#sorry if nothing made sense i am not very smart in giving advice or anything since i feel like

[lololollywrites]

So I’m honestly looking for help or advice here. I’ve gone my entire life believing that I’m neurotypical, despite never quite feeling like anyone else or fitting in. I just always thought I was... I don’t know. Quirky, weird. It’s mostly been internalized. I doubt my family would agree, for example, despite any one of them being the first to say that I’m a loner with special interests (they don’t know the half of it - not about tumblr or fanfiction, for example) who has carved out my own little niche of the world in which I can feel most comfortable (academia and travel, amongst other things). “Oh, Lauren’s the smart one who corrects our grammar and doesn’t want a typical life and doesn’t notice when men hit on her and can talk for hours about anything and remembers every detail of her childhood! She was reading novels at 6 years old, isn’t that funny?!”

But recently I’ve come across online content about ASD in adult women and how it looks different than we have long been told (and therefore how it gets overlooked and undiagnosed) and, well. It’s been resonating with me. Hard. I’m not necessarily struggling with life, but I’m also lacking a long-term relationship, a core friend group (it’s hard to fully connect with people or reveal my full personality, though part of that is also because I move a lot), and am finding myself more and more alone. Which is okay for the most part. It is. Honestly, the idea of sharing my apartment and giving up decision-making autonomy and even decorative control stresses me out. I’ve tried to work on myself by expanding my comfort zone - I’ve worked at it my entire life, which is why I traveled - but also... what if I could understand myself better? What if there’s more to it? (I did discover that there might be more but it got long, so... sorry in advance. But if you can relate, I would LOVE it if you did read and could help me!)

I just took the RAADS-R assessment (a bit frustrating, as many of my answers would generally depend on the situation and there was no option for that); I tried my best to be conservative and practical with my selections. I still scored a 104. Scores range from 0-227, and a score of 65 is when ASD is considered (and even likely), though obviously one online test is not enough for a diagnosis. Non-autistic people can score as high as 90, apparently (and autistic people can score as low as 44), so 104 is not conclusive, but it’s made me think.

It’s sort of a relief in a way, but it’s also something I don’t think my family would ever be on board with or understand since I’m the “normal”, stable, level-headed, successful one. Which obviously doesn’t preclude autism (honestly many of these traits have helped me tremendously), but there are so many misconceptions out there. And they love me and mean well, but I know they’d also ask why it matters, since I’m 33 years old and have done fine until now. But they don’t know what it feels like to scratch at your skin and never truly feel like you’ve figured yourself out. Why you’re different and why nothing has ever made sense. Why other people are so infuriating.

My traits? Well, they don’t all fit. Or at least I didn’t think so until I started typing them out.

I am easily overwhelmed by social situations (I can’t stand nightclubs and had an anxiety attack before I first went out in college), but I’ve gotten better. I’ve practiced. Interrupting can be a problem for me because I get excited when people say things that interest me. I don’t find sarcasm or jokes or social cues difficult to understand, but I’ve also... practiced. I’m very, very aware of what I say, how I act, and how others perceive me, though this has become more natural with age. I was always so gullible as a kid that it was a joke in my family. I’m compassionate and empathetic to a fault; I believe the best in people, which has hurt me. Textures and noises don’t particularly bother or overwhelm me, but I did once burst into tears in a Shanghai bar because it was too much. Just... too much. I never once believed in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy and grilled my parents with very specific questions regarding why I should be expected to (though only when my little sister wasn’t around). Despite this, between the ages of 5-7, I slept at the very edge of my pillow so as so leave plenty of room for my parents to take my tooth in the middle of the night and not accidentally wake me, as I knew it would be embarrassing for them and potentially also wake up my sister.

I once slept in an inflatable raft for an entire summer as a kid because I felt like it was a safe cradle. I used to be such a perfectionist that my parents considered homeschooling me. I got in trouble for reading too quickly because teachers thought it was impossible to complete the assignments at the rate I did. I always completed all the group work at school - not because my group mates took advantage of me (though there was a little of that), but because I couldn’t stand what they turned in to me and wanted to do it myself. Travel was my way of proving to myself that I didn’t need the same daily routine; I learned to create my safe space wherever I was in the world. I didn’t want my worries and anxiety to limit my experiences, so I didn’t let it. Then travel just became a new part of my comfort zone. I would self-soothe and reassure myself it would be okay by imagining my new safe space, which would always involve my computer, my Kindle, an internet connection, and being alone. With those things, I’d be okay.

I used to talk so fast as a kid that my mom joked I should be the person who spoke at the end of radio commercials (when they share all the legal disclaimers at high speed). I’ve practiced that too and gotten better, but I always need to be aware of my rate of speech. I went into teaching to sort of... practice public speaking, eye contact, and increasing my confidence (as well as to try to build that natural cadence). And it’s helped. This has always led me to the assumption that yes, see, I’m neurotypical. Everyone has these thoughts and foibles. When I discovered fanfiction in high school I told everyone about it, mind-blown at how miraculous it was, before I realized that people were looking at me funny and thought I was weird. So I stopped. And then discovered online communities.

Even as a 24 year-old, on a Fulbright orientation in an Indonesian hotel, sitting in a circle on the floor in a group of 30 fellow Fulbrighters about to embark on a year-long placement around the country, I apparently talked too much. I had no idea. I was two-months fresh off a year in China and we were participating in ice breakers, sharing advice and travel stories, and I thought I was being helpful. I felt free - finally I was in a community of fellow travelers, and I guess I let my guard down. My family couldn’t relate to all of my China stories and eventually got bored, and I was still processing my experience. I thought that these fellow travelers cared what I had to say. That it was safe. One of the girls I liked (and we did later become friends when she apologized months later) came up to me after one of these sessions and said “As much as I like your stories, Lauren, don’t you think you talked too much?” I was mortified. I totally shut down. I felt pushed to the side in that group - my only real friends, looking back, were the few other loners, including one girl who openly discussed her ASD. We were in contact for years after that and we naturally understood each other. She asked me to talk *more* about China with genuine interest. Maybe that says something.

Anyway. I’m having a bit of an emotional moment right now. I guess this could all be nothing. Or something. I know maybe I should pursue an official diagnosis, but I don’t know if that’s worth it or not. I trust people here. Has anyone else had a similar experience? Or have you self-diagnosed at any point? Does the truth of that label impact your life, and in what ways? Thank you. And sorry for the very, very long ramble. (And that’s something I’ve become accustomed to doing - apologizing!) And I truly hope I haven’t offended anyone or made it seem as though I’m acting like this is a confirmed diagnosis. That’s not it at all - I am very unsure. I just truly would appreciate some guidance. ❤️

[winter-soldier-vibes]

We Need You

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1901

Summary: Bucky comforts a reader with imposter syndrome (inability to believe that one’s success is deserved)

Warnings: imposter syndrome, low self worth/self esteem, feeling worthless, slight angst, mostly comfort

A/N: I have issues that present similarly to imposter syndrome, but I don’t experience it fully or severely. You belong and wherever you are, you fucking earned that. You worked hard to get where you are. I hope this fic can bring you some comfort, I apologize if I did not serve the topic justice. Sorry it took so long! As always, if anyone needs anything from me or just wants to talk and vent, I am ALWAYS here! <3

Tags: @buckys2thicc @buckfics @thatfangirl42 @mardema @barnesplums @bucks-bunny @stucky-on-spiderman @peggycarter-steverogers @freigeistundanderes

Add yourself to my taglist! Masterlist

------

You were calm, cool and collected. Smart, dedicated, and hard-working. You were an Avenger, one of the more valuable assets to the team with your training in hand to hand combat and knowledge of weaponry. 

At least, that’s how everyone saw you. Everyone except you. 

Every “job well done” translated to “I could’ve done better” for you. Compliments in a way felt like pity to you. Like it was all a lie or something. You could’ve been better, you didn’t think you were anything special. 

Anytime someone gave you praise you would wave it off with a small smile. Everyone saw it as you being modest, but internally you just couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t accept praise knowing you could’ve done better.

Settle for nothing less than perfection. But nobody’s perfect.

You were endlessly grateful for your team, your family, but you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t deserve it. You had so much good in your life, but you felt like you had to keep proving yourself. 

You had everything you could ever want, but you still felt like you had to earn it. 

You thought you had done a good job at keeping it hidden. Imposter syndrome you had heard someone call it at one point. You had looked into it, realizing more and more of it resonated with you. You didn’t feel that you deserved your spot on the team, even though most of the team could agree that you were one of their best fighters. 

You were also one of the kindest people on the team, and everyone enjoyed being in your company. Again, you wrote it off as them feeling obligated to talk to you rather than them choosing to talk to you. 

Everything you thought about yourself, the degrading names you called yourself, and the way you waved off all of your achievements didn’t match up at all with the way anyone thought about you. 

It went unnoticed to most. You would put up a front, small smiles and thank you’s occasionally. There would be small side comments that you would make occasionally, but it was nothing that would cause red flags to arise. 

It’s nothing, really.

I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.

It’s no big deal.

No worries

That’s why I’m here I guess

Compliments were deflected. Whenever you received criticism you would internalize it even though you knew it was nothing against you. Friendly advice to improve job performance. But for you, it reinforces the thought that your performance needed to be improved.

No matter what you did, you would never be good enough. You used to chase achievements, telling yourself that if you did well enough, if you did good things, that you would feel a sense of self worth. That maybe if you achieved things you would be filled with a sense of pride.

Instead you were left feeling as though you didn’t deserve any of the recognition you received. In a way, it made you feel even more insecure.

You thought that if you accepted the praise you would seem self indulgent or boastful that if you said what your achievements were you would seem prideful. So you accepted them with a small smile and thank you. At least until people moved onto the next topic and you drop the smile when it seemed safe. When no one was watching. 

When you thought no one was watching. 

Which is how Bucky had come to notice the discomfort you had.

When he had first joined the team, he was very quiet. He did a lot of listening and observing, not wanting to speak much himself. That was understandable to anyone. So when you had been introduced to him and your skillset had been mentioned and you waved it off saying no big deal, he had noticed how you shifted as if you were uncomfortable and your smile dropped as soon as the attention was on someone else. 

He didn’t think much of it. If anything it had to do with being uncomfortable around him. 

But as time passed he started relaxing around everyone too, especially you. He was still accepting what he had done and who he was now. He was still reserved but he wasn’t silent. The two of you had become good friends, being two of the quieter personalities on the team. 

Now you had someone to keep you company when you stayed at the outskirts of Tony’s parties.  

But as more time went on, he noticed small things that you did. Behaviors you had, things you said. Clutch phrases. The way you would seem embarrassed when people complimented you. The way you would say that there were no worries even if you were the only reason that a mission was successful. 

Sometimes when you thought you were alone or no one would hear, he would catch you mumbling things to yourself. Things like yeah right to compliments before giving a genuine response. The slight shakes of the head in protest. The nervous habits you had when you got a compliment. The little things that others were too distracted to notice, too small to 

Bucky was an observant man. 

Which is how one night, you hadn’t realized him come into your room to talk to you about something that Bucky completely forgot about once he saw you. You were sitting down at your desk, head in your hands and rubbing your eyes. 

Jesus why am I so stupid

What the fuck is wrong with me

They don’t mean what they say

How could they like you?

I’m worthless

Just like everyone else

I don’t belong here

You were so trapped by the marathon of degrading thoughts that you hadn’t heard Bucky come in. He stood beside you, concern etched on his face. 

“Y/n?” you jumped slightly and took your hands away from your face, blinking in surprise. You had been crying. Why was he here?

“Y/n what’s wrong?” he asked, coming over to you. 

You shook your head and shrugged, wiping a few loose tears from your face. “‘M fine Buck,” you whispered, struggling to keep your emotions out of your voice.

“Y/n,” Bucky said, crouching down in front of you. “You wouldn’t be crying if something wasn’t wrong. It’s okay to be upset, there’s nothing wrong with that. Just tell me why you’re upset.”

You shook your head again. “Really Buck, I’m fine.”

“Y/n, I may not be able to read minds like Wanda, but I know something’s bothering you.it’s okay.”

You sighed, taking a breath before looking at him. “Do you guys really mean it?” you suddenly asked meekly.

Bucky drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Mean...what?” 

“After missions, when you say I did the right thing, that I did a good job, that you guys need me - do you mean it?”

Bucky looked more puzzled now. “Yeah, of course we do. Why else would we say things like that?”

“If you thought you were supposed to.” you said suddenly. “Or if, you know, you wanted to be polite, or you thought I wanted to hear it, or you didn’t really mean it I don’t really know I -”

“Y/n, hold on, slow it down...What?” Bucky said. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “I dunno, I just don’t really feel like I’m all that valuable to you guys here. I don’t do anything you guys couldn’t do without me. I make so many mistakes all the time and no matter how hard I try I just don’t feel like I belong here.”

Bucky took a minute to look at you. He had known you doubted yourself but this was beyond what he had thought. To think that you, y/n, weren’t valuable to this team was a crazy idea to him

To you it was the truth.

“Y/n, no, we need you. Why on Earth would you think you don’t belong?”

“Because I haven’t earned it. I’m on the team, I fight with you guys, but I still don’t feel like I should be. The mistakes I make all the time, the wrong calls, the selfish calls, bad judgements...I could go on. I just...no matter how much good I do it doesn’t make the mistakes go away.”

“Y/n, you are one of the best people we have, we -”

“No I’m not,” you said firmly, surprising Bucky. You shook your head. “You guys don’t need me. I don’t deserve to be on this team.”

“And I do?” Bucky asked.

You looked back at him. “What do you mean? Of course you do. Your the best fighter we have, Steve's best friend, we need you.”

“But I’ve made so many mistakes. You know all of the horrible things that I’ve done y/n. I was made into a weapon.” he said.”

“Bucky you know that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose that and you would've done anything to stop it. That’s different. You’re a great fighter and a good person, Bucky.”

“So are you.” he stated simply. “Do you believe that?”

You took a deep breath.  “I believe you believe that. But that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “You are a fighter. A hero. You’ve saved so many people doing things that some of us couldn’t or wouldn’t do. People out there remember how you saved them. How you protected them and gave yourself to them. That was you, no one else. You are a part of this team, you help make it what it is. We would be lost without you. You put your blood, sweat, and tears into this team. You give your heart and soul to this team. You’ve earned every goddamn bit of praise you get and more. You fought your place onto this team and you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else here. So when your head tells you that you don’t belong or that we don’t need you, tell it to fuck off. Because you’re one of the best people we have.”

By now you had tears in your eyes again, but not ones of shame. Ones of appreciation and relief. You had wanted to hear those words directly for so long and to be affirmed in that way was something you needed. “Thank you Bucky,” you said softly, giving him one of your first genuine smiles at a compliment.

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Anytime. Anytime you want a reminder, you let me know. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it before you can start to believe it for yourself.”

[startanewdream]

Use it well

Summary: Harry and Ginny discuss giving the Invisibility Cloak to their oldest son.

For @velvethopewrites! Hope you have a wonderful birthday 💖

Thanks so much for @gryffindorhealer for helping me sort out this!

______

'Al — no, stop it, I don't care what James said, you can't just take his wand — Lily, you don't fit in his trunk, get out — James, it's eleven already, just go to sleep — Al, I told you, no wand!'

There is a puff of dark purple smoke, and then silence.

Al drops the wand quickly, hurrying outside the room, Lily leaves James' trunk following her brother out, and Ginny shakes her wand to vanish the smoke.

'Thanks', James says, picking up his wand and placing it carefully on the bedside table, before lying lazily in his bed. 'Didn't fancy spending my last night here coughing that smoke.'

There is a smile in the corner of Ginny's mouth. 'Last night,' she repeats, amused. 'You are going to Hogwarts, not leaving here forever.'

James shrugs, eyes moving to watch his things, all meticulously ready for the trip tomorrow. He was never the most organized, but his enthusiasm is evident; he dreamt of Hogwarts ever since he saw Teddy going six years ago, talking about it non-stop.

And since Ginny is the last person that could judge him for wanting to do something his older brother did, she just messies with his dark red hair.

'Try to rest, James. You don't want to sleep through the journey tomorrow.'

'Did you?,' he asks curiously. 'Sleep the night before.'

Ginny remembers writing in Tom's diary the night before Hogwarts, sharing her excitement with him. That was before, when he was playing nice, when he was her friend.

But she doesn't want to damp James' mood, so she goes with: 'Not really. But my mother told me too anyway.'

He laughs a little, then he looks away, biting his lips, a telltale announcement of his embarrassment. 'Mum… before I sleep, could you call Dad?'

She feels a sudden urge to run and hug him. Eleven years, ready to start his magic education, acting all confident around his young siblings, and her first son wants his father's assurance.

But she doesn't do anything. She remembers hugging her parents before embarking Hogwarts, desperate to go after years dreaming of it, and yet a little afraid too.

'Sure. Good dreams, James.'

He smiles at her, and Ginny leaves the room.

She should check her other kids, but they are quiet in their room after that purple smoke and she will first get Harry.

But when she arrives at their room, Harry is sitting in the bed, a thoughtful look on his face, and to Ginny's surprise he holds his Invisibility Cloak in his hand, feeling the fabric.

She frowns for a moment before closing the door and sitting next to him, keeping her expression devoid of any concern.

'Crisis averted,' she announces quietly. 'Purple smoke drove the kids away.'

'Purple smoke?'

'Yeah, Albus was playing with James' new wand and this felt like a good occasion for a tiny drop of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Albus thought he did it and they all thought they were in trouble, and that was the end.'

There is a shadow of a smile on his face, but his lips stay still. 'Good one.'

'Yeah, well, I use my tricks while they work. Soon enough they will be too smart for it.'

She waits for him to say something, but Harry just keeps looking sorrowful. Her hand flies to the back of his neck, massaging it, hoping to ease his tension.

'James called you. He wants some fatherly advice.'

'He is nervous.'

'More than he admits, yeah.'

'I was on my way to talk to him — sorry for letting you handle them alone —'

'Nothing I couldn't take care of, Harry,' she says, shrugging. 'Just between us, I will miss all this noise.'

'Yeah…'

Harry's mind is still far away. She lays her head over his shoulder, her hand touching his over the soft fabric of the cloak.

'What's going on, Harry?' she asks softly.

He sighs.

'I am going to give James the Invisibility Cloak.'

She nods, quietly. They've already discussed this — how Harry doesn’t use his cloak much anymore ever since he started working as Head Auror, how they can trust James to not make too much trouble —, but it seems something else is bothering him.

‘I thought of wrapping it, attaching a note to tell him to use it well, you know, all mysterious like the card I received, and I was going to, but… it felt weird.’

‘Why?’

He bites his lip, looking very much like his son doing the same, as much as James resembles Ginny more.

‘It’s the only thing I have,’ he whispers. When she looks confused, raising her eyebrows, he gives her a guilty look. ‘That was my father’s, only his.’

‘Oh.’

‘It’s stupid,’ he adds, looking sheeplish, and she can see the bricks he is using to build a wall around him. She entwines their fingers, and Harry closes his hand, pressing her fingers as if he wants to share her strength.

‘No, it’s not. It makes sense.’

‘No, I mean, this is as much mine as it’s James and Albus and Lily’s, it’s their inheritance too —’

‘I said it made sense, not that it was right,’ she notes kindly.

He nods. ‘I know. I feel so… spoiled, like I have this shiny toy I don’t want to lend to anyone —’

'Now you are being unfair,’ she cuts him. ‘You are many things, Harry, but spoiled you never were. Too humble for that, it was always your charm.’

‘But if I can’t give it away—’

‘You are not. Giving it away, I mean. I think you are just looking at it the wrong way. The Cloak will remain yours just as it will be James’, and someday Albus’ and Lily’s too’. Ginny turns to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Just like it still belongs to James Potter and your grandfather and all the family you once saw in that enchanted Mirror.’

Harry smiles distantly. ‘The first time I saw that Mirror I was using this Cloak. It was the first time I was seeing my family, you know?’ Ginny nods quietly. This is a story that always makes her eyes tear up a bit, but she won’t cry, not now. ‘I have so many good memories of this Cloak.’

‘We’ve even made a few,’ she notes, winking at him, and Harry almost chuckles. ‘I think cryptic messages are overrated. Just show the Cloak to James. He will love it.’ She hesitates just a little. ‘And… isn’t this better this way? Sharing this moment with him?’

He smiles sadly. ‘It’s what my father would want, right?’

Ginny sighs. ‘I don’t know. This is something we can only guess. But — what do you want?’

‘Well,’ his smile is a little more normal now, ‘he will get into much more trouble if he doesn’t have it.’

‘Harry,’ she calls softly. ‘Why do you want?’

He turns to her, raising his free hand to hold her face.

‘I want him to be happy. I want him to enjoy the Cloak like I did — less walks to the Forbidden Forest, though, more late night walks to the kitchen.’

‘He will,’ she assures him. ‘We made this world so he could have fun, not use it to survive.’

‘And this is all I wish for him,’ he says, more at ease now.

‘He will cherish this moment forever,’ she assures him, and Harry nods before placing a kiss softly on her lips.

‘Thanks, Gin.’

‘Anytime, Harry,’ she smiles. ‘Just don’t mention the Marauder’s Map, or he won’t ever stop pestering Teddy.’

Harry laughs.

She walks to kiss Lily good night and to turn off the light of Albus’ room (he always forgets it), making sure the blankets are covering them and they are finally resting. Then she goes back to James’ room, pausing at the door when she hears their laughs.

James laughs like Harry in his best moments — carefree, at ease, no weight on his shoulders.

She peeks inside. Only James’ head is visible as he tries the Invisibility Cloak, looking at himself in the mirror, while Harry beams at his son. Then James sits in the bed, still wearing the cloak as if he doesn’t ever want to lift it off, listening attentively to Harry.

'It's a powerful item, James, and yet as any magical thing it's only powerful as its owner. Be smart. Remember that others can still hear you, and don't forget to avoid people as you walk with it.'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'People forget more than you'd think', laughs Harry, and Ginny has a sudden memory of the time Hermione caught them… busy. 'Promise me you will share the Cloak with your brother and sister in the future. It belongs to you three.'

'Yeah, yeah', agrees James, and even though he doesn't look concerned, Ginny knows he will do as promised in the future. He may complain, but he always does everything for his siblings.

‘And, please, James, no trips to Hogsmeade or to the Forbidden Forest until you learn how to really defend yourself.’

James grins, nodding, and Harry hugs him — looking weirdly hugging the emptiness where his son's body is still invisible.

Watching them, Ginny thinks she was partially right. It’s not only James that will appreciate this moment. And though she told Harry they could only guess, she knows James’ namesake would enjoy it too.

[sakura-83]

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 6: Remorse Is the Poison of Life

1. Diana having to run through the dark with nothing but a lantern and quite reasonably tripping. I never really thought about how dark it would actually be out because there’s always light.., somewhere in a modern city. It’s dark but you can usually still see

2. Every time Anne and Diana are separated they end up reunited during some great tragedy and are like “I missed you so much!!” Like yeah that’s great but. Please focus

3. It’s terrifying how easily children could die before modern medicine. They still can die very easily and that’s still terrifying but back then there was no quick fixes or easily accessible help

4. “It’s an old wives tale.” “I might be one but not the other. Evidently one doesn’t have to be either thing to know it.”

5. Anne knowing how to treat croup because all of Mrs. Hammond’s sets of twins had it

6. “I was supposed to be a boy but when I wasn’t, they decided to keep and raise me.” “How extraordinary!”

7. Minnie May almost choking to death on her own phlegm and Anne ultimately saving her because there’s no way the doctor would’ve made it all the way from Soencervale in time

8. “I believe I need a brandy.”

9. It’s really interesting how much of the script comes straight from the book

10. “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are white frosts, aren’t you?”

11. John Blythe’s love for adventure and how Gilbert undoubtedly sees it in Anne

12. Eliza apologizing for how she misjudged Anne

13. “My darling Diana”

14. “I can’t tie myself down to anything so unromantic as dishes at this thrilling moment!”

15. “Even aunt Josephine said she’d like to see you again, and she doesn’t like anyone.”

16. “Shes disinclined to stay home alone since her companion passed away.” “Her companion?” “Her best friend forever and ever.”

17. “Aunt Josephine never married. Neither of them did, they lived with each other their whole lives.” “I’d live with you forever if I could. But I know you’ll leave me the date you get married to some wealthy and handsome gentleman. I hate him already.” “How’s Gilbert?”

18. “It’s very likely Gilbert’s father isn’t going to get well, so it’s more than possible that when Gilbert finally comes back to school… he’ll be an orphan.”

19. The cut from that conversation to John Blythe’s funeral

20. Matthew grabbing Marilla’s arm because he knows how much john meant to her

21. Gilbert watching the snowflakes melt in his hand

22. Marilla’s flashback

23. Young Marilla teasing john

24. Him giving her the same hair ribbon she later gifts to Anne

25. Anne and Gilbert being just like their parents, mirroring their romance and yet achieving the love Marilla and John could never have

26. Anne trying to make Gilbert feel better but making it seem like it’s about her. I often find it hard to articulate my relation to others in a way that does sound like I’m relating and not like I’m making it about me

27. Aunt Josephine on a stroll in the woods

28. Anne’s ranting about her “extensive knowledge of being an orphan”

29. Her calling Gilbert a dumb boy and refusing to think about him

30. “Romance is a pesky business. No sense to be made of it.”

31. “May I enter your humble abode.” About Anne’s run down little shed

32. “I couldn’t be less interested in Gil- that boy!”

33. “Let your ambitions and your aspirations be your guide.” “But I have so many!”

34. “I’ve always wanted to be a bride, but I don’t really expect to be a wife.” “Interesting!” “So you see the conundrum.” “I do. I have the following thoughts to offer. First, you can get married any time in your life, if you choose to do so.” “That’s true-“ “And two, if you choose a career, you can buy a white dress yourself, have it made to order and wear it whenever you want.” “Why didn’t I think of that!? I love that idea! I’m going to be my own woman!” “I’m a proponent for making ones own way in the world.”

35. “If you become a doctor, perhaps you can discover a cure for old age.”

36. Anne calling aunt Josephine her new role model, as well as Marilla and Matthew

37. “I’m going to be the heroine of my own story.”

38. Marilla finding an old letter from John

39. The theme Unrequited Love playing during this scene

40. It’s fascinating when you come to recognize the instrumentals by name, the names actually have a lot of double meanings in relation to the show. Fire in The Town not only plays when there’s an actual fire, but also when Anne’s rumors about prissy set the town ablaze

41. “If the key to a mans heart is through his stomach-“ “Which it is!” “Then, we have to make sure that this is the best shepherds pie that Gilbert has ever had.”

42. Anne wanting a boy to loved for her brain and personality rather than her abilities to keep a home

43. “Don’t you think Gilbert looks even more handsome now that he’s sad?” “I didn’t notice.”

44. I just noticed aunt Josephines mourning clothes, I know she was grieving but I didn’t put two and two together

45. “Take the boy the godforsaken pie before I suffer a mental collapse.”

46. Anne rambling excitedly about Jane Eyre.

47. Anne almost spoiling the book, just like Gertrude used to do

48. Anne suddenly breaking down over death. I’ve done that before, far more frequently in middle school when I realized that we all die someday

49. “It must be awful beyond measure to lose someone that you love deeply. In a split second, a heartbeat, they’re gone forever… and there is nothing you can do to change it or bring them back…”

50. “Anne? You’re crying on the potatoes.”

51. “There’s nothing wrong with saying ‘I’m sorry for your loss’, Ruby. And I’m going to say it because I am.” “You’re just going to make it worse if you say that. His father!! Just died!!!” “That’s what people say when someone dies.” “I don’t want you to upset him.” “He’s already upset because his father just died!”

52. “We hope you like shepherds pie.” “Everyone LIKES shepherds pie 😡. We hope it’s a comfort to you, Gilbert.🥰”

53. Anne telling “but I would make a terrible wife!” And running out.

54. Matthew offering to help Gilbert get his farm back in order

55. Gilbert not wanting to be a farmer but having an entire farm shoved off on him when his only family does, despite being… 14 at most? 15 maybe?

56. Matthew losing all his crops when the Dal Marie sank

57. Billy wanting Gilbert back to control the “ugly orphan” and Gilbert defending Anne

58. “She’s smart, deal with it.”

59. Gilbert telling billy to read a book for once

60. “I’ll give you a tip, okay? I’m not your bud. And if you ever hassle Anne again, you’ll regret it.”

61. “What’s your problem?” “Ask me that again. No, seriously. Go ahead.” “Why you gotta be like that?” “Ask me!” “…what’s your problem?”

62. Gilbert throwing his stuff at billy to preoccupy his hands and THEN punching him straight in his stupid face

63. The boys are fighting!!!! And rolling around in the snow too that’s kind of funny looking

64. Gilbert beating billy in that fight

65. Marilla telling Gilbert about his father

66. All of Gilbert’s siblings died

67. Gilbert’s father taking him to Alberta before he died, where Gilbert was born

68. “You resemble him in many ways.”

69. “He asked you to go?” I’ll always be grateful to him for thinking I’d be brave enough. Obligation… can be a prison.”

70. Anne trying to write a letter to Gilbert apologizing for what she said

71. Anne visiting aunt Josephine for advice and accidentally interrupting her grieving

72. “Emotion is rarely convenient and often intolerable, but I find at the moment that I don’t mind it.”

73. “Grief is the price you pay for live, you see. So it’s alright.”

74. “You and I are not the marrying kind.” “Ah, but I was, in my way. And we had a full and wonderful life together, and I gave no regrets. That’s all you really have to decide Anne, to live a life without regrets.”

75. Anne kissing aunt Josephine on the cheek and running off to live said life

76. No Matthew don’t make that loan deal!!!

77. Anne sprinting to Gilbert’s house bit for the first time of many to come, being too late to reach him.

[honeyheartsandkisses]

A million times yes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

One Shot!

Summary: You and Fred have always been really close. After a bad day, he tries to cheer you up and you accidentally confess. (You are in the same year as the weasley twins, one year above the golden trio.)

Warnings: Kissing, and maybe even a little grinding but no smut.

Word count: 2.6k

Sitting here in your potions lesson, you couldn't help but let your mind wander off. Professor Snape's voice droning on in the backgroun about the different kinds of spider venom and what they can be used for. The mildly pleasant smell of bubbling potions and the dim candles illuminating the dungeon all melded together, casting a drowsy spell on you.

"Miss y/l/n!" Snape's nasally voice pierced through your lazy state. You jumped to sit up straight, finding Professor Snape standing right in front of your desk. His face twisted into a nasty scowl.

He starts circling your desk like a vulture circling it's prey. You knew you were in deep trouble. "I suppose you find all this information boring Miss y/l/n?"

"No sir." You said. Staring down at the opened textbook on your desk. Snape always had a thing for torturing gryffindors.

"Humor me this, can you tell me the ingredients for a forgetfulness potion?"

"Umm... no sir."

"Not so smart now are we?" Snape grins, his long crooked nose twisting to make him look truly frightening. "Tell me the ingredients for a truth potion then."

You look up from your desk, and make eye contact with your best friends Fred and George Weasley. The red-haired twins who were seated just a table in front of you had turned around (just like the rest of the class) helplessly watching Snape humiliate you. A few slytherins were snickering, completely enjoying the show.

Feeling defiant, you wink at your two best friends before looking up to face Professor Snape. "With all due respect sir, you never taught us those two potions. How am I supposed to know what's in it?"

Your two best friends start cackling with laughter, clearly impressed by your sudden burst of confidence. A few gryffindors flashed you thumbs up signs, stifling their laughter.

"SILENCE!" Snape stops circling you and look down at you, administering a death-like glare. It instantly made you regret your decision from just five seconds ago. "Miss y/l/n. Very brave for an orphan." The word orphan struck a nerve. Your parents were muggles and at the age of 11, they passed away in a car crash. You were the only one who survived that night. Everytime someone brought it up you would relive it. The heavy snow, the thick ice, the feeling of the car skidding on the ice, and worst of all, your mother's screams.

"Perhaps they never got the chance to teach you classroom manners?" Snape continues in his low nasally voice. Your blood boiled. How dare he bring up your painful past.

"They must be disappointed to learn that their very own daughter turned out to be a failure." This makes your hands clench into tight fists.

You slam the table, standing up from your seat. "I am NOT a failure."

Professor Snape looked almost slightly surprised at your outburst. But within a second he restores his emotionless front. "Six hours of detention Miss y/l/n. Tonight. You will polish all the trophies in the trophy room, without the help of your wand. Be there immediately after dinner or it'll be eight hours. Do you understand?"

Still trembling with rage, you sit back down. "Yes Professor."

The moment Snape goes back to teaching, George quickly slips you a note. You felt slightly better knowing that your friends had your back. Holding the small piece of parchment under the table, you unfold it to see two familiar handwritings.

One of the handwritings had more rounded letters. You easily identified it to be George's.

It wrote: Wow six hours is going to be tough. I'm sorry he said those thing to you but i loved that you stood up for yourself.

The other handwriting was slightly crooked, and this belonged to Fred.

It simply wrote: Are you alright?

Your heart skipped a beat. It definitely was not out of the norm for the boys to show concern but everything Fred said and did made you want to scream. Your heart did backflips whenever you saw him. The way his messy red hair always seemed to fall perfectly into place when he ran his fingers though it, the way he always had a pleasant woody scent on him from all his quidditch practices, everything made you fall in love with him.

You flip the small piece of parchment around and write on the other side and write: I’ll be okay. Before handing it back to the twins. 

You manage to stay out of trouble the rest of the lesson, and when Snape finally dismisses everyone, you scoop your heavy textbook into your arms and the three of you head toward the great hall for dinner.

“Maybe we should leave an exploding chocolate bomb on his table.” George says, holding the classroom door open for you. 

You laugh, walking through the door with Fred following closely behind you. “Don’t be silly George. Snape’ll figure it out right away.” 

“Still worth a shot don’t you think?” Fred says, winking at you. 

You quickly shake your head. “I mean it boys. Don’t. Do. It.”

“Alright alright fine.” George says, while Fred swiftly grabs your textbook from your arms, carrying it for you the rest of the way.

“Actually we know a trick or two when it comes to cleaning the trophy room.” Fred says, looking down at you. Him being a whole head taller than you, he towered over you. It made you feel safe. “You could always bewitch a few sponges to self-clean. Sneak them in under your cloak.”

“Snape said no wands but he didn't say you couldn't do with a little... lets call it special equipment.” George adds. 

You decide to take their advice, and before reporting to the trophy room after dinner, the three of you stop by a supply closet to bewitch a few sponges before they walked you to the trophy room where Snape was already waiting. 

Professor Snape eyes you suspiciously before scowling. “Your little friends cannot stay with you y/l/n.”

Slightly annoyed, you snapped back. “Yes I'm well aware. They were just leaving.” The twins each give you a small pat on the back before hurrying off, leaving you with Snape. 

“You will polish and shine all the trophies in this room.” Snape says in his nasally voice that always left you nauseous. Only when he steps aside do you see how massive the room was. With shelves extending from the ground up to the ceiling, each one of them crowded with trophies of all shapes and sizes. Some looked like regular muggle trophies but some seemed to be able to move. Some had faces on them whereas others were shaped like mystical animals. 

“Maybe this will teach you not to disrespect a teacher.” Snape says, the corner of his lips turned upwards, clearly delighted to see you in misery. “I will be back every hour or so to check on you. If you’re not here, it’s another two hours of detention and fifty points from Gryffindor. Your wand will be confiscated until  all these trophies are polished.” You reluctantly hand over your wand, wishing you could hex the professor. “Get started.” With that, he turns around and walks off, shoes clicking down the dimly lit corridor. 

Cursing under your breath, you retrieved your earlier bewitched sponges from the supply closet, along with a couple other polishing solutions. To your surprise, they worked brilliantly. The small sponges scrubbed every inch of each trophy leaving it spic and span, before automatically moving on the next. While the sponges were busy at work, you headed over to a corner of the room and sat down. Just when you were about to doze off, a familiar voice jolted you awake. 

“Tired already? It hasn't even been an hour.” 

You look up to face it’s owner, coming face to face with Fred Weasley. Your heart swelled. Quickly rubbing the seep from your eyes, you laugh and pat the ground next to you, asking him to sit and he complies. 

“What are you doing here?” “Wanted to say hi to Professor Snape.” Fred says, gleaming mischievously at you. Under the dim light, his brown eyes looked like honey and the smell of his freshly shampooed hair gave you the urge to pull him into a hug. 

You roll your eyes. “Ha-ha. Very funny Weasley.” 

“Are you really alright?” He suddenly says, catching you off guard.

You smile, hugging your knees. “Yeah I told you I’ll be fine.” 

“But you’re not...” He looks down at you, almost like he could see right through you. “When Snape mentioned your parents earlier, you looked so incredibly sad. Like nothing could ever make you happy again.”

“I know...” you let out a big sigh. “Everytime someone mentions my parents I re-live that night. Id be lying if I said it wasn't terrifying. But this is something I have to deal with on my own. It’s not anyone’s job to fix me.” Before you know it, a tear escapes the rim of your eye, rolling down your cheek.

Fred puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “I understand.  I just wanted you to know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. So don’t be afraid to let me know if you’re struggling.” 

You snuggle closer to his chest, his arm still tightly wrapped around you. Feeling a warmness wash over you, your mood changed for the better. You tilt your head upwards, looking at him. He senses your movement and looked down at you with concern. Your face merely inches away from his, you fought the urge to kiss him. His eyes travel down your face, staring at your lips before looking into your eyes again. “Y/n I...” But before he could say anything else, you press a kiss to his lips, quickly pulling back to observe his reaction. He looked confused and flustered, making your heart sink. You just made a huge mistake.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I just...” You stumbled over your words trying to find the right thing to say. You felt embarrassed and humiliated. Did you just singlehandedly ruin your friendship with the Weasley twins?

But all of a sudden, Fred stops you from freaking out. “Shut up.” He sounded urgent and needy. He crashed his lips with yours, and you could feel his passion and urgency. Like he needed this for a long time. Like he never wanted to stop kissing you. His hands cup your face, deepening the kiss, while you move to sit on his lap. A growing heat in your lower belly started to take over and you rocked your hips forward, grinding on him. He snakes one arm around your waist, pulling you closer while you kiss his neck. 

Suddenly, you hear the sound of shoes clicking against the hollow corridor and you pull away from Fred in a hurry. “It’s Snape!” you whisper urgently. “You need to go now! He’ll punish you!” 

“But-” Fred tried to protest, but you move off of him, quickly standing up. 

“Please Fred I wouldn't want you getting into trouble because of me. You need to hurry!” 

He gives you a reluctant pout, but finally agrees. “I’ll see you later.” He kisses your forehead before hurrying off.

Shortly, Snape arrives to see you hard at work polishing the trophies. He mumbles something about you having a bad attitude before leaving, and once again you’re left alone.

You sit back down in the corner, going over the past few minutes. Fred Weasley kissed you. The boy you’ve had a crush on since your second year in Hogwarts. He liked you. Being held by him was the most amazing feeling in the world. Kissing him made your head spin. 

Time flew by and before you know it, Your six hours of detention had passed. It was now 1am and the bewitched sponges had obediently dropped to the ground lifelessly after polishing the last trophy. As if on cue, Snape returns, walking up and down the trophy cases.

“Very well y/l/n. You may leave.” He hands you your wand.

“Thank you Professor. Always a pleasure.” You say sarcastically, bolting out the door before he could lecture you again. When you made it up to the common room, you expected it to be completely empty. After all, it was 1am. But to your surprise, Fred was fast asleep on the sofa in front of the fire, his chest rising and falling in sync with his breathing. He had waited for you to come back. You couldn't help but giggle. Grabbing a blanket from a nearby cupboard, you lay it over him and kiss his forehead.

Just as you were about to tip toe over to the stairs to make your way up to the girl’s dormitories, he stirs from his sleep.

“y/n? Is that you?” 

You make your way back to him, sitting down on the sofa. “Hey, what are you doing here silly? Shouldn't you be in bed?”

He sits up, pulling the blanket off him. “I wanted to be here when you got back.”

“Well? I’m here now. Whats the matter?” 

Without saying another word, a mischievous smile spreads across his face. Reaching under the sofa, he pulls out his quidditch broomstick. “Let me take you on a flight?” 

Your eyes lit up. For years you've been begging the twins to let you use their broomstick. Theirs was always better than yours because you weren't on the quidditch team. But they guarded that thing with their life. Not once did they allow you near it. 

“Really?” Fred stands, holding his broom in one hand with the other hand outstretched towards you. “Milady?”

You laugh, taking his hand. Just like that the two of you sneaked out of the Gryffindor common room, creeping past Mrs Norris and Filtch’s office. After a few long corridors and several flights of staircases, the two of you finally reach the main door. He pushes it open, and you step out into the cold night. It’s so dark, it could be impossible for anyone to see the two of you zooming around in the air. 

“It’s a little chilly tonight. Here hold this.” Fred hands you his broom before taking off his coat and handing it to you. He takes the broom from you again and says “Put It on. Wouldn't want you catching a cold.” You pull it on, thanking the heavens that its dark out. This way he couldn't see how much you were blushing. 

He straddles the broom before lowing the back end. “You ready?”

“Just one question.” You say, stepping closer to him so your bodies were slightly pressed together. “Why’d you bring me out here?”

“I wanted to cheer you up of course.” He says, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Wait... is it alright I did that?” 

“Well, that depends.” You lean over his shoulder and whisper in his ear. “Are you my friend or are you my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.” he blurts out immediately. “If that's what you want of course.” he adds, looking rather embarrassed at his quick answer.

You giggle at his adorable display. “Fred Weasley are you flustered? For the first time in your life?” “Shut it y/l/n.” he laughs, “Come on, you know you're gorgeous, and funny, and kind and you have a cute butt. Now tell me, will you or will you not be my girlfriend?” Despite the nonchalance of his tone, you could tell he was nervous. His eyes gave it away.

“A million times yes.” Putting your arms around his neck, you pull him in for a long kiss. It was head spinning and life changing. The two of you only pull away when there was not enough air left.  You think I have a cute butt?” You ask, smirking at him.

He smiles, rolls eyes eyes and simply says “Hop on princess.” 

You climb onto the back of his broomstick, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly before the two of you take off into the night.

[onomonopetabread]

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

[fanmoose12]

Partners

Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T

Detective!au

Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

Chapter 4/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Сhapter 3

Petra was standing in front of a coffee machine, trying to choose between latte and cappuccino. She almost pressed on a button with latte written on it, when a hand, which fell heavily on her shoulder, stopped her.

"Goodness, don't even think of buying coffee there!"

Startled, Petra whirled around. She gasped as she saw Captain Erwin standing in front of her.

"Am I... not allowed to buy coffee here?"

Was there some unspoken rule that newly promoted detectives couldn't take coffee from the precinct's coffee machine? Was she overstepping some line?

For a second, Captain Erwin's eyebrows drew together in confusion. But then his lips curved into a smile, as he let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh no, no, of course, you're allowed to order coffee there," he assured her. "But you really shouldn't. In Levi's words," he scowled, trying to mimic Levi's annoyed expression. Petra couldn't resist a giggle - Captain Erwin's impression was spot on. "It tastes worse than horse's piss."

Petra covered her mouth with two hands, stifling her laughter.

Captain raised his arms in a placating gesture. "His words, not mine. But it's truly awful. C'mon," he turned around and started walking, beckoning Petra to do the same. "I'll make you a better one."

***

As Captain was busy with preparing coffee, Petra couldn’t help, but look around his office. The office wasn’t big or spacious, but it was brightly lit and tidy. There wasn’t much inside, only a bookshelf, filled with case files and diplomas, a small leather coach and simple wooden desk. The desk, for some reason, attracted the most of Petra’s attention. It didn’t look different from her own, the same computer model, the same table lamp, however… there was a photo frame standing beside computer screen. She couldn’t see, who was pictured there, but she found it curious and a little strange nevertheless. She would have never guessed that Captain had a family. He didn’t seem the type.  

"Here you go," Erwin placed a cup in front of Petra. She took it with two hands, lifting it up and inhaling a deep, bitter aroma. It smelled perfect. She brought it to her lips, taking a first sip. Oh. Not only it smelled perfect, it tasted perfect too. She couldn't keep in a small moan of satisfaction that escaped her lips, as the hot liquid made its way down her throat.

Erwin watched her with amused eyes.  

"Thank you," Petra smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly, as she put the cup down. "It's the best coffee I've had in weeks."

"My pleasure," Erwin smiled back, drinking from his own cup.

Petra fidgeted. Captain’s expression was relaxed, but those bright blue eyes were so intense, she felt like he was staring into her soul. Why did he even call her there? Surely not just for coffee.

"C-captain?" Petra gripped the cup in her hands tighter. "Did you invite me there for any particular reason?"

"I wanted you to enjoy a nice cup of coffee," Erwin put the cup down and rested his chin on top of his hands. His eyes stared at her, following the smallest of her moves. "And to talk with you. How is the case going?"

"Um..." Petra swallowed, feeling uneasy. "It's, um, going."

Erwin slightly raised his eyebrow, but didn't push the matter further.

“Levi asked for a day-off tomorrow,” he said. “Would you be able to hold on without him? I know you’ve just been promoted a—”

“No, it’s fine!” Petra assured him eagerly. Of course, the prospect of surviving the shift without her more experienced partner was a more than a little worrying. But after what she had seen today in the interrogation room, maybe, it was for the best if Levi spent some time at home.

"Speaking of Levi,” Erwin began. “Does he give you any trouble?"

"Of course, not!" Petra exclaimed with way too much vigor.

Erwin smirked, raising an eyebrow higher. "Is that really so?"

Petra deflated, casting her eyes down. "Detective Levi is a great professional and I—"

"Petra," Erwin cut her off. "Levi won't get in trouble with me, don't worry. I'm asking as his friend, not as his superior."

"As his friend..." Petra whispered.

"Yes," Erwin nodded. "So if there's something I should know, please tell me. God knows, Levi would never tell me if something bothered him."

"I..." Petra nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I think you should take him off this case. It's clearly too personal for Levi."

"Hm, maybe, you're right," Erwin scratched his chin. "I knew that appointing him to this case would cause some problems..."

"Then why did you? Give him this case?"

Erwin shrugged. "I wanted to see his reaction. To see if he had truly moved on from Hange's death."

That was... that was heartless. But as she stared at Captain's face, she didn't see the cold calculation or simple indifference in his eyes. Only uncertainty and worry. Maybe, it was his weird way of caring about his friend.

"You knew from the beginning, right?" she asked quietly. "That this case would involve detective Zoe?"

"I had a feeling," Erwin agreed. "The murder happened in the same apartment complex she used to live in, after all. Hardly could be a coincidence."

Right... so that's why the witness had recognized Levi. Did he really share an apartment with his partner?

"Forgive my bluntness...” she cleared her throat, gathering all of her courage to maintain a direct eye contact with Captain. “But what was the nature of Levi and detective Zoe's relationship?"

"They were partners," Erwin answered, his jaw set. "In every possible sense of that word.”

“Oh,” if before Petra’s cheeks were rosy, now they turned almost crimson read. She felt stupid for asking such a personal question. Clearly, her partner wasn’t the only one, who was still affected by detective Zoe’s death. “I shouldn’t have asked, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s nothing,” Erwin waved her off. “Levi isn’t the most open of people, so I understand the desire to… get to know him better.”

Petra nodded, although Captain’s words didn’t really help her understand anything. It also didn’t really make Levi’s story any clearer. She still couldn’t piece together what kind of bound existed between Levi and detective Zoe. They clearly were much more than just colleagues. Definitely more than just friends, too. Maybe, they were dating? Or even married? There were many ways in which the world ‘partner’ could be interpreted. Maybe, that’s exactly why Captain Erwin used it.

"By the way, did you finish questioning the witness?" Erwin asked, bringing her back to the present.

"We did," Petra replied, avoiding his gaze. The recent incident in the interrogation room still hung heavily over her head.

"I assume it didn't go that well," Erwin noted.

Petra sighed. "The man that the witness described.... Didn't fit the description of Zeke Yeager."

Erwin covered his eyes with a hand. "So he really is pursuing that theory..." he glanced up at Petra. "What was the description given to you by the witness?"

"Um, according to him, the killer is a tall man with brown and curly hair."

"And what makes you think he described a killer?"

"Huh?"

Erwin straightened out. "Are you absolutely sure that the man that the witness saw was a killer?"

"He went with the victim to her apartment..."

"But we can't know for sure if he was the one to kill her," Erwin said resolutely. "Did the witness say how that man left the building?"

"He finished his shift earlier," Petra answered, feeling more and more confused with each passing moment. “Do you think that someone else killed her?”

“I’m not stating anything,” Erwin replied, evasive as always. “I’m just saying that you can’t be too sure in any of your theories until you actually get some evidence. It narrows your scope.”

“A-aha,” now Petra got it. “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains must be the truth and all that, right?”

“Yes,” Erwin smiled widely. “Remember these words and you’ll do great at your job.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Petra smiled briefly, before furrowing her eyebrows. Something in Erwin’s words bothered her. Could it be that…

“Captain, do you… do you also think that it was Zeke Yeager, who killed that woman?”

Erwin didn’t answer immediately.

“I know it seems weird for you,” he began with self-deprecating smile. “And I know that Levi may seem like he’s obsessed with catching Zeke, and, maybe, he really is, but… You didn’t know Zeke. He was smart. Very smart. And he liked playing with people. I’m not saying that he’s alive, I’ve seen evidence that very much proved the opposite, but the fact that he’s somewhat involved in that murder is certain. The glasses belonged to Hange, and the blood was hers too. Who else could have gotten it? It’s either one of Zeke’s henchmen, maybe, someone, who seeks revenge for his death, or…” he trailed off, shrugging.

“But the description didn’t match!” Petra tried to argue.

“Wigs exist,” Erwin said simply.

Petra hanged her head. She wanted to protest, wanted to come up with some argument that would destroy this whole outlandish theory. Unfortunately, if Levi and Erwin kept overlooking one small fact that Zeke had died two years ago, she doubted there was anything that would be able to dissuade them.

“Oh, shoot!” Erwin suddenly exclaimed, glancing at his wrist watch. “I’m almost late to a very important meeting!” he got to his feet, gathering the papers on his desk. “Thank you for the company, Petra.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” she smiled prettily, even though her head was still reeling from their conversation.

“Good luck with your case,” Erwin said, as he followed Petra out of his office. “And look over Levi for me, okay? If anything happens, you know where to find me.”

He gave her one last smile and then hurried away. Petra stared at his wide back for a second, and then she pulled herself together, turning around and heading towards her office.

It was about time she got some actual work done.

***

To her surprise, when Petra had entered their office, it turned out that Levi wasn't there. She glanced to the side, his coat wasn't hanging on the clothes rack. However... his computer was on, the screen burning brightly in the otherwise dark room.

Petra couldn't take her eyes off that computer. She remembered her first day at work (it seemed almost surreal that it was only yesterday, it felt like weeks has passed) and how Levi was so focused on his computer, as though whatever was on his screen was the most important thing in the world. She remembered her desire to find out what was he working on.

She stepped further into the room, wondering where Levi was right now. He promised Moblit he'd visit the forensics department, maybe, he was there? But why would he need his coat for? And why didn't he turn off his computer?

Petra took another step, her eyes darting to the desk next to Levi's. Detective Zoe's desk. It was a little different than yesterday.

There was... There was a pair of glasses lying atop one of the reports. The same glasses they found on the scene of crime, Petra realized, as she saw a crack running through the left lens. But the blood was gone. Whoever cleaned them, did a real good job. Petra had a feeling she knew one particular person, who liked keeping things clean and tidy.

She felt a lump form inside her throat. Two years had passed, and Levi still didn't give up on her, hoping that one day she would come back. Petra couldn't decide if she should admire his loyalty or pity his naivety.

Either way, she hurriedly turned away from that desk. It made her feel melancholic and more than a little depressed.

If the glasses were there, it meant that Levi had already visited Moblit and his team. Where was he now? How much time did she have?

Glancing back, as if to check that Levi wasn't coming back this instant, Petra took a deep breath. And then she swiftly sat down at his desk.

Moving the cursor, she studied his desktop. There wasn’t much on it, just a few folders. She ignored the ones with the obvious contents – the ones named ‘cases’ and ‘reports’. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she saw the folder with a name ‘that fucking asshole’, she almost clicked on it, but then she saw another folder. This one was named ‘Sannes’, and Petra’s breath hitched, as she remembered Levi asking her about him. Could it be… could it be that this folder contained some evidence? The one that could back up Levi’s claim about Sannes’ involvement with criminal underworld? Feeling her pulse fasten, Petra opened the folder.

Well, she tried to open it, because as soon as she clicked on the folder, a new tab opened, requesting a password.

She cursed.

Petra tipped her head back, thinking. What could a man like Levi use as his password?

She typed four zeros and then pressed enter.

‘The password is incorrect. Please try again.’

Of course, it was too naïve to hope that Levi would use something as generic as this. But Petra wasn’t going to give up so soon. She opened the first drawer of his desk, trying to find something that would give her some sort of idea. Petra grinned as she found the old driver license. It was expired, but in the corner Levi’s birth date was written.

Bingo.

She quickly wrote the numbers and pressed enter, her hands slightly trembling in anticipation of seeing what was inside that folder.

‘The password is incorrect. Please try again.’

Shit. Closing the first drawer, she opened the second. She rummaged through it for a couple of moments, but found nothing, except old autopsy and ballistic reports. Petra groaned – she was starting to get desperate. She closed the second drawer with more force than was necessary, opening the third one. The last one.

It was empty, except— Except an old, tattered photo. Three people were pictured there – Petra immediately recognized Captain Erwin and Levi, even though they looked much younger. A bespectacled woman stood between them, her hands wrapped around both of their shoulders. It must be detective Zoe, Petra guessed, looking at the woman’s wide grin. Detective Zoe wasn’t the only one smiling – there was a delighted beam on Captain Erwin’s lips as well, and even Levi, as weird as it looked, was wearing a small, but satisfied smile.

They looked so joyous here, so… so happy. And now one of them was dead, and two others suffered heavily because of that loss.

She turned the photo around. There was something written on the other side.

The only time, when your face didn’t look so constipated, shorty! Keep it as a reminder

“Shorty?” Petra gasped, rereading the small note again. She would never dare to call Levi like that. Most people probably wouldn’t. Hange Zoe was clearly an exception. And it was obvious that Levi took her advice of keeping the photo to heart, the picture looked worn out, as though it was frequently held and looked at.

Shaking head, she tried to regain her focus. She didn’t come here to go through Levi’s stuff. Well, technically, that was exactly what she was doing right now, but she really didn’t mean to pry into his personal life. She did it more than enough today. She needed to guess his password, and, unfortunately, that photo didn’t help her in the least.

But what if…

Biting her lip, Petra bent over the keyboard. She almost finished typing ‘HangeZoe’, when the door handle began to rattle.

Petra jumped in her seat, frantically closing the password window on the screen and hiding the photo back inside the drawer. She wasn’t quick enough to get to her feet, though, the door began to open, as Petra erratically tried to think of some excuse to explain, what she was doing behind Levi’s desk, but nothing was good enough. She could quite clearly picture his furious expression, she already wanted to start apologizing, but then the door was opened completely.

And Petra saw Oluo, standing on the threshold.

“Goddamn it!” she cried out, heart still thumping way too loudly inside her chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Oluo frowned. “I have never heard you curse before. And, by the way, isn’t that detective Ackerman’s desk?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked instead, ignoring his last question.

Oluo rolled his eyes arrogantly, all signs of his previous suspicion gone. Petra felt warmth spread through her chest at the sight of his annoying face. Never would she guess, but she missed Oluo terribly.

“Someone wants to see you,” he replied, leaning against the wall. “So finish whatever you were doing at detective Ackerman’s desk and let’s go.”

“Someone?” Petra blinked in surprise. “Who?”

“Djel Sannes,” Oluo told her with puffed out chest. He was clearly proud to receive a command from such important man. “Deputy police chief.”

The folder at Levi’s computer immediately appeared in Petra’s mind. She couldn’t open it and see, what his partner found so suspicious about that man. But, maybe, she could investigate it herself.

She got to her feet, adjusting her blouse and skirt.

“Let’s go then,” she joined Oluo at the doorstep. “Can’t make him wait, right?”

 ***

As they were walking through the precinct’s corridors, Oluo didn’t take his eyes off her even for a second.

“Do I have something on my face?” Petra snapped, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

Oluo hurriedly looked away, his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. “No, of course, you don’t.”

“Then what’s the matter? You’ve been staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

“You look just fine,” Oluo huffed, still refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s just… you’ve changed.”

“Changed?” Petra let out a surprised chuckle. “People don’t change over a day, dummy.”

“Maybe, change isn’t the right word then, but…” he scowled, annoyed with his inability to express himself clearly. “You carry yourself with more confidence now and at the same time… you look more troubled than I’ve ever seen you.”

Well, she wasn’t sure about her newfound confidence, she felt nothing of the sort, but troubled? That was a vast understatement.

“A lot of stuff happened over these two days.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Oluo’s soft voice caught her off-guard. Petra glanced at him. Oluo was looking back. There was no amusement in his eyes, and his usual smirk was absent as well. He genuinely wanted to help her, Petra realized with a start.

“Yes,” she answered him after a moment, “I would love to talk about it,” she paused, staring straight in Oluo’s eyes. “With you.”

“Oh,” Oluo stopped abruptly, nearly colliding with someone. Petra giggled into her palm. He looked so flabbergasted. To Oluo’s credit, however, it took him only a few seconds to regain his posture. “I k-know a place!” he exclaimed loudly. “I found a new restaurant near the precinct, the food is delicious and it’s really nice p—”

“Alright,” Petra cut him off, still chuckling. “Let’s visit it tomorrow evening. If that works for you?”

“O-of course!”

“Great,” she patted his shoulder, before leaning in to press her lips to his cheek. “Then it’s a date,” she whispered into Oluo’s ear, before walking away, leaving him to stare after her with a dazed smile on his face.

Petra turned the corner and there it was. The door to Djel Sannes’ office. It looked the same as all doors in precinct looked – a sturdy, wooden door. Nothing unusual about it, and yet— and yet Petra’s palms were sweaty. Her heart was beating faster than usual too. Logically, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of, it was just a visit to her superior’s office. She talked with Captain Erwin earlier, and it wasn’t nerve-wracking at all. She would even call it pleasant. And she wasn’t even sure, if there was something wrong with deputy police chief, she had never met him after all. The only thing she knew is that Levi didn’t trust him, but Levi also believed that people, who had died two years ago in the explosion, were alive. His opinion clearly wasn’t the most reliable.

She just needed to get a grip on herself. What had Oluo said to her? She carried herself with more confidence? Well, maybe, the time has come to prove it.

Petra took a deep, calming breath and raised her hand, knocking on the door.

“Come in!” came a deep, booming voice from the other side of the door.

Petra took another breath, and then. She walked in.  

***

Deputy police chief’s office, as it turned out, wasn’t much different from Captain Erwin’s. It was a little bigger and his desk was a little fancier, but otherwise it was the same type of office every high-ranked policemen had.

Djel Sannes himself didn’t look as scary as Petra imagined. He looked kind of plain, actually. He was a middle aged man with wide shoulders, neat haircut and clean-shaved face. There were more than a hundred men like him in their precinct.

Petra’s heart rate slowed down a little.

“Detective Ral!” Sannes spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. “I was waiting for you!”

Petra put on a polite smile, sitting down on the opposite side of his desk. “It is an honor, sir. Do you wish to discuss something?”

“Just welcome you on your new position. You’ve been a detective for…”

“Two days,” Petra answered.

“Exactly!” Sannes snapped his fingers. “And we’re seeing each other only now,” he cocked his head to the side, looking at Petra. His expression was still easy, friendly, but his eyes became sharper. Colder. “You’ve been busy, I’ve heard.”

“We were appointed a new case tonight,” Petra nodded, pointedly ignoring the sudden change in Sannes. It was probably her nerves getting to her.

“Yes, a woman was murdered. Do you have any clue who had done it?”

“We are working on it.” Petra said with much more confidence than she actually felt.

“Good, good,” her false bravado had either gone unnoticed by Sannes, or he simply didn’t care enough to call her out on it. “And what about your partner? Detective Ackerman?”

“Um… what about him?”

“I know that man,” Sannes said offhandedly. “To put it mildly… he’s not the easiest person to deal with. Is he bothering you? If he is, don’t hesitate to tell me, I’ll appoint a new partner for you.”

“No, no,” Petra waved her hands. “Detective Ackerman is a very skilled detective. I like working with him.”

Sannes gave her a very skeptic look. “Is that really so? I find it hard to believe, actually.”

He reached over to the drawer, opening it and taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and sitting back in a chair.

“Do you smoke?” he asked Petra, offering her a cigarette.

She silently shook her head. Smoking inside the precinct was prohibited. But obviously Petra decided not to say it out loud.

“I should have fired that man a long time ago,” Sannes took another drag. “I would have done it, if Smith wasn’t so overprotective of him. He always had a soft spot for Ackerman. For him and that partner of his. Surely you’ve heard about her already?” he glanced at Petra, shaking out the ash into the ashtray. “Detective Hange Zoe,” the distain in his voice was so clear, Petra felt uncomfortable. “Between you and me, that woman got what she deserved. She was hot-headed and reckless, and in the end, that’s exactly what had gotten her killed.”

Petra wondered if Sannes had ever shared his thoughts on the matter with Levi. Sannes’ nose didn’t look like it was ever broken and Levi still worked as a detective, so she guessed they never had that particular conversation.

“But you’re not like them,” Sannes said. “You’re not a scheming bastard like Smith, you don’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong to like that Zoe did, and obviously you’re not a psychopath like Ackerman. I like you, Ral,” he grinned approvingly. “We should work together.”

“T-together?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You help me and I help you.”

Petra honestly couldn’t believe her ears. So Levi was right after all. Although, she still had not even a hint of his connection to criminals, there was no doubt that Djel Sannes, deputy police chief, was a corrupt and malicious man. And it meant that Petra had to choose her words very, very carefully. She couldn’t let him know that she wasn’t on his side.

“And… what do you need my help with, sir?”

“Oh, not much,” Sannes put out his cigarette, the smug smile still present on his face. “Just keep an eye on your partner. If he does something suspicious… well,” he let out a small chuckle. “You know where to find me.”

“That I do,” Petra nodded with a smile she put on to mask her disgust. “Is that everything you’ve wanted to talk about?”

“Yes, that’s all,” he waved his hand carelessly. “You may go, but,” he gave Petra another careful look. “I’ll be expecting to hear from you, Ral.”

“Of course, sir,” she raised to her feet. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

It was only when Petra was inside her office that she could finally breathe out in relief. With each passing hour, her life was getting more and more complicated. She would never expect deputy police chief to ask her to spy on her partner.

Speaking of which… where was Levi? She hadn’t seen him all day.

Petra’s eyes darted to his computer, but she quickly changed her mind. She had more than enough revelations for one day. She was tired to the bone, too. She glanced at the clock – it was already past six, which meant her shift was finally over.

Grabbing her bag and coat, Petra hurriedly left the precinct. She had a crazy day.

And something told her – tomorrow would be no better.

[kittyprincessofcats]

She-Ra S5 E07 - Perils of Peekablue

There might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post!

I’ll start by saying upfront that I pretty much consider this to be the weakest episode of season 5 (or at least one of the weaker ones), even though it does move the plot along significantly. The main reason is that, as I said before, I don’t care about the group on Etheria as much as the group in space (with the exception of Scorpia and possibly Spinnetossa), so an episode like this - even though I get why it’s important - just won’t interest me as much as what the gang in space is up to.

That said, it’s not a *bad* episode or anything. Let’s get into it:

- The entire beginning scene where Adora tries to transform into She-Ra and the others keep interrupting her is absolute gold and I love everything about it. Especially Catra, OMG! The way she shows up and actually asks “Are we messing with Adora?” - She’s not even pretending to be helpful and I love that she’s bonding with Glimmer and Bow over “messing with Adora”. And how she then just flings herself onto Adora’s lap and brushes Adora’s face with her tail while cheekily saying “Yeah Adora, concentrate!” - brilliant, absolutely brilliant 🤣. And I also love how Adora doesn’t even try to push her off and actually holds her. These two are too cute.

- I also wonder if the “You can’t let distractions keep you from transforming” line was intentional foreshadowing for Shadow Weaver telling Adora that Catra’s a distraction.

- I like Catra’s new outfit! Well, it’s pretty much just her old outfit with a few adjustments. But still, nice! And she looks really cute with short hair.

- I feel like this beginning scene is pretty much here for two reasons: It sets up that Entrapta is trying to reach the rebellion on Etheria, which will be relevant at the very end of the episode, AND it shows Catra’s new outfit, so we can have a new opening now.

- Changes in the opening: Time for some really exciting mid-season opening changes! Catra’s missing from the villains’ card for the first time ever. Instead, Horde Prime’s hands are now closing around a glowing orb (I assume that’s meant to be the heart of Etheria). At the part where Catra and She-Ra fight, Catra now has short hair, She-Ra is in her new form, and instead of a snarl the fight ends with a soft smile between them (I’m not crying, you’re crying. Best opening glow-up ever! 😭). In the final heroes’ shot, Adora back to being She-Ra instead of Adora, but this time in her new form. And Catra is *finally* in the heroes’ shot as well. GOOD STUFF. (In general, I just LOVE that they actually kept updating the opening in the middle of the season. That is SO cool. But the change that really gets me is how they updated Catra and Adora’s fight, because that’s been the same since the beginning of the show and now it’s SO SWEET.)

- Okay, so my biggest problem with this episode is that the plan to find Prince Peekablue seems... kinda dumb? So they’re planning to sneak into an underwater soiree undercover and abandon everyone else at the camp to find a “hermit” no one has seen in ages because he might know where Adora and the others are? As a plan it just seems far-fetched. I get that they want to warn Adora and company that Prime is chipping people (they don’t know that Adora’s group already knows that), but how would finding Peekablue even help them achieve that? He could tell them where Adora and the others are, but... that’s it. It’s not like he can also magically communicate with Adora or anyone else. And didn’t Swift Wind tell the others last episode that Adora’s coming home and that he can feel her coming closer? So shouldn’t they already know that the group in space are on their way home? (Granted, Swift Wind told that to Micah, Frosta, Spinnerella and Netossa - but I’m assuming the rebels communicate with each other and Micah would have also told Mermista and the others?) I mean, idk how much time supposedly passed between these two episodes, so maybe it’s been a while since Elberon? Also, when did they even figure out that Horde Prime is chipping people? Last episode, Micah still said they had to “figure out what that was”. And if they know about the chips now, it might have been a good idea to check the necks of everyone at camp right away - though to be fair, they maybe didn’t realize how the chips work yet. And yeah, I am nitpicking here (and obviously the rebels have to mess up so things can go south this episode, so I guess they have to make some bad decisions.)

- That said, I love all of their outfits! And I like that Scorpia’s alias “Lynda D’Ream” is a reference to the 80s cartoon.

- Netossa’s lucky that she wears an outfit with such a high collar - makes it hard to put a chip on her neck. (Also, idk if I’ve said this before, but I love Spinnerella and Netossa’s character designs and outfits. They’re both fashion queens.)

- Just the fact that it really is Spinnetossa’s anniversary and Netossa thinks that’s why Spinnerella is acting strange - I mean, what are the odds?

- “They are my people! Which means that most of them have sworn revenge against me at some point.” Okay, that is pretty funny. And getting to meet all of Sea-Hawk’s exes was pretty funny, too. (Yeah, officially they’re not his exes but just people whose ships he set on fire... but come on, the subtext isn’t really subtle here.) And I love the whole running gag of him and Mermista fighting all of them behind the bar counter with Mermista doing most of the work and getting more and more annoyed with it - but when they’re finally done, it turns out there’s also someone there that *she* doesn’t want to see, because she set their ship on fire. Comedy gold.

- Scorpia is me at a party :( I also find it super hard to socialize and get into conversations with strangers. Very relatable there.

- I also love how the sweet flowergirl Perfuma has absolutely no problem blending in with a bunch of criminals.

- “You’re amazing. You have the biggest heart and you could do whatever you put your mind to.” Aww. I’m glad someone told Scorpia that!

- “You should do things not because you’re good at them, but because they make you happy.” That actually is some really good life advice. People should keep that mind in general.

- (I love how Sea-Hawk and Mermista are carrying Admiral Scurvy away in the background while Scorpia and Perfuma are having their heartfelt talk 🤣.)

- “Repeat after me: I can do this. I can do this.” “Perfuma can do this.” 🤦 I feel bad for laughing, but... gosh, Scorpia has some serious self-esteem issues.

- Okay, time for an unpopular opinion: I’m... not that into Scorfuma. There’s nothing wrong with it and I’m not against it or anything, but it just doesn’t particularly grab my interest. That excited feeling you get when you ship something just... isn’t there for me with them, sorry.

(I kinda felt like I had to explain/justify myself, so I started to write a small essay on my ships here that doesn’t really have anything to do with the episode. Feel free to just skip this part.)

I consider myself a multishipper and while my #1 OTP is definitely without a doubt Catradora, I also really have a soft spot for Scorptra (to the point where I’d say it’s probably my #2 after Catradora). And, to make it short, Scorptra vs. Scorfuma is one of those “fanon vs. canon” things for me, where what you want to see happen in canon isn’t necessarily what you find exciting or interesting to explore in fanworks. Obviously Scorptra was never going to be canon because Catradora is a thing, and I’m perfectly okay with that. And in canon, Scorpia getting out of a toxic friendship, moving on from her unrequited feelings, and finding love with someone else (who treats her right) is the right message to send, so I’m glad that’s where the show went. But when it comes to enjoying a ship in fanon (which is what I consider “shipping” to be), then I don’t pick my ships based on how healthy they are in canon, but on how much their dynamic fascinates me and just on whether that certain spark that makes me like a ship is there or not. And in that sense, Scorpia’s dynamic with Catra, which was explored over the course of 4 seasons, is just infinitely more fascinating and spark-inducing to me that her relationship with Perfuma.

And even beyond Scorptra - if I had to ship Scorpia with someone other than Catra, my first pick would be Entrapta. (Yes, I do ship Entrapdak, but like I said - multishipper here. Also, Entrapta has two hands!) And my first pick for who to ship Perfuma with would be Mermista because I like their bickering and I have a thing for opposites attracting.

Anyway, I’ve been rambling about ships for too long now. The bottom line is: I’m fine with Scorfuma being canon and it makes sense that they fit together since they’re very similar people. I don’t dislike it, I’m just not as hyped about it as many people seem to be. On with the episode now, please!

- “I guess I don’t know what a hermit is after all.” Yeah, Peekablue was giving off Double Trouble vibes from the beginning, tbh.

- I love how Netossa is competitive even at planning anniversary surprises.

- Perfuma loudly supporting Scorpia when she ends up on stage is a super nice moment, though. And Scorpia’s performance? Amazing!

- I wonder if Double Trouble made up that whole “She-Ra in space” vision because they were pretending to be Peekablue and just got it right by accident, or if they actually knew that much from their time pretending to be a clone. I wonder how much time they spent as a clone and what exactly they saw.

- Scorpia realizing it’s Double Trouble and then tricking and unmasking them was an amazing moment. So much for Scorpia not being smart!

- I was so excited to see Double Trouble again! Tough it makes me a bit said that they refered to Catra as their “cash kitten”. While they never made a secret out of being in it for the money, I kind of like the idea that they did care for Catra after all. (Do I just ship everyone with Catra? The answer is yes.)

DT: “I know where your friends are. And I’ll tell you - for a price, of course.”

Perfuma: *grows flower arm canon*

DT: “... Fine.”

😂😂😂 Love that.

- “It makes for a very dull audience when everyone’s mind-controlled.” Okay, but that really is a good reason for Double Trouble to help the heroes out without really changing their motivation. They’re still a Chaotic Neutral who doesn’t particularly care about morals - but it would make for a very dull audience if everyone was mind-controlled.

- “Prime is angry. She-Ra showed up and stole his little kitten away.” Like I said before, I LOVE that that’s the reason why Prime’s so pissed in the first place.

- The confrontation between Netossa and Spinnerella is so heartbreaking, but when she said “show me your neck” it again made me wonder why they didn’t check everyone’s neck at camp before.

- “What a shame we can’t be together... in Horde Prime’s light!” Ooohhh, it’s so creepy and angsty, I love it!

- And Mermista’s chipped as well because obviously things have to go south here.

- The parallel confrontations at camp and at the soiree are really cool scenes. I especially like the Spinnerella vs. Netossa fight. And Micah’s chipped as well, because things have to go wrong and Glimmer mentioned being “a day away from meeting her dad” - so obviously that has to be ruined now, too.

- “A little help? I need to lift my hand to the heavens.” Gosh, I love DT.

- Scorpia’s sacrifice made me tear up 😭. (When I first watched it, I was scared she was actually going to die and not just get chipped - I’d never have forgiven the show for that.)

- Can we talk about how strong Netossa actually is? She fought off both Spinnerella and Micah by herself, made a big enough net to cover all the chipped people, and got herself and Frosta out of there safely - I don’t want to hear anything about her powers not being strong again.

- “Happy anniversary.” Noooo, now I’m crying again... 😭😭😭 It’s so sad, but so romantic... (I really love that this season gave Spinnerella and Netossa more screentime. And I’m always here for some angst!)

- And finally, Perfuma is able to contact the group in space and warn them about the blockade. I really like that scene. I like that Perfuma specifically says “You need to stay away”, since we know what happened last time someone told Adora that. And the whole grim mood of Perfuma apologizing and saying the rebellion is compromised, the shaky pictures, the connection cutting off, and then the shot of the ship all alone in space and the silence - amazing. Basically, this episode was “things go very wrong on Etheria, and now the group in space has a serious problem”.

This was a good episode, overall. Like I said, the main reason I consider it weaker is because I care more about the group in space, and they were only here for one scene in the beginning and one in the end. But this was still pretty solid. It had some funny and sweet moments, and then some really cool and dramatic scenes in the end. And of course, it was a very important episode for the plot because things are now really not looking good on Etheria. My favourite moment was Catra sitting on Adora’s lap in the opening scene, though.

[Previous episode]   [Next episode]

[ibijau]

Oops, I’m continuing the Nomad Nie AU / also on AO3

warning for: racism, some mentions of rape toward the end (nothing happens, but a character is scared of it)

I've also made some slight updates to the first chapter on AO3 (mostly by changing Mingjue's title from king to khan as that might be more accurate) since I didn't really have a plot in mind when I wrote it

I am trying to research this as well as I can, and basing the Nie on the Mongols, mostly because that's just what's easiest to find information for. I am not aiming for a realistic depiction of anything, but I also more than welcome criticism and advice on how I'm depicting those cultures, and later on how I touch upon certain medical stuff that play a role in the plot.

With a spring to his step, Huaisang led Lan Xichen toward one of the many tents in this odd city. It was a rather smaller one than most, and not quite as well kept as others. The inside of it was sparsely decorated, and a young man sat in the middle, by the fire, a book in hand. Everything about that man, from his hair to his clothes, set him apart from everyone Lan Xichen had seen so far. His heart jumped in his chest when he realised that this new stranger appeared to be Han, just like him.

“Menyao!” Huaisang exclaimed when the young man looked their way. “This Ziqen. Tomorrow, I wedding Ziqen. You help?”

The young man’s eyes opened wide at the news, and he gaped at Lan Xichen. He quickly regained control of himself though, and started chatting in the Nie’s language with great fluency, asking Huaisang for details about the situation no doubt. He did not look particularly happy with what he was told, but in the end he still bowed politely to the Khan’s brother. Huaisang seemed satisfied with this, and turned again to Lan Xichen.

“Menyao help Ziqen,” he announced. “I see Ziqen tomorrow. Ziqen sleep, eat. Tomorrow, big day!”

Unsure what to say, Lan Xichen simply bowed to his future husband who promptly left the tent.

“So what is actually your name?” Menyao asked, closing his book and gesturing for Lan Xichen to sit. “His accent is so atrocious… I’m Meng Yao, by the way. Last name Meng, first name Yao, though they don’t seem to quite understand that here.”

Lan Xichen quickly sat down, glad for a chance to rest, and introduced himself.

“Are you… are you also married to someone here?” he asked.

“Nothing so glamorous,” Meng Yao sighed, grabbing a pot behind him and pouring some liquid into a bowl which he handed to Lan Xichen. “My father is a merchant, and he wanted to see if a more direct route could be set up to trade with the west. We were hoping to cross the Nie’s territory unnoticed, but those barbarians have ways of knowing what goes on in their land, and so we were ambushed. My father was forced to give me up as a servant just so our group could run with their lives.”

Lan Xichen’s heart went to Meng Yao, whose voice fraught with pain contrasted with the dignified way he held himself. Their stories were eerily similar, which made Lan Xichen realise that the Nie might have had a habit of doing such things. After some consideration, he decided that he wouldn’t mention that his family had managed to get a rather decent deal out of selling him, fearing it would only make Meng Yao’s pain worse.

“How long have you been here?”

“Two years, nearly three now,” Meng Yao claimed. “They treat me as well as they can, I suppose, but of course they’re only barbarians.” He paused, hesitating. “I am sorry that you find yourself in such a terrible situation, Lan gongzi. But if I may express a selfish thought, I am glad to finally have someone to talk to. It has been so lonely here. Huaisang is the only person to really bother with me these days, and sometimes that’s worse than being alone.”

Lan Xichen frowned upon hearing that, and took a sip from the bowl Meng Yao had given him. The taste felt rather odd, a little sour and sparkling against his tongue. After such an exhausting day he’d rather have had some tea, but he figured that would be out of the question… and of course he couldn’t express such a desire in front of Meng Yao, who must have missed decent drinks even more than him.

“Is this Huaisang a bad person then?” he asked, trying not to show too much fear.

Meng Yao took a moment to consider the question.

“I wouldn’t call him bad as such, no. But he’s not much good either,” Meng Yao explained with a disdainful grimace. “I’m supposed to teach him our language, but you see how dreadful he is at it. He’s very spoiled, so he doesn’t know how to put effort into anything. His brother allows him to do whatever he pleases, and makes sure there’s never any consequences. As a result, Huaisang is very lazy, not particularly smart, and a rather pathetic man for a nomad. He is a good horse rider like they all are, but I’ve never seen him touch a bow or a blade. He never wrestles with other men his age, never does any physical work if he can avoid it… to be honest, aside from caring for his own horse, he just doesn’t do much of anything at all, and so he is not particularly well liked. Those closest to his brother pretend to respect him, but only because they fear Khan Mingjue’s wrath… and that’s a sensible fear to have.”

As he said that, Meng Yao’s voice dropped nearly to a whisper, and he glanced nervously toward the door, as if fearful that the Khan might hear him. Lan Xichen shivered. He did not know too much about the Nie, but of course the leader of a tribe of nomad could only be a terrifying man.

“And what is the Khan like, then?”

Again, Meng Yao glanced at the door.

“He is a cruel man,” he answered, keeping his voice as low as he could. “Never get on his bad side, as he is very unforgiving. He has a volatile temper, always ready to explode, and he is a warmongering tyrant who looks for every excuse to conquer and slaughter the Wen people who live South from his lands. He pretends that they cursed his father and caused him to die before his time, and among those barbarians that’s a very serious accusation.”

Meng Yao paused to look once more at the door, and motioned for Lan Xichen to lean closer.

“I cannot be sure,” he whispered, “but I believe that he keeps his brother alive only so he can offer him as a human sacrifice the day he finally goes to war against his enemies. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”

Lan Xichen gasped and pressed a hand against his mouth, horrified by the idea. He did not have any particular sympathy for the young man he was forced to marry, but such a fate really seemed too cruel for anyone.

“Hopefully, it won’t happen for a while,” Meng Yao said. “Khan Mingjue is still recruiting families for his war. And I hope it won’t affect you, when the day comes. It probably won’t. Huaisang seems delighted to marry you right now, but he’s like that about everything new, and he’ll soon jump to some other source of amusement. And then, you’ll be quite safe from most of their affairs. For now though, how about I tell you how weddings seem to be conducted in these parts?”

His chest tight with fear over his future, Lan Xichen nodded quickly.

If he had realised just how dreadful these people were, he wouldn’t have agreed so easily to this sacrifice, not even to help his family.

-

Lan Xichen went through his wedding in a bit of a daze. He had hardly slept by the time Khan Mingjue came into Meng Yao’s little tent to give Lan Xichen the clothes he’d wear for the ceremony. He had stayed up late to listen to Meng Yao’s explanations about the lives of the Nie tribe, and still there was more information to listen to as he got dressed.

In truth, even Meng Yao didn’t really know how the wedding would be conducted, since it was a rather unusual one. Normally there would have been long back and forth between the two families, as well as exchanges of gifts, and they would have been gifted a ger to live in as well as animals… but of course with this being a sudden whim of the Khan’s capricious brother, no such thing was possible, and Meng Yao doubted there would be more than a banquet to celebrate.

That assertion turned out to be mostly right. Since there was no new ger for them to move into, some of the ceremonies were cut short, and everything happened inside Khan Mingjue’s ger. There were a great number of guests present, though most did not seem particularly happy to be there, and Lan Xichen caught a few unimpressed looks thrown toward him and his new husband. As Meng Yao had told him, Huaisang did not seem particularly popular… though it might also just be that nobody was happy to need to make gifts worthy of a relative of the Khan on such a short delay, and when they were most of them away from home (the only reason so many people were there, Meng Yao had explained, was because they’d all gathered for a religious festival).

To make matters worse, even the feast itself was hard to enjoy for Lan Xichen. His family had always favoured a vegetarian diet when possible, but every dish now presented to him contained either meat or milk, and cooked in a manner entirely foreign to him. He tried at first to avoid eating at all, but Huaisang was paying close attention to him.

“Husband eat,” he insisted, carefully selecting pieces of meat for Lan Xichen. “Good!”

Lan Xichen thought of refusing, but when he glanced toward Meng Yao, the young man threw him a terrified look and silently encouraged him to eat, discreetly gesturing toward Khan Mingjue. His new brother-in-law seemed as angry at his refusal to eat as Huaisang was concerned. Not wanting to start his new life on a bad impression, Lan Xichen made an effort and chewed down some of the meat offered to him. The taste was rather strong, and the texture bothered him a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant as such.

“Good,” he said in what he hoped to be their language.

Khan Mingjue huffed and looked away, unimpressed, while Huaisang grinned brightly.

“Good husband, good… good head?” Huaisang tried. “I learn, you learn. Good?”

“Good,” Lan Xichen agreed, hoping he would show more skill for language than his husband apparently had.

Delighted by that answer, Huaisang immediately started trying to teach Lan Xichen words for everything around them in between feeding him more meat and more of that milky drink people there seemed to like, and to which Lan Xichen was starting to warm up already. 

It really was a lot happening all at once, especially when the people assembled started singing and dancing, the noise adding to Lan Xichen’s stress and exhaustion. Thankfully Huaisang, in spite of drinking and partying as joyfully as everyone else, noticed that his husband was getting tired. He turned to say a few words to his brother, apparently trying to be subtle, but others still heard and started shouting at the couple. Whatever they were saying, it provoked great hilarity, even in Huaisang whose face was turning quite red. The only person not to be amused was Meng Yao who, standing away from the other guests, had his lips pinched in disapproval.

Just as Lan Xichen was starting to realise what sort of jokes might be made at his expense at that moment, Huaisang took his hand and led him away.

“Zonghui give his ger tonight,” Huaisang explained. “After, brother’s ger. Good?”

“I don’t mind,” Lan Xichen replied tiredly.

Meng Yao had implied that it really was odd for newlyweds to not have their own home, and clearly Huaisang looked a little sorry that he could not provide in that respect. Lan Xichen would have preferred to have some distance from the terrifying Khan Mingjue, but he’d deal with this. He had little choice.

He had more pressing things to worry about anyway. Namely, the fact that he was now married to this stranger, and about to spend the night with him.

Lan Xichen knew how sex went between a man and woman of course. And even when it came to the things two men could do together, he wasn’t entirely ignorant either, having come across some books and prints before. He didn’t have any practical experience aside from a few stolen kisses here and there, for which he blamed his too severe uncle, but he knew how these things went, and he found the general concept quite attractive… but not if it had to happen like this.

With ever growing anxiety, Lan Xichen allowed his husband to lead him into an empty ger, and watched him prepare a place to sleep, laying down pelts on the floor for them to lay on. In spite of Huaisang’s wordless encouragement, Lan Xichen refused to remove his clothes before laying on that bed, hoping to send a signal that he wasn’t interested in anything happening between them. Huaisang, on the other hand, dressed down nearly entirely, keeping only an undershirt before sitting down next to Lan Xichen. He still seemed in an excellent mood, and looked down at his new husband as if he were a particularly exquisite piece of art, or perhaps a sweet to be devoured. Lan Xichen shivered under such attention.

Huaisang, after a short while, grew tired of merely looking. He leant over his husband, placing his hands on either side of Lan Xichen’s head and moving as if to kiss him. Panicking, Lan Xichen pushed him away with enough strength that Huaisang fell to the side with a surprised cry.

There was no mistaking the disappointment on Huaisang’s face when he sat up, carefully rubbing the side of his body that had hit the floor as if this had hurt him. Lan Xichen stared at him, terrified that his husband would get angry, or try to take by force what he thought to be his right. He’d heard stories about what happened to those enslaved after barbarian raids, and Meng Yao had confirmed some of that to be true… but Huaisang just shrugged.

“Husband tired,” he said with an understanding nod. “Sleep, good?”

Without waiting for an answer, Huaisang laid down on the pelts, grabbing some furs to cover the both of them, then shifted and turned his back to Lan Xichen, who promptly turned the other way.

Although Lan Xichen was sure he’d be too nervous to ever fall asleep after such an incident, in the end the exhaustion was too strong and he quickly passed out, hoping nothing would happen to him while he was unconscious.

[slfcare]

hi!! i hope you're well!! i believe i need ur advice or just someone to talk to. i am not a genius or an easily smart student but ive always gotten decent grades through really rigorous studying. im a slow learner, i need videos and my attention span is really flighty so i really prefer discussions and sometimes i get too sad to do work until someone pushes me to. now that classes happen online and i am at home, it feels like things have gotten more difficult. i have to deal with house chores. im the oldest sibling in our family & i do not really have the heart to ask my siblings to help me because i can see they are struggling with their classes. but it's also taking a toll on me. i have no time to do my class work, i feel like my mental health is deteriorating (if u must know, last year i got caught in my s*icide attempt and i was about to be brought to a professional but the pandemic happened and mental healthcare in my country isn't really a thing and i am honestly terrified of being "branded" or being named an illness. tbh i have nothing against mental illness, it's just the way my parents sees it and it sucks to be viewed as someone incapable or weird by my family. so i actually prefer not seeing any professionals.) and i feel so alone! i am repeating my last year of highschool in a new school and i know no one!! my friends had moved on to college and here i am, still in hs with no friends. i don't really know how to make friends online, i always feel anxious with private messaging, and i am scared they might know i was the one who tried to attempt her life. news is fast with things like that.

it feels lonely and frustrating doing and squeezing things alone and without anyone to help. i can't answer anything because i genuinely want to learn and understand and i do not understand anything!! i cant ask for help from my family because they too are busy and i do not want to intrude. and, as for my mental health and them— i feel they do not understand and i give up talking to them about it. and i did try to ask my parents for help once (about school not my mh) but they said i could just copy off this kid we're good acquaintances with. they say it doesn't matter if i understand it because it's all useless in the future but i want to understand it so much!! i dont want to just copy answers!!!

anyways, it would have been a bit better if my school did stuff like video classes but no, they just send in documents with so much pages for us to answer and submit through emails by the end of the week. now, ive earned quite a stack of untouched school work since the last week of october to this week. it's terrible, but i just lost all will to study. i feel so busy busy busy with the house and trying to keep my mental health in check. i am so desperate to just graduate and get it over with but i feel so hopeless about it! i don't know what to do!! i don't know how to fix up a routine! i just don't know!! maybe i just need to find a way to lighten up the load?? enjoy what im doing? (im so sorry for dumping all this to you, ive just never really talked about it and it honestly feel like too much on me)

Hey there angel,

I completely understand the weight you feel considering your current circumstances. School is obviously very different to what we’re all used to and adjusted to, so this major change is bound to have major consequences for everybody.

It makes complete sense for you to feel like you have a million responsibilities and feeling alone in that, but keeping that to yourself (however noble the cause) will perpetuate that loneliness. You’re very kind to not want to bother you siblings on top of the pressure you know they’re experiencing, but this workload shouldn’t just be yours, and dividing it will give everyone a bit to do instead of you having to do everything. At the end of the day, you’re struggling because this is too  much for you. You’re not just feeling like it’s too much, but it actually is, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be everything for everyone at the same time and nobody will be disappointed or hurt or mad if you express that you need help.

Be more vocal, ask for help with chores, email your teachers or guidance counselor or both, and please don’t carry this on your own. That’s not what humans are made for.

I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for and I wish you happy, stress-free holidays.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I know you guys hate it but I love making Mel and Harry fight, huge ‘I’m-yelling-bc-I-love-you’ energy -Danny

Words: 4,093 

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Worst In Me’ -by Julia Michaels.

Chapter Ten: Growing.

Turns out Umbridge was inspecting Trelawney's class, and if Mel could've graded the experience, she would've used a massive 'D'.

The girl paired up with Neville because she would often find herself chatting over Trelawney's orders whenever she and Ron shared a table. She didn't want that this time, and so she tried her best to focus on what she was doing with Neville. She was fearing that being in a different table, she wasn't going to be able to stop Harry if he tried to do something silly, the class went by with no accidents besides the fact that Trelawney could not do a prediction for Umbridge, which clearly made her fall a few points down.

Mel walked to her D.A.D.A. class with Neville, they talked about his new discoveries in herbology, she desperately needed to speak about some common silly nothings to remain sane, so when they entered the classroom, she hesitated a moment before finally deciding to sit next to the boy. They were a few tables behind Harry, Ron and Hermione. Mel felt a bit guilty about not making any real efforts to stay close to Harry, but she was feeling in a better mood now that she was having a normal day with a normal classmate.

"Wands away," Umbridge instructed. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Hermione raised her hand a few seats ahead, Umbridge got up from her place and walked up to hers, her usual terrifying smile plastered on her face.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two."

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well," Umbridge giggled. "Then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But —"

"That is enough. Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" Harry asked angrily. Mel could see Hermione whisper something to him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"

"Why aren't we allowed to give our opinion? The teachers always encourage us to ask questions and be curious!" Mel blurted out, emboldened by the memory of her jobless uncle. "Was it really their way of working, or just your racist rubbish?"

"And Quirrell was a great teacher all right," said Harry right after her, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

There was a thick silence afterwards, Umbridge smiled a both, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sweetly. "Miss Dumbledore, you may only speak when spoken to, or when you're granted the word. Otherwise, I'd recommend you to remain quiet. Sixty points from Gryffindor."

Mel entered the Great Hall fuming, she walked up to her table and saw Angelina, Professor McGonagall and Harry all arguing about something.

"I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?" Harry asked in outrage. "Mel already lost sixty!"

"Shut up!" She hissed.

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" Professor McGonagall looked at her in the same way. "Dumbledore told you to stay out of it, Miss Dumbledore, I see myself in the obligation to talk with the Headmaster about this! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!"

Angelina stormed out of the Hall, not without giving Harry one last nasty look.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?"

"I know, mate, she's bang out of order," Ron put extra bacon on Harry's plate.

"You disloyal twat!" Mel aggressively put down a jar of murtlap essence in front of Harry. "Now Dumbledore will lecture me again because you decided to rat me out!"

"Well it's true, isn't it?" He pointed to the jar. "What's that rubbish?"

"That rubbish is for your hand," She retorted in an awful mood, "put it on your bloody hand and it should heal right away."

The girl left without waiting for a reply, wanting to hex everyone. The fact that she'd spent twenty minutes of her breakfast hour doing the stupid essence now felt like a really dumb thing to do. She wondered why was she still trying to be nice when Harry didn't care, he knew that she could feel his pain and still decided to get another detention. Maybe they were better on their own, trying to remain as a team was starting to break them further apart.

Mel clenched her fists and continued until her feet took her to the only safe haven they could remember. The library was empty, no one had urgent schoolwork to finish being the second week of the trimester. She sat down at the very end, rubbing her temples and pondering on whether she should cry a bit to release some tension or go back to the Hall and have breakfast with Ginny when she heard the soft sound of footsteps.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" asked a voice in amusement.

Erick stepped closer with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You stood me up last Saturday. What now, you get a boyfriend and suddenly decide you no longer need friends? That's a bit–"

Mel didn't let him finish, she stood up and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Erick froze, his arms hovering above her awkwardly. "I... I missed you too?"

Mel stepped back, quickly cleaning her face.

"Merlin's sake, you don't have to say it if you don't want to..."

"Sorry– it's just... That's the first time someone says that to me..." The last part came out barely above a whisper, Erick avoided her eyes.

"Well, it's true. This summer was a nightmare..."

"I know what you mean... at least a little. My grandad's been... not great," Erick glanced at the table and then her. "Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you're always grumpy..."

"It's the O.W.L.S, you know?"

"Sure, not like I've seen you argue with Potter," Erick smirked. "Want advice? Kiss him whenever he acts up, that'll shut him."

"That's out of the question," She sat down again. "We're not dating."

"What?"  He exclaimed.

"Shh!" Mel looked around and then glared at him. "Sit down."

"I don't understand," Erick's frown deepened. "You two were so sickeningly happy and–"

"It was a mistake."

"What?" He asked again, this time laughing a little. "I'm sorry, but since when is dating your crush a mistake?"

"We didn't date," She retorted. "We... it blew up in our faces– Sit down, will you?"

"But what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Okay!" He huffed. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Why don't you tell me how's your Grandad?"

Erick's face did not tense at the mention, but it certainly grew worried.

"He's well enough... stayed with him the whole summer so I didn't write to Anne, in case you were wondering."

"Don't ask about Harry and I won't ask about Anne," Mel shrugged. "Seems fair."

Erick only looked more alarmed. "Seriously, what happened?"

"Erick," She said, "leave it."

"Are you at least going to tell me why'd you stood me up the other day?"

"I invited Hermione by mistake. I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Why?"

"Because Harry– well now I don't want to," She added when she saw the way he rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to go to my next class..."

"Let me guess, because you'll have to see him and talk to him," He finally sat down, pondering for a moment. "All right, then get rid of him. Stop being his friend."

"I can't do that. Dumbledore's orders."

"He asked you to babysit?"

Mel nodded gloomily.

"Do you really have to be near him?"

"Well," She tilted her head. "I guess not... just when Umbridge's around."

"So just during her class?"

"Probably..."

"Okay, make sure he keeps his mouth shut for an hour or two and then you have the rest of the day free."

Mel thought about it for a second, then groaned in frustration.

"Knowing Harry, he'll find a way to run into her more times a day..."

"Potter's old enough to know better, don't you think?" Erick raised a brow. "Especially after what he went through..."

Annoyance flooded over her at the way Erick so casually mentioned Harry's close call. She clenched her jaw and shrugged. She didn't want to keep talking to him, being honest, she simply didn't want to talk to anyone at all.

"I'm tired," She muttered.

"I can't help with that, go take a nap," He sighed. "I'm sorry you didn't get the prefect badge, by the way..."

Mel laughed humorlessly.

"I don't care. Guess a part of me always knew Hermione would beat me."

"I really thought you'd be it," He replied. "Not that I don't think 'Mione's not smart or anything,  it made sense, you and Harry..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thinks we have too much in our hands," She started to peel the corner of the table. "Or that we're out of control..."

"He certainly has reasons to believe it..."

"Did Parkinson and Malfoy report me?" She blurted out.

Erick frowned.

"What did you do now?"

Mel quickly told him about the incident, Erick found it extremely amusing.

"Had it coming, those idiots..." He admitted. "But you really shouldn't do that. Umbridge will take any opportunity to take you to her office and see if she can force you into confessing about the Order."

"Talking about that..." She moved so she was now facing him. "Are you part of it, then?"

"Not until I'm seventeen and out of school... I'm a very active intern for now."

"But do you want to be part of it?"

Erick didn't hesitate this time.

"I do. I won't be hiding behind my mother's skirt, once I'm out, I'll be out forever. My plan hasn't changed, I'll live with my Grandad and I'll help as much as I can."

"I'm proud of you, you know?" Mel smiled, her mood lifting with the passion he was letting out in every word.

"Shut up," He muttered.

"I mean it! You've come a long way. Remember my first year? You found me crying and told me to just give up on Hermione. Look at you now..."

"I'm still trying to convince you to give up on people," He moved on his chair awkwardly. "I told you this was my plan since the beginning, I'm just finally doing something about it."

"Yeah," Mel agreed, thinking that her own plan had been obliterated and now she was stuck in place. "I'm happy for you..."

"You know what? Take my advice. Keep Potter's mouth shut during class and we'll trust that he can find his way without you for the rest of the day. You need a break," Erick stood up, grabbing her bag and picking it up for her.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know."

Mel stayed away from her friends for the rest of the day, and Harry found a way to get an extra day of detention during their Care of Magical creatures class -Umbridge had been there– but the girl persisted, she had lunch and dinner with Ginny and her friends, and she spent her free period with the twins and their friends.

When she entered the common room, she discovered that Harry wasn't there with Ron and Hermione, which explained why her right hand was starting to feel sore. She sat with a small smile playing on her lips, her day had improved after a whole afternoon without useless bickering.

"Is there any point on asking?" Hermione sighed.

"No," Mel said calmly, tunning out the pain on her hand.

Harry arrived close to midnight with his hand bleeding profusely, Mel made sure to write in a way that the darkness could hide her own bruised hand. Hermione handed him the murtlap jar Mel had left for him during breakfast.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron.

"No," said Harry.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman. Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison."

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that? 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well... You know, I was thinking today... I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry.

Mel's hand stopped writing but she didn't look up.

"Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it! You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week? And Mel's all right but I'm sure not even her can get past the stress!"

"But this is much more important than homework!"

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron teased.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year —"

"We can't do much by ourselves, I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —"

"If you're planning on reading just like you read in Umbridge class, then it won't change much," Mel said.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's to busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you and Mel, Harry."

"About me what?"

"What?" Mel laughed.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's an idea," Ron said calmly. "Mel could teach us, with her extra lessons and everything..."

"But... But I'm not a teacher, I can't —"

"You and Mel are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, this time grinning. "No, I'm not, you and Mel have beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't. You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done! Look at what Mel can do!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione with a smirk, then pretended to concentrate fully. "Let's think, uh... first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who–"

"But that was luck, that wasn't skill —"

"Yeah, and Quirrell smashed my skull afterwards!"

"Second year," Ron insisted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle, Harry."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I —"

"Third year," Ron raised his voice, "Mel starts her private lessons with Dumbledore and she learns to do non-verbal spells as if they were as simple as a nap. Then you two fought off about a hundred dementors at once —"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't —"

"Last year," Ron was practically yelling now. "Mel learned to fight off the Imperio curse in her first try and saw right through Moody before anyone else. You fought off You-Know-Who again—"

"Listen to me!" Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —"

"I had tons of help!" Mel exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "I read until I couldn't keep my eyes open– most of the things I know are all theory and no practice– don't smile at us like that! You know we're as close to being teachers as a bowtruckle!"

"Don't sit there like you know better than we do," Harry said heatedly. "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right— or Mel lost control and it just happened to work out in our favour, but we just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing and Mel— STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry stood up menacingly, the jar falling off his hand and breaking into a bunch of sharp pieces. Hermione and Ron quickly lost their smiles.

"You don't know what it's like! You— neither of you— you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that, having to suck the life out of a someone in order to survive!" Mel's breath hitched, none of them had told the others what had happened last June. "And you two sit there acting like we're two clever little kids standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me if it weren't for Mel– it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me and I hadn't used Mel's—"

"Shut up!" She yelled, pulling him back because he'd gotten too close to their friends.

"We weren't saying anything like that," Ron said fearfully. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —" He stammered the rest under his breath, unable to end his sentence out of shock.

"You didn't sound understanding," Mel stated, dropping Harry's arm when he snatched it away. "It's never over, not like we lived through it and then just continued with our day... there's... we would always have..."

"Nightmares," Harry ended weakly.

"Guys," Hermione said quietly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

Mel would've been proud of Hermione, but she was still too agitated. However, Harry did react, he sat down again, though still breathing as he'd run for hours. A cramp ran down her hand in full force and she hissed. Harry frowned, noticing right away.

"I'm an idiot."

"I'm not going to argue you that," Mel scowled, holding her hand tightly. "I thought you'd be smarter, knowing what it does to me..."

"I don't mind being punished for telling the truth... but I don't want to drag you with me– I never wanted that," Harry sentenced.

Ron and Hermione stared at the both of them without really understanding what they meant.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione, glancing between the two. "Please?"

Harry nodded quietly, Mel hid her hand in her pocket and shrugged.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Their friend continued, still shaking. "Erm... 'night."

Ron got up too, he turned to look at Harry. "Coming?"

"Yeah," He said, looking down at the shattered glass. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

"I'll help..." Mel murmured.

When it was just the two of them, Mel crossed her arms and stared pointedly at him.

"Well?" She raised a brow. "I'm tired of being the one cleaning up your messes."

"I never asked–" He looked up at her and sighed, tired of fighting. "Doesn't matter... Reparo!"

The essence was gone, and she groaned thinking of how it was up to her to get more. She also knew that Harry needed to tend his hand now if she wanted to have a good sleep, so before he could leave she added:

"Sit," Mel grabbed her wand. "I'm going to mend you."

"I don't need–"

"I'm doing this for me," She showed him the purple bruise of thin letters that were forming on her skin. "You're still trying to cut out the lifeline? It's not working."

"Like you're doing any better," He hissed when she 'accidentally' pressed his wound.

"I'm not the problematic one, am I?"

Harry remained silent.

"That's what I thought," She healed the open cuts gradually. "Unlike you, I know how to stay out of trouble and I don't get as injured..."

"Well, it's not you the one people's been attacking–"

"It's not you either," She replied sharply. "People talk about you, but you're the one picking fights. The only person being attacked here is Dumbledore and I don't see him yelling at the rest of the staff."

"I don't see him talking to anyone but you, so that must be why," He said hastily.

"That's not my fault," Mel let go of his hand, it wasn't bleeding or inflamed, which was impressive considering it was her first time healing someone.

There was something bitter about the fact that holding his hand wasn't bringing her any kind of sweet emotion like it used to. She would still feel waves of affection, but those were dying quicker as time went by, something inside her was successfully pushing him out of her system, and she was starting to get used to it.

"If you're so desperate to talk to him then why don't you visit his office?"

Harry gave her a sour look, and she let out a dry laugh.

"You do want him to ask, don't you? See if he cares?"

"I think I'll go to bed now," He stood up.

"Suit yourself," Mel shrugged. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I thought you had done it for yourself," He replied sarcastically.

"I still made you a favour by doing so," She said. "You know, if you'd show a bit of gratitude instead of ignoring everyone that offers you help, people would–"

"THANK YOU!" He said rudely, his back turned to her as he left the common room.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @sarcasticallywitty15

[dettiot]

For a prompt: The Republic (or Jedi Council) finding about Anakin and Padmé really early in the Clone Wars.

“Obi-Wan, I don’t understand what’s happening,” Anakin said as they walked into the Senate Building. 

“Neither do I, but I’m sure all will be revealed shortly,” Obi-Wan said. 

Anakin knew his Master wasn’t nearly as calm as he was acting. Not with the way his hand kept smoothing over his beard. 

“Perhaps it’s something about formulating strategy for the next battle?” Anakin wondered out loud. “Or maybe we’re being sent to negotiate with the Separatists.” 

“You sound more excited about peace negotiations than battle,” Obi-Wan said, looking at him. “That’s not like you.” 

Shruggling his shoulders, he followed Obi-Wan towards Chancellor Palpatine’s office. If the war was already over, that meant he would be able to spend more time with Padme--that they could maybe even sneak away to Naboo for a real honeymoon. 

As they approached the Chancellor’s office, Anakin felt Padme’s familiar presence and frowned in confusion. His frown only deepened when they entered the room and found not just Padme, but three other Senators along with Masters Yoda and Mace, sitting before Chancellor Palpatine’s desk. 

“Ah, Anakin and Master Kenobi. Now that you’re here, we can begin,” the Chancellor said, his voice sounding smooth and unruffled. But there was a flicker of something in his presence that made Anakin wonder. 

“What brings all of us here?” Obi-Wan said, not taking the last empty chair and remaining by Anakin’s side. 

A heavy silence seemed to fall over the whole room, and Anakin saw Master Mace exchange glances with one of the Senators--Senator Organa from Alderaan, he thought. 

It seemed like the Senator got the wrong end of the rancor, because he said in a pleasant voice, “Master Skywalker, I understand your astromech droid was recently selected for a random security screening.” 

“Yes, he was,” Anakin said, his confusion growing. Especially when he realized that screening had been scheduled two days ago and he hadn’t seen R2 since. “Is something wrong? R2 is very important to me--I’m sure he hasn’t been sabotaged--”

“Nothing like that,” Senator Organa said. “However, there was some holofootage discovered . . . footage of a troubling nature.” 

Anakin felt a spike of fear from Padme. He couldn’t help glancing over at her, not sure why she was feeling like that. 

“You and Senator Amidala, the footage showed,” Master Yoda said quietly. “A marriage ceremony, it appears, being performed.” 

They knew. 

A wave of emotions crashed over Anakin. Padme’s fear intensified and sharpened. Obi-Wan’s shock and betrayal. Sadness and disappointment from Yoda and Mace.

And . . . rage from the Chancellor. 

Anakin looked at the man who he considered a mentor and blinked, wondering why the Chancellor was so mad. 

Giving his head a shake, Anakin looked at Padme, focusing on her right now. Because it didn’t matter what happened to him. What mattered was Padme. 

He stepped over towards her and rested a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and clasped his hand tightly, then looked around the room. 

“Yes. Anakin and I are married.”

“Broken the Jedi Code, you have, young Skywalker,” Master Yoda said mournfully. 

“This isn’t good, Padme,” Senator Farr said, not unkindly. “The political repercussions . . . marrying a Jedi, throwing the Grand Army of the Republic into upheaval . . .” 

 The Chancellor’s voice was cold. “The people of the Chommell Sector will not accept their Senator acting so rashly. Putting the personal before the people.” 

“That isn’t what Padme’s done at all--” Anakin said hotly, rising to her defense, but Padme gripped his hand tighter, making him stop talking. 

His beautiful, smart, amazing wife rose to her feet, shifting to keep her hold on his hand. 

“I refuse to believe that my people would think I have done something wrong by marrying the man I love,” Padme said, her voice commanding and strong in its softness. “Of course, I will speak to Queen Jamillia, seeking her advice and offering my resignation if she so desires. But I believe that marrying my partner does not reflect any shirking of my duties.” 

Anakin couldn’t help squeezing Padme’s hand as his heart swelled with love. She wasn’t trying to hide their marriage. She called him the man she loved. She called him her partner. 

Senator Organa exchanged looks with the female Senator who had remained silent, until now. “Senator Amidala, no one denies your committment to the people you represent or to the Senate you serve in,” she said in a melodic voice. “Yet Master Skywalker, being a Jedi, has a responsibility to the Order that outstrips any committment he could make to you.” 

“Indeed, Senator Mothma,” Master Mace said. “If Senator Amidala has violated any regulations, it will be up to the Senate to determine her fate. Just like the Jedi Council will deal with Skywalker.” 

“There aren’t any regulations--” Padme began, her voice drowned out in the chorus of voices from the Senators. 

There wasn’t anything Anakin could say, knowing nothing about the Senate’s rules. And honestly? He was more worried about Obi-Wan’s reaction right now. 

His Master hadn’t said a word. And his Force presence was . . . odd. Obi-Wan always felt like a cool, vast, gentle ocean to Anakin. But right now, that ocean was disrupted by cold winds whipping the water into vast, towering waves. 

Stepping towards Obi-Wan, Anakin said quietly, “I’m sorry, Master, for--for not telling you . . .” 

Obi-Wan looked at him, his eyes distant and full of sadness. Anakin stared, feeling lost and confused and almost scared, at this reaction. 

“Senators, Senators! Please,” the Chancellor said, his voice sharp. “The four of you cannot decide Senator Amidala’s fate--that would be for the full Senate.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Senator Organa said. 

Without even a nod of acknowledgement, the Chancellor turned towards the Jedi in the room. “While Senator Amidala’s punishment, if any, is unknown, I believe that there is guidelines for a Jedi who has . . . erred, as Anakin has?” 

It was odd, how the Chancellor was acting. He was normally the first to defend Anakin in any situation, to tell Anakin he was blameless when he was swamped with guilt. 

No one spoke for a long, seemingly eternal moment. “To be married is a violation of the Jedi Code,” Master Mace finally said. “It is an attachment, and a Jedi must be without attachments.” 

“The path to the Dark Side, it is,” Master Yoda said. “Exceptions, however, have been made. Master Mundi, to preserve the Cerean race, permitted wives.” 

“A very rare exception,” Master Mace said in a chilly voice. “And he came to the Council and sought his exception. Skywalker hid his attachment because he knew if discovered, he would be expelled from the Order.” 

“For the Council to decide, it is,” Master Yoda said firmly. “A fair hearing, must be granted young Skywalker.” 

Anakin nearly snorted. Sure, a fair hearing. He was sure to get that from the Jedi Council. Padme nudged him and Anakin did his best to keep his face from showing what he was thinking. 

The Chancellor frowned and looked at Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi, you know Anakin best. What are your thoughts on this matter?” 

As he looked at his Master, Anakin could still sense the hurricane of Obi-Wan’s emotions. And he didn’t understand why Obi-Wan was reacting like this. Obi-Wan was the perfect Jedi--everyone knew that. He lived by the Code and never accepted any violation of it. Anakin would understand if his Master felt hurt or angry at him. But he wasn’t. 

The ocean of Obi-Wan’s presence was filled with sadness and regret. 

Obi-Wan visibly swallowed, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “I believe that while Anakin must be punished . . . I do not believe he should be expelled.” 

“Of course you believe that,” Master Mace said sarcastically. 

“I agree with Master Kenobi,” Senator Farr said, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “He’s one of our finest generals--the GAR would be crippled without him.” 

“It’s not for the sake of the war that I believe Anakin should remain a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, heading off any attempts to change the subject. 

Anakin looked at Padme, whose face was as confused as Anakin felt. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes swept around the room, before landing on Anakin. “From his first days of training, Anakin has struggled to live by the Code. Due to his upbringing before arriving at the Temple, it was not possible for him to not become attached to those he cares about. I do not think that, in Anakin’s case, continuing to fight against attachments is a wise choice. I think such struggle opens him to the Dark Side.” 

“Obi-Wan--” Anakin said, taking a step towards him. Because he couldn’t understand why Obi-Wan was defending him like this. 

His Master glanced at Anakin for a moment, before looking at Masters Yoda and Mace. “And if Anakin is expelled, I feel I have no choice but to leave the Order as well. We are taught that only a Sith deals in absolutes--yet the Jedi Code is treated as absolute within the Order. This dichotomy cannot continue, now that we have Anakin as an example of why the Code does not work.” 

On one side of the room, the Senators shifted in their chairs. Masters Mace and Yoda were staring at Obi-Wan. Anakin gripped Padme’s hand tighter, hoping he wasn’t hurting her but needing to cling to her in the midst of this whirlwind. 

And suddenly the Chancellor rose to his feet. There was a brittleness to his voice when he said, “This is a matter for the Senate and the Council to decide. I am a busy man and must ask you all to withdraw, to start your deliberations on the fate of Senator Amidala and Master Skywalker.” 

Strangely, as they all bowed or curtsied, offering the Chancellor their thanks before exiting the room, all Anakin could think about was how it was the first time all day that the Chancellor had called him anything other than Anakin. 

But really, that was a puzzle he could unravel another day. For now, he had to defend his marriage to Padme, give Padme every bit of support he could, and prevent Obi-Wan from throwing away his life in the Order for Anakin’s sake. 

Because he wasn’t worth it. What mattered was keeping Padme and Obi-Wan happy and in the roles they loved to perform. 

After all, Anakin knew he would be happiest when they were happy. 

End.

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 3, Ch. 8

PART 3: THE YEAR OF QUIDDITCH & MAGICAL CREATURES Chapter 8 - A Very Nova Idea

Bill

A knock on my dormitory door woke me up. I groaned as I looked at my roommate who was still sleeping. I swear there's not a noise in the world that could wake him up.

I yawned and went to open the door.

“Charlie? Are you okay, why are you knocking on my door this early in the morning?” I yawned again.

“It's a beautiful Saturday and Nova and I were talking and you seem to be inside your room quite a lot lately, so we decided to take you down to the Lake.” He beamed at me. “Or drag you, you know, in case you wouldn't want to come willingly.”

I was surprised that my little brother noticed anything unusual about my routine when all he could talk about were Dragons and his Care of Magical Creatures class. However, I must admit I was rather touched that they were worried about me.

They were right about me being inside a lot. These days it seemed that the only time I left my room or the Library was for food or classes. O.W.L.s were approaching fast and I was getting more nervous by the minute! And as if that wasn't enough I had my Career Advice Meeting this Monday and I can't tell you how many nights I didn't sleep because of that and if I did manage to fall asleep I was dreaming that Professor McGonagall told me I would never be a Curse Breaker and that there's an open position as Filch's assistant and that I might get that job.

I would rather admit to my mother that I had a crush on Emily Tyler than be Filch's assistant.

“Hello! Bill, did you fall back asleep?” Charlie snapped me out of it.

“Huh, yes! I will go with you. Some air will do me good. Let me just grab my books.” I was ready to turn around and go to my desk when Charlie stopped me.

“No, books. You need a break, mate.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me down to the Common Room and through the Portrait Hole where Nova was waiting for us.

“Good morning, Bill!” She was wide awake and grinning.

“Hi, Nova. How are you?” I smiled back, though not as enthusiastically as her.

“The question is Bill,” she grabbed my other hand, and together with Charlie they started pushing me down the stairs and through the corridor, “how are YOU?”

“I...I'm fine.” I was beginning to get confused as to why they cared so much about my well-being all of a sudden.

“Oh, really?” Nova narrowed her eyes. “Did you know that I said hello to you yesterday at the Library and I didn't get as much as a sound back?”

“You did?” I couldn't recall that happening.

“Uh-huh. Do you know what that means?” Charlie spoke now even though I think he didn't have anything to do with the Library scene at all.

“That I was too deep in my studying to say hello?” I guessed.

“Yes, and it also means you need a break from it and stop obsessing over your Career Advice Meeting.” Nova added.

“Why do you care so much?” We suddenly stopped and they both turned to me.

“Because you're my brother and believe it or not, I do care about you.” Charlie frowned at me as if he couldn't believe I was questioning their motive.

“And you're my friend,” Nova spoke now, “you helped me with my Quidditch situation with Charlie and you have such dark circles under your eyes that even Tonks noticed and you know she's oblivious to these things.”

They didn't let go of me until we got down to the Lake. They placed a blanket on the ground and made me sit. Nova sat on my right and Charlie sat on my left side, making sure I wouldn't escape.

“So...” I scratched the top of my head. “What now?”

“Now, we are going to sit here in peace, and then you will tell us everything that is on your mind and all your worries.” Nova grinned at me.

“But why? I am fine, I promise.” I looked puzzled.

“You are not fine, Bill Weasley. Your roommate told me you barely sleep at night, that you have nightmares and that you keep talking in your sleep about being Filch's assistant and if that isn't a cry for help, I don't know what is.” I have never seen Charlie so in command. I was the one usually lecturing and scolding him for doing stupid stuff. And how did my roommate know any of these things if he was fast asleep every night?

“Okay, MUM!” I ruffled his hair and got punched in the ribs for mocking him.

“So, Mr. Weasley,” Nova corrected her imaginary glasses, her voice very official, “how is the studying for O.W.L.s going?”

“I am doing pretty good with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Penny started helping me with my Potions last week and we are having a study group for Charms and Herbology.” I rubbed my chin, trying to remember more subjects.

“Professor Kettleburn told me that I have nothing to worry about when it comes to his subject. But I haven't started with Ancient Runes or History of Magic or Astronomy or...” Nova must've sensed the panic in my voice as she put a finger on my mouth to make me stop talking.

“Bill, you still have time to study for your O.W.L.s!The fact that you did so much for so many subjects already is a good start. You're going to do fine.” Nova squeezed my shoulder.

“And what are you so afraid of anyway? You are smart and on top of the class in most subjects.” Charlie added.

“I know. But you'll see the amount of pressure this is when you get to your Fifth Year, especially since you two are like me and you know what you want to do already.” I tried to explain.

“How well do you have to do on your O.W.L.s to become a Curse Breaker?” Nova seemed to share my worry now.

“I will find out more in my Meeting with McGonagall, but I can imagine that I would need at least an Outstanding or Exceeds Expectation in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration. I would have to do good in Arithmancy as well and in Ancient Runes and you do need both.” They were listening to me very attentively. I can't deny that it felt good talking about this with someone.

“Aren't that your grades already?” Charlie seemed confused.

“They are, indeed.” I said rather proudly. “Last year I got an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration. I got an E in Herbology, Arithmancy, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Potions, thanks to Penny. And I got an A in History of Magic and Astronomy.” I counted on my fingers.

I looked at them and they both had their mouths open.

“How can you take so many subjects? How are you managing that?” Nova was perplexed.

“That is a secret between Professor McGonagall and myself.” This was true as she gave me a time-turner in order for me to take all the classes but she made me swear not to tell anybody, not even my family members.

They both narrowed their eyes in suspicion but decided to let it go.

“So if you have such good grades, what are you worried about?” Charlie still didn't seem to understand.

“O.W.L.s and final exams are not the same. Final exams only consist of what you've learned in that year while O.W.L.s have questions from all the past years. Besides, you can get tricky questions during the practical part of the examination and you have to think quick on those.” I explained.

“Bill, knowing you, you will ace all of these subjects like you do every year. I really wouldn't worry so much about it.” Nova bestowed me with a warm smile. “We might be the same in two years and you're going to sit here, giving us a pep talk but we just wanted to see if there is anything we can do to make this easier on you.”

“To be honest, just talking about it makes me feel better. All of my classmates are so busy studying and panicking like I am that we simply don't have the time to chat.” I admitted.

“See, that's why you have us, mate.” Charlie patted my back.

“Now, to a more interesting topic.” He smugged. “What's up with you dreaming about Filch?” Nova giggled at his question.

“Oh,” I blushed and ignored it, “what I am really worried about right now is my Career Advice Meeting on Monday. I know McGonagall will ask me what are my reserve options in case my O.W.L.s won't be up to Curse Breaking standard and I don't have another option. I wanted to be a Curse Breaker for a while and I haven't given much thought to other careers.”

“You have to have other options?!” Charlie was the one panicking now. I couldn't help but laugh. If anyone didn't have a second career option it was definitely him. He has been talking about being a Dragonologist since he could talk.

“I am sure you're going to do just fine.” I ruffled his hair.

“So you don't have a second option, perhaps McGonagall can help you with that.” Nova thought out loud.

“I guess.” I gave it a second thought. “It's just scary to think so far ahead and to think I could do good with my O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s and then fail at my job interview is even scarier.”

“Grades aren't enough to get you the job?” Charlie's voice started to rise again in panic.

“Far from it,” Nova answered for me, “especially for Curse Breakers. They have tough training and a lot of newbies can't take it. My dad told me he was training them last year and he said that out of 20 they only took 4 of them.”

“Oh, sorry Bill, didn't mean to scare you.” She quickly added when she saw my frightened look.

“See, that's why I am panicking about other careers because despite having good grades I can still not make it as a Cur...”

“I have an idea!” Nova interrupted me. “Why haven't I thought about this before!” She stood up at once.

“What are you talking about?” Both Charlie and I asked.

“I can write to my dad and ask him if he has any advice for you to be better prepared when you have your initiation. That way you have almost 3 years to practice and prepare for your job interview!” She started walking towards the Castle.

Charlie and I got up, grabbing the blanket, not even bothering to fold it.

“Where are you going?” I asked as we caught up to her.

“I am going to the Owlery to write to my dad at once.” She smiled, being proud of her idea.

“You would really do this for me, Nova?” It warmed my heart to have such an amazing friend.

“Get off it Bill, of course, she would!” Charlie answered on her behalf.

We followed her to the Owlery where she wrote a rather long letter to her dad. She explained that I wanted to be a Curse Breaker and that I was panicking a lot about my O.W.L.s and the fact that I don't have a second career option, something I reckoned she could've left out of the letter. She told him all about my grades and she asked him if he has any tips for me and what can I do to start preparing for the job.

She carefully folded the parchment, took an envelope from her bag, which made me smile because I taught her to always carry a few in her bag, put the letter inside, and gave it to Pip.

Pip hooted excitedly every time he was given a job. We all patted him on the head and he was on his way.

I decided that Charlie and Nova were right and I should take it easy. It was only March and I had more than enough time to study and didn't want to get burned out so I decided to spend my entire day with them and their friends.

Funny enough Penny started nagging the lot about their exams the minute we sat down for dinner. I haven't the slightest what their grades would be if she wasn't so persistent all year round.

I even took the time to just sit in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor Common Room and stare at Emily Tyler and daydream about being her boyfriend.

On Sunday morning I decided to speak to my roommate about the fact that he knew so much about what's going on in our dormitory at night. It turned out that he was just as nervous as I was about our O.W.L.s and that he secretly studied when I was sleeping.

We made a pact to study together as we both needed as many O.W.L.s as we could get since he wanted to become an Auror.

The next day was the Career Advice Meeting day. I hoped that when McGonagall is done with me I will stop having nightmares about it.

I had breakfast with Nova and Penny and Nova hasn't received an answer from her dad yet. I then joined my classmates in front of McGonagall's office where we were called in one by one to have our evaluation.

“Mr. Weasley, I understand you want to become a Curse Breaker.” She looked at me through her squared glasses.

“Yes, Professor.” I nodded.

“Well if you do as good on your O.W.L.s as you are doing in your classes so far, I don't see why that couldn't be achieved.” Her lips curved a little.

“You would need,” she continued, “an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Having an O in Potions wouldn't be so bad either but I can see that that is not your strong suit.” She was looking at the parchment with my grades on it.

“An E in Charms and Transfiguration would be very desirable, along with Herbology as it can come in handy.” She was now looking at me again. I was sitting still as a statue and my heart was beating faster than when I see Emily in the Common Room.

“If you get an A in everything else, you should be fine. Just try to get an O in Potions as Professor Snape doesn't except anyone below that level for his N.E.W.T. studies.” She stopped and pursed her lips. I still didn't move. I nodded, however.

“How about your other career options?” She sounded exactly as in my nightmares.

“That's the problem Professor, I don't have any.” I bowed my head. I knew she was going to be disappointed in me. I was a Prefect, had good grades, and was always well-behaved but didn't have a second career option.

“You know, Mr. Weasley, sometimes having just one option is the best option.” My eyes almost fell out as I couldn't believe her answer as it was completely different than the one from my dreams.

“I'm not sure I follow, Professor.” Was all I could manage in reply.

“When we only have one goal, we tend to focus more on it and will do everything in our power to achieve it.” She smiled warmly. “If we know we have another option, we might not put all of our attention into the primary goal as we know we have a cushion to ease our fall.” She did make a good point.

“I don't think I ever thought about it that way before.” I was being honest.

“Mr. Weasley, try to cut yourself some slack and get a whiff of fresh air here and there. You are one of my best students and I do not doubt that you are going to do just fine.” She smiled and gave me a little nod.

“Thank you, Professor. This helped me a lot.” I stood up, smiled back, and exited her office.

I don't think I could've shown it more that I was having a good day when I entered the Great Hall and sat down next to Charlie, Nova, and Tulip.

“Someone's in a good mood.” Charlie said with a mouth full of food.

“So how did it go?” Nova stood up from where she was sitting on Charlie's left side and sat down next to me and shook my shoulder.

“It went really well. McGonagall said I have nothing to worry about. Perhaps I could do a bit better with Potions but other than that I think I'm good.” I grinned.

“Eh, nothing Penny can't fix.” Tulip smiled.

“We told you you overreacted, mate. Really good news, though.” Charlie put his spoon down to pat me on my back.

“Speaking of good news...” I turned to Nova who was shaking as she couldn't wait to tell me something.

“Guess who came back today?” She said without waiting for me to ask what the news was. I rubbed my chin, thinking for a second who could it be. Then it dawned on me.

“Pip?” I asked hopefully. She nodded and pulled a letter from her back pocket and handed it to me.

I opened it and started reading.

My dear pumpkin,

there is simply too much information to discuss this over a letter.

I am in charge of the Internship Program we are having this Summer and if Bill doesn't have anything else planned I would be glad to put him on the list. The Internship is on me, so he needn't worry about paying as I would be glad to have him on my team and we can discuss everything then!

Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes are very important so he should be focusing on these two subjects along with Charms and Arithmancy but I am sure he is already aware of that.

And a piece of advice: tell Bill to stop worrying too much. With the grades as you described, he is more than qualified for the job already and I am sure he is going to do fine. And besides, he is not only your friend he is also my best friend's son, meaning I will be sure to put in a good word for him.

If he decides to take me up on my offer for the Internship, he will already have an advantage when we pick our new Curse Breakers!

Send Pip back with his answer and say hello to Charlie and the rest of your friends!

I miss you my little pumpkin!

Love, Dad

“He...he is offering me a Summer Internship?!” I couldn't believe what I just read so much that I started reading the letter again.

“So, I am assuming Pip should send a yes back to my dad?” I looked at Nova, her head was leaning on her hand and she had the biggest grin across her face.

“Nova, I...I don't know what to say.” I was speechless. “Do you know what this means for my career?”

“I do! And you don't have to say anything! I heard about the Internship last Summer and was going to convince dad to take you in with or without your nightmares about being Filch's Assistant.” Tulip almost spat out her juice, laughing so hard, when she heard about my dreams.

“Thank you, Nova. You are an amazing friend!” I pulled her into a tight hug as I was lost for words. I couldn't believe she was already thinking of asking her dad to get me in for the Summer Internship. I don't recall anyone doing something so nice for me before.

Now I understood why mum wanted her in the family.

[misterewrites]

Into the underground!

Hey everyone, E here! Hope you are all staying safe in these really tiring times. Seriously stay safe, wash your hands and wear your masks. It's important to keep everyone safe, not just youself. I hope you all have a great time reading my original work! Have a great week everyone! Remember I’m on Ao3 at MrE42 if you want to have an easier time reading this and want to leave me comments. I love reviews no matter how simple and feedback is always awesome!

Sleep did not come easy to Abigail. Her body was heavy with exhaustion but her mind reeled at the day’s events: Her fall, chasing down Oliver, the discovery of the Underground. All the while her missing parents poked and prodded at her conscience, guilt growing with each memory she played in her mind.

“Abigail? It’s morning.”

Abigail groaned unhappily, the faint sunlight in the distant barely dispelling the darkness.

“Coming.”

Abigail groggily rose from her bed, brushing her messy bedhead with a free hand as she slipped into her hiking boots.

“Okay Abi, smiles.” she murmured to herself. She took one last, long look at the precious photo allowing a smile to grow from her lips “I love you guys. Wish me luck!”

Abigail slipped the photo back into her tunic and slung her pack over her shoulder. She took a deep calming breath, forcing a smile back onto her lips as she made her way downstairs to a red faced Ma and grinning Oliver.

“Oh Ollie, that’s a good one. Mind I take it for a spell?”

Oliver waved off her question “Take it as a gift. Gotta keep convincing everyone you’re a charming old lady.”

Ma snorted “You missed the am part of that sentence.”

“That’s the spirit.” Oliver jokingly patted her shoulder.

“Morning!” Abigail beamed from the top stairs.

“Morning Abigail!” Ma greeted.

Oliver said nothing, instead opting to nod instead. Oliver’s face broke into a flinch as Ma playfully pulled at his ear, giving it a rough but ultimately harmless tug.

“You treat this young lady as if she was family, you hear?”

Oliver tried to pull away “Light teasing and annoyance, got it!”

Ma released her hold and gave Abigail a mischievous wink.

Abigail chuckled “Don’t worry Ma, I can take care of myself!”

“You made that abundantly clear yesterday” Ma acknowledged “But let an old lady have her fun.”

Ma pinched Oliver’s cheeks lovingly “It’s just a joke sonny. Don’t be so uptight.”

Oliver replied with a cheshire grin “I hope you remember that piece of advice in 20 seconds.”

And without a word, the bard made his way towards the door.

Ma blinked uneasily “Should I be concerned?”

“Not sure” Abigail answered “I haven’t known him long enough to tell if that’s a threat or a joke.”

Before the two could carry on with their conversion, Oliver called out in a singsongy voice.

“Ooooooh Ma! You have a visitor.”

Ma and Abigail shared a concerned glance.

“I think you should just get it over with Ma.”

“Easy for you to say dearie, you’re not the one with a surprise outside.”

Abigail placed her arm around Ma, carefully guiding the older woman outside to face whatever had been waiting for her. Ma flushed as Oliver gave a cheeky smirk, gesturing playfully towards a familiar dwarf.

Borrick had brought his A game today: His beard was well trimmed and combed giving the old mercenary an air of regal refinement. His armor, while dented and well worn as usual, was freshly polished and gleamed brightly in the dim sunlight that filled the cavern. Gone was his laxed posture and in its place stood the proud leader of his band of merry mercs.

“Madelyn.” Borrick spoke shyly while he took her hand in his and gently kissed it.

“Copperstone.” Ma nervously replied, her cheeks burning a brighter pink every second.

“Please you’ve known me long enough to know you can call me Borrick.”

Ma opened her mouth but Oliver cut in “Come on Ma, lighten up! Don’t be so uptight.”If looks could kill, Oliver would’ve at the very least been maimed by Ma’s steely death glare.

“Perhaps I came on a bit too strong.” Borrick concluded, letting go of Ma’s hand only for the older woman to snatch back it greedily.

“No” Ma cleared her throat “I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten my morning coffee. I’m just a little…”

“Tired?” Oliver gave an impish grin “Perhaps Mr. Copperstone could cook you some breakfast.”

“I will hit you with a frying pan” Ma murmured under her breath but Borrick seemed to pay it no mind.

“It would be my honor!” Borrick bellowed with a smile.

Ma shook her head hurriedly “Oh I couldn’t impose, you really…”

Borrick squeezed her hand “You do so much for everyone Madelyn. Let someone do something for you.”

“Okay” Ma relented, allowing the dwarf to carefully lead her back into the home, the Swift Slivers cheering loudly at sight of them.

Oliver beamed with a quiet pride, basking in the glow of another successful payback.

Abigail made her way over to Oliver, her face caught between amazement and suspicion “I can’t tell if I should be impressed or concerned.”

“Both” Oliver stretched his arms “Both is good.”

“How’d you know he was outside?”

“You kidding? I heard him coming a block away. Him and a dozen footsteps marching out of tempo isn’t exactly quiet.”

Abigail hadn’t recalled hearing anything before she was forcefully awakened but she hadn’t exactly been paying attention either.

With their leader otherwise occupied, the professional Swift Slivers quickly devolved into a pack of school children: The more childish of the group broke out in playful shoving and joking taunts with the odd wage placed here and there. The more responsible members began going through their packs, writing down and organizing the group’s supply for their long trip to Fort Mercer.

Abigail hadn’t yet spot Archibald in the crowd but the familiar curls of a wizard rushed into her view instead.

Cecilia timidly made her way over to Abigail, her fingers playing with the hem of her robes. Oliver quickly walked away.

“Hello.” Cecilia mumbled quietly.

“Good morning! Is there something I can help you with?”

Cecilia shook her head “No. No. No b-but I thought of something last night that could help you.”

Abigail tilted her head quizzically before realization dawned on her “Oh! Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for bothering you with such a weird request."

Cecilia shook her head once more “Nothing wrong with going home. It wasn’t too hard to figure out” she added quickly upon seen Abigail’s shocked face “I am a wizard. I’m supposed to be smart. Don’t worry I haven’t told anyone.”

Abigail sighed in relief.

“But” Cecilia carried on “If you’re going to Haven’s Nest, my mentor lives there. Degan Arch. Secretive man who lives in the Clifftops district. If you mention my name, he might be willing to see you. Assuming he hasn’t killed himself with his weird experiments. If he doesn’t have a teleport spell, he’ll at least know someone who might.”

“Really?” Abigail smiled wide and took Cecilia’s hands in her own causing the wizard to flush a bright red “Thank you, thank you so much! Cecilia…..?”

Cecilia stood there frozen, eyes wide in shock and surprise.

Abigail motioned for her to go on.

Cecilia too caught up in the warmth of Abigail’s hand to really understood what she was asking of her.

“Sorry I didn’t catch your last name” Abigail admitted with a twinge of embarrassment.

“Last name?” Cecilia’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion “Oh! My last name. It’s Winter. Cecilia. Cecilia Winter. You can just call me Cecilia.”

“Thank you Cecilia. It means a lot to me.”

Cecilia nodded dumbly.

Abigail let go of the other girl’s hands “I’ll take good care of Archibald.”

Cecilia just kept nodding “Of course. Course. Archibald? Oh! Right. Archibald. Please do. He might be the newest member but he’s family.”

“Promise.”

“Okay bye” Cecilia spoke quickly, turning tail and ducking her head low at the cheering Swift Slivers.

“Well that happened.” Oliver made his way over.

Abigail cheerfully waved good bye at her retreating form “I wonder what was that about.”

Oliver just stared at her in disbelief.

“What?”

Oliver shook his head.

“No seriously what?”

“I’m just amazed at your density.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“You are going to cause so many problems, aren’t you?”

Abigail huffed “and you won’t?”

Oliver shook his head “Oh no I totally will but at least I’m aware of the trouble I’m causing. You’re gonna cause panic left and right.”

She tilted her head quizzically “Panic? Why would I cause panic?”

Oliver sighed tiredly “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just find Archibald and get on with it.”

Abigail was confused but decided to let it go: She was going to to spend the next day and half with this bard, best to keep it as civilized as her patience would allow.

Oliver glanced about looking for their third party member but Abigail caught him linger on the road to the cemetery for a moment.

“Did you want to check on your boss?”

“No. He’s fine and the competition is in a few days. We need to get a move on if I want to get there in time for sign ups.”

Oliver’s tone was neutral but Abigail sensed a fearful edge to it. Whatever lie he was trying to sell himself, he clearly wasn’t buying it.

“And you” Oliver spoke suddenly, whirling around quickly and pointing an accusatory finger at Archibald “Shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

Archibald rose his hands up defensively.

“Leave him alone” Abigail quickly jumped in “It’s not his fault we weren’t paying attention”

Oliver remained silent.

Archibald dressed for combat and/or travel: He wore a thick vest of leather with the same sliverish hue as his fellow mercenaries. A black riding cloak slung over his frame with his bow on one shoulder and his quiver of arrows on the others. He wore black leather pants with a shortsword at his side and well worn hiking boots.

“Looking sharp” Abigail beamed cheerfully.

Archibald nervously smiled.A silence fell over the trio.

“So” Abigail spoke up “Shall we go?”

Archibald rose a curious eyebrow as he questioningly gestured to his riding cloak.

“Umm….nice cloak?” Abigail spoke, unsure what Archibald was getting at.

“He’s asking if you have a cloak, it gets pretty cold in the second layer tunnels.” Oliver filled in.

“What? No! Of course not! How would I even have one? And you’re just messing with me.” Abigail scoffed “Do you even….?”

Abigail’s words died in her throat as Oliver pulled out a rather thick elegant though worn cape from his back, slinging it around his body with a smugness only a bard could muster.

“I hate you.”

So much for being civilized.

Archibald rolled his eyes. He dug into his travel pack, pulling out his backup cloak and held it out for Abigail to take.

“I can’t believe you Oliver. You knew I needed a cloak and you weren’t going to tell me!”

Any second now.

Oliver waved her off “You’re a big girl. You should know caves get colder as you go deeper.”

Yep, any moment.

“How?!” Abigail screeched “I’ve never been in a cave before!”

Archibald’s eyes darted back and forth between the arguing pair, unsure if he should cut in or just keep politely holding out the increasingly heavy cloak.

“Abigail.”

Abigail snapped out of her anger tinged rant to see Cecilia gesturing behind her. Confused, Abigail turned around to find Archibald holding out a second cloak, beads of sweat forming his brow.

“Oh! Sorry Archibald!” Abigail scrambled, nearly tripping over herself as she took the piece of clothing from the mercenary “Thank you. It’s nice to know one of you is a gentleman.”

“I never said I was.”

“Can I pay you to kill him?” Abigail murmured darkly towards the archer.

Archibald stroke his chin thoughtfully before rubbing his finger and thumb together.

“Assassination is an option?”

Archibald rocked his hand back and forth.

“Better than a no.” Abigail eyed Oliver menacingly.

“Please you’re not going to assassinate me. You don’t have the money.”

“Yet.”

Archibald chuckled to himself as he gestured for them to get a move on.

The trio made their way through the tiny village, the normalcy of people out and about living their lives under the warm glow of the sun made Abigail’s heart ache with familiarity.

They fell into an awkward quiet, necessity guiding their feet towards the road out of town.

It was strange to be part of a group so disconnected. Normally when Abigail traveled, it was with her parents to the town or perhaps to further off markets. Occasionally they would hire the odd bodyguard or catch a ride with the kingdom’s soldiers when bandits acted up on the main roads but there was always someone she knew close at hand.

But this group held no such intimacy. Each traveled for their own personal agenda: An infuriating bard seeking to compete, an aloof though kind mercenary here for a job and her, a farm girl trying to get back home.

Abigail could hear the uneven steps of the Swift Slivers behind them, their idle chatter and jokes thundering in her ear.

She wanted to ask Archibald if there was any particular reason his band was following them to the edge of town but his eyes were so fixated on the road, she felt rude breaking his concentration.

Abigail flinched as Oliver nudge her side “What??”

Oliver pointed forward “There it is. The stony rock road to Haven’s Nest.”

The word road was far too generous: It was more of a massive hole in the ground, wide enough to easily fit the Swift Slivers if they decided to march side by side. The path was uneven, sloping downward into a thick dark void with only the dimmest light in the distance. Even from here, Abigail could feel the icy air chill her bones despite the glow of the sun at her back.

“I can see why you need the cloaks” Abigail chuckled nervously, bundling herself as much as she could in her cloak.

Archibald nodded in agreement, Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Archie!” A voice boomed from behind the trio.

Archibald sighed, unable to keep the embarrassment out of his cheeks as his fellow mercenaries quickly enveloped him a sea of tight hugs and back pats.

Abigail smiled at the group’s affection: some wished him luck, others reminded him to be careful, one or two even teased him about not running off with a girl once he reached Haven’s Nest. Archibald’s ears were a bright pink but Abigail found it sweet that this group cared so much for their fellow members.

Cecilia was the last to approach, her shy steps replaced with determination.

“No dying on me.” She warned, wagging her finger threateningly as if he was a younger sibling who needed reminding not to cause trouble.

Archibald placed one hand over his heart while holding the other up like he was making a pledge.

“Good. You’re one of the few people I can stand.”

“WE HEARD THAT!” a voice called from the mass.

Cecilia flipped them off in response.

“Was not expecting that.” Abigail murmured to herself “She was so shy and flustered easily.”

“I suspect you have that effect on people.” Oliver replied, checking his nails for nonexistent dirt.

“Wha?”

“Denser than steel.”

Archibald rose an eyebrow questioningly.

Cecilia nodded in agreement. Abigail stared in awe as Cecilia rose her hand in a strange gesture towards her fellow Swift Sliver. Arcane runes appeared from thin air, pink symbols hanging midair for a moment as Cecilia chanted in some unknown language. The symbols vanished but that was it.

“Was that a spell?” Abigail asked.

“Obviously.” Oliver grunted.

“What did it do?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Good idea!”

Oliver facepalmed as Abigail made her way over to the pair.

Archibald shook Cecilia’s hand in thanks and pulled away just in time for Abigail to sandwich between them.

“Abigail! Hi! Hi.” Cecilia flushed a bright red as she took a step back, nearly tripping over herself in surprise.

Archibald snickered into his sleeve as Abigail beamed cheerfully “Cecilia! Hi! Question? What spell did you just use?”

“Spell? Spell! Right because I’m a wizard. That’s my job. Spells. Pew pew.”

Cecilia could feel the blood pool in her face as Archibald rose an eyebrow quizzically behind the farm girl.

“It’s Mage Armor.” Cecilia explained, twiddling her fingers nervously.

“Mage Armor? That’s so cool!” Abigail couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“It’s a simple spell. Not that impressive.” Cecilia muttered quietly.

“Not impressive? That’s amazing!”

Abigail turned around and quickly leaned forward towards Archibald.

Archibald’s ears turned a bright pink again as Abigail eyed him carefully. Cecilia mouthed mockingly “Not so easy, is it?”

Abigail was oblivious to all this, too fixated on discovering any sign of the magical spell. At first it appeared nothing had changed with Archibald but a moment later, she caught it: A translucent layer superimposed ontop of his body almost like a second skin that gleamed under the sunlight.

Abigail cheered “I see it!”

Cecilia coughed “Y-yeah. It’s pretty basic so it’s not impenetrable but will help with the odd knick or blade.”

“Hey Cecilia, can you put it on me?”

Cecilia blinked, unsure if she heard correctly “You?”

Abigail nodded eagerly.

“S-sure.” Cecilia coughed “We shouldn’t run into too much trouble. I think I spare an extra spell.”

“You can’t just do this at will?” Abigail asked curiously.

Cecilia gestured with her hand, the arcane symbols appearing once again “Yes and no. There’s some basic spells are effortless that I could do forever and a half but this? I’m tugging and moving the weave itself. Reality isn’t a fan of being altered and I only have so much magical strength to pull at the weave.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” Abigail cutely admitted.

“Yeah that’s normal.” Cecilia answered before chanting in the strange unknown language as before. The symbols vanished as a warm sensation filled Abigail’s body, traveling from the top of her head to her toes. She glanced at her hands and squealed at the sight of the translucent barrier over her hands.

Abigail’s grin broke into a smile “Thanks Cecilia!”

Cecilia’s blush worsen. “No problem. Just remember this wears off in 8 hours so try to get as much distance in as you can.”

“Will do! Ready Archibald?”

Archibald nodded, motioning for Abigail to go ahead. As Abigail happily skipped ahead, Archibald snickered openly at the wizard.

Cecilia glared “Shut up. You’re the one going to be stuck with her for the next day.”

Archibald coughed into his cloak and hurriedly made his way after Abigail.

“We done here?” Oliver asked.

“We’re done here.” Abigail answered, turning to face the road.

Oliver and Archibald took their first steps without hesitation, descending deeper into the inky thick darkness.

“For my family” Abigail whispered to herself, taking a deep calming breath and plunging herself deeper into the underground.

[just-my-sickly-pride]

The Night Comes Down || Brian May x fem!Reader x Roger Taylor

summary || one of the first rules you’d ever made with brian, your friends-with-benefits, eight months ago, was that anyone could back out of the arrangement at any time, for whatever reason, and then everything would go back to normal. back to how it was. and that’s fine. you have no problem with that. you’re fine. you’re so fine. it’s... fine.

rating || no smut, but some implied explicit content. warning: there is a brief scene where reader is being heavily pressured into kissing someone at a party.

word count || 9.7k

author’s notes || all good things must come to an end! so i’ve been working on this series for over a year. how did that even happen?? anyway yes this is the end of the try series. no it’s not a happy ending. i debated back and forth for a long time whether to end the series or not, but it felt too weird not to. and i couldn’t figure out any reasonable ‘happy’ way for it to end. a big big big thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me for this entire journey, or part of this journey, or even if you’re just tuning in now - thank you! and if you’re still somehow invested in this little ’verse after all this time, don’t abandon me just yet 👀 p.s. i think i’ve ironed out most of the timeline issues but don’t look too closely. this series is not my proudest in terms of continuity

masterlist

tag list: @the-huttslayer​ @scorpiogemini @redspecialty​ @supersonicfreddie​ @killer-queen-xo​ @a-night-at-the-0pera​ @rogerscupboard​

     Part of you had known it was inevitable. Another part of you liked to pretend that it wasn’t. But it was.

    It still felt like it had come out of nowhere, though.

    Brian was watching you cautiously, adjusting the grip on his laptop and workbook. “Did you… want to say anything, or…?”

    “Um…” You blinked a couple times, and shook your head. “Uh, no, I’m just… surprised?”

    “I feel like I’ve mentioned her a few times,” Brian said.

    “Once or twice, maybe,” you said. “I didn’t know that you and her…”

    “Yeah.” Brian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, we hooked up, like, two weeks ago, and then again a few nights ago, and we’ve been talking every day, so.”

    “Oh.” It sounded twisted, wonky, but you forced a smile onto your face, wondering why you felt so… uncomfortable hearing about this. “That’s great. And you like her?”

    “Yeah, I really do,” Brian said, and his voice sounded warm, and he had a little smile on his face, and something ugly and strange twisted in your gut. “And I want to take her on an actual date, but obviously, I’d feel a bit weird about it if I still had, y’know. A, uh, side arrangement. But you’re all right?”

    “Of course,” you said brightly. Side arrangement. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? That’s great, Brian, really. I’m – really glad you’ve found someone.”

    “It’s been a while, that’s for sure,” Brian said with a chuckle.

    “Are you going to tell Rog?”

    Brian frowned a little. “Um, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I never had – anything with him. And he’s already met Dani, so.”

    “Oh!” Ah, Christ, that had sounded dreadful, even to your own ears. “Where– Where’d he meet her?”

    “The other day.” Brian gave you a sheepish smile. “The morning after. She ran into him in the kitchen.”

    You pushed a strained laugh out of you. “Oh, right, yeah, great.”

    Brian chuckled as well. “Yeah, it was a little awkward, but what can you do, right?”

    You swallowed, and nodded. Your face hurt from smiling.

    “You’ll love her,” Brian said. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart, and funny, and she’s so pretty. I mean, so pretty. Absolutely beautiful. Completely knocked my socks off when I first saw her. Can’t believe she fancies me.”

    “Great,” you said. You were saying great too much. “She sounds–” Don’t. “–so great.”

    “She is.” Brian beamed. “You’ll have to meet her soon.”

    “I’m sure I will,” you said.

    “Yeah, I’m sure,” Brian said. He sighed happily. “Well, I should head off.”

    “Yeah, course,” you said. “Me too.”

    “I’ll message you,” Brian said. “We can arrange a dinner at the flat or something.”

    “Can’t wait!”

    Brian smiled, nodded in satisfaction, and then said, “All right, see you later.”

    “Bye!” You turned around and hurried away, in the opposite direction you needed to go.

    Hmm. Huh. Right. Okay. So. Brian just. He just.

    You went to the food court and sat down at the first available seat you could find.

    You took out your phone and immediately went to message Veronica.

    Brian just

    Your thumbs paused.

    He just what? He just found someone he wanted to date, and ended his arrangement with you. On paper, not that big of a deal. It was part of the unwritten contract of it all: any person was allowed to end things for whatever reason, and there would be no consequences. A rule you had written yourself, all those months ago.

    Side arrangement. Side piece. Dirty secret. Not as good as the real thing. Not as funny or smart or pretty or wonderful or beautiful as Danielle.

    You froze. Whoa, where had that come from?

    You weren’t jealous. You couldn’t have been jealous. You’d never wanted to date Brian. You still didn’t want to date Brian. You didn’t have a crush on him, and you never had. Brian didn’t break up with you.

    So what the everloving fuck was going on in your head right now?

    You put your phone away. Nope, you couldn’t go crying to Veronica for no damn reason. This had always been bound to happen, and now it had, so you just needed an hour or so to process it, and then things would be fine. You’d go back to normal.

-

    Your idea of ‘normal’ seemed to greatly differ from Brian’s.

     You didn’t hear from him for a week. Whereas before you’d talked every other day, he went almost totally radio silent. Every meme or message you sent was either seen and ignored, or responded to with a vague Haha or a thumbs-up.

    You met up with Roger on your usual catch-up night, but you hadn’t gotten very far into anything before he stopped and said, “You’re not really feeling it, are you?”

    You made a face. “Sorry.”

    “It’s fine.” He passed your shirt to you, and he fetched his from the floor and slipped it on. “So… Brian has a date tomorrow night.”

    You frowned. “He does?”

    Roger nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t tell you about it?”

    You looked down at your hands. “Um, no. He didn’t. I haven’t heard much from him, actually. After he… ended… things.”

    “Whoa,” Roger said, climbing onto the bed. “Wait, really? With you?”

    You nodded, and suddenly felt your throat close over. But you were not going to fucking cry about it, Jesus Christ. You swallowed it down, and gave Roger a mild look of interest. “Yeah. I didn’t even know he liked Dani, and then I ran into him at uni last week, and he just sort of said, ‘Hey, while I’m here,’ and then that was it. But I didn’t know the date was tomorrow night. He didn’t tell me.”

    “I’m sure he was just distracted,” Roger said. “He gets like that with a girl he likes.” He shook his head. “Damn, he must be serious about her.”

    “Yeah, must be.”

    Roger paused, and then said, “Are you… okay?”

    You shrugged. “Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

    “I dunno, it’s a pretty big… thing to have ended.”

    “No, I’m fine,” you said lightly, giving him a smile. “We’re still friends. And I’ve still got you, right?”

    “Yeah,” Roger said, although he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

    “Yeah. So I’m good.” You sighed, willing away all the gross mess of emotions you were feeling. “I’m not really feeling going all the way, but making out sounds good, if you’re down.”

    Luckily, that immediately distracted Roger, and he didn’t ask any further questions. And you poured everything you had into your kisses, hoping it would distract you, too.

-

    You were hoping things would settle down for you, emotionally, over the next two weeks or so.

    But that didn’t happen. Everything grew to be so much worse. Exponentially. You didn’t know whether you hated Brian, or Dani, or hated them as a couple, or if you just hated yourself. You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as the two of them, and you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Dani. The thought of trying to be friends with her turned your stomach. She wasn’t particularly annoying, and she wasn’t a bad person in any way, but just something about her face and her voice and her fucking presence in your life just infuriated you.

    You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that she looked like a mouse. Or a rat. Small pointy nose, big dark eyes, slight buck teeth. She was curvy, and at least a foot shorter than Brian, although it was hard to tell with the heels and platforms she always wore. Her hair was browny-blonde and long and thick, and she wore it slicked back in a pony, like Ariana Grande. Her ears glittered with delicate piercings. She liked to draw on freckles.

    She was pretty. For a rat.

    You did your best to hide how you felt about her. You thought you should’ve gotten a freaking Oscar for how well you hid it. At least from Brian. On the rare occasion that Dani wasn’t by his side, you let him talk about her, and did your best to seem encouraging.

    There was a part of you – a bigger part than you wanted to admit – that believed they were going to break up soon enough. Then things could go back to normal, and this weird hiccup could be forgotten.

    But they didn’t break up. They stayed together.

    And so you ended up ranting about it all to Veronica. You knew you were really going on about it, and somehow you kept finding things to say about the situation when you knew there was nothing really more to say. Veronica listened, to a degree. But her advice was sensible and responsible and mature and you really didn’t feel like being any of those things. You wanted to throw a goddamn tantrum.

    So you turned to Roger. Thank God for his high sex drive.

    He wasn’t completely clueless. You had an air of desperation about you that you knew he could sense, and knowing that was almost enough to make you draw away from him, too.

    Almost. But he always took such good care of you. It was selfish to keep asking him to meet up, but you felt like you would explode if you didn’t.

    About a month after Brian and Dani had started dating, you and Roger were making out on the couch. It was rough, as sex frequently had been these past few weeks, and Roger’s grip on your waist was bruising as you rocked against him. Things were moments away from moving to the bedroom, when the front door opened unexpectedly.

    You quickly looked up, a deer in headlights, and your stomach dropped.

    “Oh, sorry,” Brian mumbled, ducking his head.

    “No, it’s fine,” you said, and you’d tried to go for nonchalant, but your voice came out too sharp.

    Roger tilted his head back. “Hi.”

    “Hi,” Brian said. You watched as he kicked his shoes off and chucked his keys on the kitchen table.

    “Sorry,” he said again, shooting you a quick glance. “I’ll just, uh…”

    He hurried to his room.

    There you were, looking already thoroughly debauched, on his couch, in Roger’s lap, and Brian had just ducked his head and ran.

    You stared after him, your heart twisting around itself. He hadn’t even… He didn’t…

    Once, he would have taken one look at you and pounced on you. He would’ve begged to kiss you, would’ve torn your clothes off.

    Now, he acted like he’d walked in on Roger having a one-night stand with some girl he’d picked up at a bar. He acted like he’d never even been attracted to you at all.

    Was it really so easy for him to move on? Were you really that forgettable?

    “You all right?” Roger asked, his thumb touching your bottom lip.

    You snapped to look at him. Shit, how much had you let on? “Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Just lost in my thoughts, nothing important.”

    “You sure?” Roger asked.

    You bit your lip and nodded. “Mm-hm. How about you take me to your room and fuck all those stupid little thoughts out of me?”

    Roger paused for a moment, like he wanted to say something more, but your tongue darted out, lapping at the pad of his thumb, and you kept your eyes on his as you licked his thumb into your mouth. You watched, half excited, half relieved, as his eyes glazed over, his gaze fixated on your lips around his thumb.

     It sickened you to even think about it, but you definitely had a little voice in the back of your head that hoped Brian could hear Roger fucking you.

-

    “We should hang out,” you said to Brian. Just over a month, now. Final exams were breathing down everyone’s necks. It didn’t help your situation. “I feel like I never get to see you anymore. You’re with your girlfriend all the time.”

    You’d run into him at uni. That was almost the only way you got to see him these days. And he no longer hugged you hello or goodbye, just kept a firm, amicable amount of distance between you.

    He didn’t often look you in the eye these days, either. He shifted about whenever you talked, like he wanted to be somewhere else.

    “Mm, yeah, maybe,” he said.

    You swallowed down the hurt. “How about a movie night? Or we could just hang out, just the two of us.”

    “Um.” Brian scratched his nose. “I’m pretty busy at the moment. Maybe we could do a group thing? That’d be fun. Me and Dani, John and Veronica, you and Rog.”

    You frowned. “Me and Rog?”

    “Yeah.”

    “We’re not together.”

    Brian shrugged. “I just thought– Well, I think it’d be nice. You two suit each other.”

    “We don’t want to be a couple, Brian. What are you on about?”

    “I just think it’d be good for you, that’s all. Being in a relationship is, well, really nice, and I think maybe you and Rog should at least give it a go.”

    You were gobsmacked. You wanted to throw something, yell a stern reminder of, Hey, are you fucking stupid? Do you not remember the past eight months of our lives where you seemed perfectly content to not be in a relationship? Remember how many times the two of us were hounded by our friends about dating? You fucking hypocrite.

    But you didn’t say any of that. There was an unspoken rule that neither of you ever brought up your old arrangement. It was as if it had never existed.

    Most of the time, it seemed like Brian wished it hadn’t. Like it was some embarrassing secret.

    “Well, we don’t want that, so you can mind your own business,” you said. “And where does Freddie fit into your little equation, anyway?”

    Brian shrugged again. “He could bring a date along as well, I don’t know.”

    “We’re not going on a– a quadruple date. Jesus.”

    “Just an idea,” Brian muttered.

    “You can still hang out with friends without your girlfriend, you know.”

    Brian sighed. “Okay. Well.”

    You sighed as well, gathering yourself. You tried again. “What about a party, or something? We haven’t been to a party in forever.”

    Brian hesitated. “Well, one of Dani’s friends is having a party this weekend.”

    Not exactly what you’d meant. “Maybe a little group of us could go?” you suggested. “If Dani’s all right with it? That could be fun.”

    Brian nodded to himself. “Yeah,” he said mildly. “Yeah, that could work. I’ll ask her.”

    “Great,” you said with a smile that you most certainly had to force onto your face. You began making a quick retreat, not waiting for him to formulate an excuse. “Text me, okay?”

    “Yep,” he said, and you could tell he was already forgetting about it completely.

    But, to your surprise, that weekend, you got a text from him. Dani said it’s all right if you and the others want to come along.

    Your lip curled. It hardly sounded like Brian wanted any of you there. great, you replied. pres at yours?

    I’ll actually be having pres at Lachlan’s, Brian sent. He’s one of Dani’s friends. But I’ll send you the details of the party and I’ll see you there.

    But no one else wanted to come.

    “No thanks,” Roger grumbled. “I’ve met some of Dani’s friends. They’re all complete wankers.”

    “But I don’t want to go alone,” you whined.

    “Ask Freddie. He’s always down for a good time.”

-

    I can’t darling, Freddie texted. work early the next day. they said if I turn up hung-over or still drunk one more time they’ll fire me

u don’t have to get that drunk, you replied hopefully. just drink a bit and then go home early

    then what would be the point of going lol?? Freddie sent.

-

    “Sorry,” Veronica said. “Studying.”

    You sulked. “You can’t afford to take a break just for a couple hours?”

    “No. And, honestly, I don’t want to enable whatever thing you’re going through right now. I think getting drunk around Brian would be a bad idea.”

    “I’ll be fine,” you said. “I just want an excuse to hang out as friends, okay? That’s all. It’s not enabling, it’s supporting.”

    Veronica made a sound that told you she disagreed. You huffed and gave up. What did she know, anyway?

-

    “Hey, Dea–”

    “I’m not going to that party tonight,” John cut in smoothly, not even looking up from his textbook.

    “But–”

    “I’d rather sever my own foot.” He glanced up at you, giving you an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry. I just can’t stand being around Brian and Dani. They’re insufferable.”

    At least that you could agree with.

-

    everyone else is busy, you texted Brian. You bit your lip, debating whether to ask, but, damn it, fuck it all – can I come to lachlan’s pres and go with u guys?

    It took him two hours to reply. Yeah, sure.

    You felt sick. This was a bad idea.

    It was by far too much trouble for what it was worth to get to Lachlan’s. You were terrified of turning up before Brian and Dani, so you arrived two and a half hours after when you were meant to be there.

    That was better. It was easier to rock up when everyone was already pissed.

    And they were very much pissed. Lachlan answered the door. He was tall and stocky, with brown hair and blue eyes. The sort of guy who looked like he’d played some kind of contact sport in high school, probably football, but now didn’t have a regular training schedule, and so was slowly losing the muscle he’d once had, replacing it with beer and burgers. The sort of guy who’d lose all of his hair by the time he was thirty-five, and get married so he’d have someone to get his beers for him when he was watching the game with the boys. The sort of guy who wanted kids because he liked the thought of telling people he had a couple of boys, rather than actually wanting to be a father.

    Or maybe you were making a snap-judgement.

    You introduced yourself, and he gave you a lopsided, skeezy grin, letting you into his place. “You here all on your own?” he asked.

    Your shoulders tensed. “No,” you said. “I’m a friend of Brian’s. Dani’s new boyfriend.”

    “Oh, yeah, sure, I know that. But you don’t have anyone to bring along with you?”

    “Not tonight,” you said vaguely. “Busy schedules. Finals aren’t too far away, and all that.”

    “Yeah, sick,” Lachlan said, looking you up and down. “Well.” He gestured with his beer to the crowd. “Make yourself at home.” He shot you another grin that made your hands grow clammy. “I’m glad Dani brought you along. Can’t wait to get to know you.”

    You gave him an uneasy smile in return, and frantically looked for Brian and Dani. You found them – Dani was sitting on Brian’s lap, yuck – and fled from Lachlan.

    “Hi,” you said.

    “Oh, hey,” Brian said, and you could tell right off the bat he’d had a bit to drink already. His hand was splayed over Dani’s thigh, holding her to him, and you couldn’t bear to look at it. “Thought you weren’t gonna come.”

    “I’m just late,” you said. “Hello, Dani.”

    She gave you a polite smile, but didn’t try to engage in conversation.

    Brian didn’t even notice. He squeezed Dani a little bit closer. “Well, you gonna drink?” he said.

    Yes. Yes, you were. You held up your plastic bottle filled with Sprite and too much vodka. “Yep.”

    Brian gave you a thumbs-up.

    Dani turned to him. “Just need to go to the bathroom, baby,” she murmured, tapping his hand.

    “All right, baby,” Brian murmured back, and you only just stopped yourself from making a face. The word baby sounded clunky, uncomfortable coming from Brian. “Be careful.”

    Dani leant in for a kiss, and you turned away, uncapping your bottle and taking a decent swig, grimacing at the burn. 

    Brian didn’t like pet names. You knew he didn’t like pet names. And yet this ‘baby’ thing had sprung out of nowhere, and it drove you up the fucking wall.

    You listened until the sound of Dani’s heels against the floorboards faded before you spoke. “‘Be careful’,” you muttered.

    “What?” Brian said.

    “She’s just walking to the toilet,” you said. “Not like she’s gonna get assaulted on the way.”

    Brian looked mildly annoyed. “I just don’t want her to trip and fall over and hurt herself. She’s a lightweight, and she’s wearing heels. I’m just… trying to be a good boyfriend.”

    You sighed. “Yeah, okay,” you said, not wanting to hear a word of it. You took another hefty swig of your drink. “I think I’ll, um, join the rest of the party.”

    So much for hanging out with Brian. You wanted to be near him, wanted to talk to him, but you couldn’t bear it for more than five minutes.

    You knew what it was – you wanted to talk to him how you used to. But you couldn’t do that anymore. Instead you had some weird, watered-down version of the Brian you knew.

    You joined in half-heartedly with a few drinking games, but quickly discovered that you weren’t really in the mood for getting smashed anyway.

    Brian and Dani stayed in their own little corner, giggling and whispering with each other, kissing and cuddling and being generally disgusting.

-

    You didn’t even think they’d bother coming to the actual party. But they did, and the group of fifteen or so people in Lachlan’s sharehouse all staggered along the street for about ten minutes to get to the main event.

    You’d managed to get along well enough with some of the girls, and Lachlan wouldn’t leave you alone, so you had no choice but to socialise. Which was good, in a way, because you lost Dani and Brian as soon as you walked into the party.

    Not that you particularly liked the girls you were talking to. Everyone just had such a weird vibe, like they weren’t sure if they could be bothered to talk to you, but also felt obliged to make you feel welcome. They kept bursting into laughter and you had no idea why, and no one bothered to explain the jokes. But then they complimented your outfit and asked you how your day had been, and they listened with encouraging nods and wide eyes of interest when you answered. Until someone said something that they found more interesting, and then they turned away from you when you were halfway through a sentence. It was off-putting, to say the least; you couldn’t seem to find your footing.

    Lachlan, however, was the icing on the cake. The sour, out-of-date icing on the stale cake. He flirted with you incessantly, either not picking up your clear signals that you weren’t interested, or just ignoring them. The others weren’t helping, either, egging the two of you on. A whole lot of wink-wink-nudge-nudge that you were not enjoying at all.

    You should’ve just gone home. You didn’t know why you didn’t just leave.

    But, for some reason, you stayed. Maybe you hoped that Brian would see your discomfort and come and talk to you – not that you’d seen him for the past hour – or that this strange group of people would want to talk with their friend Dani, and you’d be able to swoop in and catch up with Brian without Dani hanging around awkwardly.

    Whatever it was, it was a stupid reason.

    And then came truth or dare.

    You didn’t want to play, but you were roped into it regardless. There was a rule, you found out, that you were allowed to back out of one truth or dare, and you had to drink if you did so – but only the once, so you had to choose wisely. Someone dared you to show everyone what underwear you were wearing.

    Needless to say, you drank instead.

    You could tell that no one was very impressed with any of the dares or questions you came up with, even though your friendship group loved your questions and dares. This group seemed to like the brainless shit – if it was gross, or sexual, or nasty in any way, they were all over it. Barely anyone chose ‘truth’.

    Then it was Lachlan’s turn, and he turned to you. He grinned, and your stomach sank to the floor. “Dare you to kiss me,” he drawled, and the crowd gasped and ooh’d dramatically.

    You didn’t even hesitate to snatch up your cider, but Lachlan quickly said, “You’ve already drunk, you can’t do it twice.”

    “Well, I’m doing it twice,” you snapped, and took a swig.

    You received jeers and boos for that, and Gina, the girl beside you, took your beer from your hand and said, “You can’t do that!”

    “You gotta kiss me, that’s the rules,” Lachlan said above the sounds of everyone else.

    “I don’t want to,” you said, your voice wavering.

    “You have to,” said Savannah. “You have to, you have to, it’s the rules.”

    “Come on,” said – whatever her fucking name was. “Stop being such a pussy, just get it over with.”

    Lachlan was starting to look a bit pissed off by now. “Fucking hell, just come and kiss me,” he said. “Don’t be a bitch about it.”

    Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel your hands starting to shake. “Jesus – no, all right? I don’t want to,” you snapped.

    The room felt too loud, too stuffy, too overwhelming.

    “Lachlan, just think of something else,” you said.

     “Okay, fine, whatever,” Gina complained. “Just do something else.”

     “No, I gave you a dare already,” Lachlan said sourly. “It’s not even that big of a deal, like, I don’t even know what the problem is.”

     “If she doesn’t want to-”

     “That’s the fucking rules,” Lachlan said, throwing his hands in the air like you were the one being unreasonable. “Is that not the fucking rules? Goddamn.”

     “Okay, then just kiss him already,” said whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was, waving you over. “Whatever, just hurry up.”

     “I’m fucking bored with this shit already,” Savannah said. “Just kiss him or don’t kiss him, whatever. God, this party sucks.”

     “It doesn’t suck, she’s just being a bitch,” Lachlan protested.

     “Don’t call me a bitch,” you said.

     “I’m just teasing,” Lachlan said, crawling over to you. You shrunk away from him, your heart beating like a cantering horse, and he grabbed your wrist. “One kiss, c’mon,” he said, his voice light and friendly, like you were happy to play along.

    But you weren’t happy to play along. You didn’t know if everyone was too drunk to notice your obvious discomfort, or they didn’t care, but this was crossing the goddamn line.

    “Fuck off, Lachlan,” you said, trying to pull your wrist back. You’d wanted your voice to be tough, to be assertive, but it was small and weak, and then Lachlan leant in for a kiss.

    You turned your face away. “Lachlan–”

    “Just fucking kiss me, for God’s sake, woman,” Lachlan growled, and grabbed your face with his other hand.

    You pushed his hand away, and, without thinking, blurted out the one word that your panicked brain told you would stop everything in its tracks: “Nickleback.”

    “What?” Lachlan said, and, good fucking God, of course that wouldn’t work, you were such a fucking idiot, and now you had no back-up plan, nothing else to do, and that word was supposed to stop things, why wasn’t it stopping things–

    But then Lachlan was gone, and you felt a hand grab your other wrist and yank you up from the floor, and you unthinkingly leant into the body the hand belonged to as you were led from the room and into a bedroom, and the noise around you became muffled as the door closed behind you.

    Then Brian was setting you down on the bed and sitting beside you. In an ideal world, he would have wrapped his arms around you and you would’ve been able to breathe again, like in a movie, but instead there was an awkward amount of space between you as he gingerly asked, “Are you all right?”

    You barely even snuck a glance at him. You were humiliated by what had just happened, humiliated by needing him to rescue you, humiliated by your desperate craving for his touch, his comfort. You stared at the floor, curling in on yourself, and you nodded silently. Your hands still shook from adrenaline, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

    Brian sighed. “I’m sorry about them. I didn’t know…”

    You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you mumbled.

    Brian said nothing for a while, and then he reached over and patted you on the back. So achingly unfamiliar, and you felt your shoulders grow even more hunched than they already were. You didn’t think he’d ever touched you like that. Like you were a complete stranger.

    You ducked your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Don’t you dare fucking cry.

     There was a soft knock on the door, and Brian said, “Yeah?”

    You glanced up to see Dani poke her head in, and you quickly looked away again. “Hey, baby,” she said.

    Your stomach crawled.

    “Is everything okay?”

    “Yeah, it’s fine,” Brian said.

    “All right,” Dani said. You could feel her hovering awkwardly.

    Brian said your name, catching your attention, and then said, “I’ll just… let you have some time to yourself, all right?”

    You said nothing. You did nothing. And Brian stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

    “What happened?” came Dani’s voice from just outside the door.

    “Lachlan was harassing her,” Brian said.

    “They were just playing,” Dani said. “They’re all drunk, it’s just truth or dare.”

    “No, I know, but…”

    “You didn’t have to run in there like there was a fire and pull her out of there like that. Everyone’s going to ask me what that was all about. Where did that come from?”

    Your ears were straining to hear Brian’s response.

    “I… I just knew she needed to get out,” he said eventually.

    “She could have left if she was uncomfortable.”

    “She gets really anxious sometimes, she just freezes.”

    You realised, then, that he must’ve heard you say ‘Nickleback’. He must have heard it and immediately known that something was wrong.

    You groaned quietly to yourself, covering your face with your hands. Your ex-friend-with-benefits had heard you yell out your old safeword in the middle of a party, and had felt obliged to rush in like a knight in shining armour to swoop you to safety. Jesus Christ.

    “She’s an adult, baby,” Dani said. “I’m sure she was fine.” You heard someone sigh. “It’s sweet that you guys are friends, but you don’t have to…”

    “What?”

    “Look out for her that much.”

    “What do you mean? She’s my friend.”

    Dani was silent for a while. “Did you guys used to…?”

    The air was sucked from the room. Your ears strained to hear every word.

    “What?” Brian said, clearly thrown.

    “Did you used to date? It just seems like…”

    “No,” Brian said quickly. “No, we never dated.”

    “You’re not lying to me?”

    “No, baby. I promise you, we never dated.”

    You grimaced.

    Someone sighed again. “Okay,” Dani said. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to be friends with an ex.”

    Brian chuckled. It sounded forced. “Yeah, of course.”

    “I’m glad we agree. Gimme a kissy?”

    You could’ve thrown up right then and there. A kissy?

    You could hear them murmuring to each other, and Dani’s voice had a particular whiny, baby-talk tone to it that made you want to ‘accidentally’ open the door into the both of them. But then they left, and you were even more alone than before, and you lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, feeling sorry for yourself.

    It was time to go home.

-

    By the grace of God himself, Brian offered to wait outside with you, sitting beside you on the kerb, while you called a ride home. Dani stayed inside with her friends.

    “I’m sorry about… what happened,” Brian said, and you went still as a statue.

    “What do you mean?” you said softly.

    “Lachlan, and all of that.”

    You let out a breath. “Oh,” you said. “Yeah, that. It’s fine.”

    Silence. It wriggled under your skin like cockroaches.

    You wanted to touch Brian. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted Roger there, too. You wanted them to want you, like they used to. You wanted to be allowed to want them like they used to love.

    But Roger wasn’t there. And Brian barely was, either.

    “Brian?” Dani called from the front door.

    Brian twisted around. “Yeah, I’m here.”

    “Oh, okay. Just checking everything’s good.”

    “Yeah, we’re fine. Still waiting for the car.”

    “Okay. See you inside.”

    “Yep.”

    “Miss you, baby.”

    Brian chuckled. “Miss you too.”

    You waited until Brian had turned back around to face the road, and then blurted out, “Why do you let her call you that? You hate pet names.”

    Brian frowned, looking to you. “What?”

    “Pet names. You hate them.”

    “I don’t hate them,” he said.

    “You don’t like them, at least.”

    “According to who?”

    “According to you,” you said. “You told me. And you never–” You never called me anything but my name when we were fucking. “You never said you liked them.”

    “Well, I do,” Brian said. “And why do you care, anyway?”

    “I just think it’s weird,” you said, and you were aiming for casual but you knew you sounded brash. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

    “I’ve never had a girlfriend the whole time we’ve known each other,” Brian said. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m in a relationship.”

    “You shouldn’t change who you are when you’re in a relationship,” you said. “That doesn’t make sense.”

    “I’m not changing who I am,” Brian said, his face pinched. “What has gotten into you?”

    “Nothing,” you said harshly. “I just think you’re lying to yourself. You don’t like calling her baby, and you don’t like being called baby, and I just think it’s weird that you wouldn’t just say that.”

    “Well, I just think it’s weird you think you have the right to comment on my relationship,” Brian said. “I like calling her baby. And I like it when she calls me baby.”

    “But you don’t,” you insisted. “I can hear it in your voice.”

    “What?” Brian exclaimed. “What the fuck are you on about?”

    “I know you, okay?” you snapped. “I know you far better than she does. And I know you don’t like pet names, but you won’t tell her for some reason.”

    “I won’t tell her because I like them,” Brian said. “And she knows me, too, you know.”

    “She’s known you for, like, two months! Less than!” you said. “That’s nothing.”

    “Why…” Brian floundered. “There isn’t some – time limit on these things. You can’t judge if someone knows someone better just by how long…”

    “I just don’t get it,” you said. “Maybe that’s my fault, but I don’t get how someone can just walk into your life and suddenly they’re the most important person you’ve ever met when you’ve only known them for five minutes.”

    “You’ve clearly never fallen in love,” Brian said snootily.

    “Oh, fuck off,” you scoffed. “You’re not in love with her.”

    “How would you know?”

    “You’ve only been dating a couple weeks! Come on, Brian. You can call each other baby all you like, but I know you.”

    “I like pet names,” Brian said, his voice hard. “I just never called you one because, in case you’ve forgotten, you were never my fucking girlfriend. So, for the love of God, can you stop acting like a jealous ex.”

    It was like a stab to the gut and a twist of the knife all at the same time. All you could do was sit in stunned silence.

    Brian looked at you, almost like he was waiting for a response, and when he never received one, he sighed, stood, and left.

    Your chin wobbled, your vision blurred, and you scrabbled for your phone in your handbag.

-

    Roger opened the door. “Hey–”

    You leapt onto him, kissing him furiously. He stumbled, but kept his balance, one arm curling around your waist and the other groping for the door, pushing it closed. You spun him around and backed him up, pressing him against the door, and ducked your head to suck at his neck, palming at him through his sweatpants.

    Roger jumped. “Oh, God, okay,” he said with a surprised laugh. “You’re really…”

    You nodded, and captured his lips again, nipping at his bottom lip. “I want you so bad,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me hard, Daddy, please.”

    You didn’t wait for him to reply, and kissed him. You slipped your hands into his underwear, and he tensed underneath you, surprised again.

    You needed him to fuck you, to bruise you, to bite you. To make you feel wanted, needed. To mark you up, to make you scream, to make it hurt. You needed it so badly that your hands shook.

    Roger put a hand to your collarbones, and you thought he was going to choke you, but instead he pushed you back, just enough to stare into your face.

    “Are you sure you want to call me Daddy?” he asked unsurely. “You seem a little…”

    “What?” you said.

    “Not yourself,” Roger said. “Are you– Have you been drinking?”

    “The fuck does that mean?” you said. “I just really need you to fuck me hard, does that not sound like me?”

    “I don’t–”

    “Roger,” you cut in sharply, and then quickly softened your tone into something whinier, needier, more enticing. “Daddy. I want you. Please.”

    Roger’s frown never disappeared. “I don’t want you to call me Daddy,” he said.

    You blinked, taken aback. “Um, okay,” you said. You could still work with that. “No Daddy.” You went to kiss him again, but he held you away.

    You resisted huffing in frustration. “Roger…”

    “This is about Brian, isn’t it?” he said.

    “What?” you said. “No. Why would it be about Brian? I want you.”

    “You’re drunk and upset and jealous, and you want me to fuck you how he used to fuck you, because you miss it.”

    A slap to the face would’ve hurt less. Your hands fell limp at your sides. “What?”

    “Is that not what���s happening right now?” Roger said, his hands dropping as well. “Is that not why you’re over? You went to that party, got yourself all worked up and upset, and now you want to be fucked how Brian used to fuck you?”

    You blinked. “N– No,” you said, and you meant it, but the more Roger said it, the more you thought that maybe he was right, and you hadn’t even realised.

    “Because it’s what it feels like,” Roger said. “It feels like I’m just an outlet for you. It’s not even about you and me anymore, it’s about you and him.”

    Oh my God. You hated to admit it, but he was right. You covered your mouth with your hands, horrified at yourself. “Fuck, Roger, I…”

    “I’m ending the arrangement between us,” he said simply. “It’s not fun anymore, and it’s definitely not healthy. You need time to… I don’t even know. But you need time, and I don’t really feel like being collateral damage. Especially not with end-of-year exams literally just around the corner.”

    No. No, no, no, fuck, not this, anything but this.

    “No, Rog, please, I’m sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t thinking, I– I can’t–” You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “Please. I…”

    Roger sighed, and pulled you into a hug. You clutched onto him, and, finally, cried. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured sympathetically, stroking your hair. “This whole thing has really messed you up, hasn’t it?”

    “I c– can’t lose you t– too,” you sobbed into his shirt.

    “You’re not losing me. We’re still friends. It just… won’t be with the benefits anymore. For now, at least. Maybe forever, I don’t know. See how things go. But I’m never going to stop being friends with you.”

    Your body shook as you cried, and Roger rubbed your back, letting you ruin his shirt.

-

    The Bee Movie played on the TV, but your heart wasn’t in it. You leant against Roger, a cup of tea in your hands, and one in his. You were exhausted from crying, and you almost found yourself nodding off. Normally there was nothing more fun than enjoying the trials and tribulations of Barry B. Benson with Roger, but now not even casual bestiality was enough to cheer you up.

    Roger didn’t say much, either. You had no idea what he was thinking, although you were pretty sure he wasn’t really watching the movie, just staring at the screen.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking a little.

    Roger sighed. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a soft, sad smile. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.”

    “I don’t even understand why,” you said, your bottom lip trembling. Not again. “I never liked him like that, not ever. I know I never liked him like that. I didn’t want to go out on dates with him, or be his girlfriend, or any of that. So I don’t get why it – hurts so much.”

    “Your thing went on for a really long time,” Roger reasoned. “And now it’s gone. I can’t blame you. I…” He bit his lip. “I… kinda miss it too, to be honest.”

    You frowned at him in confusion. “You miss… Brian?”

    “I miss…” Roger took a sip of his tea. “I miss the dynamic, I suppose. We actually got a lot closer because of it. And it was fun, you know? Especially the threesomes, those were really fun.”

    You managed a tired laugh.

    “It was just nice to have… a thing, that was ours,” Roger said. “Us three, I don’t know. This thing that was ours. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

    “No, it does,” you said. You paused, and then said, “You and Brian aren’t as close now?”

    Roger shrugged a shoulder. “Not… really?” he said unsurely. “We haven’t really hung out a lot recently. I mean, we’ve been studying a lot, so I haven’t really seen much of anyone as of late, but, like, for a while, me and Brian hung out a whole lot, just the two of us. Guess you end up feeling closer when you have to talk about your feelings all the time. And when you see each other naked every so often.” He shot you a smile, and you smiled back. “But now it’s sort of in a weird place. I mean, none of us have seen him a lot, he’s just with Dani all day and night. Which makes sense, they’re in their honeymoon phase. But I do miss… that.”

    You nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t even feel like he wants to be around me,” you said in a small voice. “Like I’m not even friends with him anymore.”

    “You are,” Roger assured you. “You just… both have to learn how to be… normal friends again.”

    “And us too,” you added.

    Roger blinked, but nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, us, too.”

    You didn’t want to say it, you knew you shouldn’t say it, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue: “You gonna miss me?”

    Roger’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he took a big breath in and out, shaking his head. “Damn,” he muttered.

    “Sorry, ignore me,” you mumbled. “I’m just being sad and pathetic.”

    “You’re not sad and pathetic,” Roger said. “But I’m not gonna miss you, you’ll still be around.”

    “You know what I mean,” you said.

    “Yeah, I know,” Roger said. He sighed again. “I don’t think… it would be good for either of us if I answered that.”

    You said nothing. It felt like Roger wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

    “But…” You looked to him, and he looked to you. “Can we still be friends like before?” you asked him. “I mean, just – with Brian, he won’t even hug me hello or goodbye, he barely looks at me, he doesn’t want to be near me, I just–” You shook your head. “I couldn’t stand it if you did that, too. Can we at least just be friends?”

    Roger nodded. “Of course,” he said.

    “Yes?”

    “Yes, of course,” he said again. “I promise you, okay? I like hugs just as much as you do.”

    You nodded, reassured. “Thank you.”

    Roger threw his arm around you and gave you a squeeze, then took his arm back.

    A month and a bit ago, he would’ve left his arm there, around your shoulders. You would’ve pressed closer into him. Probably eventually would’ve lifted your head to kiss his neck, or maybe your hands – or his hands – would’ve gone wandering.

    But a squeeze was something, at least, and you were grateful for it. You told yourself you were grateful for it.

-

Three-ish months later

    The air was just starting to cool, and, for the first time in a while, you pulled on a jacket.

    It had been a while since you’d seen your flat. You’d gone home for the summer – not for the whole time, you still had rent to pay and you didn’t want to waste it, but for a few weeks – which had been a welcomed change of scenery.

    After how your previous semester of uni had ended, the last thing you’d wanted was to hang around the flat.

    It had been an uncomfortable summer. The mid-year break, last year, you hadn’t gone home. You’d told your parents it was because of the rent thing, but in reality, it had mostly been about Roger and Brian. A month off uni, and your flatmate Lucy had gone home for the break, meaning you had a free house? That had been a wild couple of weeks.

    You shook your head. Stop, you reprimanded yourself. It did you no good to reminisce. You’d had an entire summer to sort things out for yourself, to reset, and it was a bad idea to let yourself slip. You’d barely spoken to Roger or Brian all summer, just to give yourself some space.

    You’d missed them. A lot. Maybe cried once or twice. Maybe more. But that was only for you to know.

    You doubted that they’d missed you.

    The thought still felt like a stab to the gut, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head at yourself. Stop it. Stop.

    There was a knock on the front door, and you were momentarily surprised – but you knew it was Veronica. You took a moment to get your thoughts together, then hurried to the door to let her in.

    She greeted you with a joyous cry of your name and a warm hug. “It’s been so long!”

    The two of you rocked from foot to foot, and you breathed in her familiar smell. You hadn’t seen her since before Christmas.

    When the hug eventually ended, Veronica sighed happily. “Can’t believe I’ve missed you,” she said, and you laughed, giving her a backhand slap on the arm.

    “Cow,” you said.

    “So you’ve kept the same place?”

    “Yep,” you said.

    “Lucy still your flatmate?”

    “Yeah. It works well, so.”

    “No, no, she’s lovely,” Veronica said with a nod. “Did she want to come to drinks tonight?”

    You glanced towards Lucy’s room instinctively, even though you knew she wasn’t in there. “She’s not coming back until Wednesday, I think.”

    “Ah, well, answers that question.” Veronica gave you a smile. You could tell there was a question on the tip of her tongue, and you just stood there, waiting for her to ask it.

    She sighed again, resigned. She knew she’d been sprung. “I wasn’t going to ask. I– I wasn’t sure if I should.”

    “I’m okay,” you said. “I’m fine.”

    Veronica squinted at you unsurely, like she wanted to press you for further information, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. “Fine?”

    “It’s been a bit rough, but I’m okay,” you said.

    You’d tell her the truth soon enough. You had no willpower when it came to Veronica. But you weren’t in the mood for a whole conversation right now.

    “So you’re all right for tonight?”

    You rolled your eyes. “Am I capable of getting drinks with my friends? Yes, I think so.”

    “Even though Dani will be there?”

    “Brian and Dani have been dating for, like, five months now – and don’t say it like that. Brian isn’t my ex.”

    “Roger’s dating someone,” Veronica blurted.

    Your heart leapt into your throat. Stop. “Oh?” you said, and it sounded warped and wonky. “Since when? Good for him. Have you met her?”

    “Once,” Veronica said. “Just last week, when I dropped by the flat. Her name is–” She let out a laugh. “Actually, this is really funny. Her name is Freddy.”

    You laughed. “What?” you squawked. “Freddy?”

    “Freddy with a Y,” Veronica said. “Roger made that very clear when I met her. As if that changes anything.”

    “God, I bet that’s confusing in bed,” you said.

    “Yeah, well, I’m guessing the ‘with a Y’ part makes all the difference for Roger.”

    “Freddy,” you mused. “What’s it short for?”

    “No idea. But she’s not as hot as you are.”

    You shot Veronica a mock glare. “Roger isn’t my ex either.”

    “Still,” Veronica said lightly. She hesitated, and then said, “Have you spoken to either of them recently?”

    “No, not really,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “Look, Ron, could we just… table this conversation for later? I’m not really up to it.”

    “Yeah, of course,” Veronica said, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my nose out of it. Let’s just go. Are you ready?”

    You took a steadying breath. “So ready,” you said, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

-

    Arriving at the local pub felt like coming home. The smell of beer, the roar of conversation, the bundles of people crowded around tables. The floor was sticky, there weren’t enough places to sit, and the prices up on the chalkboard on the wall were far too high.

    You scrunched your nose. Coming home sucked.

    “I forgot how much I hate this place,” you yelled into Veronica’s ear. “We need to find somewhere less popular, Jesus.”

    “I know,” Veronica said. “I’ve mentioned it to John; he thinks the same.”

    “Next time.”

    “Yeah, next time.”

    You said that every time.

    Veronica corroborated her instructional texts from John with the view in front of her in order to find everyone else. They were tucked away in a corner booth, crammed into the space.

    You’d had enough trouble as it was, trying to fit everyone into a booth. You couldn’t even imagine how you were going to make it work with two new people in the group.

    Veronica took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as you neared the table.

    There was John, at the end of the booth, facing you – his eyes lit up when he spotted Veronica, and began shifting over to make room for her beside him. At the end of the table, on a chair, was Freddie. He noticed John’s line of sight, and he turned to you, his smile wide.

    You couldn’t really see the others. Just the back of Brian’s head. But that was hard to miss.

    Freddie stood up to give you a warm hug as Veronica tossed around a few ‘hello’s and slid in next to John. “Darling!” Freddie said. “I haven’t seen you all break.”

    “I know, I’m sorry,” you said.

    Freddie waved you off. “It’s fine,” he said. “I understand.” He glanced towards the other occupants of the booth.

    “Don’t start,” you muttered, and Freddie gave your arm a swift pat.

    “Speaking of which,” he said, turning. “Roger, Brian, you remember our dear friend, I’m sure?”

    You resisted elbowing Freddie in the side, giving Brian and Roger tight smiles.

    At the same time, your eyes landed on Dani and her browny blonde Ariana Grande ponytail and her mouse face and her curvy body pressed into Brian’s side. And beside Roger, tucked under his arm, was a blonde, tanned girl. Blue eyes, like Roger, but hers were light, strikingly so, and a perfect full face of make-up. Her brows were dark and bold, and her lips looked pouty and soft.

    ‘Not as hot as you were’ your arse. This girl looked like she modelled in her spare time.

    Your jaw clenched. You resisted dragging Veronica away by her ear and having a word with her.

    Stop it. Stop it.

    “This is Freddy,” Freddie said.

    “With a Y,” Roger added quickly.

    “Yes, with a Y,” Freddie said dryly. “Roger’s new flame.”

    “Hi,” Freddy said with a smile. Her teeth were very white. She lifted a well-manicured hand to fiddle with the silver chain around her neck.

    You could see the discolouration on her knuckles. Well, at least you knew her tan wasn’t real. That was something. Wasn’t it?

    No. It wasn’t. She looked incredible anyway. Didn’t even matter that she was wearing fake tan. What a stupid thing to think.

    You introduced yourself.

    There was a pause where no one really knew what to say next.

    “Hi, by the way,” John said.

    Relieved, you gave him a smile. “Hi, John, how are you?”

    “Not too bad. Do you want to find a chair?”

    God bless John Deacon. “Let me help you,” Freddie said, and you both began wandering through the crowd together, knowing there was no way in hell you’d be able to find a chair.

    “How are you?” Freddie asked. “Actually, sod the fucking chair, let’s get a drink.”

    “Sounds superb,” you said.

    “Try again,” Freddie said when you’d gotten in line. “How are you?”

    “Fine,” you said. “And you?”

    “Good, fine,” Freddie said. “Lonely. I want a boyfriend. Everyone else is in a godforsaken relationship, so I only think it’s reasonable. Look at me, the token lonely, single homosexual in a group of straight people. Right out of an early 2000s chick flick. I may as well start wearing skinny scarves and a vest and talk about how much I love shopping. Do you think I’m sassy enough?”

    “Stop it,” you said. “If you start wearing skinny scarves, I’ll strangle you with one.”

    “If I start wearing skinny scarves, I’d practically be begging you to,” Freddie muttered.

    “I’m sorry you’re lonely,” you said. “I could be your wingwoman, if you like. We could go out together.”

    Freddie gave you a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. His eyes scanned the chalkboard, as did yours, but it was more habit than anything else. “What did you get up to during the break?”

    “Slept,” you said, and Freddie chuckled, nodding in agreement.

    “Ate too much,” he added.

    “Yep, that too,” you said with a laugh. “Never left the house.”

    “Except to buy more booze.”

    “Or take the bins out.”

    Freddie laughed. “Isn’t summer wonderful.”

    “Oh, it’s just perfect,” you said, and it came out so bitter, with such a sneer in your tone, that Freddie cracked up. A few heads turned, but they usually did, with Freddie.

    “Did you stay here or go home?” you asked.

    “Both,” Freddie said. “Mostly here, though. Just wanted to see the family for a while, but I’m far more comfortable here.”

    You nodded.

    “Did you talk to Brian and Roger much?” Freddie said.

    You shook your head. “No.”

    That was all.

    “Well, shit,” Freddie said. “That’s all just completely fucked, then?”

    “It’s fine,” you said. You reached the front of the line, and went to order. Freddie followed you.

    You ordered a cider, then Freddie ordered a pint. “What do you think of Freddy with a Y?” Freddie asked as the bartender poured your drinks.

    “I’ve barely met her,” you said. “Didn’t know she existed until Ron told me just before we left mine.”

    “Jesus,” Freddie said. “You really haven’t spoken to them.”

    “No,” you said. “And Roger doesn’t post much on social media, either, so. And Brian posts far too much, so I know way too much about him and Dani for my liking, which is wonderful.”

    “I’m sorry,” Freddie said. “God, I’m sorry it’s all gone to shit, I really am. That’s miserable, darling.”

    “It’s fine,” you said. The bartender set your drinks in front of you, and you and Freddie collected them, weaving your way back to the table.

    “Did you… get around to dating much?” Freddie asked.

    “Wasn’t in the mood,” you said.

    Freddie said nothing. Message received.

    You arrived back at the booth. While you’d gotten a drink, you hadn’t solved the seating problem.

    You bunched up next to Veronica. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable.

    You met Brian’s eyes across the table. He gave you a warm smile. It hurt. You hated that it hurt. “I haven’t said hi yet,” he said, like you hadn’t just gone three months without seeing or speaking to each other. “How you going?”

    “Good, good,” you said, and took a swig of cider. “You?”

    “Yeah, great. Get up to much?”

    “Not really. Did you?”

    “Not too much,” Brian said. “Dani and I took a little trip south. That was nice, wasn’t it, baby?”

    “So nice,” Dani said with a cheeky, knowing little grin at Brian.

    He shook his head at her, and she giggled, then reached up for a quick kiss.

     You knew about the little trip south. Everybody knew about the little trip south. Brian had waxed poetry about it on Instagram for every single day they were away. “So lots of sex, then,” you said.

    Veronica choked on her water, and Roger burst out laughing.

    You hadn’t realised he’d been listening to the conversation.

    Dani’s face was turning tomato-red, and she hid her face behind her hand. Brian managed a good-natured chuckle, albeit a slightly forced one, and you could tell he was rubbing Dani’s knee under the table.

    “What, what was the joke?” Freddie said immediately.

    “Nothing,” you said, and turned to Roger. “So, Freddy, with a Y, how did you and Roger meet?”

    “Bumble,” Freddy said, unabashed. “About a month ago?”

    “Yeah, about that,” Roger said.

    “Yeah, Ron said,” you said. “That’s nice.”

    “So there’s…” Roger licked his bottom lip. “There’s no one you’ve got your eye on, then?”

    “No,” you said, uncomfortable. Why would anyone want you? You were messy, you were too much. You were demanding. You were easily replaced.

    You took a sip of cider. Stop.

    It had been three months, for God’s sake. Three months of no contact, and still you were left with an ugly, twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach after everything that had happened.

    None of it had even mattered. You’d always known it had had an expiration date. You were just…

    You hated feeling like this.

    “Hey,” Veronica said suddenly, raising her glass of water. “Let’s make a toast, shall we? To the new year. To– to passing our classes, and to ramen, and to… fresh starts.”

    Everyone raised their glasses, saying something along the lines of cheers, and began clinking their glasses together. You took a moment longer, but joined in.

    Veronica met your eyes to clink her glass to yours. “Fresh starts,” she said with a small smile.

    You couldn’t quite say it back, so you smiled and nodded, then took a sip of your cider.

    You could feel Brian’s and Roger’s eyes on you. You pretended to be interested in something happening across the room.

    God, you couldn’t wait for this chapter of your life to be nothing but a bad dream.

[thealphabetmurders]

Irises

Pairing: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2522

Summary: Virgil knows exactly 3 things: 1. He is stressed about finals more than a normal person would 2. Impressionists are the worst 3. The barista at this new coffee shop has the prettiest eyes

Triggers: anxiety, insomnia, implied/referenced drug-use, lack of self care

Authors Note: I wanted to challenge myself and write a fic with a pairing that I don’t normally do. I am definitely more privy to Logince, Analogical, and Moxiety, but I gotta love Prinxiety, how could you not?  

(Read on AO3)

Virgil tugged off his earbuds as he walked into Monet’s, an unfamiliar coffee house and a new experience for Virgil. Virgil hated new experiences. The smell of vanilla filled his senses as he walked in a dream-like state to the counter (standing a little bit away to let the employees know he wasn’t ready), rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, getting his fix here because he did not have the energy to go out and buy more grounds. He knew that it was most likely extremely unhealthy for him to have only consumed Takis, coffee, and Adderall the past couple days, but it was finals week, which meant it was crunch time. 

Virgil tells people he is a bit more anxious than most people, and by a bit, he means a fuckton. So, of course, finals week has him questioning everything in his life, from his study methods to his career path. Virgil is a smart guy, so he doesn’t actually have anything to worry about, as long as he studies, right? Wrong. As a fine arts major, not all of his classes are just knowing that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, you have to apply the skills you learned into a creative piece, and while Virgil is a talented artist, he was always second guessing everything he created. Which is why, in the 11th hour, Virgil decided he hated the medium he was working in, completely scrapped it, and had 48 hours to create 3 completely new “transformative” pieces. Sleep was not an option until it had to be. Which, it seemed it had been, when he fell asleep on the bus after class, missing his apartment by 11 stops. Coffee seemed necessary at this point. 

Pulling his hoodie off his head, smoothing out his hair, he looked at the pretty standard local coffee shop menu with some lunch items as well, and just looking at those made his stomach grumble. 

“Suppose you cannot create on an empty stomach.” Virgil thought. “And while I’m here…”

 As he was reading, he noticed each combo had a quirky name relating to Monet’s works. Berry spring salad with bagel was Luncheon on the Grass, sesame soba was The Japanese Footbridge….

“Give me a break…” Virgil muttered, before finally deciding on what to get. The shop was completely empty, so Virgil didn’t feel too bad about taking his time, though he did feel a bit nervous looking like a mess in front of the handsome barista. 

His olive colored skin tone with black wavy hair made Virgil feel a bit woozy, but he became dazed when he looked into his beautiful emerald eyes, almost forgetting why he was there, until he asked, “What can I do for ya, man?” 

“Uh, yea, can I get the tomato soup and grilled cheese with a medium espresso frappuccino,” He looked around the empty store, “For here, I guess,”

The barista turned around and looked at the two other employees behind him, one on their phone and one inspecting their nails absentmindedly, “Does anyone want to make a frap?” 

They both looked up and looked at each other before turning back to the one taking Virgil’s order. The one with a large scar on the left side of his face put his thumb down while the other one who looked very similar to his cashier blew a raspberry, shaking his head. The handsome cashier turned back to Virgil, and shrugged, “Sorry, gonna have to pick something else, no one want to make it,” 

Virgil sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Okay, whatever, is an iced flat white with some espresso okay?”

The three looked at each other then back at Virgil, before the cashier said, “Dude… It was a joke,” 

“Yea man,” The barista with a scar said, “We can’t just say no to what you order,” 

“What kind of business would that be?” The third one piped up. 

“Are you okay?” The barista, Virgil looked at his nametag, Roman, asked. 

Virgil merely sighed, “I’m kind of going through it,” 

Virgil pulled out his card, but Roman put his hand up. “On the house,” Normally Virgil would protest, despite the cheesy food names it was still a local business,  but being so stressed and depressed he honestly could bring himself to care. He choked out a thanks and sat down by a window, leaning his temple against the it, cool condensation comforting and making him a bit more awake. 

His food and his coffee eventually arrived, Virgil thanked Roman, who then proceeded to sit down across from him, elbows on the table and hands folded. 

“Can I help you?” Virgil asked, probably being harsher than intended, it was just his natural speaking voice. 

“Probably not, I wanna see if I can help you,” Roman shrugged. 

Virgil frowned, “Help me?” 

“I have been told I am good company and good at advice, and you, Brad Pitt-iful, seems like you are falling apart at the seams,” 

Virgil chuckled dryly, “Trust me, I hardly think you are qualified to handle hearing about all my problems,” 

Roman sat up straighter, looking into Virgil’s brown eyes against his gorgeous green, “I work as a barista by day with a bunch of dysfunctional idiots and I am a bartender at night, there is nothing I haven’t seen before, I am probably more qualified than some therapists”  He crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrow, “Try me,” 

Virgil, intrigued, took the bait, and spilled. He talked about his anxiety, the insomnia, the fear of failure, the days where he debates dropping out, his nerves going into overdrive everytime he thinks about what he is going to, how he abandoned his final project, how he has to start on a new one- essentially everything that has been swirling in Virgil’s mind the past semester. 

“Hmm, okay, so you are pulling all nighters to finish all your work, and you only had one piece to do before you were completely finished with your final, and you then decided it looked all wrong and scrapped it?” Roman recapped and Virgil nodded, “Might I give you a suggestion?” 

“You can try,” 

“When you get home, go to sleep. Sleep for at least 9 hours, in a row, look at your old project again, and see how you feel,” Roman shrugged, “Maybe with a clear head you will feel differently about your project, maybe even get some inspiration,” 

Virgil gripped the bridge of his nose, “Roman, I do not have the time to sleep for a full 9 hours, that is ridiculous, I have to do so many projects,” 

“You’ll have one less to start from square one in if you end up actually liking what you did,” 

“It is a nice thought, I appreciate it, but I probably won’t be able anyways, not after the coffee,” Virgil took another sip, as to prove his point, but Roman just smirked. 

“That’s actually just a frozen hot chocolate with coffee flavoring in it,” 

Virgil eyes flew open wide, “Really?” He stared at his drink for a bit before looking at Roman, “They taste exactly the same, I cannot believe I let you fool me like that,” 

“Janus, Remus, and I made an executive decision, you do not look good,” Roman frowned, concerned, most likely looking at his swallowed out skin and circle under his eyes. 

“Well-” Virgil half-chuckled, “Not a lot of people look good compared to you,” Virgil would later wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because of his flippant flirting that he never engages in, but for now he doesn’t care. 

“Charmed.” Roman said, a fond smile present on his face, “I am sure you are a catch as well, when you don’t look like a skeleton” The door opened and a gaggle of people walked in, dressed in the local high school’s uniform. Roman sighed, “That’s my cue,” 

He stood up and frowned, quickly patting his front and back pockets before pulling out a sharpie. He grabbed Virgil's arm, the other one yelped, blushing slightly at the contact. “I would do the cliche ‘write my number on a napkin’, but now I know if you don’t text me it’s because you don’t want to, which is okay too.” He capped his pen, “Message me about what you decide to do, if you want. Would love to see your art,” And with a flourish of his hand, Roman walked away to the counter to take the many orders of the teenagers. 

Virgil looked down at the 9 numbers on his arm, swallowing thickly, feeling a bit sick, though it is not just from Roman’s number in bold, black ink. God, he was tired. 

His body was not attached to his brain as he walked to the bus station, got off, and walked up to his studio, unlocking the door and banging his head against the wall (not too hard, though, these walls are so thin they might as well be made of rice paper). Virgil looked at the numbers on his arm, remembering what Roman said. 

Virgil shrugged off his jacket and jeans,  throwing them on his ‘stuff’ chair and pulled on a pair of sweats, collapsing on his bed. He looked at his phone, the time reading 3:35pm. 

“9 hours from now… That’s midnight. Is he mental?” Virgil muttered to himself. He attempted to pull himself out of bed to get started to study for his history of art final, but his body would just not cooperate. How long has it been since he has had a proper sleep. 

If you have to think about it, it’s been too long… 

That tomato soup and grilled cheese combination was beginning to make him sleepy. Virgil groaned, face-palming. He went on his phone and set an alarm for 6:00pm. 

“Fine, a short nap,” He said to himself. He hit the lights and it took maybe two minutes before he was sleeping, dreaming of impression paintings and emerald eyes. 

***

this is Virgil. 

i didn’t end up sleeping for the 9 hours like you asked

i ended up sleeping for 13.

i hate you. 

And how do you feel, now?

……….…

much better actually. you were right. after my coma i looked back at my final and realised it was a lot better than I remembered. 

i even ended up finishing it. 

That is fantastic! I am soooo glad I could help. What did you end up doing?

Can you send me a picture? 

oh uh

idk if that is a good idea

i don’t want you to think i am weird

Virgil. 

I beta read my twin’s fanfiction. 

I am so desensitized, I do not think I am allowed to be weirded out. 

ok...

img.cm/1029483

Incoming call (Roman- Monet’s)....

****

Virgil yelped when he saw the incoming call. He doesn’t like phone calls at the best of times, but especially not now, not after he showed Roman his final piece. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! He should have just said no, people don’t press about that kind of thing. But Roman is clearly a liar because he said he wouldn’t be weirded out and he is, and Virgil just met this guy and he already messed everything up, why does he have to be such a fucking weirdo all the time, goddamnit, everything is falling apart, Virgil may have gotten sleep but he can’t fix himself. He groaned and snatched up the phone on the last ring, attempting to put on his best, most positive voice. 

“Hey, Roman, wha-what’s up… Bro?” 

“Hello!” Roman answered the phone, not sounding angry or upset, which calmed Virgil a bit, “I apologize, I should have prefaced that I loved the painting. I understand why you might have been worried, but it is absolutely wonderful.” 

“Really?” Virgil let out a breath, “I was really worried that-” 

“Are you kidding?” Roman almost shouted through the phone, Virgil having to pull it away from his ear, “A profile of just my eyes surrounded by roses and irises, in the style of the impressionists, even though I know you hate that style,”

“I don’t hate it,” Virgil muttered. 

“You ranted about Renoir, Degas, and Monet for longer than anyone I have ever met, and one of my closest friends is a curator at the art museum,” 

Virgil sighed, “Yea, you’re right, they suck. Sorry about that…” 

Roman laughed, “Ha, are you joking? That was the highlight of my day. But all that aside, how could you even fathom me not liking the piece? 

“I mean,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, “I just met you yesterday, it’s not exactly something people do for someone when they do not even know their last name.” 

“My last name is Perez, my middle name is Thomas, my twin brother is Remus who you met yesterday, I am left handed, my favorite food color is red, and I love attention, it’s why I have done theater for 20 years. Does that help?” 

Virgil grumbled, “I guess it does,” 

Roman laughed, “I love it, Virgil, trust me, it is now my phone background,” 

Virgil’s heart swelled, “Really?” 

“Really. Honestly after us talking for like, 45 minutes yesterday, I would have been more offended if I wasn’t your muse, I mean, what about mean isn’t inspirational?” Both Roman and Virgil laughed at that, “But I could have told you all this over text, I called because I don’t like texting to ask pretty boys out on dates,” 

Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat, he felt as though someone dropped a ton of bricks on his chest. How was he supposed to respond to that? Roman first impression of him was a literal dead man walking and he still wants to go out with him?

“A date?” Virgil responded, still shocked. 

“Unless the pride pin on your jacket was just as an ally, and you just spent hours painting my eyes in a straight way, I would like to, if you want,” Roman said simply. Before Virgil could respond, Roman started speaking again, “And don’t say no just because I saw you at your rock bottom, I can see where this is going,” 

Virgil smacked his lips together, “You got me,”

“What do you say,” 

Virgil smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a while, “Let’s do it,” 

Virgil was only speechless for a full minute when Roman laid out an entire romantic picnic, scheduling it perfectly to watch a matinee Shakespeare in the Park production of Much Ado About Nothing, both of them happily munching on the brownies and sandwiches Roman had made that morning. Virgil only complained for 3 minutes when Roman wanted to take him to the art museum, the blushing lasted for 4 times that long when Roman confessed it was because he wanted to hear Virgil about the paintings, his voice being one of the most pleasant he has heard. When Roman grabbed Virgil by the waist, pulling him in for a kiss, Virgil responded with equal passion and emotion that Roman was, not even noticing they were in front of Monet’s Irises.