#she’d already passed her test back in like November or so and it shouldn’t have taken this long for her license to process they kept on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gossipsnake · 3 months

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TIMING: Late November LOCATION: Anita & Metzli's House PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) and Cass (@magmahearts) SUMMARY: Cass stops by Anita's house looking for Metzli and the pair realize just how many mutual friends they have. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Cass wasn’t usually one to drop by unannounced. She feared her presence being unwanted, was terrified of being turned away at the door if her timing was inconvenient — if she was inconvenient. But Metzli had been so adamant that Cass was never a problem to them, and… maybe there was some part of her that wanted to test that theory. To press against the limitations of their dynamic, to determine how much of it was true. It would hurt less if Metzli told her they didn’t want her around now instead of later, she told herself. It would be easier.

So she stood outside the door of the massive house, steeling herself for a rejection she hoped wouldn’t come. She paused momentarily before rapping her knuckles against the door, pulling her hands away and folding them behind her back as she waited for it to open. “I know you didn’t message me or anything,” she said when the door began to swing open, “but I was nearby and I just thought — Oh, you’re not Metzli.”

It definitely wasn’t Metzli. Cass blinked at the stranger, taking her in. Metzli had mentioned a roommate, hadn’t they? “Um. Hi?”

—

Things were complicated at home for Anita lately. Just as she had been starting to open up to her roommate they ran away and isolated themselves from her, and the rest of the world. Ignoring how it made her feel was fine at first but then the emptiness began to grow more apparent with each day she lived alone in that massive house. Now they were back… but in physicality only. Things were different and Anita didn’t know how to handle it all. It wasn’t long before she was longing for the same empty house she used to hate.

The knock on the door was unexpected that afternoon and for a moment Anita considered ignoring whomever it was. But, like it often did, her curiosity got the better of her. As she pulled the large wooden door open, whoever was on the other side had already started talking. It wasn’t a voice she recognized and soon she was looking at a woman she didn’t recognize. “Thankfully, no. I’m not Metzli.”

It made sense that they would have a life outside of what Antia was involved in, but Anita didn’t often think about those parts of her roommate’s life. “Hi,” she responded back with a slightly forced smile, not exactly sure what to expect. “What do you need with Metzli?”

Metzli had spoken of a roommate before in passing but, to be honest, Cass didn’t know much about her beyond the bare basics. She was sure Metzli had told her the woman’s name at some point, but she didn’t remember it. There was a flash of guilt at that, a hint of uncertainty. She wondered if her friend had told their roommate about her, too, or if she was a stranger in a way that this woman wasn’t. Cass, at least, knew of the roommate’s existence. She had no idea if that was a thing that went both ways.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, immediately becoming hyperaware of everything about herself. Even the things she didn’t usually care about seemed like flashing lights of wrongness. Her tangled hair, the fact that she hadn’t showered since the last time she’d gone to Alex’s cabin, the way her clothes were as dirty as you’d expect someone’s clothes to be when they lived in a cave in the woods.

She rubbed uncertainly at the back of her neck. “Hi,” she said again. “Um, I’m Cass. Metzli is my… friend.” Was that the right word? She wasn’t sure what Metzli would want her to call them, not really. “We hang out sometimes? We went to the zoo together, when the baby giraffe was being born. And I’ve been here for dinner with Metzli and Leila, but you weren’t here. But, um, I’ve heard of you! Their roommate, right?” She hoped the stranger would provide her with a name.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that Metzli would have found a friend to do sickeningly normal things with, like going to the zoo to watch baby animals be born. It shouldn’t have been surprising that they had built a bond with someone else. Then again, maybe it wasn’t surprise that Anita was feeling. Maybe it was, fittingly, a much greener emotion. No, that couldn’t be right either, she told herself.

Perhaps it was a protective instinct that was brewing beneath the surface. With everything that was going on with Metzli right now, Anita wasn’t sure that she should just trust anyone who came around and awkwardly declared themselves to be friends with the vampire. “You’ve eaten dinner here?” What the hell did a vampire and a mare offer up to someone for dinner? Maybe this stranger also had an … unusual diet.

Her curiosity was piqued enough to not just shut the door on the other’s face. Shifting her weight a bit into a slightly more relaxed posture, Anita extended her hand to Cass, “But yes, I’m the roommate. Anita.” Maybe, if she was really a friend of theirs, Metzli would be proud of Anita for being friendly. “They aren’t home right now. Something I can help you out with?”

Metzli’s roommate — Anita — seemed tense. With everything going on, it was hard to blame her. If she’d been relaxed with a stranger knocking on her door, Cass would have been the suspicious one. She wondered if Metzli spoke about her, if they’d told Anita about her the way they’d evidently told the warden in the museum. Was Cass someone spoken of only when there was a threat to be dealt with? Or was she the kind of friend Metzli spoke of fondly regardless? She was afraid to hope for the latter.

“A few times. Sometimes just us, sometimes with other people.” She wouldn’t mention Nora by name, if only because she knew Nora preferred not to have her name mentioned at all. It meant Metzli likely wouldn’t have shared it with Anita, either, so name-dropping her certainly wouldn’t prove anything.

Shifting her weight, she offered Anita her winningest smile. “They talk about you. You seem cool, you know, from what they’ve said.” Anita seemed fun, given how much she annoyed Metzli. At the revelation that the vampire wasn’t home, Cass nodded. She’d sort of figured as much. “That’s okay. I just… wanted to check up on them. With everything going on, you know? I’ve been kind of worried. Really worried, actually.”

Whether it was truthful or not, Anita was just vain enough to put quite a bit of stock in the compliment, “I am very cool.” She responded quickly before she realized just how un-cool that sounded and scrunched her nose up, “Or, well, fuck… just broke the cardinal rule of coolness there, huh?” Being, of course, that acknowledging that one is cool is never cool. “Anyway, you’re obviously quite perceptive.”

Not that she was in any manner an expert on the emotion, but the concern that carried through Cass’ voice as she spoke about being worried about Metzli sounded genuine. Anita understood what she was feeling. She thought about what to do next: let her in and chat until Metzli hopefully returned or turn her away. In her moment of consideration something clicked in the back of her mind, like her brain had been trying to piece together information in the background. “Cass,” she said the name with a hint of recognition this time. “Wait, you’re Alex’s girlfriend, right? Aren’t I supposed to give you a bug lesson?”

The coincidence seemed too significant to ignore. Whoever this woman was, if it was indeed the same woman, she had gained the trust of two people that Anita trusted… that warranted giving her a chance. “Vamos,” she said, opening the front door a bit wider. “You can wait till they come home, if you’d like.

_____

Cass let out a little laugh, shrugging a shoulder. “I think the coolest people know they’re cool. The whole ‘fake modesty’ thing is kind of lame.” Cass preferred honesty. She liked straightforwardness, liked it when people said what they meant and meant what they said. It was part of why she liked Metzli so much. The vampire was a lot of things, but they’d never been a liar, never told Cass anything untrue. So of course Anita was cool; Metzli had said she was, and Metzli didn’t lie.

Which made her all the more uncertain about whether or not Metzli had told Anita about her. If they’d said nothing, was it because they had nothing kind to say and didn’t want to lie? They wouldn’t pretend to care about her if they didn’t — that was lying, too — but Cass couldn’t help but wonder if she’d overestimated that level of care. It was a concern that had lived within her since Metzli’s temporary departure, that old whisper of not enough always growing louder no matter how she tried to quiet it. Alex seemed a safer subject. Alex had never left her, after all, so she smiled. “Yeah! Alex’s girlfriend. You’re — Wait, you’re the same Anita who’s a bug professor?” She’d never put two and two together before now.

She smiled as Anita opened the door, entering the house with a spring in her step and a familiarity in her posture. She’d been here so many times before, that it felt the same as Alex’s cabin or Ariadne’s apartment. Not quite home, not the way the cave was, but something close to it. “What are you up to? Do you, uh… Do you want to hang out with me? While I wait.”

—

Had the words come out of her own mouth Anita would have thought the comment was sarcastic, but there was something in the tone that Cass used that implied some authenticity. Maybe that was fitting since she was friends with Metzli who had an open disdain for lying. Even the fun lies.

“One and the same. Did Metzli not mention that when they were talking about how amazing and cool I am? How many Anita’s do you think live in this town?” Maybe she could learn a bit more about what her roommate tells people about her. It seemed to be mostly positive, which was a pleasant surprise. “Clearly they are leaving out the best stuff if you didn’t know about the bugs.”

After shutting and locking the front door behind them, Anita glided across the foyer back towards the main living room area. There was something so familiar about the way the question was posed. The type of familiarity that stung softly and ached to be forgotten. “I was just grading some lab reports. Boring shit. I can hang out.” How did one hang out with their roommate's friend who was also their student's girlfriend? Opting for comfort she went over and plopped herself down on a couch, “So, how’d you meet Metzli? They don’t get out much.”

“They didn’t really talk about your job,” Cass replied with a shrug. That kind of thing wasn’t important to Cass, and either Metzli knew that or it just wasn’t that important to them, either. Either way, they hadn’t said what Anita did for a living, and Cass hadn’t asked. Maybe it was more fun to find out this way, from Anita herself. “I don’t know how common the name Anita is. Maybe there are a lot of people with that name here.”

She hummed, shrugging a shoulder. “Or maybe they thought you’d want to tell me about the bugs yourself.” An opening for Anita to talk about something she was clearly passionate about, if she wanted it. Cass liked that, liked hearing people talk about things that they loved. If you closed your eyes and let yourself imagine long enough, sometimes you could pretend the adoration in their tone was for you.

Cass followed Anita into the house, that familiarity still clinging to every step she took. The uncertainty that lurked beneath it had less to do with the house and much more to do with the woman she was just meeting in person for the first time, for all the unsaid things that lurked there. Anita struck her as the blunt type — the sort of person who would make it known if she didn’t want to hang out with Cass. So when she said she would, it felt good. Cass couldn’t help but grin. “Cool,” she said, plopping down beside her. “Oh, we met online. I, uh… I don’t think they liked me much at first. But they warmed up, you know? It just took a while.”

—

The literalness of the responses wasn’t what Anita was used to when dealing with students her age. It was curious. “I’m not quite sure how common it is either, I suppose. Never met another Anita in this town thus far.” She didn’t feel the need to add that she had met a fair amount of the women that lived in town. “You’re giving them too much credit there, I think. They likely just didn’t think it was important. Which works out just fine - since we were going to meet up for an insect lesson anyway. I don’t have all the trappings of the campus labs here, but I could certainly give you a basic lesson. Enough to vaguely impress your girlfriend, I’m sure.”

Despite spending a great deal of time dealing with the younger generation through her job it didn’t really prepare Anita for this type of interaction. There were clear roles at work: professor and student. The casualness of the two of them, sat in her living room, invoked thoughts of her younger sisters - sisters she had not seen since they were about Cass’ age. Sisters she did not think would care to sit and have a conversation with her. “I don’t think they like anyone much at first. They’re… guarded.”

That was the inherent dichotomy between the two of them - Anita was superficially open which resulted in superficial connections. Metzli didn’t let just anyone in, making the bonds they seemed to have with those they did let in seem real and profound. “Which, I’m sure you know since you’ve clearly made it past that guard. I didn’t even know they had dinner parties here.”

“Would you want to?” There was a genuine curiosity to the question. Did people like meeting others with the same names as them, or did it make them feel unimportant, irrelevant, one of many? Cass had never met another Cassidy, though she enjoyed reading Batman comics about Cass Cain, felt some pride in the shared name there. Maybe there was a sense of belonging to it. Maybe it would be nice. “They probably didn’t,” she agreed with a shrug. “They like to focus on other things, I think. Jobs are kind of boring, most of the time. I don’t think anyone should define themselves by them.” She’d rather be defined for what she loved than how she made her money… though that may have had something to do with the way she made her money through methods that she disliked. Stealing wasn’t exactly a thing to be proud of.

Grinning at the idea of getting her insect lesson here and now, a bit sooner than expected, Cass nodded. “She’ll still know more than I do, but I think she’ll think it’s cool if I know something. I like making her think I’m cool.” Not that it was difficult. Alex loved Cass enough to think highly of her even when Cass wasn’t actively trying to impress her. It was the kind of thought that warmed her chest and made her feel light and airy. “That’s true,” she agreed, thinking of Metzli in the beginning of their friendship. It was certainly fair of them not to like her when she’d bound them, but she got the feeling she wasn’t the only one they disliked right away.

But eventually, Metzli warmed up. To Cass, to others. It was a nice thing to see. She wondered if Anita thought about it, if she was pleased with it. “Sometimes we do them at Leila’s,” she replied. “It’s just… wherever works best that night. You know? They’re not very big, though.” Usually, it was just Cass, Leila, Metzli, and Nora. It felt like a family; Cass adored it entirely. “Maybe you can come to the next one, if you want.”

—

“Not really,” Anita responded without giving it much thought. Why would she want to meet another Anita? That would probably just make that weird other Anita feel bad for clearly being the inferior Anita. “Maybe true, but a lot of people define themselves by their careers. I don’t necessarily consider it the entirety of my identity, but you dedicate fifteen years of your life to one specific pursuit… it certainly becomes part of your identity, if not the whole thing.” Entomology was such a substantial part of Anita’s life and of her emancipation from the world she used to think was her only option that she couldn’t quite imagine not feeling a sense of identity with it, but she also recognized that not everyone had the same backstory with their chosen occupation.

The offer felt forced and fake. In a rare moment of self reflection, Anita wondered if that feeling was accurate or if it was the manifestation of her own insecurities. After all, these events had been happening in her own home and yet this young woman didn’t even know Anita and neither Leila nor Metzli had offered for her to join before. It felt like a rejection even if it was never intended to be one. “Maybe. If I’m around. Usually tend to be kinda busy.” It would be more accurate to say she tended to, very intentionally, keep herself busy.

Anita didn’t want to dwell on the pangs of self-doubt that she was beginning to feel so instead she walked over to the bookcase along the far wall and skimmed it for a moment before pulling out a few texts. “So what’s your science background like? Ever taken any natural science or biology courses before? Wanna know what sort of starting point we’re working with.” Returning to the couch, she placed a few of the introductory materials she grabbed down between the two of them before sitting down herself. “A lot of the basics are memorization, which is honestly very boring, but I always find that the things that stick with people are stories about how certain insects act. Are there any kinds of insects, or maybe parts of the world, that you feel connected to? We can start there and find some bugs that maybe you’ll feel drawn to.”

That was fair, too, Cass decided; maybe it would get confusing if too many people had the same name. Maybe it would make it harder to understand who someone was talking about. Wouldn’t you want to know if someone meant you or a stranger when they said your name? Anita made a good point. Anita made a lot of good points, really; Cass nodded along as she spoke about careers and their importance, even if she felt a knot in her stomach at the thought. She’d never spent fifteen years on anything, had she? What was important to her identity? Sometimes, she wasn’t sure she had one at all. Cass liked to be whoever people needed her to be, but she didn’t know who she was when she was alone.

Disappointment curled in her chest when Anita didn’t immediately accept the offer. Would she have said yes if Cass weren’t on the list of attendees? If it were only Leila, Metzli, and Nora, would it be more tempting? Insecurity was a living thing in her chest, a monster with big teeth and a beating heart. Every thrum seemed to ask a question. Is it me? Am I okay? Am I doing it right? Voicing any of it aloud seemed too pathetic, so she bit her tongue. It was better this way, she thought.

It was much easier to focus on the science of it all. The bugs Anita taught Alex about, the things she knew about them. Cass wanted to know, too. Cass wanted to know everything, mostly because she thought Anita might like her more if she did. “I’ve never taken any classes,” she admitted, “but I know a lot about geology. Not so much other areas, but I’d love to learn more.” She considered what insects she might want to know more about, but the answer was always going to be the same. “What are your favorites? I think we should start there!”

—

Had Anita not been caught up in thinking about the connections, the little community, that Metzli had made without her - within the very home that she had built - she may have noticed the slight twinge of anxiety that bounced off of her house guest. She didn’t know Cass well enough to delve into the way she was feeling. In fact, there were increasingly few people she ever confided in. There was a subtle pang of longing that she felt in that moment, thinking back to the closeness she used to share with her younger sisters. So instead of addressing whatever she was feeling, her attention turned clinical. It turned to insects, like it always did.

“Geology and entomology have some common ground, particularly when you start looking at prehistoric fossil records of insects. Which, admittedly, doesn’t quite excite me like being able to observe real insects…” As she kept talking there was an ease that came back over her. This was comfortable to Anita, jumping into the role of professor. It felt like she was regaining control over the situation and it was calming to start pseudo-lecturing about her favorite type of insects - beetles.

#para #cass #don't bug me #p:cass

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sylvies-chen · 3 years

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Chenford + prompt 85! (Thank you!)

85. "Take my jacket, it's cold outside."

Lucy isn't used to seeing Tim Bradford be such a romantic.

Not yet, anyway. Maybe she'll never get used to finally being the subject of his rare but dazzling charm. Until the day she does get used to it, however, she's more than content to just sit back and be happily surprised by it.

Their relationship is still new and fresh and exciting. He's been taking her out a lot (and staying in fooling around more than she cares to admit), even sending her flowers occasionally.

It's why she's not in the slightest bit freaked out when they're walking home from yet another nice dinner, for the third time that week.

"You shouldn't keep spoiling me like this," she tells him, shaking her head happily. "That carbonara was so good but if I keep carbo loading, I won't be able to pass my next fitness test for the LAPD."

"I don't even know how you managed to eat all of it," he awes teasingly in response. "You're like 4 feet, I didn't even know you could fit all of that food in you."

"Very funny." She gives an amused eyeroll, nudging into him as they walk on the sidewalk away from the restaurant. It's the first time she feels the warmth radiating off of his body-- which is impressive, considering it's late November and he still seems to be warm. It makes her realizes just how cold she is. Bodycon dresses are tight-fitting, which makes for a pretty attractive look (and a drooling Tim) but they're far from warm.

He chuckles at her eyeroll, but Lucy gives an involuntary shiver after that and his amusement dissipates almost instantly. "Here. Take my jacket, it's cold outside."

Like she said: he's a romantic.

He moves to rip his jacket off, pulling it gently over her shoulders. Lucy lets him, fighting back a nervous smile as she clings onto his jacket and pulls it in closer. It sends a tingling warmth washing over her instantly. Shit, it feels good. She really was freezing, wasn't she?

"Thank you," she offers, gnawing at her bottom lip as he smiles. "You're a bit of a romantic, aren't you?"

Her question comes out like she already knows the answer, and it makes Tim laugh. "Tell Lopez for me, will you? She still seems to think I'm some kind of dumbass when it comes to these things," he jokes.

"Oh, you are a dumbass," she quips back cheekily, nodding in agreement with Angela's statement. "But you're a romantic dumbass."

"Hey, watch it. I still have Smitty's DJ playlist from Angela's wedding and I'm not afraid to blast your ears with that crap in retaliation," he warns.

"You wouldn't dare." She gapes at him. Half of her is scared of Smitty's terrible music and the other half is extremely impressed that Tim is blackmailing her with that.

He studies her up and down for a minute, stopping on the sidewalk as the passersby whir around them. "Fine, I wouldn't," he admits, fighting back a grin. "You're lucky you're cute, Luce. Otherwise, you'd be listening to two hours of Reggaetón music."

She gives him a satisfied smirk, glad to be in the clear, as she sticks her chin up at him. "See that's how I know you love me," she teases. "Because listening to that would be pure torture."

"I do," he replies simply.

"You do what?" She asks with a breathy laugh, nearly forgetting her previous words and not fully registering the meaning behind them.

"I love you."

Lucy's heart stops.

They haven't said that before. Ever. It's been implied on several occasions, thought of quietly more than once, jokingly mentioned in passing not ten seconds ago. She doesn't know why she'd said it but she hadn't expected him to actually take her words seriously-- or to mean it.

But she stares at him, basking in the sudden revelation under the twinkling night sky, and man. She totally, completely loves Tim Bradford.

"I love you too," she utters back, her voice breathy and quiet.

He kisses her in response, wrapping a hand around her waist as he smiles into the kiss, and Lucy thinks she really could get used to Tim Bradford continuing to surprise her.

#this one was short but my inbox is full so I'm trying to give myself less work to do haha #Tim is secretly a romantic!! This is jut fact now!!#chenford #abby writes #fanfic prompts

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cynicalrainbows · 3 years

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The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

(In which Cathy struggles with Christmas. Or, in which I project all of my feelings about Christmas onto various queens.)

***

9.00am, Christmas Eve.

Cathy rolled onto her side and pulled the duvet up over her head. Maybe if she just lay really still, they’d forget her and-

“Merry Almost-Christmas Cathy!”

Damn.

She mumbled something that could be construed as a vaguely cheerful greeting and buried her head in her pillow.

Christmas Eve morning, and she was already wishing it was over.

She hadn’t hated Christmas in her first life- in fact, she’d rather enjoyed the break in routine. Some of the traditions- the yule log, watching the mummers, the wassail cup- reminded her pleasantly of childhood and other, more court based traditions- the boars head, the bear baiting, the elaborate feasting and revelry- were, if not always fun, a welcome distraction.

The prospect of experiencing Christmas in the 21st century though felt somehow less of a pleasure and more of a cruel reminder of happier times past, and, increasingly, like an obligation, a test which she was sure to fail.

(“Looking forward to Christmas? Only a week to go!”)

Had it always been like this? It was harder to remember, but she was sure that Christmas in her first life hadn’t been so relentlessly cheery. There had been a holiday mood, of course, there had been a general sense of goodwill and of course the expectation that one would enter into any amusement going….but she was sure that the insidious pressure to exist in a near-constant state of happiness and warmth and merriment was but another cursed 21st century invention.

(“It’s the most wonderful time of the year! It’s...well, it’s just magical!”)

Back in her youth, one was expected to enter into the spirit of things, of course….but the heavy religious element on the holiday had at least added a welcome breath of sobriety to the proceedings, and there was, of course, always the opportunity to takes oneself off to the quietness of the chapel or to ones prayer closet for a moment of peace, with the excuse of being overcome by religious fervour on the holiest of days.

(“Such a happy time- the build up is so exciting!”)

Now though… She was sure it wasn’t intentional, but she’d definitely got the impression that wanting, let alone needing a break from the festivities marked one out as a decidedly unpleasant and miserly person.

(“How can you not be excited? It’s Christmas! Don’t be such a grinch!”)

“Cathy? Are you awake?”

Cathay fought the urge to pretend to still be sleeping. She wished she hadn’t answered Anna.

“I’ll be down in a minute Jane!”

She looked at her watch. Just another 48 hours to go.

Downstairs, Cathy slipped into her usual place and reached for the coffee.

What’s even wrong? Nothing. Nothing is wrong. You’re fine Cathy. You have no reason to feel like this. Nothing is wrong at all. You have no reason to feel sick and like you can’t breathe. None at all.

Catalina passed behind her with a plate of toast, pausing to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

“Good morning mija.”

“Now that you’re down-” Jane started, “I thought we could discuss what we wanted to have for Christmas breakfast.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “It’s Christmas dinner that’s the special meal Jane. Turkey, remember?”

Jane huffed a little. “Yes I KNOW, BUT it’s apparently a Thing to have a special breakfast too. Belinda in the sound crew told me- she and her family have croissants. What should we have?”

“Waffles!” said Kitty, at the exact same moment that Anna cried “Eierkuchen!”

Across the table, Anne’s slightly anxious eyes met Cathy’s.

“What’s wrong with what we usually have for breakfast?” Cathy asked tentatively. She did her best to make the question sound light, innocuous.

You’re not being a funsponge, you’re just curious.

Jane shook her head. “It’s meant to be special, she said.”

“Yeah,” added Kitty. “Everyday stuff isn’t special. And even if no one else wants waffles, I’m still making them,” she added, a touch defiantly, as she took another bite of cereal.

“I suppose not….”

She didn’t want to make a fuss.

She also didn’t know if it was possible to find a way to explain that she wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to have a different breakfast, without sounding impossibly dull.

She and Anne had already had more than one whispered conversation about how neither of them was really looking forward to the planned ‘modern’ Christmas dinner.

(“I’ve had turkey….it’s sort of like chicken. Sort of...drier and not as nice tasting…” “And Christmas pudding looks….odd. The texture-”)

They’d agreed to stick it out for the sake of the other queens, to make sure they ate breakfast and then to just eat what they could of the Christmas dinner. Not that Cathy was holding out much hope for that- she knew Anne seldom could face the idea of food when she was under stress and Christmas certainly counted as ‘a stressful time’.

“It’s all the focus on children-” She’d explained. “All the focus on Christmas being for the children, whatever that means. I can’t not think about Elizabeth and….well, all of that-”

“Plus the lights-” Cathy agreed, and Anne nodded frantically.

“Yes! Those awful lights EVERYWHERE flashing enough to give anyone within five miles a migraine, and those horrible songs being played…”

They’d laughed, then, over the horrible assault on the senses that modern Christmas seemed to be but now Cathy didn’t feel much like laughing.

Since early November, leaving the house had felt like a mild sensory assault, and since Jane and Kitty had put the decorations up in December, this had encroached into her own home.

Anne disliked it too, she knew, but neither felt like they could say anything.

(“After all-” Anne had remarked rather gloomily, “-not liking Christmas lights is definitely meant to be a warning sign…”

“What do you mean?”

“In all the films!” Anne gestured impatiently. “It’s always the boring awful secretly-evil person who hates the Christmas lights and the tree and everything else, and the nice, good person who likes it! And I don’t want to have to be the one who spoils everything and everyone is mildly suspicious of again!”

“I definitely shouldn’t have let you binge watch all those Christmas films with Kitty…”

“I’m right though.” Anne eyed her seriously. “You know I am.”

Cathy had nodded. She knew.)

Catalina had taken note of her goddaughters increased irritability, the worsening of her already poor sleeping pattern and tried to gently probe as to the cause but Cathy had brushed her off. She knew that Christmas could easily be painful to Catalina for exactly the same reason that it troubled Anne, and she’d be damned if she was the one to ruin the Christmas of the person she owed so much too.

(“Are you sure you’re alright mija? You know you can always talk to me.”

She’d flashed a smile and surreptitiously moved away. “I’m fine Catty. Really.”)

And she’d convinced herself that she was fine, that she could be fine, that she could keep on being fine right up to Boxing Day. Now though as the day drew closer, she could feel anxiety gnawing at her stomach every day, from the moment she woke up to the moment she would eventually drift into an uneasy sleep.

There was no denying it- she knew she’d never be able to keep up the level of excitement and jollity obviously required for Christmas day and she was dreading the moment that she spoilt it for the others.

Would they be upset if she couldn’t face the thought of unfamiliar food first thing in the morning? They’d certainly be upset if she didn’t enjoy Christmas dinner- they’d all gone to so much trouble making sure the dinner was perfect.

What if she didn’t look grateful enough for her presents? And she knew that games were meant to be a big part of Christmas day too but not knowing how to play, not knowing what was expected of her, made her anxious even on good days- what if she ruined the fun for the others?

She was dreading it so much, she would have given everything she owned to move past Christmas day and just get straight on with the frustration and irritation on behalf of the other queens that she was sure was coming.

That was, of course, if they didn’t go straight in with anger…

“Cathy?” Kitty’s concerned voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you ok?”

She plastered on another smile. “Fine!”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. She kept on being fine as Kitty and Anna squabbled over whether they’d make pancakes or waffles their Christmas breakfast, as they jockeyed with each other to lay presents under the tree, as they went out for the last bits of Christmas shopping and settled in to watch a festive film.

It was only after they all retired to their respective rooms that Cathy allowed the tension to slowly seep out of her body. She leant for a moment against her closed door and then flopped, fully dressed, onto the duvet.

And when the faint strains of “Wonderful Christmas Time” drifted up to her bedroom window from the street below, the tears that she’d been holding back for nearly two months finally fell.

“Cath?”

A faint tapping caught her ears and she froze.

As quietly as she could, she reached for a tissue to dry her face- finding none, she scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve instead.

She could feel Jane wincing as she did.

“Y-yeah?”

She willed her voice not to crack but it did anyway, of course.

Catalina’s voice was buttery-soft. “Are you alright mija?”

Anne’s voice, in a loud whisper, drifted through the crack in the door. “Don’t ask her, why would you ask her, she’ll just say no and- OW, that hurt!”

“Cathy, can we come in please?”

It would have been easier to brush off Catalina’s loving concern or Anne’s blunt request for entry but Kitty always sounded so hopeful that saying no to her somehow felt harder than saying no to the others. She knew she wasn’t the only one- the others had all discussed it, and eventually had come to the conclusion that as it didn’t appear to be in any way deliberate, they couldn’t really ask Kitty to stop, annoyingly inconvenient as it was.

She couldn’t say no, but she didn’t say yes either, so she just snuffled as quietly as possible and hoped they’d go away.

“Cath?”

They didn’t.

She knew she was merely delaying the inevitable but she couldn’t help but try anyway.

“What is it?”

“Can we come in and talk to you please Cath? We’re worried and we want to check that you’re ok.”

She would have hated Anna for her bluntness if she could, but she couldn’t- it was impossible to even mildly dislike Anna, and she’d yet to find anyone able to manage it. It continued to baffle her that Henry had been able to keep it up- Kitty had once asked, in exasperation, if Anna had just been too easygoing and too patient and too kind, and Cathy had had to agree.

“We heard you crying-” Anne chipped in helpfully, “-and- OW, Jane what the fuck is your problem?!”

Even in her slightly tearstained state, Cathy couldn’t help smiling a little.

“You can come in if you want...”

She’d rather hoped that only one would accept the invitation but of course they all piled in anyway, Anne still rubbing her crushed foot and Jane looking a little too innocent.

Catalina immediately came over to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, as Anne scrambled up on her other side.

“Are you alright mija?”

“Who do I need to kill Cath?”

The two utterly incongruent enquiries from her two favourite people in the world made her laugh, even as her eyes burned with fresh tears. They were so lovely- they were all so lovely-and here she was completely ruining what was meant to be a special day for them.

She shook her head.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Honestly.”

None of them looked remotely convinced; out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kitty sending urgent telegrams to Anne and Anna biting her lip.

“Love-” Jane came over and sat next to Catalina. Her hand on Cathy’s was very warm. “You know we’d never make you talk unless you were ready, but do you think you could give us a vague idea of what it is? Just-” She glanced at the others, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to be thinking up all sorts of horrible things otherwise and-”

“It’s nothing, honestly-”

“Mija anything that makes you this upset on Christmas Eve is clearly nothing.”

Cathy knew Catalina meant it kindly but the words cut her deeper than any order to pull herself together would have done. It was Christmas Eve and here she was, making the others worry about her, overshadowing their night with her selfishness-

“It’s ok Cath-” Kitty, closely followed by Anna, climbed up onto the remaining space at the foot of the bed and, after realising that Cathy’s hands were already claimed, gently squeezed her foot. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Right?”

The others wholehearted murmured agreement just made Cathy feel worse.

“You’re all so nice-” she eventually managed. “You’re so sweet and I’m spoiling everything, and I’m ruining Christmas and-”

There was an immediate chorus of disagreement:

“You’re not ruining anything mija-”

“It’s all ok love-”

“Please don’t cry Cath-”

“Please tell us what’s wrong?”

They all looked so earnest she just couldn’t bear it- she took a breath.

“I’m sorry. Really, honestly, nothing is wrong. I just…” She tried to think of how to phrase it in a way that didn’t make her seem utterly joyless. “I’m just….struggling a bit, I think.”

“With work? Or death-day stuff or-”

She shook her head. “With Christmas.”

Catalina squeezed her hand. “You miss the old traditions mija?”

“Not exactly. Or-” Cathy tilted her head. “Not that much. It’s not really that I’m homesick for anything, I just…” She sighed. “I’m afraid I’m going to ruin it for you all. More than I have already, of course.”

“What do you mean?” Anne looked confused. “How would you ruin it?”

“By not doing it right….or not feeling how I should feel.” Cathy looked around at the women clustered around her. “I’m sorry- I know how much it means to you all. And I promise I’m not trying to be a drag on purpose. I just… I’m scared I’m going to ruin it for you all by being….not happy or not festive or just….not whatever it is you’re meant to be on Christmas. I won’t be enough and-”

“You could never not be enough for us querida!”

Suddenly Cathy was being enveloped in at least three pairs of arms.

“But it’s Christmas!”

Kitty shrugged. “So?”

“But you’re all so excited! I don’t want to spoil it for you!”

“But it’s just a day-”

“It’s not that important-”

“Cathy-” Anna knelt in front of her. “Nothing you do is going to spoil it, ok? We love you, we care about you. If you’re sad on Christmas, we’ll be sad because you’re unhappy. Not because it’ll be ruining the day or whatever.”

“But-”

“Ok how about this?” Anna considered. “What about we all promise to not base the success of Christmas Day on your emotional state- or on anyone else's? Does that help?”

“Hold up-” Kitty raised a hand. “When did we all agree that the rest of us were going to be super happy and festive all day? Is that a thing? Do we have to all-” She waved a hand, “-festive all day? Can we just be normal instead?”

“Yeah-” Anne agreed. She turned to the others. “I just want to put this out there- obviously I don’t want to ruin the day for you all either. But….I’m struggling a bit too.” She ducked her head and tugged a little at a loose thread in Cathy’s bedspread. “So if I do end up being a massive drag, I’m- I’m really sorry-”

“Love!” Jane leant precariously over Cathy’s legs to pull Anne into her arms. “You won’t! It’s ok-”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kitty asked. “If I’d known you were both so worried, I’d have told you not to worry- we all would have.”

“But you were so excited and-”

Kitty blinked at Anne. “I mean yeah? But it’s just a day, it’s not like there’ll never be another one- and even if there wasn’t I’d still care more about you than about some random day of celebration.”

The others nodded.

Catalina shook her head. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you were so miserable, if I’d known-”

“It’s not your fault.” Cathy avoided her godmother's eyes. “I didn’t want to….to make you think about Christmas being difficult, I didn’t want to remind you of….”

She trailed off. Catalina looked at her for a long moment, then she shook her head.

“Oh mija. Did you really think that you could keep me from remembering…” She too couldn’t quite bring herself to say it. “I know you’re clever but I think you’ve giving yourself much too much credit there…”

Said out loud, it sounded very foolish to Cathy- she could feel herself blushing. Catalina pulled her close again and she took the opportunity to hide her burning cheeks for a moment against her godmother's cardigan.

“I’m sorry, I just thought….”

“I know. And it was very, very sweet of you. But really mija-” Catalina’s hand smoothed back her hair. “Really, we all have our reasons to find Christmas difficult. And even if we deal with them in different ways, that doesn’t mean anyone would be upset with anyone else because of it. Jane, for example-” Everyone looked at Jane, who blushed slightly under their collective gaze. “Jane’s more into it, you and Anne, not so much and that’s ok, that’s-”

She broke off. Jane was twisting her fingers together anxiously and looking very uncomfortable.

“Jane? Are you ok?”

“I’m sorry!” Jane suddenly burst out, looking anguished. “I didn’t mean to make you all feel so pressured to enjoy it! I just- they all say it’s meant to be the Mum who makes Christmas and I thought that if I didn’t, you’d all be disappointed and upset with me and…. And all along I’ve been making you all feel worse! I’m SO sorry, I-”

Anna slung an arm around Jane’s shoulders and pulled her into a side hug.

“Janey no, don’t feel bad! We’re all really appreciative of what you’ve been doing-”

Cathy and Anne nodded fervently. “It wasn’t YOU Jane, I promise-”

Catalina put her head on one side. “What did you mean by us being upset with you though? You didn’t really think that, did you?”

Jane ducked her head. “Well….yes? Isn’t it meant to be the Mum who sorts stuff out?”

“Jane, we keep telling you-” Anne reached over Cathy to squeeze Jane’s hand. “The Mum Friend label is a joke- you’re 29 for goodness sake! It’s a loving testament to how lovely you are of course. But it’s not an obligation! Of course we’d never expect you to be responsible for Christmas!”

Kitty nodded. “I’m really happy we’re having a proper christmas but I didn’t realise you thought we expected it of you…Did you not want to do any of it really?”

Jane shrugged and blushed. “I….don’t know. I like the tree-”

“You’re welcome” said Anna, a touch smugly.

“-and the presents and it’ll be nice to have a special dinner….but also, it’s sort of a relief? To not to have to worry? I was SO afraid if something went wrong that you’d all be really upset and blame me…”

Catalina sighed.

“It looks like we’ve all suffered from lack of communication…. Can I propose that we maybe seek a...an alternative plan for Christmas day?”

“Hm?”

“An entirely opt-in Christmas.” Catalina explained. “I don’t think we really have to choose between striving for the unobtainable picture perfect day, or completely forgoing it….do we?”

“Yeah,” said Anna. “I’m still looking forward to a nice dinner and stuff. Can’t we just do the bits we want to do, but also just agree that if anyone doesn’t want to join in, that’s ok?”

“Or-” Kitty added, “-if they do, it’s ok to just….be however you’re feeling. No particular emotional expression required.”

Cathy smiled at her gratefully. Then she glanced over at Anne, who met her eyes questioningly. She decided she’d do it- for Anne, she told herself.

“Um- just while we’re on the subject…” She addressed herself to Kitty and Jane. “Would it be ok...I’m only saying it since we’re already talking about it and i don’t want to be really ungrateful or anything but….”

“I think what she’s trying to say is-” Anne cut in, “-would it mess things up too much if we made the special breakfast opt-in too? Just-”

She was cut off before she could even carry on explaining by Jane.

“Of course! Why ever wouldn’t you?”

“Well you said-”

“Oh!” Jane looked guilt stricken. “I did, didn’t I? I swear I never meant-”

“It’s fine!” Cathy cut Jane off before she could spiral too far. “You were suggesting something lovely and it’s appreciated! We know you didn’t mean anything by it, we just want to make sure that we won’t be spoiling anything if we-”

“Of course!” Jane nodded emphatically. “We don’t have to have a different breakfast of course, I was only-’”

Anna held up her hand. “Before we get completely sidetracked in a round of mutual guilt and apologies, why don’t we just agree- there will be special breakfast for those who want it, and anyone who doesn’t fancy it is of course welcome to have whatever they want, or nothing at all. The same for Christmas dinner too.”

Anne shot her a grateful glance and Cathy felt her shoulders sink in relief.

“So” Catalina began. “An opt-in breakfast and dinner. With every day alternatives for those who prefer. And mutual understanding that it can be a hard day for everyone and that constant Christmas cheer isn’t expected or required from anyone.”

“And” Kitty added, “also that the day itself absolutely isn’t the responsibility of any one person and that no one would dream of thinking it was.”

She looked directly at Jane as she said it; Jane nodded and smiled a little sheepishly, and leant in to Anna again.

“Is there anything else?”

“The lights...” Anne sounded hesitant but her voice gained more strength when no one seemed annoyed or impatient. “Could we maybe….turn them off for a bit? Or find a way to make them just be on or off, not flashing?”

Catalina nodded. “Of course.”

“Oh and-” Everyone looked surprised to hear Jane speaking up; Jane herself looked slightly embarrassed. “I know I was the one playing them but...I really hate them.” She cast a pleading look around the room. “Does anyone mind if we stop playing the modern Christmas songs? They’re so irritating. Especially that one about the demon.”

“Which one?” Trust Anne to look interested at that, thought Cathy.

Jane tilted her head. “You know. The one about his impending arrival. About how he watches you all the time-”

“Santa Claus Is Coming to Town?”

“That’s it. Whatever happened to simple carols?”

Catalina nodded. “There was a pleasant simplicity to the old ones. No This is the best day of your life or anything. Just ‘Boar is really delicious, maybe try it with mustard.’ Sensible advice, not this….expectation of jollity.”

“I think they still have that actually-” Kitty broke in. “Except it’s not really tuneful and I don’t think you sing it…”

“Really?”

“I think so. At least, my super noodles said that they were best served with stir fried chicken and sesame oil. But there was only the one verse…”

The first Christmas Day that the queens ever celebrated together was, by most standards, an uneventful one.

But no one blinked an eye when Cathy forgoed Anna’s nutella pancakes and Kitty’s strawberry waffles for her usual toast and coffee.

The turkey dinner was, by all accounts, as pretty as the ones on tv. Anne never actually tasted a bite of the turkey itself but praising Jane’s stuffing to the skies more than made up for it.

And Cathy found that when it actually came down to it, it was all a lot less painful than she had imagined: despite her dread, she felt herself genuinely excited about seeing the others open the gifts, and not ambivalent about the beautiful fountain pen, thick fluffy dressing gown, chocolate covered coffee beans (Catalina had shaken her head despairingly at that) and midnight blue boots she’d been given (not to mention a sizeable stack of books from her wishlist).

Even when Kitty suggested playing a game, she found that the casual “Fancy it Cath? No pressure” made all the difference and she’d been able to join in quite happily.

And when, mid afternoon, she felt herself becoming slightly overwhelmed and excused herself, Catalina following her into the hall hadn’t felt anywhere near as uncomfortable as it would have done before.

“Ok mija?”

“Yeah just-” She’d shrugged and waved a hand. “It’s a bit much.”

Catalina, rather than looking disappointed or irritated, had just nodded. “That’s understandable. Do you want some space or shall I keep you company?”

“I don’t want to take you away from the fun-”

“You absolutely wouldn’t be doing that. But please don’t feel pressured either way- if you want some time alone, that’s fine.”

“It’s not that I want to be alone, it’s-”

Catalina looked understanding. “How about we relocate to my room for a bit? We can listen to some more of that podcast you like, if you’re up to it?”

Cathy nodded. Curled up under Catalina’s arm, the podcast murmuring quietly in the background, she felt herself start to decompress. Then, a tap at the door made them both sit up- Jane peeked in.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

A little uncomfortable, Jane hovered by the bed. “Would it be ok if I joined you? I promise I won’t talk. The others are going to play scrabble and-”

“Of course” Cathy knew she would nevern ot appreciate Catalina looking to her to answer first. “Although don’t you want to play?”

Jane shook her head. “You know I-”

“Catalina will make a team with you again if you want-” She glanced to her godmother. “Won’t you? Or I will, if the others will hold the game off another fifteen minutes or so-”

Jane shook her head.

“Not that I don’t love teaming up with either of you- I totally appreciate the offer. I just- got to thinking about things. Thought a quiet room would be nice, you know?”

Catalina nodded understandingly and Jane settled gratefully on her other side. After a moment, Catalina wrapped her free arm around her shoulders and Jane leant into her.

After a while, her phone buzzed and she let out a short laugh.

“Sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t interrupt but, look what Kitty just sent me…”

She passed her phone to Catalina.

On the screen, it read:

Let us know if we get too noisy! Lots of love to all three of you from all three of us <3 <3 <3 Also Janey, I thought you’d appreciate this more carol I found.

Catalina clicked on the link and the three listened to the festive sounding if slightly tinny music emanate from the phone speakers.

“….angels we have heard on high…..tell us to go out and buy….”

“Really sums it up, doesn’t it?” murmured Cathy and Catalina smiled.

“Shall I take back your fountain pen then mija?”

“Oh god no!”

Catalina chuckled and squeezed her hand and Cathy burrowed back into her side, listening to the faint sounds of good natured arguing drift up from below, her godmothers heartbeat and Jane's quiet breathing beside her.

Maybe it wasn’t such an awful day after all.

#six #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction

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joftw · 4 years

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Date: Thanksgiving ( November 26, 2020 )

Location: Roseville, VA

TL;DR: Jo comes out to her dad yay ! yes I know this is a week late don’t @ me

Jo hadn’t meant to invite her girlfriend to Thanksgiving dinner with her father who she wasn’t yet out to -- it just happened. Her and Mari had been texting about Thanksgiving, and when Mari said she had no plans, it was a knee-jerk reaction to invite her. It’s not a holiday that’s particularly significant to Jo, especially considering the last few years had been spent just her and her father eating dinner at the Roseville Diner. But she did realize pretty quickly that asking Mari to meet her dad was a pretty big step, and more importantly, one that she wanted.

She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t have any objections to someone else coming to dinner with them, but she was a little surprised that Mari didn’t mind being just a friend for the evening. Of course, it’s not unlike Marisol Guinto to be so understanding, but it was a favor that Jo didn’t like asking of her to begin with. The self-consciousness of a new relationship had worn off back in Berlin, and now Jo likes people knowing who she’s dating, because she’s proud to be with Mari. Pretending otherwise feels like a step in the wrong direction -- but it was just for one day, she had to remind herself. She’d tell her dad when the timing is right, not over the phone before Thanksgiving.

But there’s something surreal about seeing Mari and her dad -- her two favorite people -- sitting at the same booth in the Roseville Diner. Her dad has always been easygoing and Mari is always charming, so ideally there’s no reason for them NOT to get along, but seeing the two of them interact together makes Jo feel like she’s on cloud nine, not even minding if half the time they’re making fun of Jo in one way or another. Despite all the drama and tragedy that this year had brought, it’s brought a lot of good to her too, and there’s something fitting about celebrating a day to be thankful with the two people in her life Jo’s thankful for everyday. It’s because of that that Jo realizes the conversation with her dad isn’t one for the future, but one for today.

Of course, letting it slip to Mari that she loves her right before her father comes back from the bathroom also provides a small sense of urgency.

Despite initially having plans with Mari to spend the rest of the evening with her, when dinner ends Jo tells her she’s going to go back to her dad’s hotel for a while, and she’ll see her back at school. There’s guilt that comes with ditching Mari, especially after having said the three little words for the first time in their relationship, but Jo knows that she can’t have THAT conversation until she has this one first.

“You could’ve gone back with your friend, you know,” Steven Tran says as he flips the light on in his hotel room, with Jo following shortly behind. She had told him she probably won’t spend the night in his hotel room this visit because she has homework to catch up on (when in reality she just has a girlfriend she’d rather sleep with), but she takes note that he had rented a room with two beds anyway.

Jo takes a seat on the edge of the bed closest to the door. “Yeah, I know. I just figured we should spend some time together, just the two of us. You did come all this way.” There’s a lightness in her voice that typically only comes out with her father, but Jo feels her voice catching a little, sounding more awkward than usual (though she could be imagining it). She’s nervous, she realizes, which shouldn’t come as a shock to her. The last time she had seen him had been the week before fall semester began, and before that she had been home for the entire month of June. There had been many family dinners in that time where she could’ve gotten this conversation over with, but she had always told herself there would be a better time, or that once a better opportunity presented itself, she would say something. It takes her sitting in her dad’s hotel room right now to realize those had only been excuses, and she wishes more than anything she had another excuse to further put this off.

“I can’t believe this is your last year here, and our last Thanksgiving here.” He sounds wistful when he says it, which surprises her. Jo’s never really thought much about their Thanksgivings in Roseville. In fact, she kind of figured he wouldn’t miss schlepping to Virginia every year. New York’s not exactly close. “Do you want a drink?”

“What?” When she glances up, Jo realizes he’s holding out a beer for her. She snorts. “You wasted no time,” she chastises him, but takes the beer anyway. Usually she’d rather swallow her own spit than drink beer, but she could use it right now. Her dad’s not really a beer drinker either, so it’s an unfamiliar feeling to share a beer with him, but considering the circumstances of her visit, it’s just normal enough for her to not overthink it. Jo grimaces after taking a long swig. “No offense, but I’m not really going to miss diner food for Thanksgiving.”

“What, and are you cooking next year?” Steven laughs, causing her to roll her eyes and smile. She expects him to launch into questions about where she sees herself next year, since her future employment seems to be his favorite topic to bring up during their weekly calls (which is just so Dad of him), but instead he surprises her. “Your friend Mari was very nice.”

It’s not a question, but Jo finds herself blinking slowly, trying to figure out how to answer him. The word friend almost makes her flinch. “Uh, yeah. She is.” A small pause. “I figured you two would get along. You’re both so…”

“Hilarious?” he asks, as if Jo hadn’t been the butt of every joke at dinner. She scoffs out a laugh, taking another sip.

“Modest,” she corrects. Unfortunately she does thinks he’s pretty fucking funny, as far as dads go, although it doesn’t hurt that he’s raised her into having the same sense of humor as him. But it’s hard to feel lighthearted right now, as she carefully passes the beer bottle back and forth in her hands. “So you liked her, then?” She’s trying to be casual, but she knows the hesitance in her voice is a dead giveaway. Not only is Steven Tran a retired spy, but he isn’t a moron.

Jo can see him nod slowly from her peripherals. “Why do you sound so surprised about that? I always like your friends. Whenever you do let me meet them,” he adds, tone a little pointed. There’s that word again: friend.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead letting her eyes glaze over the beer bottle in her hand as she tries to figure out a way to start this. Jo’s thought of a million different scenarios where she DIDN’T want to have this conversation, but she’s never once figured out the perfect way to do it -- and if there’s one thing Jo likes, it’s doing something the right way. She’s suddenly very aware of her heart beating quickly in her chest, the way it always does before an important final for a class that she’s not completely confident in. This moment feels like a test in itself, one she’s losing confidence in by the second.

Despite not talking to her anymore, Jo already knows her mother wouldn’t approve of her relationship. She’s not a stranger to feeling like a disappointment to her mother, because her whole childhood had felt like not being able to live up to her mom’s particular standards. Jo doesn’t even see it as a bad thing anymore, just a fact of life, that mothers are always going to want something different for their daughters. The fact is that her mother’s also always been small-minded. It’s because of her that Jo thought it was normal for people to rudely gawk when two people of the same sex walk hand-in-hand, and why she had lived in New York City all her life and had barely been below 34th Street until she was fifteen (her mom thought everyone who lived Downtown “had loose morals”). Her mother hadn’t been incredibly religious, but they attended church every Sunday because of her, and she had once told Jo she wouldn’t let her not get married in a church. It had taken Jo years to realize the feelings she had for her best friend Rose in high school were beyond a normal friendship, and she can’t help but put some of that blame onto her mother.

But while her mother had always made her thoughts and opinions very transparent, Jo’s father was another story. They’ve always been close, especially in the last five years, and yet Jo struggles to think of the last serious conversation she’s had with him that wasn’t about her career. She can typically go to her dad with anything and everything, she knows, which is why it’s so hard that she feels like she can’t physically get this one thing out. It’s not from a lack of wanting, because during their weekly calls lately Jo can feel herself having to hold back from talking to much about Mari -- except every story about her has been prefaced with my friend, because she had even been afraid he would see right through her for talking about one friend in particular so much. It’s from a lack of knowing his reaction, the fear of the possibility that her dad has the same views on her mom did, and the potential that it’ll change everything between them.

Jo’s lost her mother and her brother already -- by choice, after choosing her father over them. It’s not a choice she thinks she’ll ever regret, but the idea of losing her last of her family just because of who she is as a person is enough to make tears prick in her eyes. Eyes close tightly as she brings the beer bottle to her lips once more.

She can feel the bed move when her dad takes a seat on the edge of the bed beside her. After swallowing the rest of her sip, Jo decides to rip it off like a bandaid. “Mari’s my girlfriend.”

The room is silent, though Jo can’t hear it over the sound of her blood pumping in her ears. She stares straight ahead, refusing to look at him until he says something; she’s not sure she’d be able to deal with the look on his face if it’s even slightly negative. The heinous beer she’s been drinking definitely doesn’t help her churning stomach.

Finally he clears his throat. “Okay.” It’s hesitant, but clear.

Jo finally looks at him. “Okay?” she echoes, eyebrows raised.

Steven Park shrugs once, looking a little embarrassed -- whether it’s of himself or her, she can’t really tell, because he doesn’t elaborate. It occurs to Jo that this is probably where she’s gotten her poor conversation skills from. She feels tears forming in her eyes again, though this time she’s not fast enough to hide them. “Hey, Jo,” he says softly, in a tone she hasn’t heard him use on her in years -- as if she’s a little girl again, and he’s comforting her after a hard day of school. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, you just… I don’t really know what to say. Except I love you.” He says it like it’s so obvious that she can’t help but let out a short, breathy laugh. Jo shakes her head at him, quickly swiping her eyes.

“Mari… she’s the friend you were always talking to this summer, right?” The question makes Jo snort, because she hadn’t thought he really noticed. She nods. Her father doesn’t say anything for a beat, before finally adding, “Well, I guess I’m not that surprised.”

“What?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out sharp, but Jo can tell she’s scared him by the way he flinches at the look she gives him.

“I mean… you’ve been at Gallagher for three and a half years, and in all your time there all I hear you talk about are the redheads. I’d find it hard to believe you made any more friends,” Steven says, and she knows him well enough to know he’s kidding, just by the way the corner of his left mouth lifts slightly. It makes it all feel a little more normal, even if she is still wiping a few uncharacteristic tears off her cheeks. “And who wants to spend Thanksgiving with someone else’s Dad?”

Jo shakes her head, a small smile flickering on her lips. “Well, that’s just Mari,” she admits, causing him to laugh. Eyes narrow in his direction, because Jo doesn’t like being laughed at. “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures her. “You just sound… happy. You seem happy, too.” Steven glances over at her, eyes flickering over her face, looking at her so tenderly that Jo has to look away, otherwise more tears will come. At least those are of a different feeling altogether. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but… I do worry about you,” he continues. “I know you’re tough, but sometimes I’m afraid you don’t let yourself, you know, be a kid. Especially after everything that’s happened. I just want you to be happy, kiddo.”

“I am,” she says, voice small, because Jo’s afraid to say more (and god knows she could say a lot about how happy she is right now) and possibly regret it.

“Good,” her father replies, “then that’s all that matters.” He pauses for a few seconds, and when he talks again, he doesn’t sound as sure as before. “So, uh. Is it serious? I’m guessing it is, since you let me meet her.”

She can only let out a small laugh, wiping the corners of her eyes as she nods. “Yeah, I guess so.” It’s awkward talking to him about this, but it’s the kind of awkward that comes with discussing relationships with your middle-aged father -- the kind of awkward that also feels normal. Already she can feel her heartbeat steadying once more, and while the butterflies still remain, it’s only because they’re talking about Mari. “I actually… told her I loved her,” Jo admits, and it’s impossible not to cringe. “While you were in the bathroom during dinner. It sorta just happened.”

Part of her worries that if they keep talking about it, she’s going to say something that will suddenly no longer make it okay. But for now, he just laughs. “That explains why you looked as pale as a ghost when I came back. I thought you just ate too much.” Steven pushes some hair out of his eyes, sitting up a little straighter when he says, “I hope you know you didn’t need to keep it from me. I mean, I’ve expected for a while something was off with you, but I figured it was just senior year nerves. There’s nothing you could do that’d ever make me stop loving you, Jo.”

Jo’s never been sentimental, finding outward displays of love and affection cringe-worthy at most. So she can feel her dad stiffen in surprise for a moment when, instead of scoffing at him, she wraps her arms around him tightly. Lips press to the top of her head, and suddenly she can feel it: the weight of the world she’s been holding on her shoulders suddenly disappear. Tonight she’ll have another big discussion with Mari, but for now she lets herself enjoy her father’s embrace, as well as the feeling of her last shred of self-doubt being slowly erased.

#jo ; self-para #ngl i'm not really proud of this but i pushed through anyway bc i have replies to do #and if felt lame not writing such an important plot point for her #so have this trash

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years

Text

SkyFire 2: Chapter 10

The End of Summer: August 2016

Word count: 2k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora was sitting in the studio with Harry and his band when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out, scrolling through the email before placing it face down on the coffee table in front of her. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as she kept glancing back at her phone every few minutes, completely distracted from the conversations swirling around her. After about 20 minutes he watched as she picked her phone up again, her brow furrowed as she read something, and she stood up, excusing herself from the room. He waited half an hour before he started to worry and also excused himself from the room. JARVIS informed him she was still on the floor, and he found her sitting in her art studio, a sketchbook open on her lap, her head bowed over it as she worked away.

“Everything ok, love?” Harry asked, sitting down beside her.

Her head snapped up, not having heard him come in. “Yeah,” she smiled. “Sorry just got an idea and had to get it down.”

“What is it?”

“Columbia just sent out an email and announced they want a student to paint a mural for the one year anniversary,” she explained. “Just kind of couldn’t get it out of my head.”

Harry could see the excitement on her face, her eyes alight with passion and creativity. He smiled softly, kissing her temple before he stood up. “I’ll leave you too it then,” he said before heading back to the recording studio.

Aurora continued working on her concept sketches for the next few days before sending them off to the student committee organising the mural.

xXx

While she waited to hear if her design would be selected, she received an unexpected call from the 3 members of Rascal Flatts. She had spoken to them a couple of times in the last year; first apologising for not being able to perform with them in the wake of the shooting and then again when they let her know they were holding off on releasing their next album, deciding that they wanted to tour the last album a bit more first.

“Hi Joe!” she said when she answered the call.

“Hey Aurora,” Joe replied. “You’ve got all three of us on speaker. How have you been honey?”

“Hi everyone,” she chuckled. “I’m really good thanks.”

“Great to hear. So, the reason we’re calling is to let you know that we’re finally releasing the album in October.”

“Ahh, that’s so exciting!”

“It is, yeah. We’re really looking forward to it and we were wondering how you’d feel about the CMAs this year. I know things didn’t pan out right for last year, but we’d really love to get on stage with you, but only if you feel ready.”

“Oh wow,” Rori gasped. “That sounds incredible guys, I’m honoured. I’ve been getting back in the studio over the summer and I actually do feel like I’m ready to jump back in. I’m getting my first prosthesis fitted next week so I should be good to go by November.”

“Fantastic!” Gary said. “We’ll send through all the details when we get closer to the day but you’ll probably have to come out a few days before so we can rehearse.”

“Can do,” she promised. “I’ll keep that whole week clear, just in case.”

“Great, we’ll see you then.”

xXx

Ever since she’d submitted her concept sketches for the Columbia mural, Aurora hadn’t been able to get the idea out of her head, so while she waited for the decision to be made she had a large canvas delivered to the tower and once it arrived she set to work. In her mind she told herself that if she was selected to paint the mural then the canvas would just be a more detailed concept work, but if she wasn’t selected at least her idea would still exist in this smaller format. She’d already blocked in the background and sketched out the figures the previous day, so she was getting started on the school’s mascot at the centre of the piece which was a lion kneeling to place a wreath of roses on the ground in front of it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Harry said as he stepped into the room, drawing her attention away from the canvas. “Lou’s on the phone and he wants to talk bachelor and bachelorette parties.”

“Hi Lou!” Rori greeted as Harry held out his phone between the two of them.

“Hey Rors,” Louis replied, his voice playing through the speakers. “So, I was just explaining to H that Gemma and I have been putting our heads together and we’ve come up with an idea. I figured neither of you were going to be interested in the traditional alcohol fuelled partying with strippers and given the mixed gender parties, Gem and I thought we could maybe to a combined thing, rent out and place and all go away for the long weekend as a group.”

“I love that idea,” Aurora replied. “What did you guys have in mind?”

“There’s a great 3 bedroom cottage out in the Cotswolds,” Louis said, “and there’s a day spa in the nearest town for you girls.”

“We’re in,” Harry smiled. “You guys thought about when?”

“Well Cheryl’s due early March so Liam’s asked for us to do it before February and between Niall and Ella January is out too. It’s coming up quick but early November works for everyone if it works for you.”

“I’m going to the CMAs on the 3rd, so maybe the 2nd weekend in November?” Aurora offered, looking at Harry questioningly. He nodded that that weekend would work for him and Louis agreed that the cottage they’d found was available.

“Alright, leave it with me and Gem and we’ll take care of everything.”

“Thanks Lou,” Rori replied. “You’re the best Man of Honour.”

“I take my position very seriously,” he laughed. “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your day guys. I’ll talk to you later.”

xXx

“Aurora, Mr Styles is requesting you join him the studio when you are available,” JARVIS announced one afternoon in late August. She packed up her paints, cleaned her brushes and then headed down the hall towards the recording studio, surprised to find the band gone for the day and Harry waiting inside alone.

“Hey babe,” she greeted. “JARVIS said you needed me?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. He smiled softly but Rori thought that he was acting a little odd. “I wrote a song,” he said hesitantly.

“I’m shocked,” Rori laughed, her giggles dying on her lips once Harry’s nervous expression fully registered in her head. “What’s it about?”

“You,” he replied. “No one’s heard it yet and it needs polishing but if you don’t like it, no one ever hears it.”

“You’re making me nervous H,” Rori said. “You’ve never been scared to show me something before” They stared at each other for a few minutes too long. “Just play it Harry.”

He mumbled his agreement, cueing up the recording on his phone and pressing play. She reached out and took his hand as it played.

Choose your words 'cause there's no antidote

For this curse

Oh, what's it waiting for?

Must this hurt you just before you go?

Oh, tell me something I don't already know

Brooklyn saw me, empty at the news

There's no water inside this swimming pool

Almost over, had enough from you

And I've been praying, I never did before

Understand I'm talking to the walls

I've been praying ever since New York

Oh, tell me something I don't already know

“Harry,” Rori whispered as the recording petered out, her cheeks damp from the silent tears rolling down her face. Harry finally lifted his head, looking at his fiancé for the first time since pressing play. His eyes widened when he saw the tears in her eyes, reaching out to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he murmured, “I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have written about that. Forget it. I’m gonna scrap it.”

“Don’t you dare,” she told him. “It’s beautiful.”

“You really like it?” he asked.

“I love it Harry. It just hurts to remember what I put you through last year.”

“You didn’t do anything love,” Harry promised. “Just never wanna lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied softly, leaning forward to kiss him. He quickly deepened the kiss and within a few minutes she had her right hand in his hair as she sat in his lap, her thighs straddling his hips. “I love you so much,” she murmured against his lips.

xXx

In the last days of August, Ben returned to the tower and Aurora finally slipped her new prosthesis onto what remained of her left forearm. After almost an entire year of feeling broken, or incomplete, the feeling of slipping on the prosthetic and watching as the fingers clenched and unfurled was euphoric. Harry was by her side of course, but so were Steve, Tony and Peter, her odd little family she never would have seen coming when she was growing up. They all watched on as silent tears streaked down her face, a huge grin ensuring none of them worried as she cried. She turned her hand over and back again, marvelling at the way the metal moved, much like Bucky’s arm did, almost as if there were real muscles below the surface, shifting so naturally. She hugged Peter first, surprising the teenager.

“Thank you, Pete,” she whispered. “I know how hard you worked on this.”

“You really don’t have to thank me,” Peter replied. “I just wanted to help; you know? Your dad did all the work really.”

“Hush,” she joked. “Just take the damn compliment.”

Peter laughed in response, giving her one last squeeze before letting her go so that she could hug her parents.

Ben and Tony both bent over the hand, the former assessing the fit and Aurora’s comfort, while the later focused on the data readouts on his tablet, watching as she continued to move the prosthetic and test it’s capabilities now that it was on her arm instead of laying on the table.

As Ben was finishing up and saying his goodbyes to everyone, a notification popped up on Aurora’s phone. Harry passed it to her, and she took great joy in reaching for it with her left hand. His matching smile told her that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Her smile dropped when she turned her gaze to the screen, seeing an email from the Student Union. She felt her nervousness as she opened the email and started reading.

Hello Aurora,

First of all, let me begin by thanking you for submitting your concept sketches for the proposed memorial mural for the quad. We were all very excited to see your submission and are excited to have you return to participating in the Columbia community. We would like to congratulate you as the winning submission and invite you to campus to complete the mural. We here at CUSU loved the way you incorporated our guidelines of including Columbia’s mascot while also paying tribute to the first responders and using the candles to honour everyone we lost was a beautiful element of the design. We would like to have the piece completed by the anniversary on September 29th so please feel free to start as soon as you would like in order to achieve this deadline. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions.

Kind Regards,

Caitlyn Walsh

Columbia University Student Union President.

“Oh my god! Harry, I got it. I got accepted to paint the memorial mural.”

“Knew you could do it baby!” He pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly and kissing her cheek.

“Congratulations bug,” Steve added, patting her shoulder. “No one better suited for the job.”

“I’m pretty sure they picked me for the publicity,” Aurora admitted when Harry finally let her go. “I don’t really care though. If my name gets more people talking about gun reform, then I’ll exploit that as much as I can. I really want to get more involved in that side of things and just make sure what happened to us doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark #ptsd #domestic fluff

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missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 3 Part 7- Keeper of the Keys

Hey, guys. I'm sorry this update took so long. Shit has been well...weird. Hard to explain. However, rest assured I am not abandoning this pic, not by a long shot. Updates just won't be consistently regular as a warning to all my readers. To make up for some lost time, this is a longer chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

To say that Tulip Karasu was eccentric was an understatement. Nevertheless, David had no choice but to play ball for now if he wanted any of the information he sought. He was a bit apprehensive sitting at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, but luckily Andre’s assertion proved to be correct. No one desired to sit near her and therefore they could spend the meal alone and in peace.

Stuffing Dennis into her shirt pocket, the Ravenclaw began to serve herself and cut up her chicken into several tiny pieces before eating. The young Gryffindor was hungry, but he preferred to focus on the matter at hand. Something about this girl was oddly fascinating. He also had many questions to ask.

“So how exactly did you stumble across my brother’s room and how was I not aware of that? Furthermore, since when are multiple people looking for the vaults?”

“One question at a time,” Tulip countered with a smile. “I still need to know why I should work with you, David Grant.”

The use of his full name was another idiosyncratic habit she seemed to demonstrate. That being said, it couldn’t hurt to give her a pitch. Especially since it sounded like she had been working with another person, possibly more than one in searching for the vault. From the looks of it, their progress was better than his in finding the latest one.

“I don’t usually play this card but...I’m the best chance you have at getting inside of a vault. I’m one of the strongest duelists in our year and I’ve broken one curse already.”

“You’re a very determined and talented person, there’s no denying that,” Tulip replied thoughtfully. “But it seems like I’m closer to finding the next vault than you are. Why shouldn’t I just go off on my own?”

“Because if we assist each other, it’ll help us solve the mystery faster,” David explained. “You found my brother’s room, but I doubt you’re any closer to knowing the vault’s location.”

“True. You make logical points. But Dumbledore forbade any student from searching for them this year. What if something goes wrong and you try to pin the blame on me?”

Tulip was testing him, he knew that. She followed rules no more than he did. But clearly this was a person who didn’t trust people easily.

“I don’t rat on my friends,” David said simply. “When I thought Bill might not make prefect, I tried to take the blame from McGonagall. I’d do the same for you.

“Perish the thought of me ever becoming prefect,” Tulip laughed. “However, I am glad that you value the people around you.”

“I’ll put this simply: I don’t care about whatever so-called power the vaults have. I’m only in this for one reason and that’s to find my brother.”

The Ravenclaw girl scanned him up and down, as though he were a mildly intriguing piece of modern art. David felt a bit uncomfortable but said nothing. Finally she spoke again.

“I don’t know that I like you yet, David Grant, but I do trust you.”

Okay that’s a start...I guess

“Then will you tell me who your accomplice was?” he asked her.

“Merula Snyde.”

David immediately spit out the pumpkin juice he’d been consuming causing a few Ravenclaws to look over with mild disgust.

“WHAT?! But why would you team up with her of all people? You seem way too smart to trust Merula.”

Tulip gave him her most serious look yet.

“Merula is a lot smarter than you give her credit for. You may not like her personality, but there’s no denying her skill.”

David scoffed. “Yeah I’ll get back to you on that one. I’ve beaten her so many times in duels I’ve lost count. She’s always trying to one up me but never succeeds.”

“Her greatest weakness is that she believes she’s invincible. But more on that later. The point is we were working together at one point but then we had a falling out. Unfortunately she still has the other key to your brother’s room.”

“Then we have to get it back.”

“Agreed,” Tulip said. “But the question is ‘how’? She’s not going to hand it over willingly.”

“I’ve found over the years that the only way to get Merula Snyde to do anything is by forcing her. Typically after one beats her in a duel.”

“That may work, but this situation is also quite delicate and we don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves from the teachers. Especially if they caught us fighting.”

David agreed with that conclusion. They would need to try another method.

“Then what do you suggest?

Tulip gave another sly smile.

“Leave that to me. I’ll come up with something that will turn Merula on her head.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tulip told him she would need some time to plan and would message him when ready. In the meantime, David kept busy with homework which was significantly heavier this year with two added electives. He also enjoyed the start of Quidditch season given it was the first week of November. Unfortunately, unlike the previous year, things didn't go as swimmingly for Gryffindor this time around. Slytherin edged them 300-260 in the opening match. None was as ecstatic as Merula and she constantly reminded him about it during the week.

“I really hope Tulip comes up with a plan soon,” David muttered one day while sitting in the common room with Rowan and Bill. The two third years were finishing Transfiguration homework while the prefect looked over potions he might expect to find on his OWLs. “If I have to listen to Merula brag about Slytherin’s victory any longer I might just have to learn the silencing charm in order to shut her big mouth.”

Rowan chuckled as he turned the page on Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

“You’ll get your chance at payback soon enough, especially if you intend to get that key.”

“I know...I just wish she’d hurry up. Losing to Merula in anything is unbearable.”

“Be thankful you weren’t directly responsible for the loss,” Bill said to him, indicating the somber figure of his brother slumping in one of the chairs. Charlie had been noticeably quiet since the match, avoiding crowds and shutting himself up in the dormitory most of the time outside of class.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He’ll get over it,” Bill assured them. “But despite what you may think, Charlie is super competitive when it comes to Quidditch. He hates losing and this was the first time in his career he’s never caught the snitch.”

“Can’t win them all I suppose,” David sighed. “We should have won, though. Skye was flying circles around them again. And that Slytherin beater totally committed a foul before Charlie could seal the deal.”

“It happens. I hate losing to Slytherin too, but a little perspective never hurts. There’s another cursed vault out there we need to find.”

David and Rowan nodded. You could always count on Bill to be level headed when it came to these situations.

“Speaking of, any luck with deciphering the rest of that book?”

“It’s slow going,” Rowan said shaking his head. “I swear I’m going barmy from trying to make out all the symbols. It gets more complicated the deeper you get into the book.”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Bill said kindly. “The best thing we can do now is getting into that room.”

As it happened, there was more progress on that front. Jae Kim suddenly appeared in front of their group.

“I was told by a certain Tulip Karasu to tell David that she wants you to meet her in the courtyard straight away.”

The three Gryffindors looked at each other with anticipation.

“Did she say anything else?”

Jae shrugged.

“Nope. I’m just passing along the message. If you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”

Bill gave an uneasy expression as the Korean boy walked off.

“I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t be doing more to prevent him from running that little black market of contraband he has.”

“Jae does plenty to get himself in trouble without your involvement,” David chuckled. “I swear we don’t even need Zonko’s. He supplies half the school with Fanged Frisbees by himself.”

He stood up and brushed off some of the couch lint on his jeans.

“Guess I better see what Tulip wants.”

“Hopefully she’s got a plan,” Rowan said eagerly.

“Yeah...hopefully.”

Despite barely knowing her, David had a feeling that whatever Tulip Karasu wanted, it was bound to be interesting to say the least.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He made his way down to the specified area where Tulip was waiting just outside the entrance. Unlike her uniform, she wore a blue coat over a thick sweater with a matching beanie hat with a puffball on top combined with a flowy skirt, black tights, and flats. It was a brisk day despite the sunny weather and winter was well on the way.

“Good. You made it,” she greeted him. “Are you ready for my plan?”

“Don’t need Trelawney’s ‘Inner Eye’ to predict you’ve got something cooked up.”

“You’re becoming more perceptive,” Tulip said with a mischievous smirk. “Merula is over there, holding court with her lackeys.”

David gave a small peek, and sure enough the Slytherin girl was there alongside Barnaby and Ismelda. What they were talking about, he couldn’t hear but Merula was clearly animated about something.

“I’d recognize that orange tuft of hair anywhere. So what’s the big plan?”

“Even though they aren’t that bright, Barnaby and Ismelda are still tough and ruthless,” Tulip explained. “We need a diversion to lure them away from her. And luckily, I have the perfect item for the job.”

Out of her coat came a dungbomb, except twice as large and covered with some kind of outer shell.

“I call it the ultimate dungbomb,” she grinned. “Mixed in with some stinksap. I used the hardening charm ‘Duro’ to give it some heft. We toss this into their little circle and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing,” David said, eyeing the putried projectile. “So now what? Do we levitate it or something?”

“Follow my lead. We hide behind the fountain until the perfect moment to strike.”

And so they entered the courtyard, tiptoeing along the way, careful not to make too much noise. The wind aided them in this goal and as they drew closer David could make out the conversation the three Slytherins were having.

“...can’t believe this! We’ve searched everywhere! We’re never going to find a cursed vault!”

“We should cast the Cruciatus Curse on Grant on his friends. Torture makes everyone talk,” Ismelda suggested with dark glee.

“Talking to you is torture. You have some serious issues, Ismelda,” Merula responded.

“We should ask Dumbledore. He’s really smart,” Barnaby said thickly.

By now Tulip and David were crouched low behind the fountain, peering over slightly to get a sense of distance from their opponents.

“Dumbledore spent half his welcome speech telling us to stay away from the vaults. Or did you forget that, you nitwit,” Merula chastised.

“We could give him Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. I heard he likes those.”

“Sometimes I wonder if your brain was replaced by a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean.”

“I still say we should use an unforgivable,” Ismelda cut in. “I’d like to cast the killing curse on the next Gryffindor I see.”

That earned a look of derision and disgust from her leader.

“You don’t even know the killing curse.”

“I sat on a bowtruckle once!” Barnaby pipped up.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ismelda asked, looking at Barnaby as though he had a second head.

“I thought we were talking about killing things.”

“Ugh, I hate you both,” Merula commented, rolling her eyes.

David shook his head behind the fountain.

“Merlin, this is literally too stupid to listen to. Now?”

Tulip nodded.

“Now!”

Using her wand, the Ravenclaw sent the ultimate dungbomb flying into the air towards the Slytherin trio. It exploded upon impact causing a toxic mist of green and yellow to fill the air and all three began to tear up, covering their noses with their arms.

“Dear, Merlin that is awful!” Ismelda cried, coughing into her arm.

“I can’t breathe!” Barnaby said coughing as well. “Let’s get out of here!”

Merula was hacking and wheezing too, but she still had enough oxygen to call after them as they ran.

“Get back here you cowards! It’s just a dungbomb!”

David wasted no time in stepping out of the shadows, Tulip in tow. They both confronted the angry Slytherin, who became irate upon laying her eyes on them.

“I should have known it was you!” Merula shouted, trembling with rage.

“Your powers of perception are truly dizzying,” he said to her in a bored tone.

“Hand the key over to us, Merula. I don’t know how long I can stand your stink,” Tulip demanded.

The look on the Slytherin’s face went from rage to incredulous.

“Us? You betrayed me, started working with Grant and have the audacity to ask me to give you the second key?”

“Actually...yeah.”

Merula’s expression returned to its usual nasty leer.

“Well too bad. I’m not giving you anything. How does it feel knowing I found your brother’s room before you did, Grant?”

“I don’t have time for this, Merula,” David said sternly. “Give us the key, now.”

Tulip then did something unexpected, stepping forward, a note of sympathy in her voice.

“We could use your help. This doesn’t have to turn ugly. Work with us.”

David was surprised at the offer of assistance and wondered where it stemmed from but predictably, Merula turned it down.

“I don’t want to work with you, I want to duel. Specifically you, Grant. Beat me again and the key is yours…” she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. “But I don’t plan on losing to you. Not this time.”

David withdrew his own wand and prepared for battle. In truth, he was looking forward to pop her ego once more.

“You never learn, do you Merula?”

He quickly fired a disarming spell, but she ducked while sending one of her own which missed over his shoulder, causing Tulip to dodge.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Despite it heading straight for her chest, the Slytherin demonstrated remarkable athleticism by rolling to her side and firing back a retort.

“Flipendo!”

David was forced to copy the same maneuver, scraping his elbow on the stone but managed to avoid the knockback jinx. Wheeling back around he aimed a jelly legs jinx but again it missed due to Merula’s agility.

She’s clearly learned a thing or two since last year

The Slytherin began pressing forward, drawing closer with each curse she fired off, putting David on the defensive retreating from his original spot back towards the wall. Some of the spells he recognized, some he didn’t and he was fairly certain a few were the kind a thirteen year old girl wasn’t supposed to know. All the same, he had to think of something before one of them landed on his person. Then, he remembered her weak spot, the same one as always.

Too aggressive. Too wild with her spells

Indeed while she was driving forward, he could see a manic look in her eye, the kind that someone had when they were determined but unhealthily obsessed. David then came up with an idea. Dropping his stance and his wand into a wide, lazy position, he allowed his opponent to think she was catching him off guard. Sure enough, Merula took the bait.

“Remollio!”

A jet of sickly, yellow light headed straight towards his head. Smiling slightly, he ducked forward into an almost ninety degree angle and sent back a spell of his own.

“Fumo!”

A mass of black smoke issued in front of Merula, blocking her vision and senses. It was all the time he needed to strike the winning blow.

“Depulso!”

The banishing charm smashed into the Slytherin girl sending her flying back and hard onto the ground into a groaning heap, wand dislodged.

Dissipating the smoke, David walked forward, wand aimed and ready in case she tried to cheat or lash back out.

“I win again, Merula. I won’t ask a third time. Give me the key.”

Clutching her shoulder painfully, she rose from the ground, grabbed her wand, and proceeded to chuck a golden key at his feet.

“Fine! Take the stupid key! I already got what I needed from that loser’s room anyway.”

Tulip came up behind him now that the duel was over, picking up the key, sympathy still lurking in her dark brown eyes.

“Merula, please we could still use…”

“My help? Save your breath. I don’t work with traitors!”

Lavender eyes switched over to David and for the first time, he saw that they were on the verge of tears.

“Watch out for this one, Grant. It's only a matter of time before she stabs you in the back.”

Without another word, Merula brushed past them, the sound of combat boots hitting against stone echoing across the courtyard as she ran back towards the dungeons.

David wondered what Tulip’s reaction would be to these thinly veiled accusations but to his slight surprise her sympathetic expression was gone, replaced by her usual mischievous delight.

“Mission accomplished, David Grant. Let’s go to your brother’s room.”

Though satisfied with receiving the key, Merula’s reaction unnerved the teenage Gryffindor. He didn’t bring it up further but there was no doubt Tulip hadn’t told him everything about her history with his chief rival.

At least not yet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The two teens wasted no time in heading towards Jacob’s room and soon they were standing in front of the dark brown, wooden, door. However, there was one question still burning in the back of David’s mind.

“Tulip?”

“Hm?”

“What did Merula mean when she said she already took what she needed from my brother’s room?”

Tulip shook her head.

“She was lying. We used this room because it was full of valuable information and research but there was nothing worth taking or pointing to the location of the vaults themselves...at least nothing that I saw.”

“Jacob was always pretty savvy at hiding things,” David informed her. “It’s perfectly possible you missed something. Hell, I just found a quill that turned out to be his transfigured notebook. I know this will sound strange, but I haven’t felt this close to him since he disappeared. There are a lot of things I’m still finding out.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the Ravenclaw teen asked him seriously. “You may not like what you find.”

David didn’t hesitate with his response. Any potential negative revelation about his brother could not outweigh the possible benefits of discovering more about his whereabouts.

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take. I have to see where he did his research.”

Tulip nodded, taking out her key and inserting it into the first part of the lock. She handed him the one they received from Merula.

“Do the honors.”

He did so, unclicking the lock, the golden seal falling to the floor with a metal clank. The door creaked open and the two teens entered the mysterious space. However, it was dark and impossible to see anything.

“I can’t see two feet in front of me,” David said aloud. “Tulip, you there?”

“Yeah. Lumos.”

The sight that greeted them was both unexpected and horrifying. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, bald, sickly pale man cloaked in black robes. His features were gaunt and waxy as though they had been warped or burnt, especially his nose, which was disproportionately smaller. But that was not the most disturbing aspect of this person. Within the skull like head were a pair of deadly, luminous blood red eyes that reeked of menace and murder. There was no mistaking who it was.

“Y-Y-You Know Who! It can’t be!” David cried.

“Run, Grant! RUN!”

Tulip immediately pulled him back before the figure could pull out his wand and slammed the door shut behind them.

Catching their breath from the near heart attack they both suffered, it took a few moments before either one could say anything.

“How is that possible? You Know Who is dead,” he panted.

“Use your common sense, David Grant. That was clearly a boggart. Hogwarts is crawling with them these days.”

Regaining his wits, the Gryffindor realized Tulip was right and mentally smacked himself for being so gullible.

“Merlin, that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Tulip reasoned. “A lot of grown witches and wizards would have reacted the same way, if not worse.”

She paused before adding. “I am curious, though. Why is your boggart, You Know Who?”

The truth was, David didn’t know the full reason why but before he could explain that to Tulip they were interrupted by another very unpleasant presence.

“Well, well...David Grant and Tulip Karasu...why am I not surprised to find you two here together?” Severus Snape spoke in his usual dangerous, silky tone.

Oh, shit

“Professor I-”

“Silence,” the potions master cut across him. “Your brother was the most disobedient student Hogwarts had seen since James Potter. You may have overtaken him.”

“But we’re allowed to be here, sir. It’s not after hours yet.”

“Do you really believe me to be a naive simpleton, Grant? Stay away from this corridor and give up your search for the vaults, or I will ensure you will share your brother’s fate. Now back to your common rooms, both of you.”

The two teens did not dare argue but before they parted company under Snape’s watchful eye he saw Tulip mouth to him, ‘We’ll talk later.’

They would need to. With Hogwarts' nastiest professor onto them and a boggart taking the form of Voldemort blocking the way, another method of gaining access to the room was needed.

David sighed as his brother’s room went out of view. He really hated roadblocks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, Snape couldn’t be everywhere at once and that included meal times as well as meetings after Transfiguration which the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shared together. Though both David and Tulip were eager to try and go back to the room they mutually agreed to stay away for the time being lest the head of Slytherin catch them again. The main priority was getting rid of the boggart.

“Professor Sprout used some kind of spell to defeat the boggart that scared Penny earlier in the year,” David mused while he and the Ravenclaw walked together after class one day.

“Well technically we’re supposed to cover boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. But we can’t wait for that incompetent buffoon to actually bring it up or teach us for that matter.”

“I swear these gormless prats are more and more useless with each passing year,” David agreed. “Guess it’s time to hit the library.”

“Let’s agree to research there after lessons are done every Friday,” Tulip suggested. “I’m sure there’s a lot we can learn before the holidays come around.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can bring Rowan along too. He’s one of the smartest people I know. Super brainy.”

Tulip suddenly hesitated.

“Actually, I’d prefer it to just be the two of us...for the time being. I can’t really explain it right now. Just trust me.”

As it was with Merula, David didn’t press the issue but he was steadily growing evermore curious about his new partner’s past. Whatever happened between her and the Slytherin teen must have been severe but he sensed there was more to it than that.

Adding to the surrounding mystery was another anonymous message he received one night. He had just come back from dinner with Penny, Tonks, and Diego when Rowan rushed to greet him quite frantically.

“David!”

“Whoa, steady on. What’s up?”

His best friend proceeded to pull out a letter from his robe pocket and hand it to him. The envelope was not addressed and carried no visible distinction.

“I found this on your bed,” he explained. “It just...appeared there. I didn’t open it in case it was private or cursed.”

David stared at the mail for a split second debating his chances. If it was a message from ‘R’ once again he was mostly certain it wasn’t cursed. Such a group would have tried to kill him by now. Then again he also had no idea what they were capable of given the general mystery surrounding them.

Taking his chances, he slit open the envelope, removed the parchment inside and read the contents aloud.

“You are in grave danger. Your investigation into the Cursed Vaults has drawn the attention of a group who is not to be trifled with. Be careful, but remain courageous. I’m depending on you to reach the final vault before the others. I will assist you when I can. I hope the next time I deliver you a message, the circumstances are far less mysterious.

Sincerely,

A Friend’”

Taking a moment to reread the letter and analyze its contents David looked towards his brainiac friend for a possible explanation. Rowan appeared to be as lost as he was.

“For the record, I have no idea who wrote you that letter. Do you?”

David certainly had no more inkling than the hippogriff by Hagrid’s hut. There were a number of possibilities, which included his brother, an enemy playing tricks, or even the Headmaster himself.

“I’m as lost as you are. I’d say it was a ruse except for the fact none of the Slytherins know how to get into our common room. If anything, it sounds like an ally of some sort.”

“I sure hope so,” Rowan responded with a bit of anxiety. “These anonymous messages are starting to creep me out a bit.”

He paused before asking another question.

“By the way, what’s with this Tulip girl? Why does she insist on working with you alone?”

David genuinely shrugged.

“I wish I knew. Your guess is as good as mine.”

In truth, David had little time to reflect on it at the current moment. Tulip was a vital piece in all of this and he could scarcely afford to scare her off. Whoever the mystery man was that claimed to be on his side, there was no use in dwelling on that either. Aside from his schoolwork, which he was careful to pay close attention to, the only thing that mattered was learning how to get rid of that pesky boggart in his brother’s room in order to properly access it.

Thankfully, that wasn’t too difficult in principle. Within their first round of research the Ravenclaw girl discovered the spell ‘Ridikkilus’ which was the same one Professor Sprout used to disperse the boggart in the Herbology classroom. However, given the risks of using the spell without prior experience and with Snape still looming over their heads, Tulip advised against going back to the room before they were ready. David wanted to head back as soon as possible but he eventually relented as his new partner in crime told him to practice over the holidays while she thought of a plan.

Honestly, she’s always scheming that one

However, with Christmas around the corner, the dreaded return back to West Country loomed over his head and he was not looking forward to the strained, emotionally stunted holiday as was per custom in the Grant household. But on the eve of his departure, he received a distraction of sorts, something quite unexpected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the last Hogsmeade trip of the season before the holidays and David used that time to share a glass of butterbeer with his friends namely Rowan, Ben, Tonks, Penny, and Charlie. The Three Broomsticks was even cozier and warm this time of year and full of festive cheer and decorations, many of which he helped Madam Rosmerta put up before the big customer rush as a ‘thank you’ for giving him the quill. In return, he and his companions received a round of free drinks.

“I tell you what. Life doesn’t get much better than this,” Rowan said, taking a satisfying swig.

“I can’t wait to go home and see my family for Christmas,” Penny beamed. She was snuggled up in a blue coat with a matching beret, leggings, and snow boots. David couldn’t help but notice the rosy glow on her cheeks and how pretty she looked. “My sister is dying to know more about Hogwarts even though I’ve told her so much already.”

“What about you, Dave?” Ben asked genuinely.

David tried to hide the fact that he was secretly conflicted and tried to play it off with his usual sarcasm.

“Well my mom will stress herself needlessly from making the dinner, my dad will read his newspaper and do paperwork, we open some presents followed by an awkward crying session from said mother who tops it off with a bottle of wine….so yeah. Merry Christmas to me.”

The blond boy was unsure how to respond to that as flushed with embarrassment.

“I...uh…”

“Relax, Ben,” Tonks cut in. “Dave knows you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, I know exactly how to cheer him up.”

She transformed her face into that of a toucan’s beak, something usually never failed to elicit a laugh. But this time the Gryffindor teen didn’t budge.

“Oh come on, David that always works. Show a little festive cheer!”

Before she could stick another butterbeer under his nose the second Weasley brother came back over with another round and a message.

“Drink up you lot. Also David, my brother wants a word with you.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“For what? Did he mention a reason?”

“Just said it was urgent. He’s over there sitting by himself. Pretty moody by his standards.”

Shrugging, he took the spare butterbeer weaved and ducked his way through the Christmas crowd and found Bill seated at one of the tables meant for two people. Indeed, he had a curious expression on his face.

“Charlie told me you wanted to talk?” he said, taking his chair. “Is everything okay?”

“How are you in the ways of romance, Dave?”

It was a loaded question, one he was not prepared to answer at all. Because the answer was not at all.

“Uh, Bill...I think you may want the tea shop down the street,” he joked referring to Madam Puddifoots. “What’s this about, anyway?”

“I’m obsessed with this girl named Emily Tyler,” the prefect explained and there was a swooning glint in his eyes. “She’s not only beautiful but in Defense Against the Dark Arts she single handedly stupefied an entire swarm of vampire bats.”

“That’s not saying much given the current state of that class,” David joked again, taking a sip from his glass. He did, however, see Bill’s point. He knew of Emily Tyler and many older Gryffindors had the hots for her. She always hung out with the same group of friends chatting away about gossip, makeup, Witch Weekly, and whatever they found interesting that day. She was also quite wealthy on both sides of her family. “So what’s the next step then? Are you going to tell her?”

“You make it sound so simple. But I was actually hoping you could talk to her for me.”

David had never seen Bill this...timid before and it was a bit unsettling. The tall, lanky, long haired Weasley was usually the cool one of their group- collected, confident, the voice of reason and was a favorite among the student body in the way he conducted his prefect duties. To witness him as being so unsure meant this girl meant a lot to him.

“Bill, no offense but you’re asking the wrong bloke. I know less about this stuff than you do. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

“Well neither have I. I’ve also never been in love before.”

“And what makes you think...wait you’re in love?” he asked, completely floored.

“Am I? I don’t even know anymore. What’s happening to me?”

It was then the adolescent Gryffindor knew just how important this was to Bill and the least he could do was try and spread some cheer before Christmas. Just as Tonks pointed out. If he could play matchmaker for one of his best friends, what was the harm?

“Don’t worry about a thing mate. I’ll go talk to her. No problem.”

Bill smiled in response, his worried brows relaxing slightly.

“Good. She’s actually right over there.”

He pointed behind him ever so subtly to indicate her presence, and sure enough, there she was hanging out with her usual assortment of friends, holding court at one of the wall booths.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

“Then I will,” David replied simply. “I’ll be right back.”

He drained the latter portion of his butterbeer and made his way over through the vast crowd. Upon finally reaching the booth it didn’t take long for the group of girls to look up at him with curious looks as though he were some kind of exotic alien. That certainly didn’t help his nerves but he pressed forward anyway.

“Emily Tyler?”

David didn’t need to ask as he recognized her right away. He could see what the elder Weasley meant. Like Bill, Emily was a fifth year but physically quite mature, and could have passed for two or three years beyond her age. True to word, she was very pretty, piercing brown eyes to go with high cheekbones and a slim, feminine jawline to go along with extensive makeup. Dark brown hair formed a widow’s peak along her forehead and was pulled back into a high ponytail. She also appeared to be quite fond of the color pink as she wore a long sleeved magenta dress complete with thick, pink tights, a cardigan and boots. It was indicative of someone who grew up quite upper class.

Though she did not look annoyed, there was a haughtiness to her expression that was a tad unsettling to the third year cursebreaker.

“That’s my name,” she responded evenly, ignoring the whispers of her posse. “And you’re that cursed vault kid, David Grant. What can I do you for?”

“Well I’m a friend of Bill Weasley’s…”

This didn’t seem to impress her.

“Okay?”

Out with it. She’s not going to wait for the grass to grow

“He fancies you and wants to know how you feel.”

On cue the rest of Emily’s friends began to giggle though she gave no indication as to how she personally felt.

“If I can speak in his favor, he’s a solid bloke. You couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“He fancies me? I have to say I’m surprised,” Emily finally responded.

“It’s true. Haven’t seen him this frazzled...well ever really.”

“Is this some sort of joke? Because I don’t want to look like an idiot. What did he tell you?”

“Fair warning: I know as much about romance as I do about advanced Arithmancy, don’t hex the messenger,” David told her bluntly.

“Perish the thought. I want to hear this,” Emily said as much to her friends as she did to him to stop them from giggling.

“What else can I say? He thinks you’re amazing, powerful, beautiful, strong. Bill is as cool as any person in this school but he’s a mess over you. And you couldn’t ask to date a finer person.”

There it was. A glowing recommendation and an honest account of his friend’s intentions and feelings. Surely that was enough to win over a girl right?

He thought wrong. A very unpleasant, arrogant smirk crossed Emily Tyler’s face as she began playing with her pink, manicured nails.

“What a prat.”

David did a double take.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong he’s reasonably handsome but why would anyone date a Weasley?”

Anger surged through David as his right hand turned into a fist around his glass mug. Was she really turning him down for the reasons he thought she was? The resumed giggling from her cronies made it worse.

“May I ask why?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Everyone knows the Weasleys are one the poorest wizarding families in Britain. They have no means, no manners, and no prospects. Why would I lower myself to such a standard?”

“I think you should take that back,” David said with quiet fury.

“And so what if I don’t?” Emily sneered. “Tell your friend thank you for sharing his feelings, it was a good for a laugh but he’s delusional if he ever thought he had a chance with me.”

By now, pure hatred surged through his veins, temper getting the best of him. More from the shock of someone actually insulting Bill, Emily Tyler was now the queen bitch in his eyes. Slamming his mug on the table with tremendous force, causing the four girls to jump with fright.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he growled. “Bill must be attracted to your looks because your personality is pure rubbish.”

Emily recovered from the shock and shot him a venomous, threatening stare.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know enough. You sit over here prattling on like my mother at a book club thinking you’re the greatest thing since Merlin’s first bowel movement. But you’re nothing but a stuck up piece of shite. I’m just glad I can tell Bill before he wastes any more time on you.”

He flipped the glass over, spilling the small amount of butterbeer left inside.

“Get bent...snobbish twit.”

Without wasting another second, he turned and left, still fuming over the audacity of Emily Tyler to call his mate ill mannered and inferior. It was also a highlight into the flaws of his own house. Just because you were bold and confident didn’t make you a good person. So pissed he was, he barely noticed Bill’s reaction when he sat back down at the table.

“Dave?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to explode. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Of course, Bill didn’t believe that.

“What happened and what did Emily say?”

On the one hand, David really didn’t want to reveal the full extent of Emily’s denigrating insults. It might shatter his heart given how much he liked her. Then again, it wouldn’t do to have someone he looked up to pining after someone who would sooner rip his heart out and stomp on it than date him. The truth was more important than protecting him from it.

“Bill...I won’t lie to you. It wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated seeing Bill’s confused face and he suspected that what was to follow would be equally as painful.

“Mate, she’s not interested. And she didn’t mince words.”

The eldest Weasley’s expression fell dramatically.

“Oh.”

“You can do better than her,” David tried to reassure him

“But-but she’s the most beautiful girl in our year...this whole school.”

“She’s also mean, arrogant, and generally awful. Bill, she insulted you and your family.”

He didn’t want to go there but there was little other choice than to prevent his friend from continuing his obsession. And he wasn’t fibbing. Bill did deserve better.

“She did?”

“Heard it with my own two ears.”

“But what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” David emphasized. “And that’s the point. You’re too good for her. And not the other way around.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Bill said with the slightest of tremors in his voice.

The third year leaned forward, speaking with the utmost sincerity he could muster.

“Listen to me...you’re one of my best friends. You’ve taught me a lot about dueling, magic, and Hogwarts itself. Everyone I know looks up to you as a person, prefect, and role model….and so do I. Don’t let someone like Emily Tyler change that. Be good to yourself.”

His impassioned speech seemed to finally break through and the Bill Weasley of old shone through.

“Thanks, David...I’m sorry for acting like an idiot. She’s the first girl I really fell for...it’s hard you know?”

He didn’t, not truly since he’d never had a crush on a girl before. But David felt a great deal of sympathy for his friend. Anything that could rattle the cool Bill Weasley could rattle anyone else.

“Of course.”

“Now let’s grab another butterbeer. Next one’s on me.”

“Cheers, mate. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

He and Bill made their way back towards their friend group where Charlie, Rowan, and company were waiting, greeting them warmly. Though the drinks were sweet and the atmosphere quite merry for the upcoming Christmas season, David own’s spirits were far from being satiated. A part of him knew his angry reaction to Emily’s rejection of the eldest Weasley was due to his own misapprehension and unhappiness that plagued him this time of year.

Images of his brother flashed before his mind as though it were a dream sequence.

For all the faith people placed in him, he wished he could take his own advice.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #mc #hphm fanfiction #Gryffindor #David Grant #merula snyde #tulip kasaru #penny haywood #rowan khanna #ben copper #bill weasley #charlie weasley #barnaby lee #ismelda murk #emily tyler #severus snape #nymphadora tonks

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mysweetestcreature · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 9: The Fool

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Friday, November 14, 2008

“Will you go to the winter formal with me?”

Her mouth remains agape, eyes staring intensely ahead. At her sides, her fingers pinch roughly at the hem of her apron, so much that the skin between her fingers turns an angry shade of red. She doesn’t think she has the brain power to comprehend the events as they’ve unfolded before her. It rings through her ears, and yet it’s like she can’t hear it, almost like she refuses to. If someone had told her that she’d be in this position earlier this morning, she would’ve argued the ridiculousness of such a thing.

“Y/n?” Jasper chuckles nervously, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Scanning the room, the rest of the students, much like himself, are awaiting her response. “Uh...” he stutters, inching just a little closer for a bit privacy. “Are you...are you okay? Do you need to sit down or...”

“No!” the voice within her shouts to its very limits. “Formal?” she finally chokes out. This is wrong, so very and woefully wrong. She could vomit just about now, the contents of her stomach threatening to claw their way up into her mouth. The burn of acidity is already prevalent on the back of her tongue and leaves a bitter taste in its wake.

Jasper offers a dubious nod, the stem of the rose see-sawing in his grasp. The usual sweet smell of its petals only makes her feel more nauseous. He pokes the inside of his cheek “What do you say?”

A part of her wishes Cici had never told her about Harry, at least she wouldn’t feel as sick as she does now. She knows that she shouldn’t feel this way, but it’s just one of those things that test her anxieties like no other. “I,” she starts, she becomes aware of the ridiculing eyes that surround them. Being the center of attention, at least in this way, has never been something she’s ever wanted for herself. It’s like she’s an attraction at a fair, and all they want is for her to pull some sort of trick or do something spectacular. Oh god. She can feel it rising up her esophagus. Her chest feels restricted as air bubbles begin to collect at the back of her throat. It escapes from her lips before she’s had time to think it over. “I need to pee.”

“You–” but Jasper thankfully chooses not to repeat the statement. “Oh, um...” he pulls his beanie further down his ears. “I’ll just wait for you here then.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Y/n squeaks. At first, she slowly backs away as she unties the back of her apron. It’s only until she’s successfully placed it on the counter that she breaks for the door.

***

All the worry that had consumed him earlier has now faded away, and in its place rests the jitters of excitement that boil in his blood and bounce in his leg. They had won the debate, and the high of their success has only driven his confidence further. Actually, he hadn’t even been there to receive news of their triumph firsthand. He’d momentarily escaped the auditorium to run across the street to a flower shop he’d immediately spotted when they’d arrived. Although he knows Y/n isn’t one to expect gifts, he didn’t want to turn up empty handed. He’s been waiting so long for this, and he’d be damned if he didn’t properly prepare.

As he holds the bouquet gently in his lap, he doesn’t try to hide the corny smile that dances across his lips. The person who had sold him the flowers had been this kind elderly lady whose eyes glimmered fondly as she spoke to her plants as though they could understand the world.

“They can read people, you know,” she says, cradling a New England aster at the sepal. “The best listeners, too. Won’t talk back to you but will give you any answer you need.”

Harry looks over his shoulder for anyone else but finds himself to be the only person within close proximity. She must be talking to him. “What kind of answers?” he dares to ask.

The elderly woman smirks to herself as she wanders through her store like a stranger without a destination. She runs the tips of her fingers through the aisles, brushing over the leaves and petals of various arrangements. “Ah,” she delights, stopping in her tracks and extending an ear out to listen. A moment of silence passes them, and slowly do the apples of her cheeks round. He watches her carefully, thinking she could potentially fade into mist if he were to look away. What kind of flower shop is this?

“This,” she says sternly. “This is the one you’re looking for.”

Of course, he’s completely perplexed but astounded all at once. He walks over, his mouth falling ajar as the pinkish-purple petals come into view.

“She’s a lucky girl,” she tells him, looking him directly in the eyes for the first time. “Love is such a beautiful thing, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry bites down on his tongue, hands slipping into the pockets of his cardigan. The topic has always brought out the shyness in him. “I mean, I’ve only just...” but he finds himself pausing to reflect. They haven’t known each other for long, but she’s already forged a solid position in his life, as dreadfully cheesy as it sounds, he’ll admit. Her image pops into his head, and just that makes him blush. “It is.”

“Purple lilacs,” she hums out like a melody. Plucking one from its pot and handing it to him. “Symbolize early love, young love, if you will.” He studies its character, twirling it between his pointer and thumb. “They’re beautiful. Really, they are...but I was thinking something along the lines of a ro–”

“No, no.” she shakes her head, already starting to gather a bunch together. “This is the one for her.”

“Honestly, it’s about time,” Maxxie huffs, slouching in his seat as their van merges onto the highway. “Not to be dramatic, but I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this to happen.”

“I’ve only known you for two months,” Harry raises an eyebrow, but can’t help but laugh.

“Your point?” the blonde counters, running his hands through his long bangs and pushing them to the side. “Two months? Fifteen years? Time is but a number, my friend. And besides,” he gives Harry a knowing look, “there’s no way she’s going to be able to turn you down.”

Dimples dress his cheeks as he looks back down into his lap. “You really think so?”

***

“I’m freaking out!” Y/n screams in a harsh whisper into her phone. It’s been at least ten minutes since she’d sprinted out of the kitchen. She’d passed three restrooms until settling on one on the third floor of the building.

“Well, what did you say to him?” Cici presses from the other end. Currently, she’s sitting in in her history class, Mr. Bartolome (Harry’s unmotivated homeroom teacher) watching over the class while Mr. Noone is out sick (although, everyone knows he’s at his timeshare in Vegas).

Y/n bangs the back of her head against the stall door, hand covering her eyes as to shield herself from this unforgiving reality. “I didn’t say anything! I made up some excuse and ran out.”

“Hmm,” her friend tuts, “he probably thinks you have explosive diarrhea, but that’s probably for the best in this case. Hopefully he’ll think you’re contagious!”

“You’re a riot,” Y/n sighs. Pushing her sleeve up from her wrist, she squints at the time on her watch. Class ends in three minutes, which only means she has that much longer to figure everything out.

If she were to have it her way, she would go with Harry in a heartbeat. It’s all she’s been able to think about all day, and all she wants when the day comes. No questions asked. But the problem is that he hasn’t asked her yet, and now Jasper has. She hasn’t even seen him since last night! Had he changed his mind? The thought alone makes her queasy, especially considering how troubled she feels over everything. “What am I going to do?”

***

As soon as their van parks right outside the main doors, Harry all but darts out. While the trip had only been about half an hour, it felt far too long with how eager he is. Maxxie calls from behind him, wishing all the best of luck because finally actions are about to be taken.

The first thing he does is check the Home Economics room since he knows she can get wrapped up in whatever project she’s set her heart on. He loves that about her, how she pours so much passion into her baking and comes up with the innovative combinations of flavors and designs. Just last week he’d seen the designs for this Winter Wonderland-themed cake that she has planned for the holidays (which he thinks would bring Duff Goldman’s work to shame, but he’s quite bias when it comes to her).

When he peeks his head in the window on the door, he finds the entire room empty with only dirty cupcake pans left abandoned in the sink. He backs away, thinking to himself where he might be able to find her.

Before he can make another move, he’s hit square in the back with the door. “Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

As he rubs the base of his spine, he looks up to see a young woman with black hair pulled tightly in a bun, probably no more than thirty. He recognizes her from the all the times he’s spent watching Y/n bake. What’s her name again? “Miss Ginevra?” he tests out the name.

She smiles and nods back. “That’s me! Now what on earth are you doing standing here? Are you trying to crack a skull? I can’t imagine your coach being too pleased with that.”

“I was actually coming to look for Y/n,” he admits sheepishly, and he slightly raises the lilacs in his right hand for her to see. He doesn’t notice the way the corners of Miss Ginevra’s lips slightly tug down. “Do you have any idea where I can find her?”

***

“There you are!” he says slightly out of breath, but elation still evident in his tone. He fixes himself, adjusting his tie and pushing his hair away from his eyes. The bouquet remains hidden behind him, but he’s just itching to finally give it to her. She flickers him a gaze for just a moment before shuffling books from her backpack to her locker and vice versa. He pushes down the apprehension before it can bother him, coolly leaning on the locker beside hers as he waits to steal her attention. “I was just on my way to the cafeteria to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” she says weakly.

“I’m so glad I did.”

She doesn’t look up, and now he starts to worry. Usually a line like that would earn him at least a giggle or a roll of the eyes, but it’s like she’s trying her best not to look at him. Had he done something? Nothing in the last day, surely! Last night things had gone so well (minus another interruption, complements of Jeremy), and he hadn’t seen her at all today until right now.

“Hey,” he says, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Everything alright?” And just like that she isn’t able to remain aloof any longer. “Harry, I–” but she cuts herself off when she sees the bottom of the stems sticking out from behind him. “Are those...are those for me?”

“Huh? Oh!” He holds the bouquet between them, encouraging her to take them. “They’re purple lilacs.”

“I know,” she smiles sadly as she accepts them, even though she feels like she shouldn’t. “They’re my favorite flower.”

He smiles widely. “That’s a relief,” Harry breathes out, rubbing the back of his neck. “They came highly recommended by the florist. Glad I listened her.” (Someone needs to remind him to visit that shop to say, ‘thank you’.) A light laugh sounds from his mouth, and it only makes Y/n feel worse because she wishes she could allow the butterflies in her stomach to flutter free. Instead, they’re caged up, and the key is being withheld.

“Y/n, I need to ask you–”

“Harry, there’s something you should–”

Both take a brief pause.

Just as Y/n is about try again and speak up, Harry beats her to it. “Wait! Me first, yeah? I’m scared if I don’t, I never will,” he asks of her. “I was going to do this last night, but then your dad came in and then I’m sure Mason did something at some point...but anyway,” he shakes his head, but continues to grin. “Y/n, will you be my date to the–”

“Jasper asked me this morning,” she blurts out. She watches with heartache as his expression falters. His eyes have always been so expressive, and now more than ever do they radiate such melancholy. “And I said yes.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, averting his eyes. The rest of his back hits the cool metal surface and he stuffs both hands in his pockets. He stares ahead without focus or intent. If he’d been feeling confident earlier, now it’s like he’s fallen hard from grace.

She chews on her bottom lip as he maintains a silence so deafening that she feels she could scream.

“Say something,” she pleads.

But there’s nothing he can say. Not without sounding like a complete arse, at least. He wants to act like a toddler and throw a tantrum because he’s just had enough of all this. The one time he’s able to follow through, it’s already too late. He’s angry at Jasper for being such a dick for existing.

He’s upset with her because they’re constantly out of step with one another. Most of all, he’s just frustrated with himself for not having done something sooner.

With much convincing from his brain, he faces her. He looks her in the eyes, smiles and nods. “I hope you like the flowers.” And with that, he turns and walks the other way.

***

Sometimes Y/n wishes things could be different.

There have been so many instances in the last few months where she would have liked to have been bolder. Or maybe she wishes she didn’t feel so deeply for someone that fate refuses to let her have. Because she’s almost certain that this has to be some sort of sign. How many times are they going to have to live this narrative before they get it right?

“These are so pretty! Are they yours?” She looks up to see her Liv standing at her bedroom door, the purple lilacs in her hands. When she’d arrived home from school, she had left them on the kitchen counter, not wanting to look at them and remember the way he had just turned his back on her. The sight of it causes a burn behind her eyes, but she’s already so tired from having been here before. He didn’t even allow her a chance to explain, and that’s probably what hurts the most.

“They’re from Harry,” she replies lifelessly, falling back into her pillows. She hugs one closely to her chest. “He asked me to formal.”

Suddenly, she feels a weight bounce onto her bed that lifts her body from the mattress for a split second. “Did he really?” her mother exclaims, shaking her by the hip. “Honey, that’s great! Does this mean we’re going to go dress shopping? You know, I was at Bloomingdales the other day, and I saw this beautiful white gown that I know would look perfect on you!”

“That’s great, Mom,” Y/n says. “I’ll let Jasper know to coordinate.”

“Jasper? I thought you said Harry asked you?”

She breathes out heavily. “I really don’t want to talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”

Liv moves and lays down next to her. Sliding her Blackberry out of her pocket, she holds it above her face. “When you’re ready, I’ll be right here. I’ve over a dozen emails that need responding, so take your time.”

Hearing the tapping of the keys as Liv types away only makes Y/n feel more anxious about everything.

Click.

Click. Click.

It’s like she’s ticking timebomb, and all that’s left is for something to trigger her to blow her top.

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you.”

***

Monday, November 17, 2008

It feels a lot like the first day of school where he had sat in his mum’s SUV and watched as the students swarmed into the building like running water. He remembers it clearly, that warm September breeze had hit him just right as he had stepped out of the car. And of course, almost immediately after had this girl with a pink and grey scrunchie knocked into him, then ran up the stairs before he could even blink. Then first class of the year, who’s sat next to him? Yes, things had seemed much simpler that day. Harry more than wishes he could go back and do things differently every day after.

“Try not to think about it too much, yeah?” Anne tells him as she rubs his arm. “Don’t let this ruin your friendship.”

“Yeah,” he says curtly. He leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” He leaves it at that, not wanting to say anything more in fear that he’ll relive that heartbreak he’d felt that entire rest of the day. Because after he’d left her at their lockers, he’d gone about every motion with such numbness that he can’t even remember how he’d gotten home. He’d woken up Saturday morning feeling as unmotivated as Mr. Bartolome, and as a consequence had stayed up until the early hours of this morning trying to complete all of his assignments.

When his feet land on the concrete, a triad of honks sounds from behind him. He turns around to see Jeremy’s car pull up behind Anne’s.

“Harry!” the older man greets as he waves his hand out the window. Beside him, Y/n sits with her eyes lowered, not wanting to look up.

“Uh...hey, Mr. Y/l/n. How’re you doing?” he tries his best to make conversation.

Jeremy steps out of the car and goes to shake his hand. “Great, great!” he says happily. “I’m so glad I caught you,” he continues, then looks over Harry’s shoulder. “Is that your mom?” Not even waiting for a confirmation he strides past him.

It leaves Harry and Y/n with the misfortune of having to avoid the other’s gaze, only a windshield protecting them from further hurting the other.

***

#president!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction preferences #writing

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formerly-rosaline · 5 years

Text

About Axe

Full name: Axelle Rose Nelson (named after Axl Rose of Guns n Roses)

Date of birth: November 28, 1989

Place of birth: NYC

Hometown: Jericho, NY, a suburb of NYC

Signs: Sagittarius (fire), Earth Snake, Owl

Parents: Estrella Mariam Nelson (born 1972, died 2001, née García) and Leonard Earl Nelson (born 1971)

Siblings: Kailene Renae Nelson (born 1993) and Kalise Rae Nelson (born 1998)

Ethnicity: Spanish, English, Welsh, Indigenous American

Height: 5'7

Species: vampire and human from her father's side, werewolf from her mother's

Personality: Axe has a dark side. It's hard to peel back her layers and get passed it. Manipulative and a liar to boot. Some would call her evil. Loyal to a fault to those who have earned her trust - which is a slow, arduous process. Axe tends to trust the wrong people though, and has fallen into plenty of abusive relationships - platonic and otherwise. She herself is very toxic and conniving. Macabre sense of humor. Kinky. Loves to dance.

Backstory: Axe grew up relatively normally, the oldest of three daughters. Her parents were loving enough to each other and the girls, although her father was emotionally abusive to all four of them and physically abusive occasionally to their mother. He blamed it on being in a house full of women and having nowhere to escape to, but really it was the alcoholism combined with generally being a jackass. If asked, Axe would insist it didn't shape who she was at all.

A couple months before Axe's 12th birthday, a tragedy that shook America hit particularly close to home for the Nelson family. Estrella was a custodian in the Twin Towers. At 9:03 am, They were supposed to be watching a DARE video in health class, but instead, Axe watched live as the South Tower was hit, killing her mother though she didn't know it at the time. There was stunned silence from the 8th grade class - Axe was bright, and had tested out of 6th grade - of Jericho Middle School, and the teacher promptly shut off the TV.

Axe had no idea this moment would change not just her family's lives, but the lives of all Americans. School was let out at about 11 am that day, and Axe walked home. Her father had picked up Kailene from elementary school, and Kalise was only a toddler at the time. They couldn't possibly understand what was happening - or what it meant. Mom is gone. Axe couldn't break it to them though, as her father kept attempting frantically to make phone calls. All lines were jammed.

They were huddled in the living room of a neighbor's home, the neighbors praying and crying, and Kalise began to fuss as well. Dissociating, Axe held the child and tried to soothe her. That was the day it all changed forever. That was the day Axe took on a role she shouldn't have ever had to, the day the alcoholism spiraled, the day that destroyed the Nelson family's already cracking foundation. She couldn't hear the news over the sounds of bodies thudding live in the background.

Since that loss, Axe turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. She was never really one to overindulge in drugs and alcohol, though she did partake; instead, she let bloodlust consume her. She manipulated plenty a man into feeding the monster that consumed her... the monster she had become. Axe raised her sisters, as her father continually let them down, though he never did raise a hand to them outside of spanking.

When she was 17, Axe was ready to move on. She applied for the Biomedical Engineering program at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, and she got in. Kailene was just starting high school, and Kalise was doing well in elementary. It was time for her to move on. Besides, Baltimore was less than 200 miles away. Tinged with guilt, Axe still took the chance to improve her life. She couldn't play mommy forever.

No child should be forced to go through what Axelle did; no child should have to raise their siblings, however common it is. Axelle never got the chance to be a teenager. She never even partied until Johns Hopkins. Unfortunately, she spent so much time finally getting to be a teen that she failed two classes her first semester and lost her scholarships. Axe decided to continue moving on with her life, though.

Without telling her father, Axe moved to Detroit and worked three jobs until she had enough for an online semester at Wayne State University as a biology student. Living paycheck to paycheck, Axe put herself through a year of college there before she was able to apply for financial aid once again. When she did, her father found out where she was. She didn't let his anger shake her, though.

Eventually, she was able to quit two of her jobs and rack up a lot of student debt to attend in-person classes. She dreamed of being able to get back into Johns, but they rejected her every time she reapplied. Instead, she attended Wayne State's School of Medicine. By the end of her college career and residency, she was in over 300,000 dollars of student debt. She also developed alcoholism during her stint in med school.

Graduating in 2019 with a Ph.D. in immunology and microbiology, Axe finally felt like she'd made something of herself. She refused to change her name for her degree, despite plenty telling her she should. Besides, now she was Dr. Nelson, and that sounded plenty professional to her. She returned to the Big Apple to find a job as an immunologist. Doctors had access to plenty of blood, after all.

Kailene had already graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology with a Bachelor's in Accessories Design and Kalise was partying it up in her third year at LaGuardia Community College where she had changed her major from Social Science and Humanities to Business Administration. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, and who could blame her. She never knew their mother, and it had led to her being really stunted in life. Axe felt partially to blame; she had left when Kalise was so young, after all, and stayed gone for eleven years. Now that she was back, she wanted to spend time with her family - even their father. She had forgiven him a long time ago. Besides, he'd had to have done something right since all three of them had attended college.

Kinks: shibari, daddy doms, footplay, bloodplay, asphyxiation, breath play, choking, knifeplay, barebacking, CBT, exhibitionism, anal. Switch, primarily sub. Loves being yanked by the hair, slapped around, and generally manhandled. If it's BDSM, she'd definitely try it twice before deciding if she's into it or not.

Turn-offs: pet play, collaring, hard degradation, age play - regression, diapers, begging, CNC.

Sexuality: pansexual (open to threesomes/orgies), polyamorous

Relationship status: single and not looking for serious commitment; prefers fwb. You won't hear her dropping the L bomb any time soon.

Current age: nearing 30

#about axe #about muse #oc #axe #axelle rose #axelle

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rudderless-in-an-ocean-of-stars · 6 years

Text

blood and wine, chapter one

Here it is, the first chapter of my first-ever OC fanfiction. I hope you’ll give it a chance, even if it’s not what you would normally consider reading. If you admire me at all as an author, please give it a shot, as this story is very close to my heart. :)

Find it here on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677440/chapters/33910176

Summary:

“It’s a scream that pulls her back to reality, one that is quickly muffled and cut off- but not before she’s able to pinpoint the source of the sound. She shouldn’t interfere, but she can’t quite bring her limbs to keep moving, to keep herself walking forward and far away from the sounds of a struggle. The man who shoves past her suddenly stiff body with a mumbled expletive doesn’t share her qualms, hurrying away even as her stare burns twin holes between his retreating shoulders.

Coward.

Then she’s alone beneath the flickering lights of the row of the half-broken lamps lining the street, and she’s moving towards the alley at a near-run. Her need to keep a low profile be damned, Maia is all-too familiar with the memory of what it feels like to be a girl whose screams are ignored.”

She’s an ex-assassin turned reluctant vigilante living in New York City. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: I know that most people avoid OC fanfiction, but I’m hoping that you’re here because my reputation as a somewhat decent writer has convinced you to give this a chance. :)

Now onto the important story stuff:

This will take begin by taking place roughly six months before Civil War, in late 2015, which is when it was canonically established that Peter Parker also began his vigilantism. For now, this story will be told from the OC’s POV, but that may be subject to change in later chapters. OC was born a year earlier than Peter, in 2000, making her a year older, and as of this chapter, 15.

Enjoy!

Chapter One: the price of salvation

By the time Maia starts heading back to her apartment, a combination of the encroaching darkness and the biting cold seems to have been enough to have effectively chased most people back into the comfort of their homes. It’s only November, but the chill of the approaching winter has arrived early. She doesn’t mind the cold- she’s been in far worse situations to care about such a minor discomfort- and if the benefit of it is that the streets will be emptier, it’s an annoyance she’s more than willing to endure.

She lets her thoughts drift as she walks, imagines herself as one of the masses. Imagines returning to a brightly lit home with the scent of cooking food hanging heavy in the air and the sound of laughter to greet her ears as soon as she steps through the door, warm and genuine and purely inviting. It’s a silly, childish fantasy for her to indulge in, but it keeps her mind occupied for several blocks, so she allows it to drag on.

It’s a scream that pulls her back to reality, one that is quickly muffled and cut off- but not before she’s able to pinpoint the source of the sound. She shouldn’t interfere, but she can’t quite bring her limbs to keep moving, to keep herself walking forward and far away from the sounds of a struggle. The man who shoves past her suddenly stiff body with a mumbled expletive doesn’t share her qualms, hurrying away even as her stare burns twin holes between his retreating shoulders.

Coward.

It takes less than a minute for her to beat the would-be rapist into unconsciousness. She feels like she’s cheated somehow, in trading a single minute of her time to save a woman now gasping out breathless strings of thanks in her direction. She’s spent so much of her life inflicting this same kind of violence, but never before for the benefit of people like the woman in front of her now, never in defense of the innocent.

Having the scales tip in a different direction is such a foreign feeling to her that it almost makes her dizzy. Even with Yasha on their hunts for the men who used to hold the whips, fighting never felt like this. It was still something dirty and brutal she had been wielding against the dirty and brutal men she used to serve.

Now, it feels like something else.

Now, it feels like salvation.

Concealing her face is nothing new to her, but by the time a fight usually begins she’s already ditched her wigs and false prostheses because people don’t usually get to walk away from her alive. Neither last very long once in-combat, anyways, and she doesn’t have the time or patience to apply them on a nightly basis. Nano masks are expensive and won’t withstand any real hits, and she’s really not in the mood to mimic common criminals by running around the city wearing what looks like a sock with cutouts for her eyes and mouth over her face. There’s the face-guard she’d worn on several missions that didn’t require a stealth infiltration, only straightforward assassination, but it works and feels like a muzzle, and she knows the design had been intentional.

Weapons didn’t need to talk. Weapons had mission objectives and targets to kill and no room for independent thought. And she may still be a weapon but that’s not all that she is anymore so she tucks the face-guard back into the bag she keeps in the corner of her closet where her old tactical suit and gear remains, having done nothing but gather dust for the past year. She’s outgrown what she used to be in the time since Yasha had set her free from the control of the Ouroboros in more ways than one.

The old bodysuit now feels tight and constrictive when she tries to slip into it again, and she remembers what it was like when her skin had clung close enough to her bones that it had been easy to count her ribs, one by one. They had liked to keep their weapon hungry, honed to a perpetually razor-sharp edge by discomfort and desperation. There had been times they wouldn’t let her sleep or eat for days just to test the limits of her body, her mind, her commitment to the task at hand, no matter how inane.

Now she understands what it’s like to be well-fed, to have enough flesh between skin and bone to dull the sharpness of her ribs and her collarbones. Her body is still sleek and muscled but no longer unhealthily slender, no longer bordering on breakable. Sometimes, in the dead of night when she can’t force herself to sleep, she likes to visit the 24-hour stores just to stare at the aisles full of food she can eat without waiting for a command, choices she can make without the heavy drum beat of a directive banging against the inside of her skull.

A month ago, she’d finally indulged herself and bought a fridge to furnish her apartment and had fought hard to keep from succumbing to the urge to self-punish for such a selfish, unnecessary act. She’d succeeded, then. A day later, Maia had ended up kneeling beside the bathtub and holding her head underwater until she’d almost passed out for treating herself to a hot cup of chai from a street vendor with kind eyes. She’d ended up on her back on the floor of the bathroom, vision blacking out at the edges as she struggled to breathe, hating herself for her failure to resist the voice inside her mind reminding her that she was an asset, and assets consumed sustenance for survival, not pleasure, and she deserved to hurt for the luxury of a single cup of chai. It was a battle she lost as often as she won, fighting to beat the vestiges of her programming back into the smallest, darkest corner of her mind.

In the end, she chooses a fitted black cloth neckpiece that she can keep around her throat until she needs to use it. It works well when she pulls it up to cover the lower half of her face, effectively concealing all of her features below her eyes. The lower end of it tucks neatly into the collar of the new custom black tactical suit that she’d used the man hired to act as her guardian to acquire. He was an accommodating man who didn’t mind taking orders from a girl less than half of his age, so long as she kept him on her payroll. The mask won’t provide much in the way of protection, but it‘ll keep her face concealed while still allowing her to speak, and that’s all she really needs.

None of the petty criminals and street thugs she confronts pose any real threat to her, but there’s still something exhilarating about the prospect of winning fights where she’s no longer on the wrong side. It’s new, different, and it doesn’t make her limbs feel heavy with regret when she lashes out with every intention of drawing blood.

The one rule she imposes upon herself is simple- no killing.

It takes longer to subdue her opponents sometimes, when she’s fighting a group and has to remind herself not to snap someone’s neck or crush anyone’s skull against the cement, but she leaves them all alive, albeit unconscious, and that’s a victory in and of itself for a girl who was raised to kill without a second thought. It costs her, leaving her with injuries she wouldn’t normally sustain if she didn’t care about leaving her opponents with a pulse, but every cut and bruise feels like a prize. She relishes the pain that she carries home with her after a night out on the streets, each and every single one of her aches serving as a reminder that she had left those people alive and with every reason not to step out of line again.

She’s been on the streets for nearly two weeks when she finally comes across another vigilante. The city turns out to have more of them than she expects, once she started paying attention. She’s seen blurry images of him on the news enough to already know who he is, but it still doesn’t stop a flicker of excitement from bursting to life in her veins when she finally meets the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

He moves in a way that has her wondering who trained him, aware of every single thing around him even without turning to look. She’s been trained similarly to be aware of her surroundings, but his spatial awareness is so obviously superior that she’s almost envious.

Maia watches him fight, patiently waiting at the opening of the alley where he’s currently beating the crap out of a couple of muggers. The would-be victim had already run past Maia and back out into the streets, clutching her bag and probably hurrying to retreat to the relative safety of her home. She hadn’t even spared the masked girl a second glance in her rush to flee.

When he’s finished- which she notes with a mild sense of disappointment because it would’ve been a genuine pleasure to continue to watch him fight- he turns to her and tilts his head in query.

“I’m not here to fight,” she says, mindful of the way he’s already tensed in preparation for an attack.

“Then what are you here for?” He growls back, something dark and dangerous lining the edges of his tone, a threat so visceral that she can almost feel it permeating the space between them.

Maia steps deeper into the alley, and the shadows embrace her form like an old friend.

“Well, it seems we’re in the same business, so I thought I should introduce myself.”

“You seem a little young to be in this business.”

She doesn’t allow herself to stiffen, even as her heart skips a beat at his words. Whoever the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is, he’s more perceptive than almost anyone else she’s ever come across. What gave it away? Maia’s trained her whole life to become a ghost, yet within a minute of introducing herself to this man in an alley, he can already tell that she’s still a teen?

“I took down those guys at the docks last week,” she tosses back, forcing herself to sound flippant and cold, “I think my age is the last thing you should be concerned about.”

It’s not quite a laugh that she manages to get of out him, but it’s close.

“I guess you’re right about that.” He nods, relaxing his stance and lowering his billy clubs to his sides. “What should I call you?”

Maia hums for a second, a little thrown by the question. She hadn’t quite considered creating a name for her nighttime alter ego yet. This new hobby of hers doesn’t feel so much as dressing up as it does dressing down, stripping away the costume of normalcy and returning to the truth at the core of her being, the part of her that has violence etched deep into the very marrow of her bones.

“Dealer’s choice,” she replies, and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really laughs this time. It’s a rich, warm sound that echoes brightly in the quiet stillness of the alley.

“Alright. How about ‘Jane’?”

“As in, Jane Doe?” She doesn’t bother stopping the smirk that stretches across her lips, hidden beneath the fabric obscuring her face from view.

He shrugs, and the gesture makes the tiny horns of his mask catch some of the faint moonlight that trickles down from high above.

“Why not?”

She frowns, considering it. Something stirs in the recesses of her mind, and she tugs the memory loose with practiced caution. She thinks she was a Jane, once, in Europe. One of her earliest missions. But the memory holds no trace of blood, so she agrees with a shrug of her shoulders and the barest tilt of her head.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to be called ‘John,’ then.”

“You can call me Mike.” He smiles, then, almost wickedly, and she’s sure there’s a joke in there somewhere that she’s most definitely not in on.

But even beneath the mask, she finds herself smiling too, and just like that, Maia somehow ends up befriending the Devil.

to be continued...

#marvel fanfiction #original character #peter parker #Ao3 #fanfiction #writing

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ginnyweatherby · 6 years

Text

You Are So Precious to Me

This is it. The saddest thing Tumblr User Ginnyweatherby has ever written. I wanted to play around with one of my OC’s, Madeline, so this was mostly written to get into her head a bit and develop her character more.

Companion piece to this and this. Same warnings that those have. It isn’t graphic, but it deals with the loss of a child, and the heartache that may follow.

Twenty years old and had already lived so much.

Her life wasn't exceptional. Two parents, happily married. Two sisters. All her grandparents were still living, she had a roof over her head and a bright future as a theatre major at Villeneuve University.

Until the day that future wasn't quite so bright.

Young, dumb, and - according to that tiny little stick she'd bought at the drug store - strapped with the responsibility of being a parent.

She'd cried. She'd cursed. She went through every stage of denial.

She told Lefou.

He'd cried. He'd cursed. He went through every stage of denial.

But they would be okay. They made their choice, and they would stick to it.

Her parents didn't take the news well. She was a Straight-A honor student in her Catholic high school. She kept her nose down and her hands clean. All logic indicated that this happened to other girls, not to her... but it had, and this is where they were at.

They didn't kick her out, although she feared they would. The sorrow in her father's eyes and the fire in her mother's made it difficult to breathe.

She was still a good girl. She stayed away from parties (look where they had gotten her), never drank, or smoked. She ate well, took her vitamins even though they made her feel sick, and attended every doctor's appointment.

That was her life for the next nine months: juggling work, school, and taking care of this unborn baby that she already loved so much.

In early November, she celebrated the best day of her life - while simultaneously grieving one of the worst.

She had a short opportunity to hold this beautiful baby girl, Lefou having never left her side, before she was whisked away for testing.

It was all routine, she was assured. Just like when they weighed her (7.5 pounds even) and measured her (20 inches). When they counted her fingers and toes. They just had to make sure her hearing was good and that she could see the world around her. Everything would come back to them, proclaiming their daughter was fit as a fiddle.

Right?

The bassinet was pushed back into their room by the nurse, now followed by a cardiologist.

... Right?

Those three weeks were the greatest three weeks she had ever experienced, although they had a gray rain cloud hovering over them, waiting to burst at any minute and pour over them.

When you knew the worst could - and would - occur, you savored the smallest things. Every cuddle, every kiss, every yawn and little hiccup were precious. The click of Lefou's camera was constant, wanting to document every moment, as to never forget.

(She would never forget.)

It was late and she couldn't sleep. Something was wrong. Call it motherly instinct, but she knew this could be it.

Three weeks after they were in the hospital, full of fear, accompanied by hopeful anticipation, they were back.

This time, they felt only fear.

She leaned close to the incubator, trying not to cry at the mere sight of all the tubes and wires. The monitor beeped threateningly nearby.

As long as it continued to beep, they were okay.

She murmured comforting thoughts to the infant. Nothing someone so small could understand, but she needed to know. She sang her lullabies. She told her how much her maman loved her. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The next days... months... years... were a dark time. She hardly smiled, she rarely spoke. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She wanted to understand.

She moved back with her parents, abandoning the apartment she and Lefou had rented. It had too many memories in it already. She could hear her cries echo through the halls at night. She could see her every time she walked past the bedroom. It still smelled like her.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair!

If she could do anything to change things, she would. She would do anything to have her daughter back. She would have done anything to trade places with that innocent child who had hardly began her life, when it was ripped away from her too soon.

She cried a lot. She cursed a lot. There was no use going through any stage of denial now.

It got easier. Somewhat.

She didn't cry every day now. She went back to school, with the support of her family and friends. She attended church on Sundays, and tried to make her peace.

Still, it was difficult.

Being as young as she was, it didn't happen much at first, but with every passing year, it seemed that more and more of her friends (and both of her sisters) were calling with news of their pregnancy, or sending out baby shower invites. She had a growing collection of baby announcements in a neat little stack, out of eyesight.

It wasn't that she wasn't happy for them, because she was. She knew the joy that came with seeing that precious little bundle for the first time.

But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to be sad. She would never wish the death of a child on her worst enemy, but why did all of her friends get to have such healthy babies? What had she done wrong to deserve what she'd gotten? What sins had she committed that such an innocent little soul had to pay for it?

Logically, she knew it wasn't that at all. These things just... happened

But that didn't stop her from having to overcome a bout of resentment when either of her sisters introduced her to their babies.

Now twenty-six years old, she recognized the colorful photo paper she'd received in the mail. Another announcement. Who was it this time?

She turned over the paper and saw a picture of a pink little baby with just a tuft of auburn hair on the top of its tiny head.

She nearly dropped the card when she read the name.

Bartholomew "Barney" Elijah Lefou Born on March 18th, 2008

Six pounds, three ounces Nineteen inches long

Madeline sat down on the couch, clutching the photo in her hands in disbelief.

How could he? How could Lefou do this to her? To their baby? How could he just forget?

She did the polite thing. She sent him a quick "congratulations" and was done with it. Nothing personal, just enough to be considered an acknowledgement.

After that, despite the fact it wasn't even four 'o' clock in the afternoon, she curled up in her bed, nestled a certain pink baby blanket close to her face... and cried.

This one hurt the most.

Lefou had tried to call. Numerous times, but she always declined. She couldn't speak to him.

How could he be so ready to move on, to the point of bringing home another child like that? Judging by the lack of another name on the card, and his general disinterest in the female form, she knew there was no way this was an accident.

He chose to have another baby. He was turning his back on his own flesh and blood in favor of someone else's.

"Hey Maddie, it's just me again. Listen, I know you're probably not real happy with me at the moment, but I would really love for you to meet Barney. Any time that works for you is fine, I'm taking time off of work to take care of the baby. I hope to get a call back."

She had replayed Lefou's voicemail message time and time again, but it took her almost a week to reply.

But finally, she did.

Which is how she found herself on the doorstep of the house Lefou was renting. How could he afford such a nice place, while she still had to rely on her parents more often than she cared to admit?

Lefou opened the door, empty-handed. This was almost a relief, she half expected to have to face reality as soon as the doorbell rang.

They gave their pleasantries, it had been quite some time since they'd seen each other. He asked how her new job was going, if she was seeing anyone. He asked if she was happy.

She answered politely, still unsure how to feel. Should she accuse him? Tell him that what he was doing was wrong? He shouldn't replace their daughter like that. It was immoral.

Before she could work up the nerve to yell at him, a small voice came crying through the baby monitor.

Lefou quipped a joke about how he had to 'take the call' before scurrying out of sight.

What she would have given to have a baby crying for her again.

She could hear Lefou croon to the baby through the monitor, offering comforting words to quiet his sobs.

His voice faded out of the monitor and into the hallway.

She braced herself.

Lefou called down the corridor, asking if she were ready to meet him. Maybe he did care, after all.

She agreed, and Lefou turned the corner, someone small and bright-eyed nestled against his side.

Lefou introduced them. The baby was calm on his lap as they spoke, looking at the big world around him.

She always knew Lefou was a good father. In the few short weeks they had their baby together, he had been nothing but wonderful with her. Late night feedings and changes, lullabies to soothe her tears. Telling her stories while he rocked her.

Yes, fatherhood suited Lefou.

Barney began to whine a bit, and without pausing his sentence, Lefou adjusted his position so his son was resting on his shoulder, his face nuzzled into his neck.

She discovered that Barney's mother was young. Too young to be raising children, hardly more than a child herself. She didn't regret carrying Barney to term, but she knew she didn't have the means to take care of him.

Lefou did.

She knew the feeling all too well. The fear that came along with being a young parent. It wasn't so long ago, after all.

Her initial anger began to fade when she realized what Lefou had done. In fact, she was rather proud of her friend.

Lefou assured her he wasn't trying to replace their baby. He still slept with her teddy bear. He had her photos in an album by his bed that he often paged through.

He mentioned how he still cried.

He showed her a little bracelet he wore around his wrist. It was silver. She hadn't noticed the engraving on it.

Charlotte Mae 11-2-02

He said how he planned on getting something with Bartholomew Elijah written on it to accompany it.

She realized he wasn't forgetting Charlotte. Not at all. He was just giving her a brother.

He offered to let her hold the baby. She agreed.

She'd held her nieces and nephews, and her friends' babies, but this one felt different. This one felt special. She didn't know if it was because it was Lefou's baby, or if it was Barney's calm manner, but this time she didn't feel any sort of resentment or jealousy.

She looked into the wide eyes of this beautiful little baby and felt a smile come over her face.

She would never forget her daughter. Neither would Lefou.

But life was allowed to go on.

Barney yawned in her arms before tucking himself comfortably against her.

This wasn't her baby, but this was Lefou's baby.

... and for the first time in over six years, she finally felt like things might just be alright.

#this seemed so much better late last night when i wrote most of it #i made myself want to cry with this one oops #disney #batb fan fiction #in the loosest sense of the word #lefou #random ramblings #weatherby writes

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aelowan · 5 years

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Recoil - A Books of Binding Flash Fiction

“Spread your feet to shoulder width. Right foot back. No, not that far. Your shoulders are too thin.” Etienne narrowed his eyes. “When was the last time you ate?”

Winter gave the faerie knight at her side a wry expression. “This morning, with you and Cian. Remember?” The November wind whispered over the water and blew loose tendrils of hair across her face. She was grateful for the warm felt coat she wore.

“Then you need a snack or something. You’re still sickly.” His voice was gruff.

She sighed softly. He was only trying to take care of her. She was just out of practice in accepting help. “I’ll get one when we’re done here.” She hefted the handgun, feeling its weight heavy in her long-fingered hand. “Now what?”

“Turn to face the target.”

Winter turned her body just a little to come into line with the target several yards away, past the seagrasses that covered the Point and repositioned her right foot to be more supportive in the sand. It was a simple paper target with concentric circles one within the other leading the way to a bullseye, pinned to a hay bale butted up to one of the big sand dunes. She twisted back a little to face Etienne, a thought occurring to her. “Shouldn’t we be wearing ear protection?”

Etienne’s brow knit. “What for?”

“Because this is going to be very loud.”

“Never heard of ear protection. I just wait until my hearing comes back.” Etienne gestured toward the target. “And in a real fight you don’t get to protect your ears from anything, much less noise.”

Okay, he had a point. “And this is a Glock, right?”

Etienne nodded. “Only gun I have left. It’s a good enough one. Not Agmundr, my revolver, but still good.”

Only gun he had left? Winter wondered if she could do something about that. It had been hard enough to buy new clothes for the proud faerie knight, finally getting him to agree in exchange for teaching her to shoot a handgun, but it was important to be fully armed in the city of Seahaven. The City of Peace.

To not be was a good way to get eaten.

“Now, back to the target. Still holding the gun like I showed you?” Etienne adjusted her grip, his hands warm against her chilled skin. His long auburn hair, so close to her face, smelled like the shampoos she made and the spicy scent of clean adult male. It took some effort to not breathe him in. “Yes. Okay, now raise your arms and aim down the sight.”

“And I just pull the trigger?”

“You checked the chamber and it was loaded. This is a Glock so there’s no hammer to cock and no safety to worry about. It’s fairly basic, point it and shoot it. That’s the phrase, right?” English wasn’t Etienne’s first language and he sometimes stumbled on a new term.

She smiled. “Close enough.”

He ran his hand down her arm, testing tension she guessed, and then moved behind her, hands on her hips.

Winter tilted her head to one side and dropped her elbows, not wanting to strain her arms. Not that she objected to him touching her but… “What are you doing?”

“Catching you. That gun has a recoil and I don’t want you falling on your butt.”

Winter made a soft rude noise. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not a child.” Of course, she’d never actually felt recoil before. Or even seen it. Everyone she had ever seen shoot a gun was preternatural and for the most part strong enough to flip a car with their bare hands. She hesitated a moment, and then asked, “Is it really that bad?” Did she really want to do this?

“You get used to it. You develop strength in your center and your arms.”

She wasn’t exactly strong as it was. Maybe developing that in herself would be helpful. “And I pull the trigger and it just fires?”

“Pretty much. Anytime you’re ready.”

Winter nodded and blew out a breath as she lifted her arms again. She lined up the sight on the nose of the ugly black gun with the center mass of the target and hesitated a second. This was going to hurt.

She pulled the trigger.

The gun flew up into the air, pulling her hands along with it and jerking to the right, and she let out a little girl yip. She could feel Etienne’s tight grip on her keeping what little momentum the recoil gave her from carrying her backwards even a bit. “Oof! That was unexpected.”

“For you, maybe.” She could hear the chuckle just underlying his words.

Winter turned and he lifted his hands to her waist as she moved. “Thought that was funny, did you?” Her ears were ringing, but not so much that she could not hear the amusement in his voice.

Etienne’s smile bloomed into a full grin. Goodness, but he had a sexy grin. “Just a bit. I’m pretty happy. You handled that .45 well.”

Her brows shot up. “You had me shoot a .45 caliber round for my first outing?” Without ear protection. She would definitely need that in the future. She popped her ears, trying to get the ringing to pass.

He pulled his hands back from her, still grinning. “Why not? Do you think you could stop a therian with a .22?”

Again, a good point. Therian shape shifters — and vampires, for that matter — were incredibly strong, fast. Combine that a trend toward nasty tempers and preternaturally fast healing, and they were hard to kill. The only sure way with a gun was to shoot them in the head or the heart until you saw daylight.

“Did I at least hit the target?” She turned around to look… and the paper target just sat there, unblemished, ruffling a little in the wind off the water.

Etienne chuckled behind her. “Nowhere close, but you did clip the dune. Good enough for a first time.”

Winter rolled her eyes and handed Etienne the gun back. Her right shoulder blade was taking on the sharp ache of a pulled muscle. “I’m glad you had a good time. I should probably just stick to the paintball gun.” A brainchild of her apprentice, Jessie, the paintball gun could be loaded with balls of magic potion. Etienne had already demonstrated its usefulness.

Etienne took the gun. “Don’t think you’re done. I promised I’d teach you how to handle one of these things, and we’re going to keep working on you until you can hit that target.”

Winter gave him a smile. “Deal. But no more today. I think my fingers may freeze off. How does lunch sound?”

Etienne stepped back and gave her a surprisingly elegant bow. “As my lady wishes.”

Winter’s smile widened. She couldn’t help it. “Lunch it is, then.” And a new gun. Another one of these ugly Glocks, probably. She didn’t like the thought of Etienne going about only half armed.

***

If you enjoyed this flash, check out our other free flashes and all things Seahaven at aelowan.com.

#The Books of Binding #A. E. Lowan #Winter Mulcahy #Etienne Knight #wizard #faerie #sidhe #vampire #therian #Glock #gun #handgun

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shamelessmilkshakepanda-blog · 6 years

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How do major life insurance policies work? I have only ever had the ones offered through jobs.?

"How do major life insurance policies work? I have only ever had the ones offered through jobs.?

I am single, non-smoker, 25 year old female in reasonablly good health. Non-homeowner & no kids. How do you invest through life insurance? Etc...

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://financeandcreditsolutions.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr

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My husband may be relocated to South Africa for about a year. My sister was going to come with us. My husband gets health insurance through his work for him and I and my two kids. My sister would have to get her own health insurance. I understand that you want private coverage over there b/c its considerably better. We are from the U.S. Does anybody know the average cost (just an estimate) of about how much it would cost her per month for private health care insurance over there for one person? We would be in the Johannesburg area. She is 26 yrs old, non smoker, physically fit, no health problems at all, etc. No maternity coverage needed either.just a basic just in case something happens plan. Shes had no prior surgeries or anything else like that and no pre existing conditions. She also does not take any medications. Any info on this would help a lot! Thanks.""

How much would it cost to insure a ford puma?

how much would the insurance be on a ford puma for a 17 year old, driver whose just passed her test??""

How much would insurance be if i got this car?

its a 1992 toyota celica gt,i would be going under my dads insurance cause of my age and this is what he would be worried about.he has geico.im not going through drivers ed.his car is a 2004 dodge neon sxt.this is all of the info i can think of right .what would you say the insurance would be at a estimate?""

Car accident but no car insurance?

I was just in a car accident in which I was not at fault and the other driver was ticketed. I live in Florida and while my car was insured with PIP coverage under my fathers name. I was exempt from the coverage. I had to go to the hospital to get CT scans of my brain and neck area as well as multiple xrays. The other driver did have insurance and I wanted to know even though I had no insurance, when the drivers' insurance company gives me the compensating cash amount would I be able to use the hospital bills as part of the compensating amount? I know the reason you have car insurance is to cover any medical injury in an accident but I unfortunately didn't have the means. any info would be greatly appreciated!""

I am a single mom looking for affordable health insurance for myself. Where might I look for this?

How do major life insurance policies work? I have only ever had the ones offered through jobs.?

I am single, non-smoker, 25 year old female in reasonablly good health. Non-homeowner & no kids. How do you invest through life insurance? Etc...

I need help with Car Insurance... Please!?

I am a 17 year old male in the UK and have just passed my test on september 2012. I cannot get insured anywhere because they are all charging me at least 500 pound a month to be insured on my mams car (Corsa SXI 2002), i cannot afford this... obviously. I have tried almost every car insurance site and i cannot seem to find any cheaper than 500 pound a month! It is very frustrating because i am a very sensible driver. I need some help!!! Is there any cheap cars that i can buy that will make the insurance cheaper? Can you recommend any cheap or used cars that have cheap insurance for young drivers? Can you recommend any good insurance sites for young drivers? Please any help will do!!! Thank you""

Is it cheaper to get on your parent's car insurance or have your own separate claim?

I will be purchasing car insurance really soon and comparing qoutes of different companies and want to know which is best

Can you get car insurance and motorcycle insurance on the same policy?

I have insurance on my car but i havent had insurance on my bike for about a year. i was going to get with my car because i needed to renew my tags but they told me they dont cover motorcycle. i was wondering if there is a company that covers both?

Should 17 year old pay their insurance?

What age should they start? And is 300 horsepower on a car fast? How much would a car that fast cost? Too fast for a 17 year old?

Health insurance help.?

So my father canceled our insurance last year and we have no health insurance. I know that this leaves us in a very bad spot. Im looking for some advice as to what me and my family should do. My mom is 40 and my dad is 38 my brother is 12 and i am 18. We make just under 60K a year. My father is a private contractor so we had an idea to try and get him business insurance that would cover my family. My mom had an idea to get a legal separation with my father to help keep cost down. I don't know how well any of that would work. I don't know very much about how health insurance works or any loopholes we can use. So i guess i need to know. a) How can we get cheap health insurance in New Jersey ? b) What are the best plans for people in my situation ? c) Is there anything i should know about health insurance to help my family out? Thanks so much in advance.

I got a ticket for expired insurance in california....?

And i recently got car insurance so I went to court today and showed them and they said since i had no car insurance at the time of the ticket i have to pay nearly 400 dollars! so i got a 2 month extension to pay the ticket, is there anything i can do to reduce the ticket amount? or what will be the best thing to do? thanks a lot i really appreciate it!""

""Can a driver without a motorcycle license, insure a motorcycle?""

To be more specific, here is the story. I am a 20 year old male from Illinois and getting motorcycle. Insurance is something I dont want my name in, well I want to be a second driver. The question is can the insurance be written to my dad, who does not have a motorcycle license. He does have a regular license. I know that second drivers are insured. So I would be paying less money for insurance, but I would be able to drive my bike. My dad will be getting a license, but first needs a motorcycle. So again can he get insurance on this motorcycle without a license?""

Life insurance question?

is there a insurance company that deals with people that has had a illness/disability that was before 18 or like started at birth? i forgot the actual word for it.

How much do i need to save for a motorcycle?

I have my g1 and will be attending a motorcycle safety course soon then getting my m1. Then i can drive motorcycles. But I want to wait till next year..I am first buying my car. (03 crown vicotria) After the winter. I am 6'2 and weigh 140lbs. (17 and male) is a kawa ninja 250r a good first bike for me?? how much do i need to save for the bike itself? but also insurance?? what is your opinions?

I was wondering if Doctors pay for health insurance?

Since they are doctors, do they need insurance?""

Renters insurance cant get homeonwers?

im about to payoff my mobile home and own it but i cant get homeonwers insurance since i own my mobile home could i just get renters insurance and protect my belogings inside my trailer. keep in mind in paying a month lot rent fee for my trailer to sit on someone elses property.

How much will it cost me to get insured on a Mitsubishi lancer evo?

i am 18 years old i am starting my driving test soon how much will it cost me to get insured on a 5 or 7 years old Mitsubishi lancer evo?

""How much would my car insurance be, under 25?""

Im looking to get a car soon and im curious on how much car insurance would be. 2012 toyota corolla s im 18, female, Live in Florida Not married or anything, no kids Iv been driving for 2 yrs No accidents or tickets Also i have no credit (Ps whats a safe way to gain credit?) and i work at dunkin donuts. Thats all the details i believe i would need to know the answer.""

I need a job to save for college and driver's ed?

I'll be 16 next month and I need a job badly. I'm saving up for driver's ed, a car, insurance, and an apartment for college. I've tried restaurants, burger joints, etc. But everyone seems to be on hiring freezes or is only hiring adults. I need to start saving indepently because my parents can't support me forever. What are some job options for a 16 year old f in ma?""

Insurances for starting a small business?

What are all the difference insurances for starting up a business? Please include a source or proof of your numbers

How much would it cost to insure my motorcycle?

I plan on buying a Suzuki dr-z400s and I'd like to know what some people are paying for their insurance. Or maybe just what I would be paying. I'm 16 years old, Male, and I have a clean record. I'm not sure what kind of insurance I would get but probably just liability. Thanks!""

How can I get insurance on a car that is being bought for me and my name is not on the title?

My daughter is buying the car on her credit, so I can pay her. When it comes to the insurance on the car, how do I get the insurance in my name and have her as an occasionally driver on the policy? Can that be done""

Sr22 insurance help please anyone?

Ok so i got pulled over last week...and i got a ticket... I also have to appear to court because i got another ticket for no insurance proof.. i was driving my dads vehicle and i couldnt find the insurance card but I can proof my dad did have insurance... So would I still have to file for sr22????

Insurance and juniors lisence?

My son just got his Jr's license will my insurance go up? Or does he need a Senior license for that

Where can i find my proof of insurance?

Earlier today i went to DMV for my behind the wheel test but they're asking for my proof of insurance but i dont know where can i find it. do i need to ask for a copy of proof of insurance to my insurance company?

What kind of insurance do I need.?

I am hauling different random thing for people that dont have trucks. boats, 4wheelers, farm equipment..... I would like to keep my regular auto insurance. Is there something that I can add or get a separate plan to where I can cover what ever I have in my truck or trailer. say up to 50,000.""

Will my auto insurance be affected?

Couple month ago, I was in an accident while driving my friend's car. Police were called, and police report were filed. I didn't have a car nor auto insurance, so I paid for all the repairs on both car, so insurance company wasn't involved. If I decide to buy a car and get auto insurance now, will my rate be affected? better yet, should I even tell the insurance company about it? Thanks in advance!""

""Why can't we have Geiko,State Farm, or Progressive auto insurance in the state of Ma?.?""

I always see t.v. commercials for them but at the bottom of the screen it says not available in Ma. and a few other states that I can't remember. If I could save money buy switching to one of those companies I would but I can't , so I have to pick from Commerce or Metropolitan. My car insurance is really expensive (I pay over $300 a month) I have only had my license for a couple years so I under stand the whole new driver thing and my car was new when I bought it so I have full coverage but the car is only a Kia Rio, far from a sports car or luxury car. I pay more for my insurance than for the car payments.""

Antique motorcycles older than 25 years dont have to pay insurance?

Im sure i remember being told if a motorcycle is older than 25 years you dont have to pay out any insurance on it is that right??

How am I supposed to afford car insurance?

I'm driving uninsured right now because for me to get car insurance is $900 every six months. That would crush me financially right now. Between rent and gas, and what little Starbucks pretends to pay me, not to mention food (and sometimes that's one meal a day, and even then it may be stealing expired sandwiches and pastries from the garbage can at Starbucks). So, it's utterly naive of the government to think of driving as a luxury , when in reality- when you have to travel 20 miles a day to get to work at Starbucks- walking is unrealistic. The bus routes do not go by there, by the way. How the hell do they expect a 24-year old man to afford car insurance, when he has to work to earn the money to pay for it, and he has to drive to work, and in order to drive he has to drive illegally?! The @#*%ing system is completely screwed up if you ask me. Don't get me started on how the hell I'm supposed to afford gas these days, either.""

How do major life insurance policies work? I have only ever had the ones offered through jobs.?

I am single, non-smoker, 25 year old female in reasonablly good health. Non-homeowner & no kids. How do you invest through life insurance? Etc...

Does anyone know what the average insurance cost for a 2004 Dodge Ram is?

I just bought a beautiful 2004 dodge ram quad cab 4x2 4.7 V8 and i have quotes that range from $165- $303 per month. If you have a similiar truck to mine, how much is the average insurance payment, and what company do you use? I head AAA and 21st Century were pretty good?""

Are you going to purchase health insurance as required by law ?

Now that the public option is off the table ? http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091209/ap_on_bi_ge/us_health_care_overhaul Where's the guarantee that it will become affordable ?

Progressive good student discount question. PLEASE HELP!?

i just found out i have to pay $100 per month for my insurance and i just got my license but my parents can't really afford to pay that right now so i was wondering what is their required GPA for the good student discount in California, Please help me.""

Whos got the cheapest auto rates on insurance right now?

How much money off my insurance will driving school save me?

I live in calgary alberta and my dad just put me into driving school. I was wondering, by how much money would my parents monthly insurance costs be raised with out driving school if i were an occasional driver. How much money is it going to go up by after i take the driving school? im a 17 year old male. i dont have my licence yet but im taking the road test on friday, the day of my final driving course.""

What is the CHEAPEST car insurance for a 21 year old male who never had his own policy?

Lower insurance for young driver?

so i know when you are under your parents it isn't as high i know people paying 50 dollars a month or something like that my situation though i just turned 21 im in need of a car but im the only driver in my family (single mom never got her license) i know that one-way coverage is about 300 something a month but if i finance a car i need full coverage which the price is crazy expensive something like 800-1100 a month is there anyway i can get lower insurance rate or something of the sort ?

How much will insurance cost for a BMW z3?

I'm 16 years old but will be 17 next month. So lets say Im 17 for now. Im looking to buy a BMW z3 because they are pretty cheap and really nice cars. I maintain a 3.0 GPA and have a clean record and live in Southern California. Anyone have an estimate on how much insurance will be?

""I am 15 and will be 16 in early October, today i got my national insurance number. Does this mean i can work?

I was just wondering now i have my national insurance number if i could start applying for some Saturday jobs?

How much should I expect to pay for umbrella insurance?

I'm a landscaping contractor in Southern California. I think I need about $2,000,000 in umbrella insurance. How much should I expect to pay (yearly) for that?""

""Car accident, other insurance wont pay my car hire bills, my insurance wants me to take driver to small claims?""

The car hire bill the other side won't pay is four thousand pounds. My insurance were very slow deciding car was a write-off, so I had the hire car for nearly a month. They want ...show more""

Car insurance for a teenage female?

i'll be turning sixteen soon and im curious as to what the average cost rate with state farm for a new driver is?

Why is my car insurance quotes so high?

Hello, I'm 17 years old and have just pasted my ful uk license and am looking for a car and insurance. The car i want is a vaxuhuall corsa 1.0 litre 3door. My friend has a 1.1 litre and his insurance is 1,200 with his dad on it. But when i look with exactly the same details (locked garage, mileage, etc) with my dad on it (i also entered my friends post code to see if there is a difference) but the cheapest quote has been 4400. Help?""

Homeowners and health insurance?

We have Nationwide homeowners insurance, which is just added to our mortgage. If we get health insurance through them too, do you think they can just add it to our mortgage also?""

Finding 2000-3000 insurance for young driver?

With my UK license I intend on buying myself a car for university (GOLF or POLO). Being a young driver (19 years old), insurers are less than happy to offer cheap insurances. The best quote I've found so far from gocompare and dozens of other websites are Quinn Direct with 3800. Could you please suggest where to get cheap 3rd party insurance, you're welcome to mention other car models if it helps cheapening it. Thanks""

""If i just got my permit, can i drive my moms car without insurance?

I just got my permit and want to drive my moms car. Do i have to be on her insurance if i only have a permit?

Do black males have higher insurence then white males?

Car Insurance-Is it OK to lie?

I read somewhere that if you run a stop light and hit the other car, you should not admit your fault because of insurance costs. What do you think?""

Sites of the insurance quotes reliable?

http://www.education-house.com/insurance/index.html

I am looking for car insurance for a courier?

this is different from regular insurance.. is there any service that offers just courier insurance. one who uses their car to make deliveries

Car insurance for a 15 soon to be 16 year old?

so i am looking at getting my first car and so i need to be thinking about car insurance and my grade point average is like 2 something. i have american family. any ideas what their rates would be.??

Whats a ball park price on car insurance for.......?

18 year old, not married, perfect driving record, in Georgia, one car, and only me being insured..... not sure about the make of the car yet haven't decided what I want. I'm planning on buying a new car and paying for it WITHOUT MY PARENTS HELP!!! Around how much would that cost me per month?""

Cheap full coverage car insurance for an 18 year old?

Ok i got my license on 10/29/2012 and I am just now getting a car. I bought a 2000 Honda Accord EX Coupe for 4800 and I am getting it financed over a 36 month loan period time. So with that being said the credit union requires me to have full coverage auto insurance so I want to know where is the cheapest place for a teenager to get insurance. I turned 18 back in August. The lowest i have seen so far is 193/6mos and that is with StateFarm

Does insurance cost less for drivers that are 18 than for 16 year olds?

Will I get my licence quicker if I learn in an automatic? Will the insurance be cheaper if I go on my dads?

Before you say it, I know I wont be able to drive manual if I just learn in an automatic""

How do major life insurance policies work? I have only ever had the ones offered through jobs.?

I am single, non-smoker, 25 year old female in reasonablly good health. Non-homeowner & no kids. How do you invest through life insurance? Etc...

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/texas-insurance-fraud-douglas-pearson/"

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yanagi-uxinta · 6 years

Text

The Ghost of You (Dragon Age) Chapter 10

Available on FanFiction.net at: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6891181/10/The-Ghost-of-You

Rating: M

Status: Multichapter, chapter 10

Pairing: Fem!Hawke/Fenris

Wordcount: ~2,900

Summary: He knew he should have torn his old master’s heart out when he had the chance. Now, Fenris and the woman he loves are paying the price for his folly. They are enslaved, powerless, but Hawke refuses to forget him… even if he has forgotten her.

Notes: Written in November 2011, fic completed May 2016. Some minor tweaks to correct now-incorrect lore aspects, along with punctuation issues.

Looking at him; his ready stance, the way he’d purposefully positioned himself in front of the door, Hawke realised that Fenris was subtly trying to intimidate her into giving him straight answers, even before asking any questions.

Bless him. He used to know better.

With a hint of a smirk she couldn’t help, Hawke leaned back against the wall beside a large map of known Thedas, her weight on one leg, arms folded.

“Well, seeing as you’ve locked the door, and I don’t fancy my chances of getting past you in this condition, I’ll talk. I’ve got nothing better to do anyway, other than... I don’t know, eating? Sleeping? I’ve only had one portion of food today, and very little sleep, but you go right ahead, Fenris,” she said airily, though with an undercurrent of genuine irritation. The latter was directed at herself, however, at being caught. She knew he’d catch her eventually, but it still irked her that she’d had no warning.

It wasn’t that she was complacent anymore. She was just exhausted, and distracted.

From the small cracks in the serious mask he wore, she’d annoyed him. Good – hopefully he would get pulled into arguing with her and forget his original point.

“Don’t turn this on me, Hawke. I’ve tried to speak with you before, but you avoided me. Why?”

Or maybe he wouldn’t be distracted. His demanding tone brooked no argument, so she didn’t argue. She returned to diversions instead. “I’ve been busy,” she answered, honestly enough. She had been busy. Just not so much so that she couldn’t stop to talk when he saw her in the hallway.

He didn’t fall for it. “You ran away from me!” he growled, much to her indignation.

“I didn’t run! And I’ve had to work – I’ve had a lot to do lately,” she protested, pushing away from the wall as she unconsciously fell deeper into the exchange. After all, she’d walked. Quickly, but it was still walking, not running.

“So much so that you couldn’t stop and talk for two minutes?” he asked scornfully.

“Well, unlike some people, I’ve had actual work to do, not just following some pompous bastard around all day-” she stopped abruptly when he took several swift steps towards her, his jaw tight, one hand half-lifted as though to cut across her words physically. They both halted, painfully aware of what had happened the last time they’d lost their tempers.

Slowly, Hawke let out her breath, closing her eyes and searching for calm. Her heart was still under the impression she was running for her life, but she managed to settle some kind of temporary composure around her like a shawl. She gradually reclined back against the wall, her arms once again crossed, but her shoulders hunched protectively in a way they hadn’t when she was baiting him.

“What was it you wanted, Fenris?” she asked quietly, her eyes gazing at his reflection in the dark window. She watched him relax, though his brow still seemed furrowed and his voice was slightly strained.

“I just wanted to talk again, then when I didn’t get to speak to you I wanted to find out why you ran from me,” he replied as softly as she had. He was looking down, examining the carpet apparently as he scuffed his feet across the floor. He was quiet for a few moments, then his eyes lifted back to meet hers in the window again.

“Were we always like this?” he asked. Frowning slightly, she turned to meet his eye directly, her head tilted quizzically. He gestured at the two of them, then behind him vaguely to indicate the past. “This. Arguing all the time. It just feels so... easy to fall into. Not familiar, exactly, but when you speak to me, the retorts are just there. It’s like a well-practiced form that I can do without thinking. I-” He stopped, then waved dismissively with an impatient sigh. “I probably sound ridiculous.” He muttered, breathing a Tevene curse under his breath as he stared around at the top of the bookcases. While he wasn’t looking Hawke smiled.

“Actually, we got on very well. We certainly had our disagreements, mainly over the mages, but overall... we were very close.” She paused for a moment, wondering if he’d read into that and half-hoping he would. “But you did bicker quite frequently with some of our other friends. You always were quick on the come-backs, if I recall. Maybe that’s why it comes so easily to you now.”

His head had tilted to the side in confusion.

“Friends?” he asked curiously.

For a moment Hawke wondered why the concept was odd to him – even she had made some acquaintances that, in the absence of true companions, she’d term friends – but then she remembered the first time she’d spoken with him after he’d lost his memory, and the way the kitchen staff had gone quiet and given him a wide berth. By being Danarius’ fearsome bodyguard, he was estranged from the other slaves. By being a slave, he was isolated from the guards and other free staff of the household.

Quite simply, he was the loneliest person in the estate.

‘Oh, Fenris... ’ Her heart tightened with sympathy, but knowing he wouldn’t appreciate it, she quickly disguised the emotion as well as she could with a casual smile.

“Yes. You had quite a few, in fact. If I recall, you men had a weekly Diamondback session at your place. Aveline wasn’t too happy, but-”

“Wait. ‘My place’? I had my own home?” he asked, looking utterly bewildered now. Silently, Hawke cursed. Idiot, running away with her mouth!

Oh, to the Void with it.

“Yes, you did. Well, it wasn’t technically, legally yours, but no one challenged your ownership, really, and Aveline – she was Guard Captain – kept the patrols away from your home and diverted the questions about it, so you stayed there for years without any problems.”

He stared at her, seemingly unable to comprehend owning something, especially something as large and as influential as a home – even if it wasn’t proven by a slip of paper.

Hawke wondered what his reaction would be if he knew he’d illegally owned a mansion, and not just a house.

“But... where was this? It couldn’t have been Minrathous, surely.” He sounded lost, his eyes completely unshielded as he looked at her, pleading for some sort of sense to be returned to his life.

Hawke bit her lip. Should she tell him?

‘He’s already figured out it wasn’t Minrathous. May as well tell him where he was living for so long,’ she thought decisively, releasing her lip. For a moment, she thought his eyes had been just a fraction too low to be meeting hers, but then his gaze was firmly locked on hers again, and she dismissed it as an illusion of the low light.

“Kirkwall,” she breathed, feeling a lonely pang as the name left her. “We lived in Kirkwall.”

Rather than look understanding, Fenris only became more incredulous.

“Kirkwall? I’ve never even heard of that place before,” he snapped in agitation, starting to pace.

Suppressing an impatient sigh, Hawke cast around the room, then spotted the map. Quickly, she turned to it and scanned the northern coast of the Waking Sea, making a small noise of triumph when she spotted the tiny label ‘Kirkwall’.

She waved Fenris over when he asked her what she’d seen, and heard his near-silent approach.

He glanced at the map, then hastily redirected his gaze at the ceiling.

Hawke looked at him, amused.

“The map isn’t on the ceiling, Fenris,” she chastised gently, however he shook his head stubbornly.

“Slaves aren’t allowed to read, Hawke,” he admonished in return. He jumped several inches and looked down so quickly Hawke thought he’d snap his own neck when her hand touched his arm, avoiding armour and markings alike to brush his skin. Her grin was both irritating yet infectious, when he saw it. He stubbornly kept a disapproving frown on his face, however.

“Now that I have your attention, can I remind you of two things? One is that a) you can read, and b) I’m breaking a lot of rules to tell you this. Now if you care more about rules than finding out where you lived for seven years, then that’s fine by me,” she said pointedly. He glowered at her, knowing he wouldn’t turn down her challenge. She just smiled at him, silently acknowledging that she knew he wouldn’t either.

Damnable woman.

But after casting her a long-suffering look, Fenris hesitantly turned to the map, following her slender finger to the little black dot on the map, and the small, dark brown print beside it.

“Kirkwall,” he murmured, testing the word in his mouth for familiarity. There was no sudden bolt of recognition or understanding, or even of the name being right, but the word left him easily, as though it had passed his lips many times before. It was an odd sensation.

He was aware of Hawke’s eyes on him, and out of the corner of his own he could see her trying to stifle the hope that he would find the name familiar.

Somehow feeling inexplicably guilty, he slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Hawke. I don’t remember a thing. There’s nothing but a... an ease of saying the word, if that even makes any sense.”

He thought he heard a soft sigh, but when he glanced sideways at her, there was no obvious disappointment in her face.

But...

From behind his screen of white hair, Fenris studied her expression closer. There was the smallest hint of tension around her eyes, and though her mouth didn’t seem taut, it wasn’t fully relaxed, even after she’d murmured some platitude about not needing to apologise and went back to staring at the map.

He shouldn’t have even noticed these things... but once he’d seen them, he realised there were other, tiny details he would never have seen before. The tension running along her shoulders, the way she had unconsciously turned towards his side, just fractionally.

Fenris had no idea what to make of these observations – he was half-inclined to believe that they were nothing more than the product of a near-sleepless night and long-term aggravation caused by the very woman he was studying.

Hawke shifted slightly, and Fenris hastily redirected his gaze to the map, keen not to be caught staring. He needn’t have worried, however. Hawke was still staring at the small label of her home, though her wistful eyes were vacant with memory. The tip of her finger still rested just below the name, as though that fake proximity could take her back to the place. For a moment, it was her that looked lost.

“Hawke?” he asked softly, carefully – as though not wanting to break her reverie. She started slightly, turning to him quickly with eyes wide with a lack of comprehension. She’d not even heard what he’d said, just his voice.

He shot a slow, deliberate look at the map, to prompt her into answering instead of clamming up and running away again. Sometimes, when he was talking to her he felt like he was trying to skirt around a large, sleeping dragon in a small room without waking it.

“Are you alright?” he asked when her face remained blank and uncomprehending.

She made a small, near-silent ‘oh’ of understanding, blinking and looking away with a dismissive shake of her head.

“It’s nothing, I just-” she stumbled over her words, before expelling them again, her hands half lifting from her sides only to slap powerlessly back to them in an aimless gesture. “Homesick,” she admitted, finally looking back into his face with an attempt at a smile, “I’m just very, very homesick.”

Fenris’ head tilted slightly, his brow puckering slightly. In mild confusion, this time, not anger or frustration.

“Yet you’ve never tried to leave,” he stated in a murmur, the faint note of wondering to his voice turning the fact into a question.

She stared at him, her lips parted as though she were about to speak – why did he keep looking at her mouth? – a frown of consternation on her face as she stopped her impulsive response and scrabbled mentally to find another.

“What makes you think I’ve never tried to leave?” she settled on finally, shooting a quick glance to his eyes before her gaze veered away from him completely – dodging the question, and knowing she was doing so badly, he knew.

“Any slave that attempts to escape is publically flogged, and every other slave is assembled to watch. It happened about a week after my memories began – you must still have been in the dungeons, or you would know. Apparently it was a new slave, but he didn’t get over the gates in time and the guards caught him. He got thirty lashes, if I recall. Since that is the only time in the past three months that a slave was punished for trying to escape, I assume you haven’t tried, otherwise you would have been lashed, or you would no longer be here,” he countered easily, somehow absurdly confident that he was right.

She was staring at him again, trying to argue if the sudden, terminated quirks of her lips were anything to go by. Finally she shot him a grudging look of respect and gave in.

“Fine, you’re right. I’ve not tried to escape since you lost your memory,” she answered honestly, hoping that would satiate his curiosity. He, however, picked up on what she hadn’t said.

“But you did before?” he said quickly. He could almost see the curses she was directing at him mentally behind her eyes.

“I- look, Fenris, I can’t talk about this, okay? I’m not allowed,” she protested, taking a step back from him and looking towards the door. He recognised the signs of an impending flight.

On impulse, he seized the hand that had rose to push his words away, trapping her in place and closing the gap between them again.

“But you did try to escape?” he pressed, trying to catch her eye as she looked, torn, between the door and his hand holding hers, almost against his chest.

“I- no, Fenris, I’m not allowed-” she tried to pull away without any real force; he held firm, finally capturing her eyes with his as she shot a distracted, almost panicked look at his face.

“Please,” he murmured, taking another step so that their bodies almost touched. His proximity settled her decision, however, and she put her free hand against his breast plate, pushing him away with one hand whilst jerking the captured one free in a sudden, almost violent movement.

“Just leave it, Fenris, please!” she nearly shouted, backing several steps away from him. The distance broke his intense determination to get an answer, and left him staring across the few-feet gulf between them.

He realised that Hawke’s breath was coming quickly, even though pushing him away couldn’t have exerted her much. She was gazing at him with such torn eyes that he couldn’t speak, only now realising that, in his fervour, he’d scared her.

“Fenris, don’t do this. Just don’t. Please.” It was that dry, hoarse whisper that stayed with him as she turned; unlocked the door and vanished from sight, her footsteps hurrying down the hall.

‘Don’t. Please.’

Why did those words sound so familiar?

#dragon age #Dragon Age II #fenris #Hawke #Fem!Hawke #TGOY #The Ghost of You #my fanfiction #slavery

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