#so i slapped a turban on him and called it a day

[the-lonely-human]

Enjoy angry green man

[lightsburnbrite]

What We Keep Secrets For: Part 5

Sam sat on the other side of Thomas's desk, right arm crossed over her chest defensively while she pinched the bridge of her nose with her left. A shudder ran through her body, the iced coffee she was was covered in drying to a sticky mess. She willed herself to hold back the tears as she unwillingly replayed the morning's events in her mind.

"Samira? Samira Klein?"

Sam was in the process of setting up the tripod so they could livestream the team loading on to the bus. She was on the club side of the traffic barrier but had moved as close to the street side as she could to get the whole shot.

Stopping, she looked up when she heard her name called. "I'm sorry?"

"So it is you." A slightly less than middle aged woman with a blunt platinum blonde bob stood on the other side of the barrier. "Figures he'd go for a younger, bouncier version."

Sam took a step back. "I think you may have me confused with-"

"Oh I know exactly who you are." The woman raised her voice now. "If you think you can waltz in and steal my husband…"

The team had already begun to take their seats on the bus. Some were settle but a commotion outside had caught their attention. Matthijs had his earbuds in but when he saw his teammates move to the side, watching something out the window, he took notice as well. He moved over just in time to see an unknown woman reach out and slap Sam while attempting to grab a handful of her hair.

Matthijs scrambled out of the row of seats, off the bus, and sprinted down the pavement. Some others took his lead as well. Benji and Müller put themselves between the woman, who had thrown her iced coffee at her, and Sam while Matthijs immediately went to comfort her.

"What was that?" Matthijs wiped some of the coffee away before resting his hand on her cheek.

Sam was visibly trembling, looking at the ground behind Matthijs. "She said Lukas was…is?…her husband."

They both turned to watch as security came and escorted the woman away.

"Are you ok?" Matthijs had his hands on eight side of her face willing her to look at him. He knew the bus would be leaving soon but wanted to make sure the situation was at least somewhat resolved before he had to go. "Just take the rest of the day off. Go back to my place, don't go home, and I'll be there as soon as we're done, Ok?" He kissed her forehead before pulling her against him. "I love you."

As soon as he got back on the bus, he realized his teammates had seen their interaction and he knew the cat was out of the bag. Matthijs took the gentle ribbing and congratulatory shoves from his teammates but that wasn't what he was worried about. Between the scene that was caused and then the fact that it was now known that she was dating a player, he didn't think this would end well for Sam.

"The problem is," Thomas started, "It's messy. We could tell you that you need to stop seeing De Light but that doesn't erase the past four months. And who is to say you wouldn't then fancy someone else. Plus there's the drama today and the broken equipment…it's messy."

Sam closed her eyes and nodded. "Can I please just go home now?

"Um," Thomas hesitated. "I think it would be best if we had you clean out your desk and handle all the termination paperwork now instead of having you come back in another day."

Once she had all of her personal items in a tidy little box sitting on the back seat of her car, Sam rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She ignored what Matthijs said and went to her apartment, she figured that Lukas's wife had made enough of a scene that neither she nor he would seek her out. 

After a shower and a load of laundry, Sam sat down to see just how much time she had before she couldn't afford to pay rent anymore. She knew she'd need to update her portfolio but all she had done for the last year was social media and that wasn't really what she saw a a career she wanted. 

"Wow," Eva came home from work to find Sam in her robe, hair done up in a towel turban, and a glass of Rosé next to her. "Did you actually get out of work early?"

Sam let out a sigh and shook her head. "My life has basically devolved into a shit show over the past eight hours."

"Wait, what happened?" Eva's eyes widened as she pulled out a stool and sat next to Sam.

After Sam recounted the day's events, she put her hands on top of her head and shrugged. "So I have like a month and a half to find another job. I'd say start looking for another roommate now."

"I can't do that, Sam." Eva automatically shook her head. "What I I get someone lined up but then you find a job? Or, what if I find someone before-"

Sam shrugged. "I can't have you worrying about me too. I'll get something figured out."

Their conversation was interrupted by Sam's phone ringing. Initially, she was going to ignore it, but she saw that it was Matthijs calling. She excused herself to her room and flopped down on the bed.

"Hey."

"Sami." His tone was gentle, almost apologetic. "I don't have a ton of time to talk but I wanted to make sure you were doing ok. I've been worried about you all day."

She hesitated. "I'm…I don't know. They fired me but honestly, I don't know if I could show my face again after everyone saw me get beat up so there's that."

Sam let out a nervous laugh waiting for Matthijs to respond.

"What can I do? I want to help you-"

She cut him off. "Honestly? I think you could probably use some space from me right now. The last thing I want to happen is for you to then have a difficult run because of me."

"No." She hadn't heard him use quite that firm of a voice before. "We're not going there. Listen, I have to go but we'll finish this conversation when I get home, ok?"

When she didn't respond initially, he continued with his somewhat firm tone. "Sami."

"Ok," She sighed and decided to complete his thought from earlier in the day. "And I love you too."

When Sam came back out from her bedroom, Eva was busy on her phone but she put it down as soon as she saw Sam.

"So you really think I should start looking for another roommate?"

Sam shrugged. "Things are really up in the air for me right now and I don't want to be taking up space and not able to contribute to my share of the rent."

"I mean," Eva pressed her lips together. "I get what you're saying, but that doesn't mean I'm not going t be sad about it."

With a nod, Sam bowed her head slightly. "I know. Me too."

"At least if you were moving in with Prince Charming I could be happy for you." She moved over to the sofa and sat, crossing her legs underneath her. "What do you think you'll do?"

She shrugged now. "Probably move back in with my parents until I can find something else."   

When Matthijs made it back to his apartment, he wasn't surprised that Sam wasn't there, but he was disappointed. After Sam suggested that he needed a break from her, Matthijs looked back through their messages to see if there was anything that indicated she was wanting to break things off. He figured her seemingly new feelings all stemmed from the incident at the club. Finally, he sent her a message asking if she was coming over or if she wanted him to go to her. 

He waited a few minutes and when she hadn't replied, he put his phone down and walked away. The team was given the day off tomorrow but he'd almost wiped there was at least one session, he wanted something to occupy his mind so he wasn't dwelling on where Sam's head was at. 

Matthijs stood in front of the refrigerator, trying to decide if he was actually hungry, when he heard the chime signaling that the lift doors were opening. He nearly sprinted to the hallway to meet Sam, stoping just short of crashing in to her. 

Sam looked up at him, offering an apologetic smile before letting herself lean into him. Matthijs wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her as tightly as she'd tolerate before resting his head on top of hers.

Eventually, he stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Why do you think I need break from you?"

"When Thomas told me I was being let go," Her shoulders slumped and she avoided looking into his eyes, "All he kept saying was it's messy. I don't want to be a distraction for you or surrounding you. People need to see you, not your messy girlfriend."

Matthijs raised an eyebrow before he leaned in and kissed her. "You're not messy. Your…ex? Hookup? Former fling? Whatever you want to call him, that was the messy part. Not you. The way I see it, you're not affiliated with the club anymore so what is there to be worried about? Just go about your business and we'll be fine."

"I'm not-" Sam sighed and leaned back in to him. "I'm not breaking up with you, I just feel like I need to lay low for a little bit, ok?"

He ran his fingers through her hair while gently rocking them in a swaying motion. "Ok…what exactly does that look like?"

"I'm going to go stay with my parents for a bit." Resting her hand on the small of his back, Sam let her finger slide under the hemline and stroke his skin. "Save some money while I'm looking for my next job."

Matthijs immediately stepped back and put his hands on his hips, a mock display of incredulity.  "You could do the same thing by moving in with me."

"I know, it's just…" Sam moved closer, kissing him this time. "I want to move in when it's because we're ready to live together, not out of necessity."

When he pulled a face that was a mix between a frown and a pout. Sam laughed and kissed him again. "I won't be that far away, less than an hour, ok?"

"Ok." He continued to frown. "Will you at least stay tonight?"

Sam beamed back at him. "I was hoping you'd ask me that."

They camped out on the sofa and watched a bit of tv before Matthijs stood up and stretched. He held his hand out to Sam, encouraging her to stand as well.  "You know I'm going to miss you."

“Oh really?” Sam folded her arms across her chest with a smirk and the slightest bit of defiance.

He knew that look well.

“Really.” Stepping forward, Matthijs put his hands on her hips and drew her closer. Kissing her lips once, he ran his fingers through her hair. “I love your eyes and your nose…your lips, your chin.” He kissed her again as Sam stretched up on her tip toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sam let out a little giggle as his hands went back to her waist.

“I love your neck and your shoulders…” When Matthijs slipped his hands under her shirt and let them rest on her ribcage, his thumbs lightly grazing under her breasts, he felt Sam inhale deeply. Gently, he stroked his fingers down her spine before taking the hem of her shirt and lifted it up over her head. Sam shivered, naked from the waist up as Matthijs pulled her back against him. Leaning forward into him, Sam rested her head against his collar bone as he began to kiss her neck, his thumbs brushing across her nipples. "I think we need to relocate. My bed is going to be much more comfortable than the floor."

Biting her lip, she smiled at him as she let Matthijs lead them back to his bedroom. Sam rested her hands on his chest, slowly dragging them down to his waist. Arms over his head, Matthijs grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the side along with hers. Glancing down, he watched as she tugged on his belt, quickly unfastening it before she moved to the button and zipper of his pants. Matthijs stepped on the back of each shoe, promptly kicking them off before Sam had the chance to tug his pants down to his knees, stroking his calves as she went along.

When he kicked my pants to the side as well, Sam laughed as she traced the outline of his prominent erection with her finger. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were happy to see me.”

Matthijs shrugged before taking a step closer to her. “So, what are we going to do about that?”

Before Sam could respond, he took hold of the tie on her joggers and gave it a tug, causing them to fall to the ground as well. Sam stepped out of the fabric that had now pooled at her feet. With one hand, she lightly rubbed his now throbbing bulge and made him lose track of his thoughts. Breathing in deeply, Matthijs tipped his head forward and let it rest against hers.

Sinking down to her knees, Sam hooked her finger tips on the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down at an excruciatingly slow pace. Looking up at him to make sure he was watching, she gently placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock. He brushed her hair out of her face, holding it off to the side to keep it out of her way. Matthijs felt his breath catch as she opened her mouth wider and took the length of him down her throat.

“Jesus, Sami.” He leaned back and braced himself against the edge of the nightstand, not being able to think past the fact that her humming was now pulsating throughout his groin. On any given day, Matthijs would have had no problem going twice or maybe even three times, but tonight he knew he didn’t have it left in him. “Ok…babe…just…hang on…” 

Sitting back on her heels, Sam looked up at him, lips slightly pouted. Raising the corner of his mouth in a smirk, Matthijs encouraged her to stand. It seemed like Sam knew what Matthijs had in mind and pushed him back on to the bed, climbing on top of him in one fluid motion. She leaned forward and kissed him, grinding her hips against his. Linking his hands behind his head, Matthijs was more than happy to just lean back and let Sam take over.

Closing his eyes, Matthijs moaned as Sam slid back over his hips. Taking hold of him in her hand, she stroked twice before guiding herself onto him. Once in a comfortable position, Sam tucked her legs up behind her, resting the tops of her feet on his lower legs, and began to rock her hips back and forth. Leaning forward, she rested her hands on either side and kept up a fervent pace.

Sam cried out, her moans eventually dying down to a whimper, as her entire body went rigid for a moment before she laid back down on top of him.

“My plan was to just take care of you tonight, but when have I ever turned you down?” Matthijs stroked her hair as they listened to the silence around them. 

Finally, Sam let out a sigh as she snuggled in closer. "Maybe I could keep some clothes here? Stay over on the weekends so I can go to your matches?"

Matthijs gave her a squeeze. "I'll take you as often as I can get you, Sami."

[princeandcrow]

The Scar

[For Bring Back The Bastard Day 1]

Severus can feel his scowl, almost deep enough to cause himself a headache, and his lips pressed firmly together. As the new first years had filed in, a pair of green eyes had caught his attention. He has his mother’s eyes. Dumbledore had told him ten years ago. He could clearly see that that statement had been quite true. Not only were they the exact same shade of emerald green, but they had that same doe-eyed innocence.

Perhaps all his assumptions had been wrong.

Admittedly the boy’s hair was the same dark mop as his father’s, as well as the shape of his face. But he didn’t appear to carry the arrogance or affectations brought about by a privileged upbringing. Instead he was he looking around the room in wonder, like many of the muggle-borns did, as if they still couldn’t quite believe that magic was real. And he was small – so small – and thin. His robes hung loosely over his shoulders like… well like his own had.

The boy looks up at him, seemingly becoming aware that he is being stared at, then he winces and rubs at his forehead. Severus wonders if a headache draught might be in order... I thought you had no intention of coddling the brat? but then notices that he seems to be rubbing only the scar. What could have effected the mark left by the Dark Lord in such a way? Not Severus’ own Dark Mark? No, he had felt no burning. Not for ten years.

To his left is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He glances at the man, who has turned his back in order to pick up a dropped item. On the surface he comes across as a blithering idiot. But Severus knows that evil can lurk under many different guises. And that turban! Quite offensive. It’s a good job there are no Sikhs at the school, or Albus may have been combating angry letters complaining about cultural approproation. He makes a mental note to investigate the new staff member further, as the boy is called and the hat begins it’s ruminations to a hushed room.

Any earlier sentiment he may have been leaning towards is thoroughly washed away as the hat chuckles loudly.

‘Not Slytherin, hey?!’

Severus’ lips curl up in a sneer as a wave of hot anger rolls through him. Of course the idiot boy already had a prejudice against his house! Whatever Gryffindor loving Potters he had been brought up by were sure to have drummed it into him from an early age how Slytherins were all evil Death Eaters.

‘Better be Gryffindor!’ The hat announces to raucous cheering across the hall. The grinning boy joins his new house with much back slapping and hand shaking. Severus has to occlude his emotions once again and he straightens himself in his chair.

There is no reason for him to feel any disappointment.

This is exactly what he thought was going to happen.

@bringbackthebastard

[vodkaxtonic]

hey i saw you were asking abt poly hq👉👈 i was wondering if you could do some fluffy kuroo x reader x kenma? like the reader was having a bad week and they just needed love from their bfs? gender neutral, if you can.

I’m an absolute sucker for poly fluff, so let’s go! And all my poly hc’s are gender-neutral, just FYI!

❃ This has probably been the worst week ever for you

❃ Like, the actual worst

❃ Not only did this week start your exam weeks, no, you also managed to fail each and every one of them, despite studying for weeks

❃ You didn’t really know what went wrong, but everything you had studied for didn’t even come up in the exam

❃ And it really made you sad because this is the first time where you really studied for something and seeing all your invested time just go out the window as soon as you looked at the sheet of paper?

❃ You wanted to cry

❃ But this wasn’t the only thing that made you want to absolutely fling yourself off of the next cliff

❃ Earlier this week you had scheduled a date with your boyfriends Kenma and Kuroo

❃ Which got you extremely excited, especially since both of them had such tight schedules thanks to their volleyball practice

❃ However, what both of these idiots forgot to mention was that they actually had a practice match that day at the Karasuno, which meant that your plans went right out of the window, too

❃ Now with everything piling up, the pressure of school and exams, your boyfriend’s forgetful habits, and the lack of support and affection, which you desperately needed right now, it was no wonder that you stood in front of the door of their shared apartment, eyes teary

❃ As if it wasn’t bad enough, you also got soaking wet from riding your bike here

❃ You ringed the doorbell, nervously massaging your fingers as you silently begged they’d be actually home since you hadn’t told them you’d come around

❃ “Hey, baby- hey hey hey, are you crying? What happened?” 

❃ Kuroo’s smile turned into a frown when he opened the door, seeing you look at him with dull, teary eyes, biting your bottom lip to keep it from trembling

❃ “Kenma! Y/n is here!” Kuroo called out, pulling you inside by your sleeve as he didn’t even try to hide his worry

❃ “You’re soaking wet! Come on, let’s take a warm shower before you get sick. I wanted to shower anyway.” Kuroo suggested as he pulled you behind him into the bathroom, Kenma sitting on the counter with his game in his hand, giving you a quick smile before returning to his game

❃ You got undressed as Kuroo got some spare clothes from Kenma (more like his since Kenma only wore his clothes) before he re-entered the bathroom

❃ It didn’t take long for Kuroo to join you in the shower, turning on the water

❃ Kuroo could read you like a book, unlike Kenma, and he knew something was extremely wrong with you

❃ You were never the one to stand in front of someone else almost crying, not even your boyfriends, you had way too much pride for that

❃ But when you leaned your head tiredly against Kuroo’s shoulder, hot tears spilling from your eyes as you body got shook by sobs, that made even Kenma look up from his game as Kuroo frowned, a bit overwhelmed by your emotional outburst

❃ You felt Kuroo’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him as the hot water ran over your body’s, shamelessly crying into his shoulder

❃ The door of the shower slipped open as Kenma’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his game long forgotten on the counter

❃ You and Kuroo were his top priority, even though Kenma didn’t show it often

❃ “K-kenma- y-you’re get-ting we-t!” You hiccuped as you felt his arms wrap around your from behind, his clothes still hugging his body as he buried his head between your shoulder blades

❃ “I don’t mind.” He muttered as your hand slid over his that were crossed over your stomach, tightly squeezing them as you let your tears fall freely

❃ After twenty more minutes of calming you down and Kenma's spontaneous second shower of the day, you all exited the shower as Kenma wrapped you in a towel, while Kuroo went to their bedroom, getting clothes for Kenma

❃ "Are you feeling better?" Kenma asked, his voice filled with worry as he put his long hair in a towel-turban before he gave you his undivided attention yet again

❃ You nodded, and there was no doubt that you felt better, yet you felt shame as you realized how you cried in the shower

❃ "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just burst in here crying-"

❃ A whine escaped your mouth as a hand lightly slapped the back of your head and you turned to Kuroo with a pout

❃ "Don't ever apologize for being vulnerable with your boyfriends," Kuroo muttered, his voice serious as he started to towel dry your hair, making you smile

❃ Not even ten minutes later you were in the bedroom, and you sat between Kuroo's legs, your torso leaned against his chest as Kenma laid in between your legs, his head on your chest

❃ "Do you want to talk about why you were crying?" Kuroo asked softly, his eyes shifting from the TV to look at you as he played with your hair

❃ "This week was just...shit. First I managed to mess up all of my exams, and then I was so excited about our date, and that got canceled too. I know you guys are busy with volleyball, and I love that you love what you do but...it does take a toll on me sometimes when I just need you guys to hold me and you can't because you're staying at practice longer or you have practice matches." You admitted, and a deep sigh escaping your lips as a flush of embarrassment crossed your face

❃ Both Kenma and Kuroo frowned, realizing that they were kind of neglecting you, since they lived together they still could hold each other at night, but you didn't live with them, and sometimes they seemed to forget that there was a third person involved

❃ "I'm sorry- we're sorry, Y/n." Kuroo frowned as he pulled you a bit closer, pressing his lips to your cheek before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck

❃ Kenma took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before putting your hand under his head as he looked at you, letting his fingers lightly run over your arm

❃ "We'll make sure to make time for you, Y/n. Sorry that we even let it get this far to make you cry." Kenma apologized, making your eyes widen

❃ "No- stop blaming yourselves! It's just...school has been stressful, and I felt a bit lonely especially since you guys were so busy this week, but I don't want you guys to blame yourselves." You frowned as you realized how accusing your words sounded

❃ "And this is all I need right now." You smiled, first at Kenma before turning your head slightly, making Kuroo look at you.

❃ "Still, we can't keep forgetting or rescheduling our dates together. We promised we'd do it. Kenma and I are living together, it's easy to see each other during the day, and sometimes we seem to forget that you aren't living with us and can only see us at certain times." Kuroo sighed

❃ "Well, what about Friday nights are date nights?" Kenma proposed, making both you and Kuroo lift your eyebrows in surprise

❃ "Isn't Friday night your gaming night?" You questioned

❃ "Well, yes. But you, both of you, are more worth to me than some silly game I could play any other day."

❃ You and Kuroo looked at Kenma in shock, before a smile found both of your faces

❃ "Friday night is date night then." Kuroo agreed, peppering your cheeks with light kisses which made you giggle, while Kenma closed his eyes, burying his head in your chest tiredly

❃ You realized, no matter how bad your week was that both of these goofballs you call your boyfriends always managed to make your day better, and you couldn't ask for anything better than that

[yunmengslotuspond]

" What the hell are you doing!"

" Give me a moment, Captain! I may be Cambridge polished but as your officers say I still smell like Ganga mati...I know my tactics!"

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Hotel Strandhill, Aritar

1965

They say you need to have Sun jades on your fingers before planning to search for routes in Drenjong. One bitter turn in the moods of the gods governing the valleys and you prepare yourself. However calculations you do, at the end of the day all that matters is your luck. Better wear auspicious stuff than hiding your woolents under your raincoat and cursing each other for choosing the wrong place at the wrong time to travel. You don't want to end up gathering so much knowledge in nephology after all. 

Even the Four Square between my fingers felt damp. I opened the window and a gush of fierce wind slapped my face. The weather that was just cloudy yesterday had turned into a mountain storm within 32 hours. I threw the cigarette out of the window and it landed on a pool of water. 

Meanwhile someone knocked on the door. 

" Come in", I shouted. 

The door opened and there stood a man with a face dark with disappointment, way darker than me. I couldn't resist the desire to mock.

" Ah, Michael ,my friend! So, what's our next plan?"

" Buddy, just don't start please. I am tired", he collapsed on a chair in front of me. I pitied him. 

" Have any cigarettes?", he stretched his hand.

I looked out of the window next to my bed. A few cars filled with unlucky tourists like us entered the hotel. 

" In a series note, what's our next plan?", I asked Michael as he released rings of smoke that ascended to the crafted wooden roof. 

" We have to wait for another 12 hours, Sam", he said more with disgust than disappointment, " The locals say either the weather condition will improve within this time lapse or…"

We sighed simultaneously. 

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" Sam", he said from the door.

" Hmm?"

" Sorry for dragging you here-"

" What rubbish you are talking about! We decided to come here together", I protested. 

And he shut the door leaving my room. 

I wasn't the one blaming him though. What would I blame him for? That he was the one to drag me out of my 'cozy' shelter in London and now we are stuck here, a part of northeastern India which is known to be a tourist spot now showering incessant rains to welcome us? He was in his own whimsical mood of having a world tour as he had had multiple times before as a photographer. Unlike other times, this time I was the one to accompany him. Not like I had that wild intention of tolerating tropical heat or needed sunburn on my English skin but there was something that hit me strangely when he said that he was going to visit India. Something in me that time spelled in my ears that I should not miss the opportunity to visit the country and I agreed to his proposal. Now, sitting in my hotel room, viewing the thunder play demonstrated by cumulonimbus through my window I pondered who was more whimsical among us. Michael had a reason to come. What was mine? Certainly I wasn't a man led by divinations. Nonetheless I wouldn't deny the the fact that me landing on Bagdogra airport was the result of that strange attraction towards India I harboured  for last couple of months. 

I shook my head to wipe off those thoughts. I had come to travel and the monotony and disgust from sitting still in a hotel room was  growing inside of me. I took a book out of my bag to distract myself.

" Dinner ready hain, sahab" a voice came with a knock at the door. 

I wasn't even feeling hungry at that time but the idea of spending time talking to other people rather than rotting alone in my room felt more appealing. So I stood up. 

Wrapping a chaadar I headed to the dining hall. 

Taking a turn near the stairs that led to the ground floor I entered the hall. In comparison to the other day, there were much more people talking and gossiping there. Number of people sharing badluck with us had increased in a few hours. I spotted that Punjabi Singh gentleman more by his signature laughter than his green turban. He clapped on the back of that young Nepalese lad, Temang and I was pretty unsure if he had survived that. Mr. Choudhury was talking to the manager, placing a little map on the table. I noticed Michael  on the right corner gossiping with that Belgian, Matthias and it wasn't that hard to guess what they were talking about by looking at their partially dissatisfied faces. Then there was that overenthusiastic Chinese man ( I forgot his name) who was chatting with that french Indian couple, Adrian Dupont and Claire Dupont. There were many more new tourists, both Europeans and Indians. I recognized a few. 

As I walked to them I could see the faces of new people with more clarity. I was a few feets away when I stopped all of a sudden.

A chill ran down my spine.

I found myself uttering something foreign involuntarily but couldn't even figure what I was blabbering. An intense migraine followed by nausea shattered my balance. My vision blurred, my head spun and the last thing I could remember was Michael shouting my name. 

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" Don't be shy! Consider this as a treat from me. Never in my life have I thought that one day my fellow policeman would fishnet a criminal!"

" The first thing I thought was to restrict him by any means and there was only one thing that was handy at that moment. Can you name it?"

" What?"

" The net. I told you, Captain"

" I don't remember when you last called me 'captain'"

" Oh please, answer my question!"

" I don't want to present myself as a clown by pronouncing that terribly, Suren, you know that."

" It's Vyashal. Now you owe me Whiskey."

" Thikache, Sir!"

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I woke up with my head pounding a bit. But I woke up. My vision was still blurry to recognise those leaned faces so I closed my eyes. 

" How are you feeling, Mr. Waltham?", Dr. Choudhury asked while checking my pulse. I simply nodded. 

" I don't think it's anything severe", Dr. Choudhury said, " Temang, please bring these medications from any nearby store. Don't panic, Mr. Evans, your friend will be alright after a good night's sleep. But for now, make sure he takes paracetamol after dinner."

I heard footsteps as one by one everyone left my room. Only Michael was left who voiced his concern,

" Are you feeling okay, brother?"

I gradually moved and sat on my bed. Michael handed me a glass of water. I drank it in silence. 

" Brother, what exactly happened?"

I sat straight. 

" I think it was acid reflux." 

" Hmm. Doctor said something of that kind. Did you drink any kind of local liquor without telling me?" 

I again remained silent.

" Mate", he put a hand on my shoulder and gently said, " be careful here", he chuckled, " These Indians once wiped us off this country. Not all things available here can be digested by your English stomach!"

Sikkim was Indian protectorate at that time but I couldn't help laughing at his statement. 

A few minutes later he got out of the room to bring my dinner. 

Then I closed my eyes. I needed to ponder…

There was a man, bespectacled, with shiny black hair who joined them in the dining hall. By his complexion he looked like an Indian... perhaps Bengali. He had looked at my eyes when my head started spinning. I knew those deep brown eyes. That countenance was unforgettable... something in me said that I knew his name.

I sighed. Maybe the doctor was right. I needed rest. 

After my dinner I was taking medicine when Michael seemed like a goofy child who just got his candy.

" What?", I asked.

" Look out of the window."

As I looked I realized there was no storm like before. It was drizzling, making the softest sound to soothe the mind. 

" I hope by next morning it will just be cloudy. Then we will go by our plans."

It was really good news and boosted my mind for such an extent that I forgot whatever the fuss I had created before. 

" Take rest, mate. You will be completely fine tomorrow morning. Good night." and he left. 

I spent the night swaying my head with a trail of thoughts coming and going like a mountain breeze. I saw many things, felt many things and those felt like important phases of my life, though the people I saw, the places I traveled never happened in my 30 years of life in London. My body ached with a feeling that I was missing something but my brain was going on its own route. 

I woke up. 

From a good dream or a nightmare I couldn't tell. 

It was early dawn. The first rays of the sun was yet to touch the valley. 

I opened the door and walked through a passage that led to a balcony. I halted. 

There was a man standing there holding a cup of hot chocolate. I didn't know for how long I was standing there because when I looked at him again consciously , a part of his face and hair was tinged with the first rays of sun. 

" Gentleman..."

The man turned towards me. I didn't get why I called him. I didn't even know what I was going to say next. 

" How are you feeling now, Mr. Waltham?"

There was a pause. None of us spoke for a moment. I wasn't feeling nauseous. I needed to stay strong. My gut feeling said I had to confront him. 

" Bose, Sourendra Bose. I should have introduced myself earlier. " 

( Idk where this is going...I have no idea lol. But @satrangee-ray , believe it or not I got this idea while talking to you...so : p. Golper naam i ba ki debo Janina...)

[man-of-masks]

sooo remember that drabble I won’t? well I made another one

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

A howling wind blows through a desert, adjusting the sandy grains of the rolling dunes. Under the scorching sun, a crowd on horseback surrounds a stocky boy strung up to a wooden pole. The crowd whistled and cheered as two captives were brought before their leader.

A man dressed in ancient Arabian attire with a golden turban looked down upon his captives, “For breaking into our hideout, you shall receive the merciful punishment of death.” he then looked up at the boy on the stake, “And as for you, your fate for trying to disrupt our plan, is to suffer under the heat of the desert sun! So says the king of thieves, ME!” 

The crowd roared in delight as the captives below struggled in their bindings, but the boy didn’t even try to resist; he didn’t have the energy to even try. “Guess this is what I get for standing up for myself.” The boy was defeated, all he could do now was to accept his death.

“YOU CAN’T GIVE UP NOW!” The loud shout pierced through the roar of the crowd, and it came from a man dressed like a soldier in camo, “You’ve fought this whole time, why should you give in now Richard?!” 

The words the soldier spoke, managed to slap some sense back into Richard as a smirk showed on his face “Hey egghead, this is what you call a punishment? a spitball hurts more than this!” 

So you finally decided to fight eh?

Pain, an unbearable, burning pain echoed across Richard’s whole body, it felt like his flesh was melting off of his bones.

Seems you’re in quite the pickle there, I can help ya if ya like?

Richard couldn’t quite hear the voice but he wasn’t going to tell them no, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

I’ll take that as a yes

I am thou, Thou art I

You’ve been disrespected more times than you can count, I’d say it’s time for some... retribution, don’t you agree?

The ropes binding Richard to the pole seemed to disintegrate sending Richard into a free fall. As he fell towards the sandy dunes below, he could feel an object covering his face, with a brutal tug he ripped it off. When he did, a  green flame grew around him as he plummeted. The crowd of thieves moved away from the area, while the captives did their best to protect themselves from the impact.

Richard collided with the sands, but no dust was kicked up for the area where Richard landed had been turned to glass, And Richard looked completely different and a transparent hulking figure stood behind him. 

The hulking figure wore a fedora that shadowed their face, but giant cigare they smoked stuck out clear as day. The being’s plump body sat in a leather chair with several guns sticking out from it, as his arms laid on the arm rests. 

Richard meanwhile looked like a classic mobster, but with inverted colors, he had on a simple black shirt, but covered it with a slick white pinstripe coat and his pants had the same style to them. Black and white shoes protected his feet while a white fedora with a black ribbon rested atop his head.

“Ah much better, now time to get some payback!” he reached into his coat and pulled out a medieval hammer, “Let’s wreck ‘em Capone!”

[darakshafatimasstuff]

Hazrat Habib ibn Madhahir ع old martyr of Karbala 💔 the tru friend of Moula Hussain ع

Hazrat Zainab (S.A) said to her brother: "Brother Hussain! Thousands of soldiers are gathering to fight you.

We have hardly 72 men with us. Do you not have anyone to come to your help?"

My sister Zainab, many wanted to join me during the journey from Medina to Karbala.

I politely discouraged them because their intention was not truthful. Many joined and have run away during the journey because they were scared of dying."

He continued: "Zainab! My sister! Falsehood can buy many supporters, but truth has only a few friends. The soldiers on the other side have been bought. They prefer happiness in this world than in the world hereafter.

My 72 truthful men prefer happiness in the world hereafter and that is why they are with me." That night, Imam Hussain wrote a letter to his childhood friend, Habib ibn Madhahir, who was in Kufa.

Kufa was blocked off and nobody was allowed to leave. Habib ibn Madhahir did not know the whereabouts of Imam Hussain until the letter from Hussain arrived at his house.

At the time he was having breakfast with his wife and a young son. Habib read the letter from Hussain.

He kissed it and tears began to flow from his eyes. His wife asked him what was wrong. Habib said: "I have received a letter from my master, Hussain. He has asked me to join him in Karbala.

Yazid's soldiers have surrounded him and are after his life." Habib's wife said: "Habib! Your childhood friend has called you. Your master needs your help. What are you waiting for?

Go Habib, before it is too late!" Habib's worry was how to escape from Kufa without being seen. He instructed his slave to take his horse to a farm outside the city and to wait for him there. The slave did as he was told. The slave took Habib's horse to a farm outside the city.

He waited for his master. His master was delayed. The slave started talking to the horse: "O horse! Master Hussain is in trouble. He needs help. He has asked my master Habib to join him. Master Habib is late.

Horse If he does not manage to escape from Kufa, I will ride on you and go to Hussain’s help." At evening time, most of the men were in mosque. Habib managed to reach the farm where his horse was waiting.

He quickly mounted his horse and said to his slave: "Go, my friend, Go! I am freeing you from my services" "Master! You are not being fair.

I have served you faithfully for years. Now, I have a chance to serve the son of Bibi Fatima, and you are asking me to go. Why are you denying me a place in Heaven'?"

Habib was taken aback by the words of his slave. He was pleased to hear that he had recognized the difference between the truth and the wrongful. He wanted to sacrifice his life for truth. Habib asked his slave to mount his horse.

Together they galloped towards Karbala. Habib reached Karbala late in the evening. Imam Hussain greeted him with great affection. Hazrat Zainab heard that Habib had come. She asked her maid, Fizza, to convey her greetings to Habib. When Habib heard that Bibi Zainab had sent greetings to him, he screamed out in grief and anger. He threw his turban down on to the ground. He slapped his face.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke: "What a sad day! What has happened to the household of Bibi Fatima?

The princess! Grand-daughter of the Holy prophet, the daughter of Ali and Fatima is sending her greetings to an ordinary person like me! Yazid! You beast, you tyrant! What have you done to the household of Bibi Fatima?"

At dawn, Ali Akbar gave Adhan for the last time. Yazid's soldiers blew the trumpets to start the battle. One-by-one, Hussain’s companions went to the battlefield and gave their lives for Islam. Between noon and evening time, Habib ibn Madhahir came to Hussain.

He said: "My Master, Hussain, allow me to go to the battlefield. Let me sacrifice my life for Islam." "Habib, my childhood friend. Stay with me. You give comfort to me, my friend."

Habib persisted with his request. Eventually Hussain gave his permission. Hussain mounted his friend, Habib, on the horse. Habib ibn Madhahir rode into the battlefield. He fought bravely but was finally over-powered.

He fell to the ground. As Habib ibn Madhahir fell to the ground, an enemy soldier came over and cut off his head. All the martyrs of Karbala had their heads cut off, but Habib's was the first to be cut off by the enemy.

Habib's head was not hung on the spearhead like that of the other martyr's. Habib's head was tied to a horse and pulled along the land of Karbala. Later on, in Shaam, Habib's head was tied to a horse's neck.

A young boy, called Qasim, followed the horse wherever it went. One day, the man riding the horse asked the young boy Qasim: "Why are you following me around? What do you want?

Qasim just looked at the head hanging from the horse's neck. The man asked again: "Why are you staring at the head".

This head is the head of my father, Habib ibn Madhahir; please give it to me so that I can bury my father's head." Habib's head seemed to look at his son and say: "My son Qasim, you are thinking of burying my head. What about the head of Hussain on that spearhead?"

Reference:

Dastaan e Karbala vol. 02 page 252

[romantic-hero]

by request.....Part 2 Isolation Ross and Demelza AU(repost...I deleted the first one...)

Ross was sitting at the dining table drinking his coffee and reading The Times on his iPad. He could see out the front window and the usually busy sidewalk was empty except for a woman walking her corgi, and a couple wearing face masks.

Ross stretched and yawned. Then he thought about Demelza and her unexpected sex crazed FaceTime seduction. God, he missed her! She was his everything. Life felt so empty without her. His attention returned to the horror articles about the virus, when he heard the door from the garage open. He jumped from his chair and grabbed the cricket bat from the closet. The thought that he wished he had on more than his underpants flitted through his mind as, with racing heart, he raised the bat over his shoulder as the swinging kitchen door opened.

“Demelza! My god!” Ross yelled. He put the bat down and stared at his wife. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

Demelza’s face turned from the shock at seeing Ross about to hit her with a cricket bat, to one of sheer joy at being home with Ross standing in front of her with his hair all crazy bedhead curls and in nothing except her favorite pair of his blue boxer briefs.

“Ross, I had to be with you. I couldn’t take another minute until I could touch you,” Demelza explained as she set her bag down. “Now don’t worry. We’ve seen no one in the last two weeks. Caroline has food delivered. We wipe it down and wash all the fruits and vegetables. Prudie sanitized the car, I took a shower and washed my hair. I didn’t kiss or hug anyone good bye and I drove straight here. I didn’t even stop once. I haven’t been to the toilet in five hours!” And with that announcement, she ran back to the kitchen and Ross heard the door to the downstairs loo bang open, then shut.

Ross followed her and stood by the sink. First he heard the toilet flush then the sound of running water as Demelza hummed Happy Birthday. “Use the paper towels,” he called to her. He admired her loveliness as she came back into the kitchen.

“What about the children.” Ross wanted to know.

“Jeremy of course wanted to come with me but  Clowance and Sophie and Meliora begged him to stay. I told them I’d be back in a few days. Oh, Ross don’t be angry! I just had to see you.” Demelza looked like she might cry. “I washed all my clothes, even my shoes. I stepped into the car and got out in our garage...”

“My love, you don’t know how glad I am that you are here.” Ross stepped towards her. “Can we hug? I haven’t had a shower today, but I haven’t seen anyone but Dwight since you left. We meet in the park and run. We keep two meters apart.” Ross knew he was babbling but he couldn’t stop. “I swear I’m clean.” He raised his arms as if he would pull her close, then dropped them uncertainly.

Demelza smiled. She took off her jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then she kicked off her trainers and pulled her tee shirt off and flung it at Ross. She turned and started up the stairs. “Race you to the shower!” she challenged him with a backward glance and took off.

“No contest!” he yelled and Ross was right behind her.  Demelza was laughing as she turned on the water and as the steam rose, she took off her leggings and sports bra as Ross hopped on one foot trying to free his foot from the leg of his underpants. Demelza jumped into the shower and Ross hurried in.

(Warning! 😏)

“Let’s soap up first,” Demelza suggested. “Though I’m dying to kiss you.”

She took the bottle of  the Jo Malone lime and basil body wash and poured some in Ross’s hand. Then she filled her own palm. “Come here, my lover.” And Ross obediently came closer.

Demelza rubbed her hands together and when she had quite a bit of foam placed her hands on Ross’s very hairy, muscular chest and started lathering him up. Ross reached for her at last and his hands massaged her pert derrière with the fagrant body wash. Demelza moved to his shoulders and then down his back. “Turn around,” she ordered and she but her lip as she washed his back and moved down to his ass. God, she loved his rear. Round and tight and covered with a light dusting of black hair, she made sure it was very clean. Then she washed his legs and when he turned around she laughed. “Oh, Ross!” For her husband was very aroused and she had never once in 13 years of marriage not marveled at the beauty of his manhood.

“Demelza, come here.” She stepped up obediently and stood with her hands on Ross’s hips as he started his own meticulous washing of his wife’s creamy white breasts. She moaned a little when his hand slipped down between her legs  and then he turned her so he could wash her backside.

“Ross, I think we should wash our hair,” said Demelza and soon his fingers massaged her scalp making huge amounts of lather whilst Demelza made quick work of his short ringlets. Then they rinsed each other off, throughly. The hot water falling in drops down from the rainfall shower head that Demelza had insisted on.

“Are we clean enough?” asked Ross.

“I do believe so,” answered Demelza and she raised her lips to his and kissed him as hard and passionately as she had the first time they had made love. His mouth devoted hers. His tongue searching and exploring while his arms held her tight.

Her hand found him hard and ready and her fingers felt the length of him.

She pushed him back until his knees hit the marble shower bench and he sat. Demelza  opened the shower door and fumbled to opened a drawer. Then she handed Ross the Lelo bottle of personal lubrication.  He looked up at her, his liquid brown eyes searching her face, a sexy little smile played at his lips while he poured a little lube in his hand then applied it. Demelza held his gaze as she fondled her breasts. When Ross was ready, Demelza straddled his lap and slowly lowered herself on him.

“Oh God, Ross,” she moaned loudly. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and as his hands gripped her hips helping her balance, she rode him up and down at first fast and furiously until she felt she might reach her climax.

“Slow down, babe,” Ross whispered. “We have time.” He lowered his head and caught one pink nipple with his lips and started sucking while his tongue teased mercilessly.

Demelza arched her back and held Ross’s head while his attentions brought her closer to the brink of no return.

The gentle warm rain of the shower added to the sensuousness of the moment and then Demelza heard that growl in the back of her husband’s throat that she knew meant he was about to reach his own peak of satisfaction.

“Harder, Ross, please,” Demelza moaned and Ross obliged trusting upward as she pushed down on him wanting him to fill her completely.

“Is it good, Demelza,” he demanded,

“Yes, Ross!”

“Say it again, Demelza!” He ordered, his deep baritone turning her on more than she imagined possible. He gave her ass a gentle slap. “Tell me!”

“Yes, darling, yes!” Demelza was panting as she begged her husband to bring her to her release and as she felt him tremble inside her she knew he was ready and so they both let go at once in a marvelous simultaneous explosion.

Ross held her as she caught her breath, his own starting to calm.

When she was quiet, Demelza got up and turned off the water. Then she stepped out of the shower and got two towels and handed one to Ross. They dried off and Demelza  wrapped a rapid dry hair turban  around her wet head  and they went into their bedroom and laid down.

“Ross, can’t you come back to Cornwall with me? “ Demelza asked as she cuddled up next to Ross and put her arm around him.

“My love, I can’t.  Dwight is lost without Caroline and the girls.” Ross pulled Demelza close. “The situation at the hospital is dire. I search the Internet constantly for the supplies they need. I’m at his beck and call.  Maybe you could stay a few days. Prudie is with the children.” Ross looked at Demelza.

“Let’s talk about it later,” Demelza said. “Maybe I can go with you this evening to see Dwight.”

Ross kissed the side of her face. “Dwight will like that.”

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. The future so uncertain, but their love the one true constant they could depend on.  

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Goddess of Architecture (Gil POV) (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Enkidu)

“Oh no…”

Gilgamesh paused, listening to his friend pace in the entrance of the palace. Interestingly enough, the being had vanished for a while, saying that they had a gift they were bringing him.

Two weeks and no gift later…

“Enkidu!”

The being jumped, spinning around and wincing.

“What are you up to?”

“I um… There was a situation.”

He crossed his arms, already amused and intrigued. What was it about this clay being, with their absurd nature, that kept him fascinated? No doubt, he would be in for quite the time if the being was responding like this.

“I lost my gift for you.”

He laughed.

Gods, but did he love this clay.

“It’s not funny, Gil.” Enkidu waved his arms frantically. “I had to go to the gods to have her created for you. She’s too young, too new! She doesn’t know what it’s like to be human and she’s loose in Uruk!”

She?

Created?

“You had a woman created for me?”

Enkidu hissed a bit, nodding. “I ah- may have thought it would be nice for you to have someone made to oppose you at times. She’s a precious sister to me, although I think Enki made her a little more human.”

A humanized clay being.

Then again, she was Enkidu’s sister.

“I’m sure she can’t be far,” he told the being, slapping his back. He motioned for the remaining guards to come forth. “I’ll have the guards find her. I’ll have her here before my workers finish the temple of Utu on the other side of the city.”

The temple was built in a few days.

He had nothing.

More buildings were rising, his eyes wandering over the cityscape only to see more and more forming before his eyes. The workers did not come to him for once. They didn’t have their clients come either.

No complaints.

That never happened.

Intrigued, the king moved to slip away from the palace, knowing that Enkidu was hunting high and low for that little gift that they had requested for him.

It was then that he heard the rumors.

A goddess of the city, of the buildings around them.

A goddess of healing, meandering to the fallen soldiers to heal them.

He surveyed one of the soldiers returning, watching him run into a figure in the dark. A light glow and a moment of conversation later, the man was running for the first time in probably a long time, skipping and whooping before he saw the flutter of dark hair.

The figure ran the moment that the guards drew close.

He sat on the throne, thinking to himself the next day. His eyes drifted over the clay being in front of him. His eyes drifted further, over the empty audience chamber.

No one had problems.

No complaining soldiers.

No complaining builders.

Not even the farms had complaints today.

“Enkidu,” Gilgamesh headed away from the being, waving for them to stay. “I will be back. I need to look into something.”

He guised himself as a citizen and meandered with a turban firmly over his blond hair. He listened, really listened, as the people talked all around him.

Murmurs of the new goddess met his ears.

“Do you know where she can be prayed to,” he asked a couple of gossips.

“The building master’s home,” they told him.

“She is a child of Enki,” another person nearby whispered. “No doubt hiding from Ishtar and the bridal market by stowing away in the goddess’ own patron city.”

It was his city, but he would address that later.

He gathered the guards, selecting a few pieces of gold here and there as he asked Enkidu to explain their request again.

“I asked for a woman that would be able to stand at your side,” the being told him. “Someone who would be beautiful, but able to give you as much grief as I do.”

He grinned all the way to the building master’s home.

Keeping his amusement to himself, he watched the man and the worshiping fools nearby cower in his presence.

The guards surrounded the building for safety.

“My king!”

Gilgamesh watched the master builder greet him, intercepting before he could recognize any of the worshippers’ faces. Probably a good thing, since he would have had them punished for keeping her hidden from him.

“I have heard from your workers that you are praying to a new goddess?” he inquired.

The man hesitated.

“I-I came across her a few months back,” he confessed. “She was adorned in the fabrics of Enki himself.”

A gesture to the fabrics nearby almost made him laugh.

Fine fabrics. No doubt she had wanted to be as naked as Enkidu wanted to be at times.

The wild creation family and their antics. He loved it.

“Theft from the temples is a serious crime,” he teased.

“No no!”  The man waved his hands. “She has healed others! I hear of them speak of her to me as well. The soldiers on the streets and by the river. She heals their wounds and sends them to find food and work. It is how our buildings have begun to grow faster!”

Gilgamesh sat down, doing his best to not look excited.

“Where is she?”

“Asleep, my king.”

“I doubt that. Has she left already on one of her night ventures?”

He doubted she would remain confined.

Enkidu needed their walks almost every couple of hours.

“I do not know.”

He raised a hand, motioning for the guards to enter with the gifts he had prepared for this man. A proper bride’s price. Any fool would see that. It was more than the man would make in a lifetime.

The fabric separating this room from the next shifted behind the builder, catching his attention as the builder gave in to his greed.

“I may have… um… Warned her of the palace.”

Gilgamesh frowned, “Excuse me?”

“She is a maiden, king.” The man explained. “She blushes at the very touch of a hand in her own. She is unaccustomed to men other than seeing them work.”

His hands almost hurt with how bad he wanted to test that theory.

“A maiden in Uruk,” he had taken all of them. Either himself or Enkidu. “How improbable.”

“King Gilgamesh, I beg of you, for Uruk and its people, for those who worship Hakuno, please don’t-“

“Bring her here.”

He could see the man’s hand flex a bit, balling into fists. The man would fight him for her. There was no blame to be had for that. Enkidu had asked for a woman capable of seducing and having him. It would be little in comparison to have her seduce another.

“Hakuno,” the builder called.

The cloth was parted. The man vanishing a moment before he returned, woman in tow. A beautifully plain thing she was.

She needed more jewelry on her, he thought.

She looked down at him and he basked in the first sight of this gift, this goddess from Enki.

Enkidu was right. She wasn’t quite a clay being. Nor a goddess.

“So you are my Hakuno,” Gilgamesh stated.

“I am a Hakuno.”

She’ll have a perfect argument to you, Enkidu had warned.

He snickered, taking her hands into his and stroking at her knuckles a bit.

“You’re responsible for the buildings being in finer condition?”

She nodded.

“And the extra support for large scale buildings?”

She nodded again.

He couldn’t help his heart racing. She liked building structures. She liked building up Uruk and creating things. A goddess of architecture, how apt, he thought.

“And all of my soldiers speaking of the goddess of healing and life,” he egged on, “springing forth from the darkness when a man’s on his final breath… I assume this is you as well?”

She shook her head. “I’m not a goddess.”

“You are not like Enkidu though,” Gilgamesh observed.

“You found Enkidu?!”

Her excitement was contagious.

“Found? The being is my only friend,” he told her.

She sighed in relief, looking over to her guardian and smiling. “If he’s with Enkidu, then I’ll be okay.”

“Then you will come with me?” the king asked.

“As long as we’re going to Enkidu. I miss my sibling.”

The king gave a smile like he knew something more, but he simply climbed to his feet and laced the fingers of one of his hands with hers.

Instantly, there was a blush to her face. She was holding him tight as they left the building and he looked up towards his palace.

He owed Enkidu greatly.

This woman was promising.

[halothenthehorns]

THE MIRROR OF ERISED

    THE MIRROR OF ERISED

Lily nodded as she took the book, checked her spot, then closed it and eyed her son briefly before saying, "I'm keeping my promise son. You wanted to know about Snape," she sucked in a huge breath and said, "so here it goes."

She was the only one who spoke for almost a solid half hour. The three boys didn't trust

themselves to speak on the matter without cursing something in the process. When she was finally done, ending with the last bit of information they knew about Snape's current whereabouts, or thought they knew since they were rumors, she looked pleading at her son, begging him to understand what these other three just couldn't. There was too much bad blood between the lot, but Harry didn't have to inherit his father's grudge, simply based on this books facts about him.

When she was done, Harry nodded slowly to himself, rubbing his temple again. Everything his mother had just told him came as a surprise, but he also got that feeling again. The one he had when they had told him Remus' story. He felt right again, whole, like another part of his life was explained. Then he met his mother's eyes, and said to the room at large, "alright. I'm not going to say anything then. I'll wait until these books are over before making a final judgement call."

Lily beamed and threw her arms around her son, thanking Merlin she had such an understanding boy.

Then when she leaned back from the hug, she stood up, marched over to James in the chair, and practically dragged him into the kitchen.

Once in there and hopefully out of earshot of the others, she said, "I'm sorry."

James blinked, he hadn't been expecting that. Before he could say anything though, she kept going, "It's just that, I have to believe Sev wouldn't do this. You know counter curses are done in the same manner, and-" her voice caught on a catch in her throat.

Taking this moment, James cut in with, "Lily I'm not mad at you for defending him. Lord knows if I was, I'd never not be mad at you." She made a face at him, but he pressed on, "I was just hurt when you made it seem like you were going to stand there and do nothing when it said he was going to kill our son."

Lily shook her head hard from side to side, her hair whipping into her face as she spluttered, "No, I would never!" Then, when she saw the look in those hazel eyes, he still looked beyond hurt and unbelieving she rushed on, "I was just trying to get you to see that, you have been wrong about him before. At least try to do what Harry is, give him these seven years at school to prove that he's not the man you think he is."

James' face scrunched up. He would never like Snape. How could he, when James still had a lurking fear that one of these days he was going to come and try to take Lily away from him, for good this time. He had never shared this fear with anyone, but it still lurked in the back of his mind every night like a growing fungus. He thought his friends would tell him he was ridiculous, and Lily would probably slap him for suggesting she couldn't handle herself and take care of her own life. Still, to appease an obviously upset love of his life, he did promise her this.

They made their way back into the living room to find a rousing debate between these three boys, Sirius and Remus were trying to convince Harry that it was a great idea for him to go and pull a prank or two at school. Despite the fact that Harry was out of school and could do no such thing, or already had with no influence from them.

Harry was laughing along and trying to explain that he really thought this was a bad idea, but without any real force in it. He seemed to be enjoying just sitting and talking to them at all.

When the two parents reentered the room, Harry went quiet and looked at the two as if fearing they would start arguing again, while Remus and Sirius took one look at them and began gagging at once.

"Please," Sirius choked, clutching at his throat, "please at least leave the room if you two are going to start making out again."

"We're begging, save poor Harry's eyes from such a sight," Remus agreed in disgust.

Harry was laughing again at once, while the married couple took their spots on either side of him.

James and his two friends began bickering at once, the two of them arguing that this was how they made up all the time in seventh year, while Lily looked about for her place.

Once she found it, she began reading.

Christmas was on the way.

And immediately frowned with concern. Fragile as she felt right now, she might just burst into tears all over again if Harry, A) went back to the Dursley's house and was ignored or B) stayed at an empty castle for the holidays.

The other three looked just as concerned about this, so Harry was quick to say, "I have a great feeling about this Christmas."

At their astounded looks he said, "Really. I think I get a wonderful gift, several actually."

When they all beamed at him with pure joy, Harry decided to decline mentioning that there was something else that happened on Christmas that had been bothering him since he'd laid eyes on his parents. This was not the first time he'd seen their faces, of that he was sure, but like the book had said the Dursley's had no pictures of them. Then why was he so sure on this day that he might just get his eleven year old wish?

Brushing it off, he let his mother go on without a fuss.

Days in December were usually seen snow covered. The lake was frozen over, and the Weasley twins got into trouble for enchanting snowballs to follow around and bounce off of Quirrell's turban.

"An old favorite gag of Peter's," James laughed.

Owls that managed to get through the storm had to be nursed back to health.

"Poor dears," Lily muttered.

Potions classes were the worst, as students were forced to huddle around their cauldrons for their only source of warmth.

"Yeesh, at least Slughorn put warming charms in there," Sirius grumbled, shivering a bit himself at the sound of that.

Malfoy was his usual self, loudly making the comment how he pitied students who had to stay at school for Holidays because they weren't wanted at home.

"You really shouldn't talk about yourself like that," Remus snapped, anger bubbling up in him again at once.

Harry wouldn't let himself feel dejected at Malfoy's snip, instead beamed over at a man he really was starting to think of as his Uncle, not that he had anything real to compare the feeling to, but it felt right all the same.

Malfoy had been furious Slytherin had lost its match,

"A real pleasure I'm sure," Sirius grumbled.

and had tried to run the joke that Harry would soon be replaced with a frog on his team.

"I'm sure it wasn't any funnier to them then it is to us," Lily said, rolling her eyes at these childish antics.

Nobody else ever laughed along though, to impressed with Harry having stayed on his broom the way he had, so Malfoy had resorted back to picking on Harry for not having a proper family.

James grit his teeth so much that it was starting to hurt. He was really beginning to hate this Malfoy brat almost as much as he hated Snivellus. He would always take jabs at all four of them, he and Sirius for being rather spoiled and rich, and Remus for his lack thereof. Still, he kept himself quite, for now, no sense in fighting with the book at least.

Harry was just wondering why Malfoy had made that leap. It was true, but as Harry had never even really spoken to anyone outside of his two friends, Malfoy had made quite the pompous jump that Harry wasn't spending his first Christmas back with anyone, made him unwanted at home. He wasn't wrong, but the oddness was there all the same.

Harry didn't deny the fact that he was staying at school for the Christmas break,

"Can't decide if that's a relief we won't have to hear about them, or depressing he's going to be in an empty castle," Sirius sighed. He and Remus had always stayed at school together, while James and Peter had nearly always gone home during the holidays.

"Go with the first one," Remus sighed, running his hand threw his hair sadly.

and Harry was looking forward to the holiday for once. That had a lot to do with the fact that the Weasley's were all staying as well, since Ron's parents were going to visit Charlie in Romania.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Lily beamed, while all of the boys perked up at once as well.

"This really is going to be fun then," Remus and Sirius both said, remembering back to all the times they'd had in an almost deserted castle, with tons of victims that weren't expecting a holiday prank.

Nobody bothered to ask why Charlie's siblings hadn't come along, they were sure the parents just wanted to spend some time with just one of their children on a holiday.

That day as they exited the dungeons they came into the entrance to find Hagrid hauling in some huge fir trees. Ron offered help, but Hagrid told him he had it handled, as Malfoy walked by and mocked Ron for that probably being a nicer tree then his family could ever afford.

"That boy has no boundaries," Lily said in disgust, while all four boys looked like they dearly wanted to punch Malfoy in his face.

Ron made a dive at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"Gah, can you say timing," Sirius snarled, really he hoped someone had a chance to shove it to that kid soon.

Snape tried to tell Ron off, but Hagrid stepped in and said that Malfoy had been insulting Ron's family.

"Thank you Hagrid," Remus said to the ceiling in relief. If he had to deal with another instance that Harry got in trouble because no one was there for his side, he might have lost his temper again.

"I meant what I said before," James said, "Hagrid is my favorite person in Harry's life right now."

"He certainly seems to be keeping an eye on him," Lily agreed fondly.

Sirius was still disgruntled Ron hadn't had the chance to punch Malfoy.

Snape clearly didn't care, still docking points from Gryffindor before shooing them all away.

"Merry Bloody Christmas to you to," James hissed in disgust.

Ron was grinding his teeth in frustration as Malfoy walked away, wishing he could get back at him,

"And I can't wait to hear all about it," Sirius said brightly.

Harry corrected saying he hated both of them, Malfoy and Snape.

"And I don't blame you one bit," Remus agreed.

Hagrid tried to cheer them up, reminding them it was the holidays after all, and invited them into the Great Hall to see the decorations. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were inside, hanging golden streamers and bobbers everywhere, and Hagrid was dragging in the twelfth tree that towered around with magical decorations.

"The castle always did seem even more magical when they decorated it," Lily agreed fondly.

They admire the decorations for a few moments before Hermione reminds them they need to run off to the library. Harry and Ron agree, and Hagrid reminds how close it is to the holiday for them to be doing homework.

"Nah," James said, "we always tried to get as much homework as we could done, so we could enjoy the actual break."

"I'm rather impressed," Lily admitted.

"Sure, we needed all the time we could get to plan out some of our ideas," Sirius agreed.

Lily then chose to roll her eyes at the ceiling.

Harry tells him they weren't doing school stuff, but trying to find information about Nicolas Flamel.

"Oh," all four of them said.

"Yeah," Harry said sheepishly, "I didn't have Dad to tell me who he was, so we had no idea what we were doing."

James momentary pride and thrill at hearing his son refer to him like that for the first time in his life didn't quite cover the fact that all four adults grimaced at the comment, so to change the subject Harry asked, "You said he was an alchemist? What's that, what do they do?"

James gave himself a little shake before answering, "err, I think mainly there goal is to turn metal into gold. It's a really shrouded branch of magic, which is why Flamel's card is so bloody rare. Had to nearly pay my weight in gold for the thing. His card didn't say much about it, just talked about his interests and his wife."

Harry nodded along and then asked, "So, you don't know what Flamel has to do with this then?"

"No," he admitted, shaking his head, he hadn't had much time to think on it really, but now that he was, all he could come up with was, "I know a lot of papers mentioned he and Dumbledore were working on something together, but I've no idea what. This was years ago to, I don't even think my parents were born, but really I've no idea."

Harry nodded in disappointment, as did the others. None of them had even heard of Flamel, so they had no idea what was going on.

Hagrid was shocked, demanding to know why they'd do such a thing. Hermione says they were just curious is all.

"Oh I'm so sure," Remus snickered, no person in their right mind would believe that.

Harry agrees, then admits his frustration that he was sure he'd read that name somewhere else before.

"Oh Harry," James said laughing, "now you see the importance of reading your Chocolate Frog Cards?"

Harry nodded, hoping his younger self would remember this as well soon. He already had a slight headache from remembering all the books they had sorted through.

Hagrid refuses to say anything else about it, and Ron just shrugs and says they'd have to find out for themselves then.

Lily couldn't help but smile indulgently at this. She knew better than to berate about their curiosity, she would have to admit even she would have done exactly what they were doing now.

They had been looking in the library for that name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, but the problem was they had no idea what he may have been famous for to get into a book.

"There's a new saying," Sirius laughed, "looking for a wizard in the library."

"I can't even imagine that," Remus said in disbelief, "stumbling through books and hoping to come across his name."

"We didn't have a better idea," Harry defended.

The library was huge, tens of thousands of books on every subject imaginable, so they had no idea how to start.

"You could look until your seventh year and still not get through half of them," James agreed.

Harry balked at him, had they done this? "Maybe, but I really think I find out about him over

Christmas." Yet he wasn't so sure. Perhaps he was wrong, and they really never did find out the mystery of the tiny package.

Lily simply decided to keep going, Harry was now looking quite discouraged, and she really was feeling bad for him.

Hermione tried to do it by sorting through subjects, while Ron wandered around and grabbed books randomly.

Remus laughed, saying, "good a system as any I suppose."

Harry on the other hand wandered back towards the Restricted Section. These were books for the higher levels of learning, filled with all manner of Dark Magic for advanced Defense Against the Dark Art's classes. Harry wasn't allowed to just search through these though, as you needed sign permission to get back there.

All four adults were now frowning, hoping dearly this object had nothing to do with that section. If it did, it would only heighten there worry about what was being kept in a school full of children.

Harry was interrupted from his mental speculation by the librarian, Madam Irma Pince, asking from behind him what Harry was doing. Harry said 'nothing,' and she snapped that he could get out.

James huffed at that, muttering, "she never did like students. Why she works with them is beyond me."

"Can you believe an adult would actually yell at someone to get out of a Library," Sirius laughed, "that's as backwards as it gets."

Harry wished he'd come up with some better excuse, but left the library anyways. He and his friends had already decided not to ask her for help,

"But I bet she'd know in a second," Lily sighed.

They were sure she'd know where to find Nicolas Flamel, but they didn't want the news getting around to Snape that they were asking.

"Now you're just being paranoid," Remus laughed, "since I doubt Snape would even think to look in on you lot looking up some old name."

"We were being cautious," Harry defended, feeling stupider by the minute.

"Don't worry love," Lily said, patting him on the cheek, "they're only messing with you. I'd be more worried if they didn't."

Harry relaxed at once, smiling around at them all again.

Harry waited outside the library without any hope that Ron and Hermione would come out with any better luck. They'd been looking for two weeks now to find this guy, but it was hard going when all they really had were odd times in between classes and Madam Pince breathing down their necks. Harry knew what they really needed was a long, unsupervised period of time.

"So you plan on spinning the whole of your break in there?" James asked in disgust, "really Harry, someone in that school needs to teach you how to live."

"Oh I doubt they will," Sirius replied for Harry, "have you ever known any eleven year old that can focus during the Holidays?"

"I seem to recall us getting some of our best work done then," Remus argued, glimmers of

mischief appearing in his eyes.

"Yeah, but that was something we actually wanted to do," Sirius finalized.

Harry's guess was right, Ron and Hermione came out a few minutes later with dejected looks on their faces. Hermione prompted the two boys to keep looking while she went home for the break, and to send her an owl if they find anything. Ron suggest Hermione could ask her parents if they've heard the name, but Hermione tells them they wouldn't know because they're dentists.

"She could still ask them," Lily said, thinking it over, "Muggles do actually know some famous wizards, like Merlin for example."

"Still, if we haven't heard of him, I doubt a couple of Muggles would have," James said with a shrug.

Lily couldn't argue with that.

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel.

"Saw that coming," Sirius chuckled.

Since practically the rest of the school was gone, they had the run of the common room and spent days next to the fire toasting anything you can spear, and plotting ways to get Malfoy expelled which weren't always plausible but always fun.

"Brings back all the good memories," Remus chuckled.

"You stayed behind during break?" Harry asked curiously.

"Oh yeah," Sirius nodded along with his friend, "Moony and I always did."

Harry bit his lip, wanting to ask why, but feeling it was a bit rude, but then Remus answered for him anyways, "my parents loved me dearly, but it was very hard for them to ah, take care of me during the holidays. The school was much better equipped, so I chose to stay there."

"I hated my house," Sirius said in bright tones, "so I always kept around to keep him company."

"I went home most years," James added on without being asked, "my parents pinned for me if I was gone too long."

"You would think they'd be glad to be rid of your big head," Lily muttered.

James kept going, pretending he hadn't heard that, "and Peter always went home as well. His mother doted on him like no other."

"Poor thing, she's been sick for a month now," Remus said sadly, "which is why we haven't

blamed him for not being around too much."

Harry nodded along sadly, and then let his mother continue reading when she realized how depressed the other boys were getting.

Ron also started teaching Harry how to play wizards chess which was just like Muggle chess, except the pieces moved on voice command.

"I've never been any good at that game," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You were always too impatient to learn," Remus chuckled.

Ron had been using his for so long they responded on command, while Harry played with a set Seamus Finnigan had let him borrow, and they didn't listen to him at all.

"See, it's not just me," Sirius cried.

"You can't blame it all on the pieces," James laughed, "just admit you never could remember which way the pieces went."

Sirius huffed and crossed his arms, mumbling something about ganging up on him.

Harry was having such a good time that on Christmas Eve he went to bed looking forward to another fun day, though not actually expecting any presents.

Lily pursed her lips but quickly read on, keeping Harry's words in mind.

As much to Harry's surprise as anyone, he was awoken by Ron the next day to find a small pile of wrapped gifts on his bed. Harry exclaims his surprise and Ron just laughs, asking what did Harry expect, turnips?

Not one of them could think of a thing to say to this. They were all too pleased that Harry had a proper Christmas at all to mock Ron's comment.

The first parcel contained a whittled flute, with a note from Hagrid.

"You have a musical talent we don't know about?" Remus chuckled.

"Doubt it," Harry laughed himself, feeling warm all over at these feelings.

Hagrid had obviously made it himself. When Harry blew it, it sounded a bit like an owl.

"Maybe you could use it to call your bird to you," Sirius chuckled.

The second wasn't as well received. It contained a fifty-pence piece from the Dursley's.

"Friendly," Harry said, thinking privately that was the nicest thing they'd probably ever given him.

All four adults gritted their teeth in frustration, but Harry was clearly in too good a mood, and they refused to let their moods be sunk as well.

Ron was fascinated with the muggle money, having never seen currency shaped like that.

"I'm guessing he's never seen muggle money then," Lily smiled.

Harry lets him keep it, then turns back and wonders who the other present could be from. Ron points out one package that he suspects could be from his mother, as Ron may have made the comment Harry wasn't expecting any gifts.

"It's official," Lily beamed, feeling close to tears at the way the Weasley's had taken Harry in, "we are taking Harry over to the Weasley's as soon as we're done here."

"Might be a bit odd," Remus said, trying not to laugh, "we've never been formally introduced. You just want to show up on the doorstep?"

"I'll think of something," Lily said with confidence, and James chuckled to himself, not

begrudging her this at all. In fact they were all thinking to themselves that they really needed to come up with a way to thank both Hagrid and the Weasley family.

Harry did indeed get a sweater knitted by Mrs. Weasley. He also got a box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione.

"Best kind of gifts you can get," Sirius chuckled.

Harry unwrapped his last present to have something silvery grey fall to the floor.

"No way," all three boys breathed. It was impossible, that was locked up in the house, right now.

Puzzled, Lily gave them an odd look, but she couldn't deny she was thinking the same thing.

Harry groaned slightly, pressing his fist to his head in pain, but quickly shook it off at their

concerned looks, saying, "I, I think I know what that is. I don't-" pursing his lips, Lily decided to quickly read on before Harry pressured himself too much.

Harry tries it on and finds it to be an invisibility cloak.

"It can't be mine," James said, praying that he was wrong, that his son really had been able to inherit his birthright, "my cloak is here in this house."

"How many invisibility cloaks can there really be though?" Sirius breathed, leaning forward

eagerly.

"Perhaps Hagrid found it when he took Harry," Remus offered.

"It's possible," Lily murmured, "we might have tried to hide Harry under it, but of course he

would have been crying..."

All four of them were getting exceptionally pale the longer they thought about this, but James still managed to say, "yes, but then why wouldn't Hagrid have given it to him with the flute?"

They were all stumped, and Harry was fighting back the urge to be sick, the building tension in his head from knowing the answer, yet not being able to grasp it...

Lily decided to read on, hoping they would get an answer.

Harry eagerly put it on and then looked into the mirror to find he had vanished.

"Quite a shocker at first," Sirius agreed, wanting to laugh as he thought back on all the times he'd snuck up on people in that.

A note had fallen out of the folds,

"Explaining everything to him I hope," James muttered, shifting his weight around in agitation.

and Harry read it to find that his father had left this cloak in someone's possession before he'd passed away,

"I did what?" James balked.

"No one even knows it exists except for the people here," Sirius spluttered.

"And Peter," Remus added on quietly.

Everyone got very quiet as they all thought of something at once. Peter hadn't been hanging around them much lately, Peter had asked to borrow James cloak for a few missions for the Order, what if, James sucked in a deep breath and said, "what if Peter's still alive? He could have borrowed my cloak, but there are a million reasons why he wouldn't be here, or even heard about us dying for ages."

The others all exchanged looks, then Remus asked, "but then why wouldn't he have come looking for Harry?"

James swallowed thickly, but he had no answer for that. None of them did.

Lily reached around Harry to give James shoulder a soft squeeze, saying, "I guess we won't know until we find out, yeah?"

Nodding numbly, he didn't protest as Lily kept going. All three boys had a mix of feelings they were sorting through. Honestly, it may not have been Peter, but even Remus or Sirius in the same circumstance, but it still didn't answer the question of where they would have been for the past eleven years of Harry's life?

and that the person was now passing it along to Harry. There was no signature, and Harry couldn't help but wonder who'd sent the cloak.

"We'd all like to know that," Sirius grumbled.

Wondering if it really had once belonged to his father?

"Oh, I've no doubt about that," James murmured.

But before he could do much else the twins made an appearance, and Harry stowed it away, not wanting anyone else to know about it quite yet.

"Can't blame you on that one," Remus agreed, "James didn't show me that thing for almost six months."

The twins were wearing sweaters as well, one with the letter F, the other had a G stitched into it.

"They switched those," James said at once.

"Unless they didn't, because they knew one would assume they would switch those," Sirius laughed.

"Unless they thought you would think they hadn't switched them, because they knew people would think they had, so they did switch them," Remus joined in, smiling at the inept sentence.

"Please," Lily begged, "don't do this to me? We'll be here for an hour, and I doubt we ever really find out."

"Oh fine," James huffed.

Fred comes over to investigate Harry's sweater and claims it was better than theirs,

"Oh, I doubt that's true," Lily said at once.

while George turns his attention on Ron and demands to know why he wasn't wearing his. Ron groans that he hates the color maroon,

"I'm sure it clashes with his hair marvelously," Sirius laughed.

while Fred points out that Ron doesn't have a letter on his. Obviously that was because Ron didn't forget his name, unlike the twins who knew their names where Gred and Forge.

"I'm sure that's exactly what your mum intended to name you," Remus cackled.

Percy stuck his head in then, claiming they were making too much noise.

"It's Christmas," James frowned, "really, does this boy ever have fun?"

The twins notice at once he isn't wearing his sweater either, and demand he put it on despite Percy's protests.

"Well you should wear it anyways," Lily huffed, she thought it was a lovely and sweet idea.

They then insist Percy will be sitting with them at dinner and march him back out of the room in between them.

"I'm sure he loved every moment of that," Sirius laughed.

That night at dinner the school went all out on the holiday feast, including sets of wizard crackers. When you pulled one the whole thing exploded, releasing prizes inside. One set released some mice that ran every which way.

"Ew," Lily crinkled up her nose, picturing all those mice running over the food.

"I'm sure they made Mrs. Norris happy though," Remus chuckled.

At the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped out his hat for a bonnet,

"Lovely mental image," James laughed.

and Harry could see McGonagall talking happily with Hagrid, both of whom had clearly been heavily drinking. At one point Hagrid leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, causing her to giggle.

"Ugh, take it back," Sirius cried, pressing his fists to his eyes.

"All the teachers have clearly indulged too much," Lily said, crinkling up her nose again.

Harry had got his own set of rewards from the crackers, including his own wizard chess set, and a grow your own warts kit.

"We always used to get great prank ideas from those things," Remus laughed.

Those mice had disappeared, and Harry had a feeling they would turn into Mrs. Norris' dinner.

"See, even the evil cat's happy on this merry day," James chuckled.

Then all of the Gryffindor boys went outside and had a wild snowball fight until it got to cold and dark, then went upstairs where he and Ron played a game of chess. Percy tried to help, which ended up doing more harm than good.

"Poor Harry," Remus agreed, "I can't stand when people try to backseat play me."

"Well, you can't blame that one on me," James and Sirius both said.

That evening Fred and George somehow got a hold of Percy's prefect badge, and he chased his twin brothers around the common room trying to get it back.

"Wow, why didn't we ever think of that?" James whistled.

"Because I would have killed you both," Remus said pleasantly.

It had been the best Christmas of Harry's life, but something had been nagging in the back of his head all day. Who had sent that invisibility cloak?

"I really hope you figure that one out, soon," James pleaded, eyeing his son for any trace of remembrance.

Harry was shaking his head sadly from side to side, as mystified as they were.

That night after everyone went to bed, Harry creeped out of his own and tried the cloak on again.

"You have more restraint than any of us," Sirius told him, "I would have run around the castle first thing when I found it."

Standing there, invisible in the darkness and the folds of his new cloak, an idea came to Harry. He could go anywhere in the castle, and no one would ever know.

"Well that's going a bit far," Remus said lightly, "it makes you invisible, not impervious."

"I just hope Harry doesn't use it to sneak into classrooms, and set up a trap so that when a certain student sat down-" Lily began hotly.

"That was never proven," James declared, pointing wildly at her.

Lily just rolled her eyes at all of them.

He considered waking Ron and taking him, but then decided he'd use it alone this very first time.

James shrugged, saying, "Nah, I used it at home by myself all the time, I took Sirius along with me our first night there."

"Which is how we got caught," Sirius chuckled, "I'd never used the thing before, and we weren't used to sharing yet."

"You two still don't know how to share," Remus rolled his eyes.

He pondered for a moment on where to go, before settling on the Library.

"Really?" All three boys demanded in disgust.

"The whole of Hogwarts, and you choose to go in there?" James demanded, looking faint.

"That's a waist of the cloak," Sirius agreed.

"Leave him be," Lily said before Remus could jump in, "the Library has been on his mind for weeks now, I don't blame him for that being his first thought."

All three boys muttered a bit more, but Lily wouldn't hear it and just moved on.

The Restricted Section was at the back of the library.

"Well that's not so bad," James said, picking himself back up slightly, "at least he's doing

something he couldn't do during normal school hours."

Lily rolled her eyes, honestly why these boys wanted Harry to be a rule breaker was still beyond her, but she couldn't fault Harry for his curiosity driving him to this place.

Harry stepped over the bit of rope separating this spot from the rest of the books and began inspecting the titles. Then he heard some whispering, and it seemed to be coming from the books.

"Might be," Remus said curiously, "I doubt Pince used more than a bit of rope to make sure no one snuck back there."

"Good point," Sirius said slowly, "there really might be a spell on those books."

Now very curious, Lily read on.

Harry chose one thick tomb from the shelves and let it fall open in his lap, only for the book to start screaming in his face.

"Oh my gosh," James gasped, before laughing his ass off.

"Of all the rotten luck," Sirius cackled.

"It's not funny," Harry mumbled, rubbing his ears in remembrance, "that thing gave me a heart attack."

All three boys were still laughing at this spot of misfortune, even Lily wanted to bite her lip to stop from laughing for a moment, before she remembered, "you know this most likely summoned Madam Pince."

That dried up all of their laughter pretty quickly, James noting, "well, look at it this way, can you really imagine Harry getting into much trouble for sneaking into the Library?"

"McGonagall might reward him again," Remus agreed, his voice still trembling slightly with

laughter.

Harry put the book back and made a break for the door, only to find Filch blocking the entrance.

"Really, I swear that man doesn't sleep," Sirius said in disbelief.

Harry had to sneak very carefully past him, the books scream still ringing his ears.

"What a first use," James chuckled.

"I'll give you credit, we never thought of that," Remus agreed.

Harry stopped in front of a suit of armor. He'd been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going.

"That's like, the third time you've made that mistake," Sirius said in disappointment.

"Well he's gotta learn somehow," James said sadly, wishing that Harry would find another of his treasured objects.

Harry knew there was a suit of armor near the kitchens, but he knew he was several floors above that.

"There are suits of armor all over the castle," Lily said in confusion.

"Yeah, but this one was posed a certain way," Harry tried to explain.

"Okay, that makes sense," Remus agreed.

Before Harry could think long on it, he heard voices coming from behind him, and

recognized Filch telling someone that there had been an intruder in the restricted section.

"Where did you inherit all this bad karma from?" Remus demanded.

"I think it's retribution for you lot," Lily said primly, "that karma's getting back at Harry for all the stunts you pulled at school."

"Don't say that Lily," James said, clutching his chest in pain, "I'd never forgive myself for that."

"I think it's just Harry's ignorance," Sirius said bracingly, "things should get better the longer he's at school."

He saw that Filch was talking to Snape as the pair came around the corner, and Harry realized that though they couldn't see him, the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

"Well I'm glad you figured that out beforehand," James snickered, "I remember when Peter first got the cloak on his own, he ran straight into a wall."

"He still claims it was an accident and he tripped, but come on," Remus agreed.

Harry quickly backed into a partially open door, managing to do so without moving it.

"See," Sirius said brightly, "he's learning already."

He waited several moments to make sure the pair of them were gone before glancing curiously around the room he'd been hiding in, to find it only housed a mirror.

"Well that is odd," James agreed, "who stashed a mirror in a classroom?"

None of them had any idea, so Lily read on, expecting Harry to shrug it off and ghost out of there. They'd probably never get an answer, and with any luck Harry would go back to the common room without another incident.

There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

"Could you try saying that in English," Remus said, going a bit cross eyed.

Lily was frowning at the words, saying, "No, that's how it's spelled."

"You think maybe it's a different language?" James asked, leaning around Harry to look.

"None that I recognize," Remus said.

They all passed the book around, taking a look at the odd inscription, but none of them had a clue what it could be, until Sirius said slowly, "Hang on, this first word is backwards."

"What?" Remus asked, leaning over to see what he meant.

"See here," he pointed out, "Erised is Desire spelled backwards, that's the only word though, dang it," he muttered scanning through the rest of it.

"Well maybe," Remus said, taking the book from Sirius, then getting up and going into the

kitchen, when he came back, he had a quill and fresh parchment, and he then scribbled down the sentence in the same manner.

At first, they still couldn't make any sense of the words, but then Remus said slowly, "I think I've got it. The words aren't spaced right, but if you fix it like this, it reads 'I show not your face but your heart's desire' unless you can find another combination that works?"

James took the paper and looked at it, then at the original and then nodded saying, "No, it makes sense."

Lily and Harry had been sitting there, watching them all with fascination. Lily spoke up, "That was brilliant. I can't believe you three worked that out."

"What, did you think we got through school on our good looks alone?" Sirius quipped.

Smiling around at them, Lily decided not to press the issue, and so she took the book back, rereading that line, and still shaking her head in disbelief, she kept reading.

Curiosity winning out, he walked closer, only to freeze up and clap his hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

"What, why?" They all said, in a panic at once, they really didn't want to deal with yet another deadly situation already.

"Because I wasn't alone," Harry whispered, so quietly to himself none of the others even heard him.

He was looking into his reflection, which still should have showed an empty room, only to find it full of people.

"Now what on earth?" James demanded, blinking in shock.

"That's impossible," Sirius said, "nothing has ever been able to see through the cloak."

"That's what you caught on," Remus stated, looking stunned, "how about the crowd of people in the room?"

Lily was looking expectantly from Harry to the book, but Harry was clearly not listening to any of them. He was rubbing his temple furiously, whispering, "It's them, I knew I'd seen them."

Pressing on loudly over the still bickering boys, she knew by now the best way to settle her son was to just complete the memory.

Harry glanced around himself again to confirm the room was still empty before taking a look back at the object. Perhaps its trick was that it showed people, invisible or not?

"Possible," James said slowly.

"But wouldn't you have bumped into one of them?" asked Sirius.

Harry reached behind himself, and if she'd really been there he would have been able to touch a woman standing right behind himself. There was nothing but air there, which meant these people must only exist in the mirror.

"Don't touch it," Remus said at once, going pale as a sheet, "it could be some trick, and you fall through and get stuck in there."

Now they were all looking very concerned, wanting to egg Harry out of that room, knowing it was pointless, so they instead comforted themselves with leaning in very close to their Harry.

The woman was very pretty. She had dark red hair and green eyes; eyes just like Harry's.

Lily stuttered a bit, glancing up at her son with shock etched into her face.

"Oh," James whispered, looking from Harry, to Lily, to the book and back again like one of them was going to scream 'got ya.'

"Well, that was unexpected," Sirius murmured.

"I stand by what I said," Remus gasped, coming out of his shock, "It could still be a trick,

personalizing it to a particular wizard."

She was crying as she gazed down at Harry with his eyes in her face. Smiling, but crying.

Lily looked like she was about to start crying herself, but her voice remained steady as she kept going.

The man beside her was taller, with black hair that stood on end, just like Harry's.

"I don't like this," Sirius moaned, his head dropping into hands as he shook it back and forth, "I really don't like this."

"My poor boy," James whispered, giving Harry a quick hug. This was, by all accounts, the first time Harry was laying eyes on his parents, and it was through a mirror. A possibly dangerous, dark object, that could suck his soul out or something equally as awful.

Both Sirius and Remus and Harry looked like they were going to burst into tears right along with Lily, but Harry was the saving grace as he said, "Remember. I'm here, and I know you guys now. I-I'm sorry you have to hear about this-"

"Don't," Lily interrupted, bucking up her own strength when she saw her son's face, "this is what we wanted. To hear about your life, the good and the bad."

"This just happens to be an awful mix of both," Remus muttered.

Harry had been edging closer to the mirror this whole time in fascination, his nose nearly touching the glass now.

All four of them shivered in disgust at this, they still didn't want Harry touching that thing.

Aloud he whispered for the first time, Mom? Dad?

Then they all shivered again, as they realized this was probably the first time in his life he had been able to utter those words. Sucking in a deep breath, Lily forced herself to go on.

They did not respond, but just continued to stand there smiling at him. Around them were other people with physical features Harry recognized in himself, Harry's family that he was seeing for the first time in his life.

Both James and Lily fought back fresh waves of pain when they realized that this was most likely their parents, others that Harry obviously had never seen.

Now Harry had his face pressed right up to the mirror, like he was hoping to fall right through and be with this image.

Lily's breath hitched slightly as she read that, this being her worst fear since this had started, and she didn't give the others a chance to panic as she blasted on.

Harry stood there for an indeterminable amount of time before a distant noise reminded him where he was. He glanced around with worry that he may be caught and decided it was time to leave, but whispered he'd be back to the mirror before he left.

"Oh thank Merlin," they all breathed in relief.

"Okay," Remus reassessed, "you're clearly drawn to it, but any person in your situation would be..." he trailed off, still trying to figure out the magical property of this object.

"I show not your face, but your heart's desire," Sirius repeated.

"So that's all it will do," James said slowly, "It will just show you what you want most in the

world."

"I still don't want you going back," Lily said quietly, "I'm afraid you'll waste away your life

staring at that."

"Can't do anything about it now," Sirius muttered.

Lily decided to agree with him, so pushing back the rest of her rising emotions, she kept reading.

The next morning Harry was telling Ron about what he'd found, and Ron was expressing his desire to see Harry's parents.

"I don't think it will work like that," Remus said at once, shaking his head.

"Well, we didn't know that then," Harry said, shrugging, trying to remember what Ron did see, and as always, coming up blank.

Harry agreed he'd like to see Ron's family to, and Ron waved him off saying he could see them whenever he came around. Then he wondered if the mirror only showed dead people.

Sirius made an awful noise, somewhere between a snort of mirth and a scathing rebuke.

James interpreted that noise pretty well, and said for the others, "That was the most tactless thing he could have possibly said, and yet Sirius may have said the same thing."

"It did pop into my mind," he admitted.

Then Ron voiced that it was a shame Harry hadn't found anything out about Flamel. Harry hardly noticed, thinking so what if Snape got the Stone. Who cared about Flamel, he was going to see his family again that night.

All four adults exchanged uneasy looks, Remus saying, "may have spoken to soon. What if this thing has a compulsion about it, and you'll eventually just waste your life away in front of it."

"I know I don't do that." Harry said at once, he felt he wouldn't have the same feelings about that mirror if he had. Right now, he mostly just felt a sense of loss, he'd have like to keep that mirror back in his life, so that he could see his parents whenever he wanted, but he was also thinking there was something else. Something important about this mirror, but it didn't involve him, or Ron.

Nodding and feeling reassured, Lily kept going.

Harry's biggest fear is that he may not be able to find the mirror room again.

"That reminds me," James said, "what on earth is that mirror doing there?"

"Could a teacher have left it there, and they're going to use it in there next class?" Remus offered, "Quirrell for example, could be teaching his seventh years about dangerous objects."

"Well, since we've still no idea," Sirius rolled his eyes, "how about we just see if Harry can find it again first."

That night he and Ron spent hours wandering around the castle on the hunt for it, and just as Ron wanted to give up, Harry spotted the suit of armor and led Ron inside the room.

None of them could really decide how they felt about this. They were happy beyond belief that Harry really did know what his parents looked like, before now anyways, but they still feared what this mirror's true power was. Nothing for it now though.

The reflection still proudly showed all of Harry's family, beaming at the sight of him.

"Well at least it's accurate," James beamed down at his son as well, trying to play that off as a joke.

Ron however couldn't see anything, so Harry moved out of the way, effectively erasing the image he saw, and putting Ron in the center.

"That sort of makes sense," Remus agreed, nodding along, "it will only show the person standing directly in front of it."

"Now, let's see what Ron sees," Sirius said a bit eagerly.

Ron however didn't see his family, but himself standing alone wearing a head boy badge.

"That's his heart's desire," James snorted, "he's hardly shown any ambition, the opposite in fact if his attitude towards his Perfect brother is to go by."

"Let me keep going," Lily scolded, she had a bit of an idea where this was going.

He also had a Quidditch Captain badge, and was holding both the Quidditch cup and the House cup.

All eyes cleared from confusion now.

"Oh," Sirius said sadly.

"Yeah, I can see why Ron would want to be the best of all his siblings," Remus agreed with a small frown.

James let out a low, throaty whistle, saying, "damn though, I was Head Boy and Quidditch

Captain, and the responsibility of all that nearly made me go bald."

"It made you easier to be around though," Lily chuckled.

"Moving on," Sirius said quickly, not wanting the couple to start making googly eyes at each other.

Ron eagerly asked if the mirror was showing the future,

"We can only hope," James said sadly.

and Harry pointed out that as his family was dead, it wasn't likely. Then he told Ron to move, because he wanted to see his parents again. Ron wanted to stay put though, and they began arguing loudly.

"Comparing the two, yeah I've got to give you your do Harry," Sirius chuckled.

"Leave Ron be," Remus defended, "I'm sure anyone would want to stand around and look at that thing forever if they had the chance."

None of them mentioned what they were thinking now, what would they see?

Then they heard a noise outside the room, and quickly ducked back under the cloak just as Mrs. Norris came into the room. Both Harry and Ron wondered at the same time, did the cloak work on cats?

"Yep," all three said at once, while James elaborated, "but they can still smell you, and hear you. You've got to be very careful around her, cause if you don't fool her, she'll still run off for Filch."

"Or just bark at her," Sirius snickered.

It seemed to, as she turned and left.

"Good," all four of them said, they really didn't want Harry getting caught again, even Lily

couldn't deny her son this reason for being out of bed.

Ron convinced Harry to go back to bed then, and he did so reluctantly. The next day Harry lay around, clearly not interested in doing anything, and Ron guesses correctly what's on his mind and tells him not to go back to that mirror.

"Well that's surprising," Lily said, "I'm surprised Ron isn't demanding he can go with you."

"Yes well, Ron can simply conjure up that image in his head whenever he wants," James pointed out, "whereas Harry wants to be able to memorize his a bit more."

Harry grumbles that Ron was starting to sound like Hermione.

"Because he's being cautious," Remus rolled his eyes.

Ron insisted he was serious, Harry shouldn't go.

Sirius opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Remus quickly picked up a pillow and smothered him before he had the chance.

Harry ignored his advice though, and that night he put his cloak back on and went in search of the mirror again, this time not running into anyone along the way.

"Lucky," Sirius said, finally shoving Remus off of him.

He finds the mirror easily enough and throws his cloak away, eagerly running forward to look into it for hours, when a voice behind him pointedly asks that Harry's back again.

"Who on earth?" James yelped in shock.

"I've no idea," Sirius and Remus both said.

"It couldn't be a teacher," Lily muttered, "he said 'again' so, whoever, knows he's been there before..."

Harry cleared his throat a bit, and then pointed at the book, smiling slightly. All four jumped

guiltily, then James eyed Harry a bit. He had a look on his face, like he might actually remember what was coming this time.

He didn't, but he had a good feeling about this meeting, which is why he was so unconcerned.

Harry turned on the spot to find Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore?" they all said in shock.

"I didn't even know he left his office," Sirius said in surprise.

"Don't be daft," James rolled his eyes, "he's got to use the loo at some point."

"Really you two," Remus shook his head in disbelief at them, while Lily ignored them

completely.

Harry felt nervous as he blurted out he hadn't seen him, but Dumbledore didn't seem mad though, but was instead smiling as he told Harry how narrow sighted people could be while invisible.

"Well you don't seem to be getting in trouble," Sirius said brightly.

"Remember that time he caught us rigging up one of the statues, and he actually believed Peter when he said we were just admiring it," James laughed.

"I thought he had lost his marbles," Remus agreed.

"So you lot are saying Dumbledore, the headmaster of this school, let's his students get away with breaking the rules?" Lily demanded.

"Yeah, seems like it," all four boys said.

Then he points how Harry found the Mirror of Erised.

James snorted, saying, "well that's a clever name."

Harry admits he didn't know it was called that, and Dumbledore prompts that he does know what it does, yes. Harry starts to say that it showed him his family, and Dumbledore interrupts to point out that it shows Ron as head boy. Harry starts to ask how he knew that,

"How long has Dumbledore been coming there?" Remus demanded.

"And how did Harry never spot him?" James demanded.

"Search me," Lily said, shrugging.

and Dumbledore tells him he doesn't need a cloak to become invisible.

"Well that's true," Sirius agreed, "there are plenty of ways to pull it off."

"But mine is still the best," James jumped in at once.

Then he goes into detail of explaining that the mirror only shows what you truly want to see. Harry never knew his family, and so he saw them, while Ron wanted recognition without being overshadowed by his brothers.

"Well that was kind of depressing," Sirius said, frowning a bit.

"Dumbledore has this way of saying things that sound really smart, but tend to be barmy," James agreed.

Then he tells Harry that the mirror will be moved, and that Harry shouldn't go looking for it again, but if he ran across it now, he'd at least know how it worked.

"How many mirrors do they have hanging around that school?" Remus asked, that had felt a little ominous to him.

"I think he was just in teacher mode then," Lily suggested, "preparing Harry for the future and all that."

Harry was feeling very frustrated all of a sudden, for some reason knowing quite well that he would come across that mirror again. Why though, he still had no clue.

Then he tells Harry to go off to bed. Harry asks if he can ask one more question, and Dumbledore points out he just did, before granting him one more.

"I hate it when people do that," James grumbled, "it's like they're mocking you for using your manners."

"That's why I just blurt out whatever I want," Sirius said happily.

Harry asks what Dumbledore sees in the mirror, and Dumbledore tells him socks.

"Err," Remus said, looking at Lily oddly, "want to run that by me again?"

When she did, all five of them exchanged looks and said as one, "Liar."

Harry felt frustrated, shaking his head from side to side. Would this feeling ever go away? Why did he know that answer, but couldn't actually seem to answer it himself?

The other four adults just felt a little frustrated, Lily even saying, "Well that hardly seemed fair. He knew Harry's."

"It is a personal question," Remus disagreed, "I can hardly blame him."

"Of course we would tell you Harry," James told him, "If any of us actually knew of course."

Lily shrugged, slightly agreeing with Remus, and completely behind James on that.

Harry just stares, and Dumbledore says that another Christmas had come and gone and he didn't receive a pair.

"Well you can expect five lovely pairs this year," Sirius said brightly.

Harry chuckled at his antics, then pondered for a moment why on earth there was an importance to socks in his life? Not relating to Dumbledore, but someone else... it was gone as soon as the idea had come.

It was only as he crawled into bed later did Harry reflect that Dumbledore may have been lying, but then again, it was a personal question.

"At least you acknowledge it," Lily approved.

"My turn," James said brightly.

Remus rolled his eyes but held his tongue.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z 055

This whole episode is kinda nutty.   For openers, Goku has hung himself upside down by a chain, so that he can do crunches in fifty-times normal gravity.   This seems incredibly unsafe, considering that he’s all alone, and he’s in outer space.    Like, you’re not supposed to benchpress big weights without a spotter, and Goku has ignored that precaution so completely that it’s almost beautiful.   

I mean, how does he plan to get back down?    How’d he get up there in the first place?   Why can’t he just do situps on the floor, like he was doing at 30 times normal gravity?

On King Kai’s planet, Piccolo still refuses to get into the spirit of King Kai’s training.   He wants to skip to the cool parts so he can be ready to take on Frieza when he’s wished back to life.   But King Kai won’t hear of it.    Piccolo tries to get tough with him, but King Kai doesn’t budge.   I think King Kai may still be stronger than Piccolo at this point, but I’m not sure.

King Kai summons the other three Z-Fighters in for lunch, and they eat with the same gusto as Goku.    That’s kind of weird, because in Dragon Ball, all the other characters were bewildered whenever Goku would gobble down loads of food.    This scene seems to imply that the human martial artists are the same way, which isn’t entirely unreasonalble.   I mean, they’ve been working up an appetite all day, after all.   But it’s not like they were doing this in any of their past training stints.

The main difference is that Tien, Chiaotzu, and Yamcha actually like King Kai’s cooking, as opposed to Goku, who said it wasn’t very good.   So King Kai’s all flattered, and I guess this is how they bond with the guy.

Then they all do the classic “Full Goku” pose, with the belly and everything.    This just feels off to me...

As for Piccolo, he just drinks water, because Dende revealed that this is all Namekians need to live, and I think someone at Toei wanted to reflect that new lore with Piccolo.  My question is: How does Piccolo know he only needs water?   He only found out he was a Namekian a few weeks ago, and we’ve seen him eat food before, probably because he didn’t know any better.  

After eating, the boys quickly turn the tables on Bubbles, just like Goku did.

Then King Kai moves them on to chasing Gregory with a mallet, and that’s how you can tell this is all filler.   Gregory wasn’t in the manga, natch.  

Back on Namek, Zarbon has brought Vegeta back to Frieza’s ship and slapped him in the healing tank.    This isn’t an act of mercy, though.    Vegeta hid a Dragon Ball somewhere on the planet, and the only way Frieza can find it is by interrogating Vegeta.    But Zarbon nearly killed him two episodes ago, and so Zarbon will have hell to pay if Vegeta doesn’t recover.  

On King Kai’s planet, the humans pass the Gregory Stage of the training, so King Kai decides to have them do some sparring.    Piccolo opts in for this, and he demands to fight all three of the humans at once.    Yamcha and Tien take offense at this, but King Kai admits that it would be a more even battle this way.

Piccolo is a lot stronger than the others, sure, and he does manage to dominate the fight...

But as the match continues, he starts to get surprised by how fast and strong his opponents are.   Also, Chiaotzu is doing that self-destruct move he used on Nappa, so he’s clearly out for blood.   

“Try to kill me again, you big green sonovabitch.”

Unlike Nappa, though, Piccolo has super stretchy arms, which he uses to pull Chiaotzu off his back.

Then he drives him head-first into the ground.   Tien’s all worried, until King Kai reminds them all that they’re already dead, so he can’t get hurt.

What I want to know is, what happens to Chiaotzu’s halo when he’s in a spot like this?   Usually, the halos sort of hover at a fixed distance above a person’s head, so is the halo just phased into the ground right now, or was it pushed down against Chiaotzu’s scalp? 

Eventually, Piccolo realizes that King Kai’s goofy training wasn’t so goofy after all.   Chasing Bubbles and Gregory around in tenfold gravity has made them a lot stronger and faster already.

Then the boys start landing some serious blows on him, and Piccolo realizes he’s got a real fight on his hands.

Tien asks Piccolo to remove his weighted training clothes, and Piccolo obliges, but before we can see if that makes a difference, King Kai calls off the match so they can do something else. 

This is really clever storytelling.  Not only did King Kai prove to Piccolo the value of his training exercises, but Piccolo has come to respect the humans more than he did before.   He doesn’t normally take off his cape and turban unless he’s facing a real challenge, so the fact that he did it shows that he isn’t nearly as dismissive of them as he was before the fight.   

And that’s why King Kai told them to stop.   Yeah, the fight wasn’t settled, but the lessons had been learned, so there ways no need to continue.    King Kai’s a pretty sharp guy.

He still makes the boys laugh at his puns, though.

Back at Frieza’s ship, Appule is talking to himself while he looks after Vegeta.  I don’t get why Zarbon would just leave Vegeta in the care of a weaker teammate like this.    What if he wakes up and attacks--?

OH SHI--!

Vegeta explodes out of the healing tank, kills Appule, and gloats about his recuperative abilities.    Then he blasts a hole in the ship’s hull.

Zarbon and Frieza run over to the med-lab to see what’s going on, and when they find the hull breach, they naturally assume Vegeta used it as an escape route.

But Vegeta hasn’t left the ship at all.   The hole he made was a diversion, so he could Naruto-run through the ship and find...

The five Dragon Balls, which Frieza has conveniently stored in the same cabin.   

So yeah, everything’s coming up Vegeta, at least for now...

[cost-of-chaos]

All you Need is Love (Chapter Five)

Sorry, this took so long for me to get out! Hope you’re all in the mood for some angst! 

Roger Taylor x OC 

Words: 2K+

Warnings: Angst, swearing 

Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four 

God knows how long I had been sitting on the floor of the marble shower, but I was finally feeling numb. I had run out of tears and found myself zoning out under the running water, I was broken, fragile and exhausted. A loud slam of a door drew me back to the present.

“Ronnie! Get your ass out of my shower and get in here! I have a present for you darling!” I hear Freddie call from his room.

I reached above my head and turn the water off, I shivered as goosebumps appeared all over me as the cold air attacked my scalding skin.

“I’ll be out in a minute Fred.” I said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. I wrapped myself up in one of the fancy, fluffy bathrobes provided by the hotel and tied my hair up in a towel turban before walking out of the steamy warm bathroom into the cold, dark hotel room.

“Freddie?” I asked, too tired for confusing little games. I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist embracing me in a hug and I almost screamed until I smelt the perpetrators' scent. It wasn’t just anyone, it wasn’t Freddie, it was Roger. The last person I felt like seeing. He was hugging me tightly and full of love, just like I had longed for over the past two weeks but now, even the thought of him touching me just made me feel nauseous.

I pulled away from his hug, I wriggled myself out of his arms and sat down on the bed behind me with my arms crossed over my chest. I was feeling uncomfortable and I knew it was coming across as clear as day. His gorgeous blue eyes searched my face, full of confusion at my out of character behaviour. Hell, if this reunion had taken place before my little discovery, I would be in his arms now, straddling him on the bed as I unbuttoned his shirt. Unfortunately, however, life doesn’t always go the way you expect it to, sometimes it throws you a curveball. 

“Ronnie. Love, what’s wrong?” He asked as he sat down on the bed next to me.

I looked down at my lap trying to avoid eye contact with him. I felt tears forming in my eyes again, the hurt and anger which had settled in the shower was now bubbling away in my stomach again.

He reached across the distance between us, tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, caressing my face with his calloused fingers as he did so. 

“Don’t touch me Roger”. I said, hastily, inching away from him on the bed.

“What do you mean don’t touch you? It’s been two weeks I’ve missed you so much Ronnie, I-“

“Mhmm” I cut him off, my words laced with passive aggressiveness. Yeah, you sure missed me when you were in between another woman's thighs.

“What is your problem? Why are you being a buzzkill Ron? I’ve missed you so much and we’re finally together and now you’re acting like such a bitch?” His words slapped me in the face, how dare he act all high and mighty. 

“Stop acting so innocent. I know!” I got up from the bed and retrieved a cigarette from the open box of Marlboros on the bedside table. I cradled it between my lips as I looked out at the twinkling lights of the city in the distance. I lit it my cigarette with trembling hands and took a long drag before finally turning back to Roger, leaning against the cold glass window behind me.

He sat on the bed staring at me in what looked like absolute shock with his mouth open and his eyes bouncing around the room as he undoubtedly mentally searched for an explanation to feed me.

“What? Cat got your tongue Mr Rockstar? Four years we’ve been together. I thought we were doing great or was that just in my imagination?”

“Yes, what-“ I held a finger up to cut him off again.

“Four years I’ve stuck by you, ignoring my family, looking after you as you partied into the wee hours of every morning, stuck by you through all of the rumours..”  Tears were now fully clouding my vision as I realised that those rumours that he and the guys always rebuffed as nonsense were probably right. Of course he was screwing other girls as soon as we were ever apart, I thought to myself cynically.  “We have an amazing relationship. Well had an amazing relationship” I corrected myself, “I just don’t understand how you couldn’t keep it in your pants for two measly weeks. I mean for fucks sake!” I exclaimed, now pacing across the room as the words flowed out of my mouth with anger from the ultimate betrayal from the man I trusted most in this word.

“You think I cheated on you? What are you talking about Ronnie? You’re acting crazy!”

“I’m not an idiot Roger, you know what’s makes it even worse? The fact you cheated on me the day you knew I was getting here”.

“You actually think I cheated on you?” He said, his voice small.

“I know you did Roger, don’t be obtuse”

“You’re barking, you do know that right?” He walked over to the mini bar and pulled out a can of Asahi. I sat back on the bed, my legs crossed, supporting my head with my fist I watched him down the beer in a few gulps. I put out my cigarette butt in the ashtray beside me as I tried to muster up the courage to ask the question which had popped into my head in the first few minutes after I found out.

“How long have you been cheating on me? Just tell me the damn truth!”

“You seriously think I would cheat on you? He said, walking back to the bed, sitting across from me on the bed, mirroring my position. “I love you, Veronica. I can’t imagine life without you, why would I risk all that for a shag?” I stared at his face, trying to study it, trying to read if he was lying to me but it was no point, all I saw was his big blue eyes full of tears, he looked just as upset as I was.

“Roger, I… I don’t think you know what love is. I know you have this whole ‘rock and roll image’ but that doesn’t mean you can defy my trust and humiliate me”. I was so frustrated that he was lying to my face. Tears were now rolling down his cheeks, his mouth opened and closed as if he was going to say something but remained quiet.

“I can’t believe any of this! You’re insane, you know that right? You’re being a right bitch actually. You know I’m not like that.”  His voice was slowly changing from hurt to angry, but honestly, I didn’t care what he was feeling.

“Don’t you dare call me a bitch. Don’t you dare turn this back on me. Next, you’ll say that the reason for all of this is because I was in America and not with you”. I said with a hollow laugh. 

“Well, I doubt we’d be fucking fighting. This always happens when you’re with your family, you become more like them. Uptight and insane.”

That was it. That was the final straw. “I...I think you should leave”. I said slowly, looking away from him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to say these words if we were actually making eye contact. “By the time you get back to the flat, it will be cleared of all my things.”  My cheeks were now warm with tears as they poured down my face and my throat was becoming raw from all the crying.

I got up swiftly, and walked to the entryway of the room, suppressing the need to sob  as I held open the door. I knew that when he walked out of it, he wasn’t just going to be walking out of the room, but our relationship as well. Roger met me in the doorway and stood soo close I thought for a split second he was going to hug me, but he just stared at me for a few moments, looked me in the eyes and strode out of the room.

I collapsed on the bed, in shock of the events that had taken place this evening. He was the one in the wrong, how could he make me the bad guy here? I needed to get back home, I needed to get away from Roger and anyone that will remind me of him.

I reached for my handbag and found the number of the airline on the crinkled ticket. I gingerly took the phone off the receiver and dialled the numbers for a representative of the company. After a forty-five-minute phone call to British Airways, I was finally bumped up to a flight leaving tomorrow night. It only took me bursting into tears and ranting to the lady on the other end about being stuck in Japan after finding out about my boyfriend cheating on me for her to take pity on me. That meant I only had one more day here, thank god.

Now at a loss for what to do next in the quiet room, I walked back to the bathroom to get out of the wet towels and robe so I could finally dry off and be ready to fall into the bed and sleep until I had to leave for the airport. I unwrapped the towel on my head and ran my hand through my damp curls. I looked into the mirror and felt disgusted with what was looking back at me, I looked like broken, fragile, weak version of myself.

Of course I looked like shit, the last three years of my life have ended up being a waste, a blip in my life, not to the lifelong adventure I thought it would be. I had been made an absolute fool of, and nobody makes Ronnie a fool. At least I had gotten out once I finally figured it out, at least I showed a slither of integrity and strength. However, that strength was fading slightly as voices in my head screamed at me to run after him. I needed sleep, once I had a good nights sleep I would have more clarity. 

I opened up my suitcase on the floor in front of me and found one of Rogers old t-shirts that I always wore as pyjamas squashed on top. I slipped it on, with a pang of sadness hitting my stomach like a knife. Our lives were so intertwined that even my pyjamas were a reminder of him. I was upset and lonely and all I wanted was a hug. A hug from the person who caused those feelings, a hug from the person who wasn’t even going to be in my life anymore.

*CRASH* I jumped in my bed as I hear a loud commotion above my room. I look to my window just as a tv falls through the air before crashing and flattening the bush in front of my window.

“What on earth?”  I exclaimed, running towards to window to try to get a look at what happened.

“Roger! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” I heard faintly being screamed from the now open window.

I rolled my eyes at the commotion, typical. Something doesn’t go his way and he has to lash out like a toddler having a temper tantrum. At least I no longer had to deal with that I suppose...

Tags: @xgoingdownx @perriwiinkle @hiyadarlingirl

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Hjem(løs)  - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 12

Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It’s Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

Word count: 11,5k

MASTERLIST

Part 11 <<< >>> Part 13

The day Ivar flew off to Ireland, Silje was quiet. She was pretty proud of herself for not even crying when she damn well wanted to, especially when he kissed her one final time before hurrying off to board his plane. Quite the deed for someone who usually started sobbing within the first thirty seconds of a cute dog video montage or airport reunion videos.

She half expected the tears to well up during her train ride back home after parting ways with Ivar at the airport. They did not. Her eyes stayed totally dry and she walled herself up in silence the rest of the day. It was still early, barely past noon, and she had yet to eat lunch. Cooking seemed like an insurmountable task.

It was so still and quiet in here all of a sudden. There was no one to talk to. What did she do all alone in her apartment before Ivar moved in? Did she talk to herself? Read? Hum along to a tune? What the hell was she supposed to do all by herself? Chat up her upside-down reflection in her spoon?

She dropped it back into her mug and the clatter sounded louder than usual. Silje glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and groaned, letting her head fall back. Her eyes were trained on the ceiling, and she wondered if she ever took the time to look at it. It was white with light wooden beams. Who even cared about her ceiling? At least she would be back on the benches in a couple weeks, and univeristy would keep her busy enough to stop wondering what to do with her free time.

Ivar had been away for two hours and she was having a quiet breakdown on her couch, slouched in the most unlady-like fashion. Going out was out of the question because she had removed her makeup as soon as she came home and she wouldn't wish her sullen company to anyone.

The loud music of Nicolaj's ringtone nearly gave her a heart attack. She fumbled around to try and find the damn thing. It took her another chorus of Raining Men to find it.

“Yeehaw motherfucker,” her friend yelled into the phone. Was he high? Drunk? No it was too early, even for him.

“Chill out, cowboy,” Silje replied, not entirely sure what to answer to his singular greeting.

“Sorry, I panicked,” he said with an awkward laugh. “Thought you'd be a sniffling mess by now. How's dear Ivar? Catch his flight on time?”

“Exactly. So why are you interrupting my pity party?” she fired back without much conviction.

“We're not interrupting!” Laura's voice came through the phone too.

“We're crashing it baby, and you can't stop us,” Nicolaj kindly informed her.

“Absolutely not, I want to be alone with my dark cloud,” she immediately told them. “Leave me be.”

“Oh I'm sorry,” Ava's voice now spoke. “Did it sound like we were asking permission? Because that's not what's happening.”

Silje held the phone away from her ear and covered it with her hand while she let out the longest sigh she could muster. Then she put it back.

“Alright. But I'll be complaining the whole time. Don't say I haven't warned you!”

It was a miracle none of her friends crashed at her place while Ivar was still there. She should consider herself lucky that they only decided to impose now that he was gone. Maybe it would do her some good to not be alone. At the very least she would be able to speak without feeling like she was slowly spiralling into madness. Seriously, what did she do when she lived alone?

She might have to pick up crochetting just to keep insanity at bay.

“We expect as much,” Laura answered, followed by other people laughing.

The gods knew how many of them would soon crowd her living room. They would have do deal with the empty mugs sitting in strange places and the general mess – she wasn't in the right state of mind to clean up, and Ivar and her had made quite the mess while they packed.

“Oh, we're already here by the way. This was merely a heads up phone call, just in case you were sleeping it off or something,” Nicolaj said. “Open up, bitc-!”

Silje hang up before he could finish his sentence. What an endearing dumbass. She conjured all of her energy to get up and buzz them in, hearing the sound of their footsteps in the stairway.

The entire band was here – Laura, Ava, Nicolaj, Matthias and Asmus. Now she did wish she was still wearing makeup.

“You don't look fresh,” Nicolaj immediately commented, and Silje flipped him off because she wasn't in the mood. “Oh man, sorry. Someone's grumpy.”

“Of course she is.” Asmus pushed his brother aside to hug Silje. Silje stuck her tongue out at Nicolaj while she hugged Asmus, just to spite him. “You're still crying over your ex everytime you hear a Rhianna song playing. She's allow to be bummed about her boyfriend leaving for a year abroad.”

“Excuse me?!” Nicolaj screeched in offense while Ava doubled over in laughter, and Laura and Matthias went off about this being the most shade anyone's ever thrown Nicolaj. “Forgive me for finding Diamonds emotional.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Matthias said. He slapped Nicolaj's back as he walked past him and into the apartment. “Just own up to it, man.”

“Mus, as my brother, you should side with me and not use sensible information against me!”

“What fantasy world do you live in? Of course I'm using my status to dig up dirt about you and use it against you!” Asmus laughed with Silje. “I usually do it just for fun, but today it's to get a smile out of this one.”

“Thank you, Mus. It does lift my spirits to hear about Nicolaj's misery,” Silje admits before letting them all in and closing the door. “It's a mess. That's what you get for coming here unannounced.”

“Ehm, we did announce our coming, technically,” Ava argued. She threw her arms around her best friend's shoulder and held her tight for a moment, until Laura got tired of waiting for her turn and simple joined in.

“I'm feeling left out here,” she said as an explanation. “Do you feel the love yet, Silje? Should we hug longer?”

What a group of nerds.

*

Silje couldn't sleep. Her bloodshot eyes glared at her alarm clock, staring at the angry red numbers, watching them change. 1:12am.

She blinked slowly. 1:13am. Her alarm was set for 6pm, she had to get some sleep otherwise she would start dozing off in the middle of her presentation for her 8am class. Was it stress that kept sleep at bay? Or the fact that her bed was empty and cold?

All she wanted was a minute in Ivar's arms, to feel warm and safe. A minute was all she needed to finally fall asleep. But her hand stretched up to the edge of the bed and still, there was nothing but her sheets and no Ivar. How much could one miss another person? She felt she would find out soon, because every day she clammed up a little more, what with the eerie silence and stillness of everything in her apartment.

It hasn't been this quiet and lifeless in a long time. Every day when she came home from university only to find the place plunged in the dark and utterly silent, she wanted nothing more than turn back on her heels and leave it. Ivar was missing from the scenery, and from her life.

But even then, life didn't stay on hold because Ivar wasn't there anymore, and she had to deal with her problems alone. Grumbling to herself, Silje threw the duvet away and stood up, quickly wrapping herself in her fuzzy robe to fend off the cold. It was only early October, but Denmark had said goodbye to Summer a few weeks ago already.

In an attempt to think about something else than her dearly missed boyfriend or her upcoming presentation, Silje decided to change her bedsheets. Maybe clean linens would help her rest tonight, and if not then she wouldn't have to change them in two days like she had planned. It took her a while, as per usual, because changing a duvet cover on a queen size bed on your own can be quite the ordeal, especially if you do it in the middle of the night in a zombie state like Silje.

Eventually it was done, and then Silje thought it was useless to go back in the fresh sheets if she wasn't clean herself, and went to take a quick shower, hoping that the smell of her shampoo would soothe her enough to make up for Ivar's absence. He always used the same shampoo as her, she even smuggled one into his suitcase without telling him, so he would have something from home while he was away.

She had never been one to depend on someone else. She never missed not sleeping alone before, she actually liked having a large bed all to herself, but now it just felt a little wrong. Did Ivar have the same issues? Did he lie awake at night and wish he could hold her instead of his pillow?

Mushy romantic thoughts aside, Silje did wish he missed her a little. And perhaps she also wished he couldn't sleep tonight, no matter how selfish the thought. After wrapping her hair in a towel turban, she returned to bed and slipped under her soft, clean smelling sheets, feeling a new person.

But still, she didn't fall asleep, and in a last attempt to get any shut eye tonight, she grabbed her phone and opened her messages. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard a moment, not knowing what to type or if she should type anything at all, but she eventually did and hit sent.

To Ivar: Are you asleep?

A silly question, she knew it. However, even just reaching out to him felt good and made her smile. He probably wouldn't see the message, he must be sleeping. Hopefully waking up to this in the morning would make him smile, even just a little.

Her phone lit up.

From Ivar: No. Watching a movie... [Download file]

Silje's eyebrows shot up, and that's when she realized that she really didn't expect him to answer. She just wanted to reach out. Her thumb slid on the file he sent. It was a picture of his computer sitting on his lap, with Gladiator playing.

From Ivar: Bad choice. Made me cry twice already.

A big smile crept on her face now, and she typed a quick response.

To Ivar: Want me to watch it with you? How far into the movie are you?

From Ivar: You have a presentation in the morning, you should sleep.

To Ivar: You have work in the morning.

From Ivar: Time zones tho.

A second message popped on her screen.

From Ivar: Okay fine, WE should be sleeping.

To Ivar: Why don't you?

The bubble signalling her he was writing appeared, then disappeared. Silje waited a moment. It did it again, and this time she huffed when the bubble went away. The third time she saw it, she began to type too.

Her phone buzzed at the exact moment she hit sent.

To/From Ivar: I miss you.

Her face grew hot even though there was no one to witness her embarrassment, and she couldn't do anything but stare at the identical messages. So, he did share her sleeping issues. She knew it shouldn't make her glad, but it did a little and she couldn't hold back a small, satisfied grin – he wasn't there to see it after all.

Knowing they both suffered from the distance between them was comforting in a way, and she was sure he felt the same.

From Ivar: The place they gave me is very nice, but it's not home.

Upon receiving this message, Silje's mood changed altogether. From smiling to herself she went to fighting back tears. Reading those words tore a hole in her chest and made her feel his absence in her bones. She missed him so much! What follies she would do to be able to see him again right now.

Home. He considered her place like his home, and this thought alone was overwhelming enough, but Silje had to add to it the agony of missing him like a lost limb.

To Ivar: It doesn't feel much like a home without you here.

From Ivar: Are you okay? Do you want me to call you?

If she concentrated a bit, Silje could hear Ivar say these words, she could hear the concern in his voice and see it in his eyes.

To Ivar: No, don't call. I'm fine, just sleep deprived and emotional. I might cry if I hear your voice.

This time his answer didn't come as quick, and she guessed he was trying to find something adequate to say. Maybe he too needed a moment to find the right words and not give in to the urge to get all sappy and romantic at this late hour where their brain functions were at their lowest. After two minutes or so the bubble came back.

From Ivar: I'm 20 min into the movie.

To Ivar: But you said you already cried twice??

From Ivar: I know, don't mention it.

Smiling, Silje grabbed her laptop off the floor and put it on the bed, quickly finding the movie and starting it at twenty minutes.

To Ivar: I'm all set.

Silje buried herself further under her duvet and snuggled her pillow, feeling a bit warmer and fuzzier than before now that she had some company in her loneliness – even if it wasn't what she craved at the moment, it was as much as she would get and she knew it. Knowing that Ivar was holding onto his phone and texting her in the middle of the night on a weekday, even if he was in another country, was comforting.

Her phone lit up again a minute later.

From Ivar: Have I told you I miss you a lot?

*

Silje stared at her macro-economics assignment with a deep frown on her face, and she was pretty sure that it glared back at her.

Life was going slow these days, as though she just hopped on a carriage after having driven a sports car for months. It was boring. Or maybe she was just done with university? True, she had thought that her classes would keep her busy enough to stop whining about Ivar's absence and how much she missed him – her friends were endlessly grateful for that – but it became harder and harder as time went by.

The truth was that Silje wasn't enjoying herself at all, and it worried her. She was a practical person, who put rational thinking ahead of her other impulses, then why did she feel more and more like she had wasted the last five years of her life doing something she didn't even like?

Anyone would say that no one really enjoys their job, they just have to have one if they want to afford the life they want. She could get behind that, but did it mean that she had to spend her entire life doing the same, boring activities every single day? It got her thinking. But what was more: Ivar told her something shortly before he left, and it had been on her mind ever since.

She had been rambling about Ava's new crush and how the girl always acted like the was the main character of a chick flick whenever she had a boy on her mind ; Ivar was sitting on the kitchen stool, watching her, listening quietly with a smile on his face, until she became self-conscious and asked him what he was looking at so intently.

“You,” he had said. “You're fascinating.”

It had made her heart jump in her chest and the pink rise to her cheeks.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she had denied, looking away now that she was hot in the face.

“But I think you do. You like telling stories. You're good with words, do you know that?” he had continued, grabbing a piece of red bell pepper and eating it.

“So what of it? Want me to become a bard and go from city to city to serenade pretty ladies in big hats?” she had teased him, slapping his hand away from the bowl of red pepper before he could grab another one. “Hands off, these are for dinner.”

“You should be doing something artistic,” he had suddenly blurted out. “I mean, I know you're good at what you do, but sometimes it looks like it's sucking the life out of you. You're always stressed out. I can imagine you studying literature, art, fashion, be at a cooking school, I don't know.”

She had bitten the inside of her cheek and pouted, pondering what Ivar said. He wasn't in the wrong, but she had her reasons for not going off to live the dream and move to Paris, to the left bank of the river Seine.

“These things don't pay, they are fantasy jobs,” she had argued, and Ivar grinned as if he had been expecting her to say that.

“Listen, I know it might sound rich, especially coming from me, but money isn't everything.” Silje had been about to reply but Ivar had kept talking before she got a chance to. “You need to do something that makes you happy and creating makes you happy, I know it. It's an outlet for the emotions you can't voice. You're just good at those things, you make things with love and it shows.”

To this, she didn't have a counter argument, and she still didn't.

Well done, Ivar. He had planted these words in her head and now they grew. There were little sprouts of “what if I dropped out and starting doing art?” growing in her mind. She had half a mind to fly all the way to Ireland only to grab Ivar by the shoulders and shake him like a tree for the way he had messed with her head.

Before he had said that, her life was perfectly clear: she had boring, practical skills that would land her a job at the end of her master's degree, and pay her bills. What else was there to ask? Who even thought about silly concepts such as professional fulfillment? Ivar, apparently.

“Damn you, Ivar!” she cursed him, throwing her pencil away, out of rage.

The fool was right, of course. And she needed to figure out what to do now.

The black cloud hovering over her head dissipated when a friendly hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Hej!” she welcomed Ava.

Her friend smiled gently and sat down next to her in the library.

“What'd that pencil do to you?” she asked. Silje blinked when Ava placed said pencil on the table in front of her before taking out her laptop.

She had been sitting in the library for hours now, the sun was starting to set and the last rays hit Silje in her face through the blinds.

“Nothing,” she sighed and slumped back. “Just thinking 'bout Ivar.” She distractedly twirled the pencil around, not looking at Ava – she didn't need to, she knew her friend was rolling her eyes.

Bless Ava, she was the most patient friend in times of need. Though, everyone's tolerance to other people's whining had its limits, right? Ava reached hers six weeks and five days after Ivar's departure. Which was two days ago, when Silje called her on the phone while sniffling in front of a kids' movie, crying about how much she wished Ivar was here.

Even Silje knew she was pathetic; she needed to get a grip because soon, Ava would stop being nice, and start smacking heads.

“Colour me surprised,” she chuckled. “So tell me, what did dear Ivar do to get you so frustrated?”

“He told me to do what makes me happy.”

“Oh, I see. Very problematic. Can't imagine where that comes from,” Ava answered.

“Stop being sarcastic, I'm serious!” Silje groaned and shot her a look. “I hate this, I'm overthinking everything he told me because he's gone. Maybe I'm starting to lose it, that would explain it all.”

Ava's laptop made a soft powering up whirring noise while both girls sighed in unison. They had gone over this topic what felt like a hundred times.

“You're not crazy, you're in withdrawal. I don't know exactly how much time you spent with Ivar when you weren't with us, but you clearly don't know what to do with yourself now that he's away,” she stated.

Silje was a bit shocked by how accurate a description Ava made of the situation, and it brought to the forth something else that had been on her mind...

“About that,” she started, fiddling with the pencil now. Ava's eyes darted to the thing until Silje stopped and spoke again. “I think it's time I tell you how Ivar and I met.”

*

Quite frankly, it had been a bumpy conversation that lasted well past the library's closing hours and prevented any work from getting done that afternoon. It ended at the coffee shop round the corner, and Ava was practically buzzing both because of the amount of coffee she ingested and the shocking revelations Silje dropped on her.

Getting past the part where she had found Ivar, who was homeless, sleeping on a bench, and invited him, a homeless stranger, into her home for dinner and a night's sleep, was hard. Ava kept interrupting her and pointing out all the moments where Silje could have been killed if Ivar had been a psychopath.

Silje hadn't been drinking coffee, she was downing green tea by the liter to calm her nerves and stay open and understanding of her friend's reactions. Only when Silje mentioned Ivar's injury and his getting a job as soon as he was able to eased Ava's worries.

“You are insane. I take back what I said earlier, you've lost it, completely.” She finished her coffee. “I don't even know what to tell you now. I guess we're well past the part where I give you the “be careful” speech because he's just a stranger you picked up on the street. You guys are in a relationship, hell, you've been living together without me knowing! I am kinda mad about that, not gonna lie.”

“I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't approve!” Silje said to defend herself but realized too late that it was a bad point. “Well, I mean... I didn't really know what I was doing in the beginning, I hadn't planned on taking him as a roommate before he got beat up, and then he was there and I was stuck with a hot stranger on my couch, what did you want me to do? Throw away this chance to turn my life into a romance novel? That's how they all start!”

“You're always so down-to-earth, what happened?” Ava cried out in a hushed tone. “For Odin's sake, you sound like me, and it's not a compliment.”

“I get it, I do. But can we rather focus on the now? Everything worked out in the end, don't forget that,” Silje said, pointing her finger toward Ava who fought back the urge to jump over the table and strangle her friend. Silje saw that. “Please, don't be angry with me. I liked him, and once I had introduced him to you all, it became his secret to share.”

“What changed? Why are you telling me now?”

“Because... he's moved on from that now. It's in the past and no longer holding him back, at least I think so. He has a job, a place to live, he'll continue his master's soon. His life is on tracks now, and he can look back and laugh about the past, knowing he pulled through.”

Ava seemed to think about it. Her lashes fluttered a bit and she pursed her lips – a clear sign that she was conflicted. Silje kept quiet because she had been talking for the last three hours, her throat was on fire and she was sweating through her shirt. Was it the air in the coffee shop that was stifling or did Ava's approval matter more than she thought it did.

“You know-” she started slowly, probably for suspens. “I like Ivar. He's a good person, and he's so in love with you that it makes us sick,” she stated as if it was nothing. Silje's puzzlement was evident. “I suppose that I wouldn't have been so inclined to welcome him in our group, had I known his past, so I can't really blame you for hiding it from me. I can also understand that it wasn't your secret to share, I can respect that you wanted to let him come clean when the time was right. But he didn't.”

“Because it doesn't matter anymore.” Silje had jumped in to defend Ivar without thinking. “It's not who he is. It shouldn't define the way people look at him, and that's why neither of us said anything in the end – before now. And this should go without saying, but I'm trusting you to keep this to yourself.”

Now Ava looked very displeased.

“You can't drop this bomb on me to relieve yourself of the weight of your secret and then demand that I keep it for you!” She sounded positively scandalized and ready to storm off.

“You're my best friend, who the hell can I tell this if not you?” Silje replied, equally offended. “I knew you wouldn't be thrilled to hear about this, but I thought you'd understand.”

“I understand that you have lost your mind because of some pretty boy!”

Silje swallowed her comeback and started blankly at her friend. A poor friend, as it turned out. If her closed off expression said anything, Ava must have understood it. The conversation had come to an end and it was time to leave before either of them said words they would regret later.

It was deadly silent and the air had become cool between them when Silje grabbed her bag and stormed off.

She power walked back to her apartment and threw herself face-first on the sofa, screaming into a couch cushion until she felt better. Then she kicked off her shoes, stripped and went directly to bed because it was late already, and she did not want to get lost in her seething thoughts under the shower.

It was a restless night of tossing and turning and angrily crossing her arms over her chest while cursing Ava. Then she thought back to what Ivar told her and cursed him too, for being away and not holding her in his arms after she fought with her best friend, for not being there to talk about her doubts concerning university.

Fuck, now she was crying. She wiped away the tears with such force that her skin burnt under her eyes and she bit hard on her lower lip to calm herself. She had become such a mess in the last few weeks, she didn't recognize herself anymore. Where was the headstrong, independent woman she had grown into? Her parents would be ashamed of her behaviour. And Odin be damned, Ava was right, she had acted recklessly by letting a stranger into her home, she should have sent a safe message to all of her friends the second she invited Ivar into her apartment on julaften.

When she woke up the next day, her face was stiff because of the dried tears and she felt as awful as she looked. Today was Saturday, she had no business being up before noon, especially since she had come to the conclusion that her life was in complete disarray anyway – what was the point of being an early bird for the sake of it? To cease the day? Bullshit.

But a loud banging on her front door made her lift her head from her pillow. What was that now? Couldn't a girl have a breakdown without being interrupted?

“Go away!” she shouted, though whoever was outside her apartment couldn't possibly hear her weak protest through the closed door of her bedroom.

The banging didn't stop, and so Silje grumbled and crawled out of bed, wrapping herself in a robe and combing back her hair with her fingers. She nearly lost a hand amidst all the knots.

“What do you want?!” she asked as she swung the door open.

It was Ava, who looked tired and sorry.

“Hej. You look like death,” she said as a way of breaking the ice after their fight.

“Right back at you.”

“I thought I should rip off the bandaid sooner than later, so I came here to apologize,” she explained with her usual down-to-business voice that she used when she didn't want to get too emotional over something – like when she tried to explain the plot of Star Wars to someone who had never seen them without sounding like an absolute nerd.

“Apologies go well with freshly baked goods,” Silje pointed out, feeling merciless this morning – and hungry: she hadn't had breakfast yet.

Ava knew her well, and she quickly opened a bag to show she didn't come empty-handed. Silje nodded solemnly, granting her access to her home.

“You may enter.” She pushed the door wide open though she refused to smile until she extorted proper excuses from her friend. One should have a minimum of dignity.

“Please, Sil, don't be like that,” she whined.

It seemed that she understood just how badly she had hurt Silje with her hurtful words and obtuse thinking last night. Silje's arms were still crossed on her chest, to give herself countenance even though she wanted to hold Ava in her arms very badly and forget it all.

“I'm really sorry. I was so taken aback, I almost forgot to look at the bigger picture because I was worried about you. It doesn't justify anything, so I brought you this, to make amends...”

She pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket and held it between her fingers until Silje deigned taking it to look at it.

When she did, her eyes widened.

“Go see your boyfriend, Silje. And by all that is holy on this earth, stop with the pity-party. I just want you to be happy, and he clearly does a damn good job of it, so... that's all I, or anyone else for that matter, needs to know about him.”

Silje threw her arms around Ava's shoulders, taking great care of not wrinkling the printed plane ticket in her hand.

*

If this wasn't the right building, she was truly lost. Her heels clacked on the pavement and the steady rumble of her suitcase' wheels followed her steps. She pushed the heavy oak double doors and walked in. It wasn't dark yet, so hopefully someone would still be there. This wouldn't have happened if her plane hadn't been delayed!

Now wasn't the time to complain though, he would soon be there. Her eyes searched for a sign and fell on a small golden plate on the wall to her left. “Secretary's office” it said. She followed it, happy to see there were arrows painted on the floor to help clueless people like her find their way.

One narrow door stood ajar and soft light came out of there. Gently, she knocked on the door.

“Come in!” A woman's voice called.

Silje pushed the door wide open and stepped in, feeling like she was in high school and being called in the principal's office all over again – it had been Nicolaj's fault, he dared her to sneak into the boys' locker room. Would there ever come a day she wouldn't feel shy and guilty when talking to a figure of authority?

“Hi! I'm sorry for bothering you. I'm a bit lost I think,” she said as way of introduction.

“You're not bothering me at all, dear, come on in,” she gestured her to sit down. “Where are you headed? You're not from around here, you have quite the accent,” she observed with a warm smile.

She seemed to be in her fifties, her hair was already getting gray in some areas and she wore thin glasses.

“I'm from Denmark,” Silje told her to satisfy her curiosity. “I'm actually here to surprise my boyfriend. He works here as a teacher assistant?” she explained, trying to get a reaction out of the woman that would indicate she was in the right place. “His name is Ivar Lothbrok, could you point me in the direction of his room?”

“Oh dear! I'm not allowed to let a stranger wander around school property sadly. You come a bit late.” She looked embarrassed and sorry for Silje. “It's the rules, I'm afraid.”

Silje's face fell. So much for the surprise then. She had pushed off calling Ivar directly because she wanted to surprise him, but nevermind.

“I understand.”

“Wait. What did you say his name is?” the woman asked, obviously feeling sympathetic for Silje who had flown all this way to see her beau. The young woman's face lit up again.

“Ivar Lothbrok. He works here part time as a history teacher assist. You must have noticed him if he's been around here: quite tall, brown hair, blue eyes,” she described. “He should be living on school grounds.”

“Oh I think it rings a bell, let me check in the system.”

The woman pushed her glasses further up her nose and typed on her old keyboard. She was swift and seemed to know exactly where to look. A little smile soon appeared on her face.

“Oh yes, I see,” she hummed to herself. “He does work here, so you're in the right place. However, I see here that he does indeed live on school property, which is why I still cannot let you go on your own. It is technically still a school day, and family and friends are only allowed on school grounds during the holidays, that is, starting tomorrow.”

Silje tried to follow her fast speaking rhythm – she wasn't used to speaking english that much, especially not the irish accent.

“The best I can do is try to call him,” she offered, ever so kindly. “It's the end of the day, he should be back in his quarters if we're in luck.”

“Thank you so much! That would be wonderful! Don't tell him that I'm here though,” Silje exclaimed gratefully.

She sent Silje a conniving smile and dialed the number. He seemed to pick up, which was a relief – she wasn't sure she could hang around here much longer – and the woman made quick work of it, asking him to come over because she needed him to sign a paper. Then she hung up, and Silje took a sharp intake of breath.

“There you go, sweetheart. It's the end of the day for me, so I'll be leaving too. You can wait on the bench outside the office.”

That was a dismissal if she ever saw one. But she nodded and gave her thanks again. This woman had stayed a little longer at her office to accommodate a total stranger who wanted to surprise her boyfriend. She was allowed to shoo Silje out now that her good deed was done.

A grand total of five minutes after the woman locked the office, Silje heard footsteps coming this way and stood up from the bench, her race racing uncharacteristically. It must be Ivar! Her palms became a little sticky and she was more flustered than she cared to admit seeing her boyfriend again. It had only been two months since they parted ways, but on the other hand, it had been two whole, long months that she spent thinking about seeing him again.

She barely had the time to rub her hands against her dress and give herself some countenance before the double doors swung open, and in strutted a nonchalant Ivar, both hands in his pockets, whistling to himself like he didn't have a care in the world. The hallway had been in the dark since Silje sat down because she hadn't moved at all, but as soon as Ivar arrived the automatic light turned on and revealed the presence to his left.

He stopped in his tracks, Silje saw surprise and a bit of disbelief in the way he looked at her and shook his head as if he thought he was having a hallucination, but then he smiled. She smiled back, and her heart leaped at the sight of him.

“Silje?" he asked, his voice fairly cautious but ecstatic still as he already took a first step towards her, a disbelieving smile plastered on his face.

Without saying anything Silje lunged forward and they met halfway, throwing their arms around each other and holding on. The rush of warmth and comfort that erupted inside her when she felt Ivar's arms engulf her in a hug was indescribable. With her head on his chest, Silje heard his chest rumble as he laughed – at least he seemed happy to see her, even if she popped out of nowhere without giving any warning.

“I can't believe you're here!” he sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple but not letting go yet, not even enough to give her a proper kiss.

For now, he just needed to hold her a bit – gods he had craved holding her again for weeks now! At any moment someone might walk in on them, but he couldn't care less, even if it was a student.

“You better start believing it,” she giggled, letting her hands fall down his back and onto his sides. She pulled back reluctantly; she wanted to see his eyes – and maybe his lips too. He smiled so wide and bright she was moved to tears. He really was happy to see her, and here she was worried she might arrive at a wrong time or mess up his holiday’s plans. “Kiss me like you missed me,” she told him.

Silje didn't need to say it twice, Ivar grabbed her face and crashed his lips against hers in a split second, all too happy to accommodate her. They both smiled like total fools in love in the kiss, but they couldn't care less about this somewhat awkward kiss. Silje's hand slid up to his neck and grabbed a fistful of his hair to hold onto and she pulled him down even more, pressing him harder against her lips, urging him to kiss her deeper.

Instead he broke their embrace and placed a quick, feather-like peck to the tip of her nose, startling her.

“I did miss you,” Ivar admitted, smiling fondly at Silje and her rosy cheeks. “Let's go to my place, shall we? We can't be caught making out at my workplace,” he reminded her.

A little laugh fell from Silje's lips when she realized she got carried away so quickly after seeing him again.

“Well at least you won't be able to say I wasn't glad to see you again,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly and turning around to go grab her luggage.

Ivar laughed, shaking his head – he had missed her antics and little innuendos – and he followed her, carried the duffel bag while Silje dragged the small suitcase behind her, and together they made their way to his apartment.

“I wanted to come knock on your door directly but the woman behind the desk said I couldn't go there because it was on school property,” Silje said when they approached a big Victorian-looking building with an impressive number of windows and giant wooden double doors through which an elephant could no doubt fit.

“Yeah they actually gave me the building’s superintendent’s’ apartment, he retired last year so I'm getting his place – and his job too, I have to make sure the doors are locked after a certain hour and signal it to the administration if students sneak out,” he explained, holding the left door open to let Silje through.

“Which happens often?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed. “You'd be surprised how creative these little shits can get when a night at the pub is at stake.” He rolled his eyes and lead her to a door at the back of the hallway, almost hidden behind the main stairway. “Here we are. Me casa es tu casa, you know the drill,” he told her.

Ivar unlocked the door but let Silje step in first, closing behind her and turning on the lights. He sucked in a breath and held it without really thinking about it while Silje silently took in her surroundings, looking around her.

The place was bigger than her tiny student apartment in Copenhagen, and much less stuffed with various unnecessary things such as the unreasonable number of blankets she owns, or the piles of books covering every single square inch of horizontal surface. It felt a little more... empty, but it was nice, clean, and it was Ivar's.

For a week in her life, Silje would be living at Ivar's place, and that was strange in an upside-down kind of way, but also thrilling. She wasn't sure how she should behave because so far, she had been the one 'at home', and for the first time she realized how odd it must have been for Ivar to spend all this time living under a roof that wasn't his, sleeping on a couch, and basically squatting someone else's place.

Now she understood with full force why he needed to leave Denmark, why he needed independence so badly. A tinge of guilt tugged at her heart when she remembered the way she first reacted to his news about leaving.

“I haven't really taken the time to make it mine yet,” Ivar said behind her when the tension became too much for him to handle. This silence was too thick. “I meant to decorate a bit, but I just never got around to it.”

The bare walls and nearly empty shelves did scream 'a man lives here' to Silje, which made her smile. The whole place looked rather old – not in a crumbling way, just as in a historic way. This was an old building and the inside reflected the outside. The walls were a dull shade of forest green, and every piece of furniture apart from the kitchen corner was in dark wood.

“What do you think?”

“I think you miss the Scandinavian minimalistic aesthetic,” Silje teased him, nudging him after they dropped her luggage. “You know, as long as there's a little room for me in your life, I don't really care what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah, I dare hope so, because it was a proper mess when we met,” he reminded her.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and lead her to the back, towards two closed doors. The house tour didn't last long. Ivar opened the doors to show her where the bathroom was, then the bedroom, and that's when Silje decided the tour was over.

She pushed him inside and told him she needed to take a closer look at the bed, because she couldn't possibly form an opinion without trying it out.

*

Ivar's phone lit up next to them for the third time in a row, making them both sigh. Silje sat upright and climbed off Ivar to go grab it and have a look at who was continuously interrupting their activities. He saw her frown at his phone, which had him on his feet faster that the speed of light.

“What does 'hey man, how's she cuttin'? Don't forget we going out on the lash and mottin' with the lads tonight' mean?” she asked slowly, as if she were reading an obscure foreign language, her brows still knitted together in complete and utter confusion.

Ivar's groan, followed by a chuckle made her turn around, cocking a brow at him while waiting for a translation.

“I completely forgot I agreed to go pub crawling with my friends tonight,” he told her, rubbing his face.

Silje had been here for four days now, and to be frank, Ivar and her and done nothing but walk around town hand in hand, get lost in each other's gaze to the point where they didn't hear the voice of the waiter at the restaurant they were at, and then went back to his place to undress each other with more than their eyes.

He had tried to show her around, had taken her to museums, bookshops and fun attractions, but nothing in the world appealed more to Silje than her dear, handsome boyfriend, and so they clung to one another like their life depended on it, not caring what other people thought of their public displays of affection.

Today, Ivar had insisted on taking her outside of the city and into the gree nature of Ireland. She knew him well and expect as much, which is why she came with adequate shoes for climbing around muddy hills and sharp rocks. They were tired and sore, but not too tired and sore to end the day with a bang. However, the thought of having to go out again really didn't sound appealing anymore, especially now that Silje was here, half naked, and Ivar had a semi-hard on from their heated make out session on his bed.

“I still don't understand anything that's in this message,” she told him, handing him his phone so he could answer.

“It's dumbass for 'hey, what's up? Don't forget we're going drinking tonight',” he explained. “And mottin' means women chasing. Cillian is feeling lonely these days,” he laughed when Silje sent him a nasty glare at the mention of their planned activity. “I'll tell them I can't come.”

Ivar was already typing when Silje snatched the phone from his hand.

“You can go,” she said. “You don't need to babysit me, I'll just read a book or watch a movie while you're out.”

She had taken up so much of his free time already, she wouldn't deny him a night out with his guy friends – the Norns know boys need their boyfriends.

“Nonsense!" he retrieved his phone. “Either I cancel, or you join us,” Ivar said, his tone final.

“But I don't know them, and you had plans. I don't want to intrude on your boys' night or whatever these are called,” she insisted. “Also, it's rude to cancel plans last minute.”

Ivar couldn't hold back his smile when she gave him that motherly glare that meant he had to stick to his engagements.

“Alright, then you're coming.”

“Ivar...” Silje started with a deep sigh.

“No, no, no you need to come. They need to see you're a real person and that I haven't made you up,” Ivar argued, holding onto Silje's hand to pull her towards him. Silje's eyebrow rose at that, an expression of confusion and amusement painted on her face.

“Your friends think you have an imaginary girlfriend?” Silje laughed when Ivar nodded. She pondered the thought for a short moment, leaving Ivar in waiting. “Well, then I guess I have to come.”

*

Needless to say, they didn't make a quiet entrance. The moment Ivar stepped through the front door of their pub of choice, tailed by Silje who looked around in fascination, taking in her surroundings, a round a disbelieving cheers greeted them. Three boys around their age stood up and raised their glasses, so Silje assumed these were Ivar's friends. By the gods, what have I agreed to?

Ivar did head towards the merry group, and he greeted each one of them while she stayed back, waiting for her turn. She was fascinated by everything around her. It struck her that the place was already filled to the brim with jul decorations, while also having a few pumpkins, glow-in-the-dark skulls and spider webs here and there for Samhain next week.

“Ivar, man! Ya boyo, why have'na told us ya were comin' with such a fine thing?” one of them said, and although the sentence was dotted with words Silje didn't quite catch, she did understand he thought her pretty.

“Shame on ya, Ivar! Don't ya have a mot back home?” another one said, shaking his head in disappointed. Ivar was just about to protest and introduce her when the last one spoke up.

“Shrupp, ya dickbrains, can't ya see the lady's awaitin'?” The third one told them off and stood up to greet Silje.

All three spoke with heavy accents, rolling their r's and using slang Silje had never heard before. Ivar caught her glancing at him for help, looking thoroughly lost. She ended up opting for attack as the best defence, before Ivar had a chance to step in and translate for her.

“Hi, I'm Silje. I'm gonna assume Ivar told you about me?” her Danish accent was a bit heavier than Ivar's.

One of the boys at the table clutched his chest and exclaimed, “I'm in love!”

“Told us? It's hard to make him shut up!” the other one declared dramatically, raising his pint to Ivar who glared at him.

“I'm Dean,” the one who had stood up introduced himself, and Silje shook his hand. “The love sick fool ove' there is Cillian, and that's Caleb.” Each of them waved their hand at her when Dean mentioned their name and Silje returned the gesture with a little smile.

“So you didn'a makeup that story, eh?” Cillian teased Ivar, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Havin' ya girl fly all the way heyar just to prove us wrong is a bit much, innit?” Caleb added.

“Well, you didn't give me much of a choice, now did you?” Ivar snapped back good naturedly shoving his friend in the shoulder.

Dean gestured Silje to sit on the bench next to her boyfriend before he sat down himself.

“Ivar told me I was quite the cryptid around here, so I jumped on the first flight to make a surprise appearance at the pub and freak out the locals,” Silje said, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. Now that she was here she had to make the best of it, and not shrink back on herself while the boys chatted the night away.

“'tis a good thing ya came, ya fella wouldn'a take that puss off his face because he missed ya so,” Dean told her, nudging her gently.

She stared at him with big eyes, then turned to Ivar who wore an amused expression. But he was once again interrupted before he could even start speaking.

“He's telling ya your man missed the heck outta ya, girl!” Caleb said. “Ivar wouldn'a stop sulking and rambling about his amazing girlfriend,” he added with a grin that showed he was quite satisfied with himself for having both supplied Silje with a translation and having made Ivar blush.

“Alright, it was nice seeing you guys, we'll go now,” Ivar declared but Dean sat steady and didn't let him and Silje get up.

“Don't get ye knickers in a twist, man! We're just teasin'. Ya brought us a pretty lash, we're intimidated,” Dean tried to calm him down.

Their exchange made Silje smile, and she rid herself of her coat to get more comfortable.

“De fortæller mig ikke noget, jeg ved ikke allerede1,” Silje told Ivar, placing a hand on his arm. Her words seemed to have an effect on him, though his friends had no idea what she said, Ivar ended up nodding and shrugging off his jacket too.

“It's like she's speaking magic words,” Cillian told the others upon seeing Ivar's annoyance melt like snow in the sun.

“Kan du se hvad du har rodet os ind i ? Fortryder du det ikke?2” he asked her back, if only to bother his friends who didn't understand a single word of Danish – thank the gods for that by the way.

“Nej det gør jeg ikke,3” Silje answer with a triumphant smile. “Should we get drinks?”

Her question woke the others from their fascinated gawking at the couple speaking foreign words to each other and made them snap back to reality. Ever so reactive, Dean raised a hand to call for a waitress from their corner table. The place was packed with people – they chose a Friday night of all days to go out.

Soon as the waitress was there Cillian raised a hand.

“Five pints of brown beer, lovely,” he told her, making the girl smile.

“Oh wait!” Silje called her before she could scurry off to get their drinks. “Make it three pints and two glasses of white wine.”

The girl took note of the change of order and ran off.

“Christ, Ivar! Your mot been heyra for a couple hours and she's leading ya by the nose already! Ordering fancy drinks, eh?” Caleb teased before downing the remaining of his beer to make way for the next one.

Silje blinked in slight confusion. She was leaning on the table with both elbows when she looked at Ivar, waiting for an explanation. He merely shrugged, but he was mistaken if he thought she was going to drop it and make it easy for him. He wanted her to tag along, he would have to own up to it.

“Why Ivar, haven't you told your friends you don't like beer?”

Her question was followed by a round of choked up screeches and a variety of downright offended protests. Meanwhile Ivar closed his eyes and groaned, causing Silje's devious grin to widen even more.

“We're in Ireland Sil, I wouldn't have made any friends if I didn't drink beer,” he grunted unhappily.

Silje nodded. It made sense of course, but she couldn't pass up such an opportunity to tease him in front of his friends. It was usually the other way around since they spent a lot of time with her own friends.

She gave him a gentle smile and pushed a strand of his hair out of his face, effectively making the three boys at the table stop rambling about the beer thing, and start poking at Ivar for being such a sap when his girlfriend was here. He didn't pay attention to them, and instead chose to enjoy the moment. For weeks now, he hadn't had a moment like this, he could only dream of it. To have Silje sitting next to him for a drink, and not halfway across the world, should be something to appreciate to the full, regardless of the presence of his merry group of idiotic friends.

“Jeg kan ikke vente til jeg har dig for mig selv resten af ugen,4” he whispered in her ear, making all three of his friends lean towards them in hopes to catch something even though it was all Chinese to them.

Throughout the evening, whenever Ivar said something only meant for Silje he switched back to Danish both because she wasn't as comfortable speaking English as he was – especially the local slang that was difficult to grasp -, and because it was more private. His friends looked confused as all hell at first but after hearing the tone of their voice and seeing them smile at each other, Cillian came up with a theory.

“Ah, I see! You're speaking that silly language of yours to talk dirty in public! I get it.”

Silje and Ivar both frowned and shared a glance.

“Man, that's not at all what's happening,” Ivar told him.

“Yeah, right,” his friend replied, giving them both a conniving wink as though he was now in on a secret.

“Don't mind him. Han er lidt dum5,” Ivar told Silje, making her chuckle in her glass.

The pub crawl was adjourned due to Silje's presence – not cancelled, never cancelled – and they decided to spend the night here instead. The place became even more crowded if that was possible, to the point where it was impossible to call for the waitress. All the staff was behind the bar, pouring drink after drink.

Silje volunteered to go get their next round of drinks and went to the bar. She hopped on a stool when one became available while she waiting her turn, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the sticky counter top. The waitress from earlier spotted her and yelled over the noise to ask her if she wanted the same. Silje nodded and smiled at the girl.

There weren't many girls here tonight from what she could see. But there sure were a lot of inebriated men, as proven by the one trouble maker who elbowed his way towards her until he was leaning against the counter right next to her. Silje leaned in the other direction ever so slightly.

“What's a ride like ya doin' alone?" he slurred, giving her a once over in an obvious manner, which suggested he meant it as some sort of compliment.

She scrunched up her nose and pretended she didn't hear him over the noise, hoping he would take the hint and go away – though she was positive he wouldn't take a hint smaller than her fist in his face. Maybe she should just do that from now on – hit first and talk later. A thought to ponder.

Silje wasn't one to complain about slow service in any kind of place, be it a pub or a fancy restaurant, but these drinks sure took their sweet time to get to her. All the while the drunk guy attempted to flirt with her with as much subtleness as an elephant in a china shop. How much longer now?

From the other side of the room, Ivar stretched his neck to see where Silje was with their drinks – Caleb grew nasty when he didn't have a cold one in his hand – and what he saw made his jaw clench. Seeing that beefy dude drool over his girlfriend made him glare holes in the back of his head and he stopped listening to the story Dean was telling him altogether.

She said something then, but the gods have mercy it only seemed to entice the guy even more, though she wore her disgust like a pearl necklace and shot him annoyed glances.

He felt his hand tighten its grip on his empty glass. He wished he could read lips because there was no hearing what they were saying over the ambient chatter, and he didn't want to cause a scene for nothing even if he really wanted to get up and teach this asshole some manners. Ivar was left breathless by the force of his urge to mark his territory. Silje would flick his forehead if he ever voiced his instincts.

“Hey man, your mot in trouble?” Dean asked, finally taking notice of Ivar's change of mood and following his gaze. “That chump acting the maggot. Go get her.”

Silje exchanged a few more words with the stranger, no smile in sight as she pulled away slightly when he scooted closer. Then she turned towards the table and pointed right at Ivar. Good. This fucker needed to know she was taken. Happily taken. Now he better back off or the gods have mercy on him because Ivar won't.

He was ready to storm across the room at the slightest hint of distress on Silje's face. But when Silje saw the look of rage on her boyfriend's face her expression softened a bit and she raised her palm discreetly. He blinked, then looked back at his friends and dropped the frown on his face, forcing his rage down.

“Nah. S'all good. She can handle herself,” he told his friends to their utter bewilderment.

A second ago he looked like he was ready to stab the guy in the throat and now he acted like it didn't even bother him to see his girlfriend being hit on. He stared a little harder than he normally would at his empty glass and couldn't help glancing towards the bar every other ten seconds, but he calmed down.

This was her sign. The little hand gesture. He knew it meant she had things under control. He didn't need to come to her rescue - even if he damn well felt entitled to and it itched him greatly to sucker punch this idiot. He trusted her, Silje wasn't overconfident in her skills or reckless at all. If she sensed actual danger coming from this guy, she would call him. After another while of tense silence between the guys where everyone was staring at the exchange except Ivar who glared at his glass like it was guilty of something, his suffering came to an end.

His back muscles relaxed as soon as he felt her familiar gentle hand on his shoulder. She laughed when she felt him literally melt under her touch. She expertly set down the plate of drinks she held with one hand, and joined Ivar on the seat bench, pressing into his side and snuggling him a bit despite the very public space to reassure him.

“Good thing you got rid of that wanker,” one of Ivar's friends chuckled in his glass. “Ivar was about to pop a vein.”

“I would have popped his head like a champagne bottle,” Ivar countered, scowling and leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I know you would have, but I like to try solving situations my way before letting you maim anyone who dares look at me.”

“This is about that guy at the park this summer,” Ivar groaned and rubbed his face. “I thought we wouldn't bring it up again.”

This triggered his friends to ask a lot of questions what exactly went down last summer at the park, and Silje happily obliged them and told the whole story, much to Ivar's despair. It wasn't even his fault; the other guy had started it.

The gang and them were out for the day, enjoying the sun. And some dude at the park kept losing his ball while playing volleyball with his friends and it somehow always ended up at Silje's feet. Ivar's patience ran out after the fifth time and he threw the ball back full force. It hit the guy in the face so hard it sent him stumbling backwards and falling on his butt. Their friends laughed but Silje didn't.

She finished her story with a fond smile on her lips, looking at Ivar with such whole-hearted tenderness that it melted the frown right off his face. She leaned back into him.

“Next time a guy hits on me I'll punch him in the face, promise,” she whispered to in his ear. Then she grabbed her glass and the boys carried on their conversation like nothing happened. “Oh look, they have-” Silje stopped and visibly searched for a word, snapping her fingers as if to summon it. “Ivar, hvad hedder dartspil på engelsk?" she finally gave in, turning to her boyfriend.

“A dart game,” he provided, and Silje snapped her fingers again, this time in victory.

“Yes! A dart game. Let's play darts,” she said, waiting to see if the boys would agree to her challenge.

“I can't accept, it would break me heart to crush ya at a game,” sighed Cillian as if it was a sacrifice on his part in the name of chivalry.

“Can't hand their asses to pretty girls like ye,” Dean agreed with his friend, drinking the last of his beer and chuckling to himself while Ivar's grin grew wider and wider. Silje saw it and smirked a little.

“If you're scared of losing it's alright, I understand you don't want to lose to a girl in public,” Silje said nonchalantly, knowing that they wouldn't be able to let slide this blow to their ego. Boys were so terribly easy to manipulate, it was a wonder the human race survived so long.

As expected from a bunch of young men slightly drunk off beer, they all immediately puffed out their chest and stood up, accepting her open challenge while claiming they wouldn't be held responsible for her crushing defeat. Only Caleb seemed to sense there it wasn't a good idea and remained by Ivar's side.

Ivar leaned back and kept smiling to himself like an all-knowing Cheshire Cat. He followed Silje but declined the invitation to participate – he knew better.

“No mercy, Sil,” he told her with a wink. “I'm going to sit this one out and enjoy the show.”

The two of them watched Silje slowly but surely crush Dean and Cillian's self-confidence with each dart she threw exactly where she intended. The two boys lost their mind – along with a fair amount of people who watched the game, one beer in hand, placing bets – and quickly understood their mistake. That's what they get for underestimating girls.

Silje never lost her grin and she scored more and more points.

“Ivar, ya jammy client6,” Caleb mumbled in his beer, nudging Ivar in the ribs to get his attention.

He had been entranced by Silje's gleeful smile and lethal aim. Yeah, he sure was the luckiest man alive.

*

It was already time to say goodbye and they both hated it though they knew it was coming. The wind was blowing strong, the sun wasn't even up yet, it was dark and cold and yet neither of them wore gloves because they needed that skin-to-skin contact just a while longer.

Soon, they would be able to wear gloves again as they wouldn't see each other until jul. At least this time, it wasn't a vague goodbye with no idea when they would meet again. Ava's part in their little reunion was much, much appreciated and Ivar would need to thank her, but they had arranged their next meeting ahead of time this time.

No surprise visit, no wandering about on school property to find the right building; Ivar would go two hours early to the airport and wait for Silje with a cheesy note written on a poster that he'd hold very high for her to spot from a distance once she had collected her luggage. She was going to hate it, he thought, amused.

“The bus is coming,” she said, spotting the headlights coming round the corner of the street.

She squeezed Ivar's hand and turned to him, her eyes glowing under the streetlight and looking a bit too glossy for Ivar's liking. If she so much as shed a tear, he wasn't going to let her leave. He didn't care about the consequences, he would pull a proper kidnapping and keep her all to himself, screw Denmark.

“I wish I could come with you,” he said, cradling her face and kissing her softly. Their lips were still swollen from all the kisses they exchanged these last few hours. One would think they were never going to see each other again instead of parting for roughly two months.

Ivar couldn't escort Silje to the airport because he was working today, bright and early; he could only walk her to the nearest bus station and wave her goodbye until she was out of sight.

The bus stopped and the doors opened: it was time.

“Jeg vil savne dig7,” Silje whispered before leaving.

“Jeg elsker dig8,” he answered.

Right before the doors closed on her, he stole one last kiss and felt her smile against his lips.

TRANSLATIONS

1They aren't telling me anything I don't already know.

2See what you got us into? Any regrets yet?

3No, I don't.

4I can't wait to have you all to myself for the rest of the week.

5He's a little dumb.

6Lucky bastard

7 I'll miss you.

8 I love you.

  @teenagephilosophersandwich

@marco-hvittyvik

@kenzieam

@captstefanbrandt

@kimskew

@aduncanzombie

@admerxin13

@meikolia

@vikingsmania

@dina-m16

@thinemineours

@didiintheblog

@mblaqgi

@thedorkcitycentral

@hallowed-heathen

[thebardanon]

DAY 2

A familiar silence fell over the two as Abbot began to navigate. Normally he’d have the radio on, a wide grin over his face. Normally Ann would be wondering if Abbot would shoot her if she threw his CD’s out the window. But the Rangers had them nervous.

They drove south, turning due north on the county road 20. Ann’s eyes wondered towards empty trailers and houses that appeared and vanished. She felt torn by them once, afraid of their loneliness. Now she just saw reminders, like crosses on the highway these empty houses marked only the dead.

Abbot, he prayed. His father’s Sikh traditions had long vanished, along with his turban and Kangha. He still combed his hair, but the wooden heirloom sat inside the worn leather vest that he’d sewn Abbot into. The ever silent prayer was a habit, when things were quiet, when an enemy was near, or when the sun sunk low he automatically felt drawn to prayers. The empty world slipped by slowly as they drove.

Eve was a collection of small shacks and what would have counted for sheds not long ago. But a Large plywood sign with green hand-painted letters read “THE LAST OASIS BEFOURE TEXAS! Water, Gas, and Food!” the U had been poorly stroked over,  and several young folks had set up a form of a market on the northwest of the 412 and 20 intersections. A couple took to the road when the van came close, a girl in a green sundress, darkened by dust and lack of proper washing, and a boy in a denim jacket and overalls, shotgun held behind his head making him look like some manner of a scarecrow. He smiled, She glared, or her face might have just been like that, as a half smile appeared on her face when Abbot pulled the van to the side.

“Strangers from a strange land.” the Boy called walking to the driver door. “You Texans?” Abbot stared, shook his head and made a quick show of hands. “Sorry man, I don’t sign, got anyone in there who talks?”

Ann opened her door and slid out. Stretching and pulling a baseball cap from the dash she fed her hair through. “I’ll translate.” Ann put thumbs in the loops of her jeans and marched around the van, meeting the girl at the grill. “Excuse me.” Ann nodded, tipping the bill of her cap as she walked around and leaned against the hood facing the other. “He’s from the former Arkansas, I’m from the former Kansas.” 

“Former? We-hell, that’s fine. Don’t see many people coming from the south. Glad you’re here!” His smile faltered for a second. “I’m Cody, that young lady is Francis. I’m the impromptu greeter and shooter here seeing as I don’t have much a skill for writing signs.” 

Abbot showed his hands and pointed to himself before signing out a resume. Ann nodded and smiled at Cody. “It’s a pleasure. He’s a mechanic and I’m good at hunting and butchery, though I can’t say I’m so familiar with this area.” Cody’s grin picked back up realizing the two would trade labor. “Fine, fine! Park on over by the red barn there and we’ll talk tradin’.”

Ann stood up and slapped the hood. Abbot nodded and drove past towards a small drive and a large red shack. Walking back with Cody and Fran she asked; “So how often do the Border Rangers get up this way?”

Cody shook his head. “No, they gave up the county roads on account of the painted.” 

“They’re on all the county roads?”

“Just about, least all but the 20, we give em food and they stay off north or south. Bet they’d jump a BR humvee if it tried to roll up though. They’re not easy to talk down.”

Ann nodded. She’d had to deal with groups like the tainted in the past. Tribal groups that formed and seemed to recreate some ancient society, but the Painted were different. They were the reservation kids, united for survival they had traditions and a bond that most had lost. They lived modestly, looked tribal, but they were more organized and collected than most. 

“We’re looking for a safe route off the panhandle. Maybe into the old New Mexico without getting raided by Painted or worse, Texans.”

Cody nodded, “I’ll show you the way some of the traders take when going west. Apparently, they went and preserved the greater part of Gallup, somehow trades all over the southwest. Even got boys out here.”

Ann took a deep breath. Gallup was a long way away. Far away. Perhaps far enough. 

Abbot sat in the back of the van, looking at the Turban he quit wearing years ago. Rolling it up he placed it in a small box under the driver's seat. Grabbing one of his toolboxes he slid out and began to drop the hog trailer, his mobile shop. Sitting on a folding chair he sat a small radio down and pressed play. A country song started wailing out a yodel as he placed up a sign; “Traded my voice for ungodly skill, will work for food.” and waited.

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@ikilledamanimeanwhat

[shia-prince]

In memory of Ayatollah Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr and his sister, Aminah Bintul Huda, martyred 9th April 1980.

They became a symbol of loyalty and endless struggle against the despotic colonialist forces of Saddam. - On Saturday, 5th April, at around 8.30pm, the chief security in Najaf and his workers, came to the house of Ayatollah Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr, saying, “Our responsibility is to take you to Baghdad to meet with Saddam.” Ayatollah al-Sadr replied, “If you’re commanded to arrest me, then yes, I will come with you wherever you wish.” The Chief responded, “Yes, it is an arrest.” To this, Ayatollah al-Sadr responded, “Wait for me a while so that I can perform my ghusl (cleansing of the body), change my clothes and bid farewell to my family.” He was told, “There’s no need for this; either today or tomorrow, you will return.” . He insisted, “And will you punish me if I bid farewell to my family?” The Chief gave in, saying, “There’s no need for that, but go ahead as you please.” Ayatollah al-Sadr entered the room and performed the ghusl of martyrdom, changed his clothes and performed a two-unit prayer. He then came to his daughter who was clearly distressed and distraught by the situation; he took her by the hand to his chest and caressed her. Then he turned to his mother and pleaded for her pleasure and supplications for him and requested her permission to depart. Then he embraces all the members of the house collectively and kissed them goodbye and so they knew from his actions that this was to be the final farewell. However, when he went to embrace his second daughter, who was 15 years old at the time, she was unable to cope - unable to carry the burden - and she started to lament and began to slap her face and cry bitterly. Ayatollah al-Sadr addressed her, saying, “O my sweetheart, my daughter. Indeed, every human dies and for death there are numerous reasons. So it is possible that a person dies due to illness or in his bed or for any other reason; but death in the way of Allah is the best and much more honourable. So if I would not be killed at the hands of Saddam and his group them I would die of illness or for other reasons. Certainly the companions of Prophet Isa (as) spread their message and were hung upon wooden crosses and they were firm in death for the sake of their obedience to Allah. So do not lament too much, O my small daughter, because every one of us shall die today or tomorrow and the best of deaths is martyrdom. And so, my two daughters, I am pleased with what befalls me. So if this martyrdom will bear fruits even after 20 years, I am content with that.” And when the time came for the farewell to his wife, Sayyidah Fatimah, he stood before her, embodying his previous farewell so that she too knew what was about to happen. The blood ran cold in her veins and her eyes fixated upon him in that state. He addressed her, “O sister of Musa! Yesterday it was your brother, and today it is me, O my garden of paradise! Bear patiently. Certainly this is the allegiance of Allah. We gave Him allegiance with that which cannot be taken back and He bought it from us. O the estranged from your family and homeland! You have carried a heavy burden and ahead of you is a steep path. I ask for you a solution! For indeed, those who are as dark as the livers are at your door, waiting. There is no escape; I am going. We will meet again at the place of the Mighty Sovereign. Wait here for three days and if I don’t return, then go with my mother and our children to my brothers’ house in Kadhimayn.” She faced him, ready for his departure and his sister, Aminah bint al-Huda, was there too; she held the Qur’an in her hands and Ayatollah al-Sadr walked under it, kissed it and then departed for the last time. After the departure of Ayatollah al-Sadr and the security forces, Ayatollah al-Sadr’s mother who was 80 years old, went to the roof of the house. She refreshed her ablution and began to complain to Allah about what had befallen them; she would do this every time her son was imprisoned. She sat on her knees and recited the 'Supplication of a Mother to Take Away Tribulations from Her Son,’ from Mafatih al-Jinan, seeking her son’s return and begging Allah for her supplication to be fruitful as previous supplications had been. She then went into prostration and cried, ‘O Allah! You have given him [my son] and You have granted me him. Therefore, O Allah, renew your bounty for me today. Indeed you are Mighty, Capable.’ The story of Sayyid al-Sadr and Aminah al-Sadr’s martyrdom is narrated by one of Saddam’s soldiers, an intelligence officer and newspaper reports: “The guards brought Sayyid al-Sadr to the Intelligence Department building chained in iron fetters. Then Saddam came in and said mockingly, “What are you doing, Muhammad Baqir? Do you intend to make a government?” Saddam started to poke him with a stick aggressively, saying, “You’re an alien, a foreigner to the land!” Sayyid al-Sadr replied, “I leave the government to you.” And an argument ensued on this topic and about the Islamic revolution of Iran. Saddam became very angry and told his soldiers to torture al-Sadr and make him undergo severe persecution. The torture lasted for three days. Amongst other abuses, Saddam ordered Sayyid al-Sadr’s beard to be set alight and burnt, for him to undergo electrocution and suffer a nail driven into him. The elder brother of Saddam brought Aminah al-Sadr to Saddam’s palace. She was severely beaten and blood was gushing from her head and face. I heard her reciting this verse, “Whatever mercy Allah opens for people, there is none to hold it back and whatever He withholds of it, there is none to get it after this. And He is the Mighty, the Wise.” [Qur’an, 35:2] Then Saddam entered and she recited more verses, enraging Saddam, and so he beat her. Aminah al-Sadr was then brought into the room where her brother was. They brought her whilst she was unconscious, dragging her in. When Sayyid al-Sadr saw her, he became very angry and wept bitterly. He called out to Saddam, “If you’re a man, untie me!” Saddam then took a whip and started lashing Aminah al-Sadr himself whilst she was unconscious. Then he commanded something to be cut from her body which enraged and broke al-Sadr further. “If you’re a man, leave me face to face with you and leave my sister. But you are a coward and you are around your soldiers!” al-Sadr cried. Saddam held a gun to Sayyid al-Sadr, saying. “Make a fatwah to prohibit people from joining Hezb al-Da’wah and make a fatwah to permit people to oin Hezb al-Ba’ath; if not I will tear off your head and cut your lineage.” Sayyid al-Sadr refused. Saddam yelled at Sayyid al-Sadr, “What kind of death do you want?” He replied, “I should be slaughtered like Husain (as) was slaughtered.” Saddam commanded him to be shot. Sayyid al-Sadr removed his turban, ready to be executed and Saddam shot both of them and left the room whilst abusing them.” On the night of April 9, 1980, the Ba'athist regime cut off the electricity from the holy city of Najaf and sent a security force to the home of their cousin Sayyid Muhammad al-Sadr. Sayyid Muhammad al-Sadr went with security force back to their headquarters, where they showed him the bodies of Sayyid Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr and Bintul Huda. Bathed in blood, the signs of torture were all over their bodies. Sayyid Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr and Bintul Huda were buried in the Wadi as-Salam graveyard in the holy city of Najaf that same night. Sayyid Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr and Bintul Huda saw oppression and injustice around them, and they spoke up against it. They were true followers of Imam Husain and Lady Zainab (peace be upon them). Indeed, when Saddam was asked to spare Bintul Huda's life, he instantly remarked, "Kill the brother and spare the sister? You want me to make the same mistake as Yazid?!" And yet, Saddam failed to learn from the mistakes of his predecessor. By assassinating Sayyid Muhammad Baqir al-Sadr and Bintul Huda, he helped give fresh blood to the Islamic revolutionary movements in Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Pakistan, and around the Muslim world. In their martyrdom, the two have become icons of the revolutionary spirit.

[pleasantbouquetgaygalaxy-blog]

Chapter 2 The Past

I was staring out the window in Math class and reminiscing about my life before I came out to the few friends I had about being Trans and what led me to make the discovery, looking up at the board behind the teacher I saw a sea of numbers and equations and other things I didn't understand, tugging out a note book I kept in my bag I flipped it to a clean page and marked the day and began a new entry.

So you are probably wondering how I got to be me and when I arrived on this travesty called my life. Well it started out as a adoption cycle I guess, I was adopted by a good family, proper in their speech and ways. My older sister was a lover of animals and my mom was as old fashion as they come they ran a private tutoring area and had a hand in schools ..what more could I want ? They gave me a excellent home, good food fuck I even got a dog when I was 13 ..just one thing was out..me ..Not only did I look very very different from them I just was different. I remember when when I was 8 I was at a water park with several of my friends ( yeah weird I know friends scary ). There was this girl called Aubry  and I thought her red hair caught the light just right I thought she was the prettiest thing that ever walked the earth, I had been told by my parents that I was too young to date boys but I had no interest in boys,  in my opinion boys were just gross, they were rude and they made girls cry, they always seemed to hurt my feelings and told me I was too short to play with them. Girls on the other hand seemed to never do that to me, they always wanted to play and they never told me I was stupid, if we cried we cried together and we laughed together. 

Well it was the fateful day that my mother traveled to Italy Rome to do a seminar and brought back some Greek armor, I started to realize I alway wanted the role of a guy in my life, I rather be the Knight in armor then the damsel in destress waiting for her prince charming, I was heavily a tomboy at a young age, but as I grew up so did my parents desire to make me as feminine as possible, it was a long and tiring war, countless fights were had on the subject of clothing and the like. When we went to the Renaissance Festival I always dressed as manly as possible, once I got to meet the Queen of the Fair and she knighted me and asked my name and I introduced myself as Prince Ali from the Middle East ( I happen to have a Middle eastern costume on complete with turban and scimitar ) and she smiled at me and bade me rise as Sir Ali prince of the shinning sands. I couldn't tell you how happy I was when she said this, I felt like the shinning knight of the sands in Sahara.  That feeling was soon squashed as I came to my mother proudly baring the certificate from the Queen naming me a knight and met her disproving gaze and frown “ Don’t you know you're a girl ? A lady not some man act it, its weird to be what you aren't” were the first words, I remember scrambling to say some stupid excuse while holding back tears, what came out was that I didn't know how to spell my full name and it was hard with my dyslexic brain, to which I received a scoff and a all day lesson the next day on how to spell my name and how it was weird to be a man. I remember feeling so slighted, why didn't my parents just be happy for me ? It would always crop up in day to day life, how they'd force me into dresses and how id strip them off just as fast. when my early teen years rolled around I experienced true hell, there was a girl that I like and there was none I could tell. Her name was Olivia , I thought she was the coolest person ever.. she was 16 and I was 13 at the time and she held my universe in a balance I followed her like a love sick puppy everywhere. She was the only one at the time really tolerated my presence, there were two other girls called Megan and Jenna.. god I hated Megan, the perfect one that all the boys loved, only a year older then I and she was what everyone thought the epitome of perfection was I remember writing poetry once and showing her in hopes of gaining friendship and she tore it up and spread the rumor I was strange among the boys of the school. Back to Olivia she and I became fast friends and I did everything in my power to keep her happy, now that I look back on it..wasn't the healthiest friendship it was more me being used as a little servant in exchange for tolerance and I didn't care. Now it just hurts to think about but then I was so starved for acceptance I was ready to sell my soul to gain friends. Once we were friends I told her about my love of girls AND boys, I learned at a tender age that you always added the boys because if you didn't people were creeped out. She seemed to be fine with it and we stayed friends, then she slept with one of the boys at schools boy I hated and our friendship quickly disintegrated and I she quickly told everyone I like girls and my parents and I had the the talk about how loving girls just wasn't acceptable in fact it was disgusting and that I was confused and didn't need to be talking about things like that. That was the last time I told anyone I was (at the time) bi. As I grew older I made friends with LGBT people on the internet and found myself immersed in the world of the LGBT, I learned about gender fluid and about gays and lesbians, I learned about the feelings and the confusions attached to them, I struggled to find what I was and all the while I steadily grew worse as a person, at 15 I wasn't talking to my parents or really anyone, I was solely on the internet and even there I didn't have many friends, I was afraid more like terrified of being made fun of and bullied so I kept to myself, that was until I met Matt  and we became friends, Matt was in the midst of his scene/emo phase as a human and was open about liking men and always asked me about my sexuality ( at this point I was insisting I was a hundred percent straight) and I kept avoiding the question till one night we were talking and I was crying about not being able to attend a opera in a suit. Matt asked me then straight up if I was a guy, of course I cussed him out and told him no I was 100 percent a girl and he just laughed and said ok and we continued on and went about our day, but that got me thinking, what if I wasn't a lesbian at all..what if I was a guy and just stuck in this ridiculous body of a woman.

My pencil led snapped with a crack and I looked up from my notebook as the teacher turned around and addressed the class once more and I tucked the notebook away, the rest of class went by in a relatively fast fashion, pulling on my leather messenger bag as the bell rang I heard a yell from behind me and I turned to see Helena dodging and weaving around people, her short frame allowing for rather speedy dodging. “ hey you “ she said with a half smile, her hair was done in that ridiculously lopsided bun and strands of her brown hair were coming loose and falling around her face, I reached up and tugged a strand of it with a small smile. “hey you yourself “ I said and smirked at her to which I received a slap. ‘coffee? and then home ? or are we gonna do something fun? “ she said. “ coffee sounds really good and we can go to the park and I can read you Shakespeare like you want me to “ I said and pulled on my the sleeve of my ratty sweater. Helena clapped her hands together and grinned “ Baked goods and some drinks and Shakespeare here we come “ she crowed and tugged me towards the door. 

I was smiling widely as we got into the car, maybe..just maybe being a closeted man wasn’t the worst thing especially with such a wonderful girlfriend.