only they think is important.

“I’d be surprised if apartments could be any smaller.”

“They’re always getting smaller.” Jipyeong jostles against him to avoid a woman on a bicycle. Alex puts his arm around him and doesn’t let go. In San Francisco this is what couples do. In Seoul they’re just old friends. Skinship, being a mentor, being a sunbae--these are all great excuses for what Jipyeong really wants to do. Even through two shirts and a lined blazer his body wants Alex’s body.

They walk in silence though the lobby, past the doorman whose chief qualification is knowing when not to look and float skywards in the lift.

--

“We have to take our shoes off, I just want you to know. You can leave them over there. Yeongsil, lights please.” The lights flicker on, Yeongsil is clearly having a good day.

“You know, I don’t let people wear shoes in my house either… That’s not Alexa.”

“It’s Yeongsil, it’s an AI speaker. It’s one of Ms Yoon’s more promising startups. It’s… more interesting than Alexa.” Jipyeong says, taking off his jacket and leaving it on the table. “It told me you were coming last week.”

“No, no, I told you that I was coming.”

“Yeah, but before I got your email. He tells fortunes too and he told me someone from my past was coming.”

“Everyday you meet someone from your past. And you shouldn’t let it listen to everything you do. It’s going to get hacked.”

“Astrology is in, everyone is going to love that feature,” Jipyeong shrugs. “Nothing I do here is worth any money, they can just hack my bank accounts.”

“You’re not paranoid enough for someone who works in tech.” Alex says, as he almost fondles Yeongsil.

“I’m actually trying to reduce my paranoia.” Jipyeong takes Yeongsil from Alex and stuffs him under the jacket. “Does that make you feel better?”

“No.” Alex continues to touch the other things in his apartment without permission. “Is every photo here of yourself? I know you don’t have family photos but that’s so vain. You should’ve kept some of the gang at 2STO or at least something to remind you of me.”

“The internet is filled with pictures of you. Anyway I still have the Grandpa Rudin you lent me, it’s more useful.”

“Did you really finish it?”

“I just wanted to know why everyone complains about it.”

“Well, now you know I guess. If you liked it don’t tell me.” Alex has moved on to the cardboard sign that proclaims Jipyeong the 2001 winner of the Inter High Schools Investment Competition brushing a finger over the scratch mark Tim Tam made on it before Jipyeong decided it would be safer in his closet. “I like the lamps. Are you into art now?”

“The seller had it staged, I just decided to buy it the way it was. I think it looks very cohesive.”

“So that’s why it looks like no one lives here. It’s like you don’t have any stuff.”

“No, I have the plants and I keep the EXO and Apink merch in the walk-in closet, it’s too personal to have it out here.”

“Red Velvet is better. I wish it weren’t so bloody creepy to be an uncle fan.”

Alex is still the only man with whom he can talk about Eunji and Kyungsoo and not feel dirty. He’s stumbled upon Dongchun’s Twitter (which is, in his own defense, a fascinating read) and knows too much about his deep love for TWICE. There is something a little unsettling about ajusshi fans, even if he is one himself.

“I think there’s something more interesting we can do here.” he takes the sign and puts it back on the top shelf. “I haven’t been laid in 6 months. I’m going to burst.”

“Couldn’t you have picked someone up at a nightclub?” Alex is smiling in such a familiar way; they both know this old dance.

“They’re full of university students.” Jipyeong says while helping Alex out of his jacket, which surprisingly, is only GAP. “You smell like metal.”

“It’s Sartorial, remember? From Penhaligon’s? It’s got that magnesium note.”

“You still haven’t finished it?” Jipyeong bought it as a gift while in London for him. It was so long ago, almost like a dream. He’s had dreams, whenever he’s been alone for too long, of undressing another person, but he can never remember what happens afterwards. The dream-person’s shirt has no smell, no trace of sweat. He slips Alex’s shirt off his shoulders. No undershirt as expected.

“Nope. I bought another bottle. It’s different from all the other man-perfumes. It doesn’t just smell like tonka bean.” He slips a finger over Jipyeong’s mouth, smearing his summer lip balm before dipping inside and scratching his gums lightly with a fingernail. “Your mouth is as lovely as you are horrible. Have you learned anything since we split up?”

“Test me,” Jipyeong says.

The only light in the bedroom is light pollution from the city below. It’s still more than enough to see by, despite the fact that Jipyeong’s night vision has gone to shit from more than a decade spent staring at a computer screen.

[this part not written yet]

--

He dozes off without meaning to and wakes up to the sound of engines. Alex is playing F1. He must have gone through his closet and found the playstation Jipyeong has been trying and failing to quit.

“You’ve got some very impressive beard burn on your jaw. ” Alex says as he overtakes Rosberg. He’s chosen the Singapore circuit. Onscreen the city is cloaked in darkness, the only thing that exists is a winding silver road and cars driving nowhere at 300 miles an hour.

He leans over and takes the controller from Alex, crashing into a Ferrari before spinning out into the barriers. “Are you bragging?”

“No, I’m just being honest.”

It’s a strange mirror of their early days when he would wake up to Alex on a coding binge, the clacking of the keyboard starting and stopping with his thoughts, the weak light of his laptop throwing huge shadows on the wall.

Jipyeong rolls forward on his belly; he wants to see Alex properly. “What do you like about Samsan Tech?”

“I like their engineering. Dosan’s incredibly talented. Their CODA algorithm builds on existing knowledge, and is an improvement on it.”

“And that’s your professional opinion?”

“What else would it be based on?” Alex fixes him with a look.

“Well. People say that you can’t be emotional as an investor. But how can it not be emotional?”

“Jipyeong. I’m excited in the way that I am when I see something beautiful. I wish you could see it too. I still can’t believe you’ve gotten so old without learning to read code.”

“I can code.”

“I don’t mean using OCaml to code a model.”

“There’s only so many hours in a day.” He rolls over and watches the dead light from the screen play across the ceiling. “I can always ask an expert.”

“I’m going back to America after Demo Day, you know. As fun as it would be to stay here and pretend we don’t know each other I have a job I have to get back to.”

“I meant other experts.”

“There are none like me.”

“Well. Talking to you is more fun.” He tangles his fingers with Alex.

“You’re not still posting loss porn on Wallstreetbets are you?”

“I just did. Lost fifty thousand on Apple puts.”

“You’re going to end up living in a corndog stand again.”

“Actually, I won’t. I didn’t tell you yet but I found her last month. She’s in a food truck now. So there’s nowhere I would go.”

“Can I meet her?” Alex perks up. He’s always loved a good story. “I want to know what you were like as a kid.”