#and she sits there liking to pretend she's so educated and progressive like lady no you arent

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Also, like, how ballsy do you have to be to have two known ace people in your backseat and sit there and go “I still don’t really think I believe that ace is even a thing,” like bruh, you play at being progressive and like to talk about how you’re so different than my parents, but are you really, in the end????

#chatty blogging #if you are irl friend and know the friend mom i am referring to please do not tell the friend or mom i made this post lol #i just wanna be bitter for a hot minute allow me simply that lol #she went on to talk about how she believes in 'gay and transsexual' and i was like #'.......... you sitting here saying you dont believe in bi/pan/nb/etc people??' #all my friend said was 'i cant believe your parents haven't noticed your ace phone background' #and momma c went off lol #she also said 'there's an ace flag?? i didnt know. i thought only the rainbow flag existed' #and she sits there liking to pretend she's so educated and progressive like lady no you arent #went on about how we aren't oppressed and like 1) you're oppressing us rn and #2) being queer isn't about who's more oppressed it's about NOT BEING STRAIGHT #WE ARE NOT USING UP ANY RESOURCES BY EXISTING #WE ARE NOT DETRIMENTAL TO LGBTQIA+ RIGHTS BY EXISTING BECAUSE THOSE RIGHTS ARE OUR RIGHTS?????? #i dont even know what she was trying to say she was just telling us that ace wasn't real #and i wanted to be like 'it's not about who's more oppressed' #and just go off on her but like.......... she was driving me to the rally when she didn't originally want to go #AND she wasn't going to tell my parents that i lied to them or tell them where i was going #so i didn't wanna start something #ace discrimination #so people can block this if they need i forgot about that lol

[official-weasley]

A Bundle Of Joy - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: talking about and giving birth

Word count: 4,275

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Nova

“Love, help me, how is this supposed to be looked at?” Charlie was sitting next to me on the sofa in my family home, reading a book about giving birth, having it turned upside down with his head tilted to the side.

“What are you looking at?” I giggled, finding the whole thing amusing.

We have been staying with my mum for the past week. I am one day before my due date and Charlie wanted us to be closer to the hospital so that we can be ready when the baby arrives. I was watching a cartoon on the telly while Charlie was educating himself – thinking he needs to know every term involving childbirth so that he will know what is going on once we are in the delivery room.

I, however, didn't want to pick a book up for the first time in my life. I was nervous as it is and at this point, I have read everything two, some books even three times, and reading about how my lady parts are going to stretch to help me push the baby out made me nauseous. Since my mum bought herself a telly, I decided to turn full-on Muggle and distract myself with a cat chasing after a mouse, occasionally answering Charlie's questions.

“It's the birthing canal and this is the right way to look at it.” I took the book from him and turned it around.

“Huh.” Charlie stared at it, half in confusion half in admiration, his head still a bit tilted to the side.

“Yes?”

“Your body is fascinating, love.” He blinked at the picture one more time before turning the page when I gasped.

“What, what is it?” Charlie was so startled by my action that he threw the book to the floor.

“I thought he was going to catch him this time!” I pointed at the television screen.

“What?” Charlie asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Jerry was almost caught by Tom.”

“Oh,” Charlie let out a sigh of relief, “I thought something was happening with the baby.”

Ever since we came to my mum's, Charlie has been even more on edge than I was. He was so excited that the time to meet our first child has finally arrived that he had a hard time containing it. Every time I sighed or gasped or just took a deep breath, he was up and alert, ready to take me to the hospital, thinking it was time.

“For the 100th time, Char, I would tell you if it had to do with the baby, as I do every time I have to pee or when they kick.” I smiled gently at him.

“Want anything for dinner?” My mum came to the living room and leaned on the doorway.

“Yes, please!” Charlie's eyes sparkled.

He has always been a nervous eater and he has been eating more than usual for the past 2 weeks, trying to calm down his nerves.

“We can either make some eggs, pancakes or we can order pizza?” Mum suggested.

“I'll make the pancakes!” Charlie got up at once, motioning to my mum to sit next to me after kissing me on the lips and exiting the room.

“It's cute how excited he is.” My mum giggled as she sat down.

“Yeah, he's excited for both of us, because I am too tired at this point to share his enthusiasm.” I smiled.

“You can't wait for this to be over, huh?” Mum put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me toward herself.

“It's a bit nerve-wracking thinking it can happen at any moment.” I sighed.

It was good talking about this to someone else than Charlie because he was on edge as it is and I didn't want to overwhelm him some more by expressing my concerns.

“It will all be over soon.” Mum started stroking my hair, planting a little kiss on the top of my head.

“I wanted to ask you if it would be okay if we stay here for another week or so once the baby arrives?”

“Of course,” Mum said nonchalantly.

“They are still making some finishing touches on the house and I don't want the baby around so much noise.”

Even though we bought our dream home almost 4 months ago, it took some time to get all the papers and even though we deemed it perfect there were a few things we wanted to change. By the time we found the right workers and Charlie being busy with his job we finally started to get everything in order.

“So, do you have any names ready?” Mum asked, excitement in her voice.

“We do.” I nodded. “But we want to keep it a surprise. I hope that's okay.”

“Of course. Did you pick the names?” My mum lifted an eyebrow at me.

“What do you think?” I giggled.

“Yeah, I thought it was Charlie.” She laughed.

She knew me too well. Even though I always knew I would like to have a family one day, I never gave much thought to the baby names so when Charlie and I finally talked about it and he told me how he would name our children I fell in love with those names.

“You'll be great parents,” mum said gently, pushing me a bit more onto her body.

“Thank you, mum.” I couldn't hide the grin that spread all over my face. “I can't wait. I feel so ready to be a mum.”

“I know you do and you'll be better than I ever was.”

“You are an amazing mum, what are you talking about?” I furrowed my brows.

“Well, I could be home more often.” She suggested.

“Perhaps,” I rubbed my chin, “but then I would probably turn out more spoiled.” We both laughed.

“Pancake time!” We both turned our heads toward Charlie's voice.

Mum helped me get up and we made our way to the kitchen. I couldn't wait to eat some Charlie-made pancakes. He always makes them extra fluffy and he makes the best ones.

Charlie

I turned around, my hand searching for Nova so I could spoon her when I felt something wet on our bed. My eyes opened at once, seeing her fast asleep on her back, gently snoring. She was adorable and I giggled at the sounds she was making. She was always a person to sleep on her belly and now that she couldn't and sleeping on the side felt weird to her, she occasionally snored.

I shook my head, remembering that our bed was wet. Nova had to pee a lot during pregnancy. The farther along she got, the more time she spent in the bathroom. Sometimes she would pretend that she was mad at the baby for pressing on her bladder so much and her talking to her belly made me fall more in love with her each time.

I didn't want to wake her – her being as nervous as she is as it's her due date today, finding her sound asleep was a blessing. I wanted her to be as rested as she could be for the delivery but I couldn't let her sleep on a wet bed.

“Love, wake up.” I put my hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently while whispering in her ear.

���Huh?” She mumbled without opening her eyes.

“Love, you...I think you peed yourself and I don't want you to sleep on it.”

I didn't know how to tell her. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“What?!” She bolted upright, now completely awake.

“The bed, it's wet.” I scratched the back of my head, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

Nova's eyes went from mine to our sheets and back to me.

“I didn't pee myself.” She said, her voice rusty.

“Well, I didn't either but our sheets are wet.” I bit my lip.

“Charlie...” She whispered my name, her eyes widening as if she has just remembered something. “I don't think this is pee.”

“What?” I turned on the light on my side of the bed to see the sheets better.

I looked at Nova, looking panicked, her hand on her underwear.

“Charlie, I think my water broke.” She breathed.

“What!” I jumped out of the bed at once. “Are you sure?” I swallowed my nerves.

Nova just nodded, pressing her legs together.

“Okay, okay. Let me help you get up and get dressed and then we'll wake up your mum.” I hurried to her side of the bed and offered her my hand.

“No, I'll get dressed on my own. Please, go wake up my mum now.” Nova said with a shaky voice, trying to desperately hide that she was beyond nervous.

I rushed out of our bedroom across the hall and gently knocked on Olivia's door. I heard her say to come in so I opened the door.

“Olivia, Nova thinks her water just broke!” I said with the highest-pitched voice I have ever heard come out of my mouth.

“Oh, my!” Olivia got up at once, starting toward her wardrobe. “I'll be right down. Go help Nova.”

I hurried back to the room we were sleeping in to see how Nova was progressing.

“How are you doing, love? How are you feeling?” I caught her pulling a jumper over her head and I helped her pull it all the way down.

“My back hurts a bit and I feel extremely uncomfortable.” She bit the inner side of her cheek, looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes of hers.

“Okay. I woke up your mum. Let me help you downstairs.” I grabbed her hand and led her out of the bedroom.

“Olivia, could you take the bag we prepared?” I said while opening the front door.

“Already have it.” She hurried after us, her car keys in her other hand.

The second Nova asked her mum if we could stay here during her last days of pregnancy, Olivia requested a car from the Ministry. Because she was one of their top Aurors, she got it at once and was ready to drive us to the hospital when the time would come because we all knew that Nova was forbidden to apparate in her last trimester.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Olivia looked at us in the rear mirror of the car.

“I...I think I'm okay.” Nova took a deep breath, trying to smile.

“Just breathe as we practiced, we're almost there.”

I was so glad that Nova's mum was with us. Her calmness made me less nervous as I knew I would panic way more if we were alone.

“Okay, Charlie, help her to the hospital, I will just park the car and I'll be right with you.” The second the car stopped, I opened the door and got outside, offering Nova my hand to help her get out of the car. “You're doing great, sweetheart!” I heard Olivia shout before I closed the door and helped Nova walk to the hospital.

Since it was in the middle of the night, there weren't many people around and it was easy to find a nurse.

“How can I help you?” The woman at the window asked. “My wife's water broke,” I spoke for Nova, who looked paler than usual and as if she forgot how to speak.

“When's her due date?” The nurse said with a gentle voice.

“Today.”

“When exactly did her water break?” She posed another question.

“I don't know. We woke up due to the sheets being wet.” I shrugged my shoulders, disappointed in myself that I couldn't give her a proper answer.

“Alright, Mrs.?”

“Weasley.” Nova half-whispered.

“Alright, Mrs. Weasley. Let us take you to the doctor to see how far along are you.” She smiled gently at Nova and then at me, while another nurse joined us, bringing Nova a wheelchair so that she doesn't have to walk.

The doctor was already waiting for us once we entered the room. The nurse and I helped Nova get up and walk to the bed the doctor motioned to.

“Okay, Mrs. Weasley. Do we have any trouble breathing?” The doctor asked with a gentle voice while putting on her gloves.

“Just some back pain.” Nova sat down on the bed, allowing the nurse to take off her pants.

“Please lay down and spread your legs.”

Nova did as she was told, searching for my hand. I rushed to her side and kneeled next to the bed to grab her hand.

“I'm here, love. You're doing great.” I whispered in her ear.

“Today's your due date?” The doctor asked.

“Yes, 2nd February,” I answered as Nova's breaths started to get deeper.

“Well, your baby sure is eager to meet you, because you are already 6 centimeters dilated.” The doctor grinned.

“Miss Moore, start preparing the delivery room, I think this is going to go nice and smoothly.” The doctor said to the nurse and she hurried out of the room.

“How are the contractions coming along?” The doctor turned back to Nova.

“I don't know. I don't feel anything, really.” Nova said after a second of giving her body her full attention.

“No pressure on your pelvis or back pain?” The doctor asked.

“I feel the pressure and the back pain comes and goes but it's not that bad.”

“Okay, is the back pain present now?”

“No.” Nova shook her head.

“Okay, now listen closely. When you will feel the muscles of your uterus tighten, please tell me. Those are contractions.” The doctor explained.

“I felt that before but it was so mild. I thought it hurt more.” Nova said incredulously.

“The pain will intensify when you get dilated more but it also depends how high your pain threshold is.”

We all turned around when we heard a knock on the door. It opened and Olivia poked her head inside.

“Can I join you?” She said in a whisper.

“And who might you be?” The doctor stood up, ready to tell her to go away. “It's alright, she's my mother,” Nova said before her face screwed up from the pain.

“Okay, now it hurt more!” She said through her teeth when the pain allowed her to speak, squeezing my hand.

“Mrs...”

“Blackwood.”

“Mrs. Blackwood, you can be with them until we take her to the delivery room. There we have a policy of only the father being present at birth.” The doctor said to Olivia.

“No problem.” She nodded and rushed to the other side of the bed to hold Nova's hand.

“Mrs. Weasley, please tell me when the next contraction kicks in so we can time them.” The doctor pressed a button on her watch and gestured for Nova to spread her legs again.

“Two more centimeters.” The doctor smiled at Nova. “Are you ready?”

“No.” Nova shook her head before clutching my hand so hard that I thought she is going to break all the bones in it.

“You just breathe. Deep and slow breaths now. I will go get the nurse so we can take you to the delivery room.” She stood up and rushed outside.

“You're doing great, sweetheart. It's definitely going smoother than when I was pregnant with you.” Olivia giggled. “My water broke at home and your dad and I hurried to the hospital but then you decided to take your precious time and it came to a point when they almost sent us home because I was dilating so slowly.”

“I don't know...if it's good or bad...that it's happening...so fast.” Nova said between her breaths.

“Every birth is different, sweetheart. Everything will be okay and you are doing just fine.” Olivia tried calming Nova down.

Just as the next contraction hit, the doctor came back with a nurse who had a wheelchair ready for Nova to sit in. I helped her get up when the pain passed, trying to hide how my hands were shaking, as I was getting more nervous by the minute.

“Char.” Nova breathed.

“Yes, love?” I leaned closer to her, to hear what she has to say.

“Now would be a good time...for one of your...stories.” She tried sitting as upright as possible, trying to appear strong even though I knew she was in a lot of pain.

“Okay, okay.” I scratched the top of my head, trying to think of anything to keep her mind off labor.

“Uhm.” My nerves were getting the best of me and made my mind completely blank. “Oh! Do you remember our detention in the Forest with Hagrid?”

Nova just hummed to let me know she was listening.

I was halfway through my story when we entered the delivery room and the second they placed Nova on the bed she squeezed my hand so tight that I forgot what I was even talking about.

—

“Alright, Nova, it's time for you to start pushing.” The doctor said to Nova as everything was ready.

There were 3 nurses and a doctor with us in the delivery room, while Olivia had to stay outside as the doctor ordered her before.

Nova locked eyes with me, nervously biting her lip and I gave her a reassuring smile along with my nod. I know she was nervous and she was scared as this was an entirely new experience for her, but I was proud of her for how great she was doing so far – coping with the pain and listening to our doctor – and I knew she would do a brilliant job.

“You got this, love. I believe in you and you are ready.” I whispered to her and I got a small nod in return before she turned to face the doctor.

“Take deep breaths and only push when I tell you to and stop when I tell you to and we are going to do just fine.” The doctor put on her mask and leaned closer to Nova's legs.

Nova's body started spasming due to another contraction and the doctor told her to start pushing.

This was it! It was happening. It just dawned on me that we are going to become parents today. I didn't have the time to be nervous when I felt pain in my left hand, Nova gripping it ever so strong, and her screaming while trying to push the baby out filled my ears.

I felt so helpless just standing there while she did all the work. I know it meant the world to her that I was by her side and that she could squeeze my hand but I also know that the pain in my hand was nothing compared to what she was going through.

I stopped counting how many times the doctor told Nova to push. I was focused on her breathing as the nurse dictated it, trying to breathe with her in the hope it will help her in some way.

“Charlie, it hurts.” I could barely hear her say between her teeth as the doctor motioned for her to start pushing again.

“You're doing great, we're almost there. Just squeeze my hand as much as you can and just breathe.” I placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

I could see that her body was weakening, slowly losing strength the adrenaline of the whole situation gave her.

“Just a little longer, love. Just imagine holding our baby.”

“Okay, the head is out. Nova, I will need you to give it your all now. The worst is behind you.” The doctor encouraged her.

Nova pushed again, letting out a scream that made me want to do the same. The events after that unfolded so fast that I hardly remember what happened.

The nurses rushed to the doctor when I heard a cry, as the doctor seemed to be holding something between Nova's legs. One of the nurses motioned for me to get closer and I used my right hand to get my left one out of Nova's grip.

I couldn't believe my eyes, it was...it was our baby! I thanked Merlin that I looked through all the pictures in those books Nova had because otherwise I would be startled by the sight of the whole situation.

“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord, Mr. Weasley?” One of the nurses handed me a pair of scissors and pointed to the spot where I should make a cut.

I was so busy staring at our child, their beautiful cry – gasping for air – filling my ears.

“Mr. Weasley.” The nurse repeated my name, gently.

“Right!”

I carefully approached the cord with the scissors and cut through it.

“It's a girl.” The doctor said, looking first at Nova and then at me, while the nurses took the baby away to clean it. “You did a fantastic job, Mrs. Weasley. You should be proud, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh, I am,” I said, my voice shaking, moving closer to my wife, who had her eyes closed, relieved that it was over.

“Did you hear that, love? We have a girl!” I wrapped my arms around her and the second those words came out of my mouth, the tears I tried so desperately to hold in, ran down my cheeks.

“We have a girl,” Nova repeated, her voice rasp and tired.

“You did so great. I am so proud of you, Nova.” I kissed her gently on the mouth.

“A very healthy baby girl.” The nurse brought our daughter to us. “Would you like to hold her, Mr. Weasley?”

“Ye...Yes, please.” I said with a shaky voice, turning to the nurse.

“Be careful with the head. There you go.”

The second she placed her in my hands, a new set of tears ran down my cheeks. She was beyond beautiful.

“She is so tiny!” I exclaimed, sitting down next to Nova so she could look at her.

She had more hair on her head than I expected and there was no question if she was mine, because her hair was fiery red. Her eyes looked dark blue when she opened them for a split second, but I know that that can still change and it didn't matter. She was just born yet she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Nova smiled at her and gently brushed her finger over her tiny hand.

“There's no rush, but we ask every time. Do you have the name yet?” One of the nurses came closer to us again.

“Char,” Nova called my name gently as I placed our daughter in her hands, her cheeks soaked with tears.

“Hmm?” I couldn't muster more than a hum, too busy staring at the breathtaking view in front of me.

Nova was smiling at the baby, wiping her cheek before waving her hand at our daughter.

“Hi, you beautiful girl.” She whispered to her and brought her closer to her head to place a gentle kiss on the top of her nose.

“The name.” Nova's eyes locked with mine, the smile never leaving her face.

“What?” I breathed, not sure what she was saying.

“The nurse asked for a name.” She giggled, looking back down to our baby girl who had her hand wrapped around Nova's index finger.

I blinked at her a few times.

“We...we didn't discuss it.” I stuttered.

“Charlie, you told me when we first talked about family what you want to name our firstborn if it's a girl.” Nova gestured for me to get closer so she could kiss me.

“I...you really want to name her that? You can pick another name.” I said gently.

“No. I love that name and I remember how proud you were when you told it to me. And I think,” her eyes switching from me back to our girl, “that it's perfect for her.”

“Aoede,” I said, turning to the nurse.

“Aww, that is a beautiful name.” The nurse smiled at me. “Any middle names?”

“Io,” Nova said, not looking away from our bundle of joy.

“Can my mother come in now?” Nova asked after us staring at Aoede for solid 10 minutes.

I looked at the nurse who nodded and I hurried to the door to find Olivia.

“Charlie, is everything okay? How is she coming along?” Olivia was pacing up and down in front of the delivery room, biting her lower lip.

“It's over. You can come inside.” I sniffed and smiled at her.

Olivia gasped and hurried after me into the room.

“Olivia, meet your granddaughter, Aoede Io.” I nudged her to go closer to Nova because the second she laid her eyes on her daughter holding a baby she stopped walking and I was pretty sure she stopped breathing too.

“Oh, Charlie!” She exclaimed her hands over her mouth. “She is perfect.” She pulled me into a tight hug and I couldn't help but get overwhelmed again, releasing the tears.

“Nova, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” Olivia leaned closer to Nova when she offered her to hold the baby.

“A bit tired, but it was worth it.” Nova smiled weakly.

I knew that if she could she would fall asleep in five seconds – she looked so exhausted.

“She looks just like you when you were a baby,” Olivia whispered, her eyes locked on her granddaughter now. “Yes, you do. Yes, you do.”

I chuckled at the voices Olivia was making and sat down on Nova's bed to pull her into a tight embrace.

“You did it, mummy,” I whispered to her and felt her body vibrate in giggles.

“We did it, daddy.” She corrected me, bringing a new set of tears to my eyes.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanfiction #hphm charlie #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #hogwarts mystery mc #the weasleys #hphm fanfiction #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #hphm imagine #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #the burrow

[ateezmakemeweep]

you’re the one that i want (part 12)

word count: 3k

angst, fluff, smut

(part 11) (series masterlist)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21​; @lokicaramel​ ; @ttalgimin​ ; @sakura-uji​ ; 

seonghwa knew this breakdown was coming.

he knew it was only natural, given the way you’d been reacting in the days leading up to this night. the last night before your parents came and got you tomorrow at noon. before you two were ripped away from each other and, in just a few weeks time, thrown back into the swing of classes.

you’d be dealing with new friends and a new school and a whole new neighborhood while he’d be dealing with living back at home with his dad. he’d inform his friends of what he did before they tell him all about the parties they went to, the girls they fucked and all the stupid drama he missed.

like any of it’s gonna matter when he’ll be plagued with the memory of you. the happy things like your breathy moans and smile and giggle that make him happier than anything he thought possible.

but he thinks the worst thing will be remembering your cries and whimpers tonight. the way the tears are building in your eyes and you’re trying so hard for him and yourself not to let them fall.

"i’m gonna fall!” you squeal, attempting to balance your feet on the board.

it was your second day of learning how to surf and had been nothing short of a disaster, seonghwa’s hand on the board as he assures that even if you do fall, it’s gonna be painlessly into water.

“that’s not really helping,” you grumble, his wet face smirking at you.

it amazes you, really, how the sun is shining down so brightly on him and there’s not an imperfection in sight. dripping blonde hair with a sharp jawline and shining eyes. you know you probably don’t look that nice, your face red and blotchy from the uneven burn as he smirks up at you in a way that makes you incredibly nervous.

“you get too caught up in your own head,” you hear him say, squinting at him with a slight pout on your lips.

“because i’m scared,” you tell him quietly.

and even though you were only talking about surfing, it felt like more at the time. you were scared of starting a friendship with him, scared of opening yourself up and being in his way because you can’t even imagine why he wants to be around you.

you didn’t know why he was doing that and that’s why you were scared. didn’t know why he’d look up at you with such an...intrigued look in his eye, like you were something to be curious about; what you see is what you get with you and that’s an extremely nervous, blabbering idiot.

“there’s no reason to be,” he says to you quietly, your eyes meeting and something heavy settles in your heart.

you also didn’t know what that feeling was at the time but you knew that you liked it. that even though you couldn’t quite make out what this boy wanted from you, you were gonna give him anything. even if it that was you and your already fragile heart.

“nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“nothing bad like that is gonna happen, baby,” he says against your head, listening as you tell him you’re scared of you both losing contact or interest over time. you sigh against him and nuzzle your face into his arm, watching the setting sun from your balcony.

he turns and takes your face in his hand, frowning when he sees the sad look in your eyes. 

“i hate seeing you like this,” he mumbles, his thumb rubbing over your face gently.

it had been a good day prior to this, spending the morning down at the beach with the boys before eating lunch with them at the diner; you both even took them to the aquarium you had gone to all those weeks ago, where you couldn’t stop the memories from your first date playing through your head.

planning your second date accidentally, educating him on nemo and dory and crush and walking hand-in-hand through the nearly empty building.

that had been a day that could’ve been ruined, honestly, given the date’s shaky start. he could’ve taken you home to finish his business with those boys or you could’ve demanded to leave after overhearing what you did.

but you both stayed and that was the night you really thought you were falling for him.

when your nervousness slowly dissipated and you just knew he wasn’t gonna hurt you like everyone else in your life; because it seemed silly at the time but he really did calm you, the way he handled you with such care and allowed you to drag him around from tank to tank.

"why are you laughing?" he asks softly, the smallest hint of a smirk on his face as amusement laces into his voice.

"because you make me nervous," you admit, looking up at him. "more than usual."

a breathy chuckle leaves his mouth as he moves his hand away from you and puts it on the glass, watching that same clownfish that was swirling around yours move to him.

"dory's not scared of me," he says lowly, not even needing to see your face to know you look outraged and annoyed. "so you don't have to be."

but now with the night time approaching, you know it’s coming and you’re unsettled.

you’re trying so hard to be happy and you want to be but it’s hard not to think about tomorrow. it’s hard not to think about how your closet and drawers are packed back up in your suit case and in less than fifteen hours, you’ll be back in your car and going to a new house.

the thought brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes and you’re quick to let out  a sigh, going up to wipe at them before seonghwa’s thumb flicks them away.

“did you not just hear me?” he asks sternly, the contrasting small, sad smile on his face causing you to giggle slightly.

“i’m sorry,” you whine, nuzzling your face back into him so he doesn’t have to look at you. “i just can’t stop thinking about it.”

and with that knowledge, seonghwa stands up and abruptly throws you over his shoulder. you let out a surprised yelp as you scream his name, squealing as he walks through your bedroom and down the stairs.

you pass your aunt and her friend’s who watch in amusement from the dining room table, their glasses full of wine and a cheese platter in the middle. you hear one of them compliment seonghwa on his strength and the shudder you feel go through him immediately makes a laugh bubble out of your mouth.

but the moment the warm night air hits your body and you sense seonghwa walking towards the pool, your laughs quickly stop.

“hwa, don’t you dare!” you squeal, hitting at his back and flailing in his hold. 

but your voice only holds amusement and you’re giggling and that’s all he wants for tonight so he doesn’t think twice about flinging your clothed body right into the pool.

your body hits the cold water and you jump up to scream at him just to see him sitting on at the edge, his feet in the water as he looks at you with a smirk.

“are you kidding me!” you squeal, swimming over to him and splashing him violently.

“sorry, baby, but it had to be done.”

you jump up and out of the pool, your clothes dripping next to him and he’s about to ask what you’re doing when you run directly behind him. 

“then so does this,” you say with a content smile, his loud groan when he hits the pool filling you with a sense of satisfaction.

he pops up and shakes out his wet hair, his tongue poking at his cheek as he looks at you sternly.

but he can only keep it for a few seconds because you’re smiling so bright and it tugs at his heart; that’s all he wanted to see tonight, you smiling and laughing and not crying into his shoulder.

so instead of pretending to be mad or chastising you, he holds out his arms and  tells you to jump. you narrow your eyes at him because it feels like you’re a child learning how to swim but you do it anyway, landing perfectly in his hold as a tiny grunt leaves him at the impact.

“hi,” you say with a small innocent smile.

he rolls his eyes before grabbing you around the waist, your legs wrapping around his body before he dunks you back and gets your hair even more wet. you giggle and smack at him playfully, splashing water up at him before jumping off him and swimming away.

your aunt watches from the window as you two swim around, his chuckle and your whine of his name grabbing the attention of all of them.

the group of women watched you two progress over the summer, how your gazes turned softer and sweeter and how seonghwa would always have to touch you. 

whether it be guiding you by the small of your back or having his arm around your chair; it was something that warmed all of their hearts, which was pretty amazing since almost all of them were, admittedly, bitter divorcees.

“they are so sweet,” one of the lady’s says, watching as you jump out of the pool followed shortly behind seonghwa. you don’t get very far before he catches you around the waist and picks you up, your squeal promptly followed by a splash.

“i know, he’s been here every night this week,” your aunt informs them.

she doesn’t mention the way she’s heard your soft cries when she’s out on the porch and you two are on the balcony. nor does she mention that after you fell asleep, seonghwa had come down and asked if everything really was okay for you at home.

“i know she’s your sister so i’m not implying anything,” he said over the table, the cup of chamomile tea she always offers him but he rarely drinks next to him. “but she’s so scared to go back to them and i...do they hurt her?”

she couldn’t control the way her eyes widened when she heard him ask that, the boy maybe mistaking it for an insult but not even bothering to apologize. because she saw it, the anger and disgust in his eyes that if she even thought you were being hurt and sent you back, he was gonna go ballistic.

“they’re assholes, seonghwa, i’ll be the first to tell you but i don’t think they would physically harm her.”

and those were her honest thoughts, she’d never think in a million years that they’d stoop that low and abuse you in a such a way. and a part of her hoped you would tell her, that if you were in danger and needed a safe place to stay, that you knew you could come to her.

the answer seemed to simmer the boy and he nodded his head, calming the thoughts that have also been invading him in the days leading up to your departure; he was just better at hiding his sadness over it than you and it showed itself in a different way.

his brain convincing him that something’s not right and that neither of you are gonna be okay without each other. but that’s absurd, he thought, you didn’t even know each other two months ago and now you need each other to survive?

but his heart pulling in his chest scares the shit out of him, preparing him for your separation and knowing that once you two are apart, he doesn’t fully know how he’s gonna react.

he’s never felt like this before. he’s never loved anyone and has never had to leave someone he loved; but he’s just hoping, praying, that he doesn’t react to this heartbreak like a fucking idiot.

“what do you think they’re gonna do?” another woman asks, sipping from her glass of wine as he looks at your aunt. “i think they could do long distance. look at their love.”

“oh, jesus christ rose,” the older woman says, throwing a cracker at the woman when she sees tears welling up in her eyes. “you are absolutely ridiculous.”

“young love is the best love!”

they look over to see you both back in the pool, your arms around his neck as you throw your head back and giggle. and everyone can suppose that you two are a clear cut case of young love:

feelings that developed incredibly fast but felt overwhelmingly strong, a desire to see each other each and everyday and never get sick of it, a tragic end where you two are gonna be pulled apart and put to the test to see just how real the past two months have been.

“of course i did, i haven’t lived under a rock,” seonghwa says, your face pulled into one of extreme shock as he tells you this whole time, he had known about finding nemo. that it’d been one of his favorite movies growing up and he only pretended not to know.

“but why!” you squeal, “you....you even kept confusing nemo and dory on our date!”

he rolls his eyes and brings his finger under you chin, pulling you close so he can peck you with a cute, chaste kiss. “because you were so cute telling me about it,” he mumbles lowly, feeling his smile against your lips as he recalls you going on and on about it. “how could i have stopped you?”

"i don't wanna leave, i don't wanna stay with them anymore. i don't wanna leave you and everyone else and go back to my stupid new house with them being there," you cry out like a child, feeling the relentless tears prick at your eyes again. "i'm gonna miss you, seonghwa. i feel so safe with you.”

"i'm right here, baby, i'm not going anywhere."

“baby, can i ask you something?”

you look up at him from where you lay on his naked chest, the both of you laying in your bed watching a movie. you’d taken a shower after you got out of the pool, one thing leading to another before his hand covered your mouth as he fucked up into you against the cold tile.

it had all started innocently, him washing your hair and brushing the conditioner through. you squirting the loofa with soap and wiping him down with soap, writing words and smiley faces into his back.

but then the inevitable seemed to happen when your mouths gravitated toward one another, lips parting and his tongue slipping in before you daringly dropped down to your knees.

it’d been a fantasy you were dreaming about, just dropping to your knees unexpectedly and taking him in your mouth. and it seemed as if it might’ve been one of his too because his hands grabbed at your wet hair and he threw his head back as quiet curses left his mouth.

and when you looked up at him, your tongue circling the tip before sucking him down, that was it. that’s what made him growl and pull you up, force you to jump and sit on his cock so he could fuck you right under the steamy flow of water.

the angle hadn’t been one you felt before and everything about it was remarkable, him hitting something inside you as he sucked hickies into your chest that made you scream and whine into his hand.

“what?” you squeak as you look up at him, the small smile and sweet, questioning glint in your eyes making him reach down and touch your face.

“is there a reason you don’t wanna go home? are you not safe there?”

because something about your words that day are still haunting him for some reason, seeing the way you transformed right back into that scared, nervous girl he first met in the presence of your parents. the way you would flinch away from him in the beginning and not be able to hold eye contact.

and he thinks it’s more than going to a new house and a new school.

it’s how you actively tell him your parents hate you and question why they had you, how you told him you don’t wanna leave this town and feel safe with him; because if that’s the case, then you need someone to be safe from and that doesn’t sit well with him at all.

the question makes your stomach sink and you immediately feel the need to defend or deflect. to ask him why he’d think such a thing and insist that of course you’re safe. that just because your parents are mean and snap at you doesn’t mean it’s a completely terrible environment.

and while you can’t tell him the truth, you can’t lie to him either.

“it’s...fine,” you say quietly. “they just say a lot of things that hurt my feelings and yell. but who’s parents don’t? it’s just....normal family problems,” you tell him quietly, blinking back the tears trying to form in your eyes because you don’t think being smacked and kicked and fearing for your life some nights is considered normal family problems.

he swallows the lump in his throat and narrows his eyes at you, his thumb caressing your face as he bends down and kisses your forehead softly.

you close your eyes at the feeling and remind yourself to bask in this for the rest of the night. the way it feels to be held and kissed and loved because you don’t know when it’s gonna happen again. if it’s gonna happen again.

“whatever they say, know it’s not true,” you hear him mumble against your head. “they don’t know how lucky they are to be able to see you everyday.”

those words leaving his mouth catch you off guard, any time he says something sweet like that making your heart flutter and tears prick your eyes. and he knows it too because he looks down at you and smiles, shaking his head before placing another peck on your nose and lips.

“please, baby, no more crying tonight.”

and you try for him again but it proves to be a failure, burying your head in his neck and allowing your wet, salty tears to fall on his skin. you try to control your breathing and sobs threatening to leave, neither of you commenting on the death grip you have on him.

“i’m gonna miss you,” you whimper against him. he lets out a humorless chuckle as he pulls your face back, moving you on your back so your wet, teary face is right in his sight.

he leans down and kisses the salty tears off your face, your nose scrunching because your face is wet and sticky from them; but he doesn’t care, he just wants them gone and you smiling for the last few hours you have left.

“i’m gonna miss you too, baby,” he says, “but i’m here now. and i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you bite down on your lip and nod your head, another tear breaking free when you pull him down so your lips meet in a kiss. he lets you take over this one, lets you put your hands on his face and pull him into you, part your lips on his and slip your tongue in as you completely take the lead.

he lets it happen the whole time until you’re undressed and under the sheets, memorizing every inch of each other’s bodies one last time until he’s thrusting into you. it’s a slower, steadier pace that makes you cry out, his hips rocking into you slowly so he can bring you to your high gradually.

he whispers that he loves you in your ear, that no matter what happens he’s always gonna love you because how could he forget the girl who completely changed his summer and turned him into a man he never thought he could be?

(part 13)

#eeeek #aha anyway... #y/ns aunt and her friends are the golden girls #and thats that #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #ateez imagines #seonghwa series #seonghwa imagines

[the-phoenix-heart]

Sorting Hat Chats - Animaniacs

THOSE ARE THE FACTS!

(How did you know I was working on this?)

Anyway, welcome to my new hyperfixation! So obviously I decided to sort them. Description of the system I’m using here as sometimes. 

Also, the movie Wakko’s Wish has questionable canonicity, seeing as it takes place in another universe and it could said is just a movie the Animaniacs did in universe, but seeing as this was made by the same people as an excuse to give their characters a happy ending after the cancelation of the show-I’m going to say it counts for characterization. They’re pretty much the same characters, just in a different story. 

I should also mention that as toons, they’ve modeled every secondary out there, so their secondary sorting is to find their actual sorting under all the modeling and performance. 

YAKKO WARNER was the easiest to sort. He’s a Snake primary, here for his family, maybe Dr. Scratchansniff, and that’s about it. He’s the oldest, it makes sense. I mean, in Wakko’s Wish he literally gets a promotion to parent. That scene at the beginning where he and Dot are just sitting at the train station, implied to be sleeping there to, as they wait for Wakko to get home-FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR-it’s so soft and easy to forget about with later scenes but it shows how much they love him. 

Anyway, Yakko is extremely protective and needs to be around his family. His fear in the IT parody is being alone with no one to talk to him, and his first worry after is he funny is where his siblings have been. Plus, he doesn’t really show a strong preference for the rest of the primaries. 

I know that the first thought for the Animaniacs is that he’s a Snake secondary like Bugs Bunny, but remember, they’ve had every secondary as a model/performance ever. Yakko, I believe, is a Bird secondary through and though. 

Yakko has the most songs of his siblings, and seeing as a joke in the reboot was that he kept trying to sing his educational songs and he kept getting interrupted-he clearly loves doing them. Yakko’s World, Every Word in the English Dictionary, Time, Multiplication, these are things that he clearly studied for the songs and require extreme memorization (I mean every country in the world and every world in the english language??). He also almost always has his lines memorized, and his sister’s, and probably Wakko’s. Part of his problem with Nicklewise is the fact that no one is acknowledging what he’s saying, and then he’s tongue tied. One of the first things he does when he gets back to the lot is swallow a tablet and learns everything about the past 22 years. 

When describing himself in “To be like us” he literally starts it off, “To be like me? Well buddy here’s the key/use the pen not the sword when you’re in a fight.” 

When he does just charge in like a Lion he loses. Plus, dad jokes and puns are just a Bird thing. If you have a Bird secondary you are going to have an appreciation for wordplay, trust me I’m a Bird secondary. 

DOT WARNER is an actual Snake secondary. She’s the unprepared one. She doesn’t know her lines, and she didn’t practice her song on the first ladies before she sung it, which is how she learns that you cannot give a significant amount of time to each first lady in two minutes-and she didn’t even remember them all. 

This exchange is peak Bird v. Snake:

Dot: “It’s a little ditty I’ve composed detailing the accomplishments of the women behind the men...Every single first lady of the United States of America! Please put two minutes on the clock!” Yakko: “Oh, no no no no no. Hold on. You’re going to sing about every First Lady in two minutes? Have you practiced this?” Dot, possibly sarcastic but probably telling the truth: “Well no, I have not.”

She’s also the one who always uses how cute she is to get people to do what she wants. The big scene of Wakko’s Wish is Dot pretending to die so effectively that she fooled everyone but (maybe) Yakko and Wakko, and even made the guy who “killed” her feel remorse for his actions. Also, in the intro she’s described in the original as cute and in the new one as witty-which that combination feels very Snake. 

Unlike her brother Dot is a Lion primary. It might be a new addition for the reboot, but if she wasn’t originally a Lion primary I think this is just a case of character progression. In the show she calls out people for being sexist or mansplaining, and (possibly my favorite segment) has her singing about women getting the right to vote. The great thing is that this segment addresses the fact that just because women got the right to vote didn’t mean every woman could vote, because she finds out that as a toon she can’t vote. In less than a day she brings together Looney Toons and Hanna Barbera cartoons to go to Washington and lobby congress for the right to vote. And wins. 

Yeah, Dot don’t play around. Also she calls out fear-mongering (Had to fit that in somewhere). 

WAKKO WARNER (YES I KNOW HE’S THE MIDDLE CHILD BUT HE HAS THE LONGEST SECTION) was the hardest for me to sort out. Literally of course. He didn’t feel like any of the primaries to me for a while and what I really needed to look at was Wakko’s Wish. In Wakko’s Wish he’s the one telling everyone that they have to keeping hoping for something better and never give up while his siblings seem to be more out for themselves. Wakko’s the one who interacts most with the town as a whole. He gives Plotz a drink of the elixir after Plotz just tried to murder him and his siblings. There’s also a good argument to be made that Wakko wished for the ability to give everyone in the town what they wanted. He didn’t need to wish for a second ha’ penny, but he has it and it helps the town return to prosperity, which is why I rule him as a Badger primary. 

You can also notice it in the original series with how he interacts with other people, but we don’t have enough time to talk about that since we still have to talk about his secondary. Fucking hell his secondary. Wakko’s secondary is the hardest to parse out of them all. It’s opposite problem I had with his primary, he fits all of them. 

Like I said earlier, they have models for all the secondaries because they’re toons and they have to get into a lot of situations. But there are certain secondaries they favor over others which help you to see what the real secondary there is under all the models and performances. But the problem I ran into with Wakko is he uses all of them at a ready amount!

I first considered that he was a Bird secondary because of his gag bag, or the clown episode with his extremely well thought out ideas on how to torture the poor clown (don’t feel too sorry for him he’s very annoying), and segments like Wakko’s Gizmo. In Wakko’s Gizmo he builds this very overly complicated and super badass device just so he can make a whoopie cushion go off. But that was what tipped me off, it’s a toy. Wakko’s Bird secondary is just a model he has as a toy, something to have fun with (I won’t say he got it from Yakko but he got it from Yakko). Plus, Wakko’s just to intuitive and spontaneous for an actual Bird secondary. The way he uses his gag bag is just in a way where he just understands what to get. 

The fact that that he’s very intuitive with his gag bag and impulsive also set me off that he wasn’t a Badger secondary. Of all the secondaries he uses this one the least in the original series. However, interestingly, this is the only secondary he uses in Wakko’s Wish. He works his ass off for a year to make a ha’ penny to pay for Dot’s operation, he makes the wish on the star, he plays sort of a peace maker with the town and others. It’s something he used more specifically for that movie though.

The big debate was whether he was a Snake or a Lion, but-BUT-I’m gonna be kind of controversial and say that he has a Lion secondary. Yes-he’s very situational, but his go to course of action is to hit people with his mallet. Plus, the way he uses his gag bag is he just goes for it, because he feels it. He’s always in the moment, which is how he’s able to use his gag bag. Also, there’s a difference between the way Dot and he usually do things, if they were both Snake secondaries they’d look more similar, but they don’t. And he doesn’t always have what’s needed for the situation, he needs to feel around for it. I could be talked into a Snake secondary but for now I’m pretty happy with Lion. 

So...

Yakko Warner - Snake primary/Bird secondary, has all models and performances

Dot Warner - Lion primary/Snake secondary, has all models and performances

Wakko Warner - Badger primary/Lion secondary, has all models and performances (specifically uses his Badger secondary model in Wakko’s Wish, and specifically uses his Bird secondary model as a toy)

#sorting hat chats #sortinghatchats #yes i really just sorted the animaniacs #dot warner #yakko warner #wakko warner #yakko is my favorite #animaniacs #snake bird #lion snake #badger lion #wakko and marinette stop being so damn complicated challenge

[anika-ann]

Grease and Pearls - Pt.1

Uptown Meets Downtown

Type: One-shot turned three-shot (because does anyone really want a 17k in one go?)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (main), Tony/Reader, Tony/Pepper

Word count: 5230

Summary:  All you know is uptown; fancy clothes, expensive cars, jewellery outshining one’s personality and exhausting dinners with family acquaintances and business partners. Your life is all planned out; one day, you’ll marry Howard Stark’s son and you’ll be the golden couple adored by press.

You desperately seek to see life outside this suffocating glitz...and that’s how you meet Steve Rogers.

A/N: for a challenge hosted by @cxptain Congratulation to your milestone, you deserve nothing less! Thank you for hosting this amazing challenge and allowing me to take part in it! ...I’m not sure how 80′s this is :(

Prompt: Uptown Girl by Billy Joel

A/N 2: I added links to a pic of dresses I had in mind, feel free to ignore them or not :))

Warnings: swearing, mention of arranged marriage, ...fluff?

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Your sigh was drowned in the sea of voices as you slipped under the surface, the water closing above your head. The moment you opened your mouth to gasp for air, it filled with water instead, and you reached out to the sun glimmering above, trying to save yourself--

To be entirely honest, now you were being dramatic; however, shall anyone exchange places with you, you were sure they would feel the same about the company of artificial people in their best Sunday suits and fancy dress, sitting around the table pretending to be engaged in the small talk.

As your eyes fell on man seated opposite to you, a bowtie around his neck, one corner of his lips raised in a blend of a smile and a smirk, your mind drifted to your wonderful friend. 

Virginia Potts, or Pepper for short, a nickname saved for her friends only, would be much better of a match for Anthony than you. She was nothing short of a proper lady and her parents, while not as wealthy as yours, were much more liberal and supportive of her following her dreams. Pepper Potts was about to turn tables and start her own company from a scratch, businessmen be damned. Her mind was brilliant, her persona enchanting, her appearance turning heads wherever she went and her heart was overflowing with kindness and determination. She was about to make people question the very definition of doing business once she set her foot in the field.

Your parents’ thinking, on the other hand, froze in the sixties, maybe forties. You were meant to become a glorified housewife, albeit educated enough to teach her own kids. You never really minded that; it wasn’t what laid heavy in your mind. Anthony did.

Anthony’s parents were as strict as yours, never quite giving him a choice but to take over the family company and wickedly join it with your father’s by tying your families together one day.

Your future family and your love life were to be based on a business deal. The romance of it.

Tony wasn’t an unlikable person by any means; a genius, somewhat charming in his own slightly arrogant way, he even made for an entertaining company at times. Nevertheless, your affections for him couldn’t begin to even hope to grow beyond friendship. On top of that, it just happened to come that while he was meant to be in the charge of to-be-his company, his interest laid further in the progress of technology itself, in designing things, rather than in attending board meetings.

In other words; Pepper would have been a better match for Tony, much better equipped to lead an enterprise than you and Tony together and oh, let’s not forget, her feelings for Tony went beyond friendly, unlike yours. And they were mutual.

But here you were, sitting through another forcefully polite dinner with the Starks and you wanted to be anywhere but here-- you wanted to be somewhere where you could actually breathe.

As you inhaled shakily and possibly too loud for a lady, your sister Sharon shot you a scolding look. You wanted to scream. However, like the well-mannered girl you were, you fixed a smile for your guests instead and engaged in meaningless conversation until it was time to prepare for bed; you let Anthony kiss your knuckles in goodbye and ignored your father’s pleased smile that had your chest constricted, your stomach full of ice cubes instead of the butterflies you were supposed to feel when being with your future husband.

Your mother made a joke about Tony soon kissing a ring on your hand and you closed your eyes, swallowing the panic that didn’t leave you until the early hours of the morning, causing you to lose sleep.

Seeing your own exhausted expression in the mirror at the crack of dawn, you came to a decision.

You were to escape the tight bodice of your glamorous life if even for a minute.

And you were sure that your best friend, who happened to live closer to normal part of the city, was about to help you.

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The bell jingled as you entered the diner, black and white tile floor resembling a chessboard, albeit slightly shabby against your heels clicking with each step.

Maximoff’s the place was called and besides the funky chessboard floor, the interior was in warm colours, walls painted apricot, the counters, bar, tables, stools and chairs in caramel tones. Your lips automatically spread in a smile as you looked around, heading to the counter built right next to a bar, your eyes running over the specials of the day. As most of the names didn’t feel familiar, you took a mental note to kiss Pepper’s hands once you would reunite in the gallery where she was momentarily alone, providing you an alibi while you sneaked out.

“What’s a pretty thing like ya’ doin’ here? Ya’ lost, dollface?” a male voice startled you and your head snapped the direction it came from, finding a man dressed in a short-sleeved shirt with a strange logo of an eagle on his pocket and jeans. Chin-length brown hair framed his face, stubble rounding his smirking lips, his pale blue-grey eyes fixed on you.

He didn’t seem like he wanted to harm you, but the way he talked seemed strange and the fact you weren’t even sure if he talked to you made you uneasy. Dollface? Who called a woman that? Who called that anyone for that matter?

You smiled at him reluctantly, your heart speeding up. A sigh sounded next to him, out of your view, and another man spoke up, scolding the brunet.

“Lay off, Buck. You’re scaring the dame.”

The owner of the voice leaned away from the bar, his kind blue eyes and inviting expression causing your breath to hitch. Gosh, he was pretty with that subtle smile and ruffled blond hair. You figured they were colleagues since he was dressed in the same manner. You felt a bit inappropriate in your almost knee-length sunflower dress; you were sticking out like a sore thumb. The women in this diner sure weren’t dressed like you.

“Do you need any help?” the blond asked, his tone gentler and less challenging than Buck’s, , instantly putting you at ease; well, as much at ease as you could feel visiting a downtown diner for the first time, on your own, no less.

Your smile grew firmer, more confident, as you beckoned towards the menu above.

“Uhm… perhaps with picking the meal?”

The brunet raised a curious eyebrow at your question. “You want to eat here?”

Yes, you were definitely sticking out and you weren’t the only one to take notice.

“…yes.”

Nervous under his gaze, your eyes flickered to the blond, who seemed equally surprised, tilting his head aside.

“Well, what do you have in mind?” he asked simply.

You only shrugged in response and the brunet rolled his eyes and sighed, wiping his fingers to the napkin near his empty plate.

“Looks like I’m not needed here,” he grumbled and rose to his feet, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Just remember, Stevie, boss’ gonna kill ya’ if you’re more than half an hour late.”

What did that mean?

“Noted,” Stevie huffed a laugh and waved him off.

“Better get outta here sooner than later, can’t run as fast as Maximoff-“

“Yeah, yeah-“

“I better heard that name in a compliment!” a female voice from the door with ‘personnel only’ behind the counter suddenly called out, once again starling you.

“Sure thing, Mrs.M! See ya’!” Buck shouted right back at her as he jogged to the door and you noticed that the woman behind the counter and Stevie weren’t the only ones with their eyes on you, the realization making you shiver on the inside.

“You know what? Let’s sit somewhere else, everyone’s staring. You can check out the complete menu and the waitress will come to us,” the blond offered, already standing up and beckoning to one of the booths.

You felt yourself relax, the ever-present smile on his lips assuring you he had no malicious intent – or you hoped so.

“Sure. Thank you.”

You seated yourself opposite to him, hidden from the majority of the prying eyes as he pushed the menu your way.

“I honestly have no idea what most of this means,” you admitted before even opening the menu, watching the relaxed aura around Stevie instead as he all but melted into the cushions. It bugged you in a way, seeing as his friend had made a certain remark earlier. “…no one is going to try and kill you, right? I would hate to-”

He barked a laugh, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and your heart skipped a beat, mesmerized when you simultaneously noticed that his nose was dusted with freckles. He was such a handsome man and he radiated pure amusement as he laughed, simply and carefree. Despite being ashamed at being the source of his amusement, you marvelled at the fact you were the cause of the happy sound.

“Ya’ think ‘dat-- that here downtown, people get iced for being late for work? Is ‘dat the bullshit they feed ya’?” You blinked at his words, unsure you understood his strange lingo. Stevie shook his head, the corner of his lips still twitching. “I meant killed. And nonsense, the nonsense they feed you.”

“They mostly don’t feed me anything about downtown and what life really is here…” you confessed with a sigh, spotting the woman from behind the counter making her way to you, red apron swinging a bit with her step.

“Good morning, almost afternoon! Oh, Steve, some dame you have here! Finally! Not sure we have enough fancy for her though,” she greeted you enthusiastically, her speech ending with a slight thoughtful pout.

You swallowed the indignation at her assumption and smiled at her. “I… um, I don’t need anything fancy, madam. At all, actually.”

“You heard that? Madam! You keep this one close, Steve!”

“Hey! I’m polite!” the blond protested, a twinkle of humour in his eye. “Can we have the least fancy thing for the lady, then? And a strawberry milkshake? Ya’ alright with strawberries? It’s the best one…”

The woman, Mrs.M as Buck had called her, wrote down the order in her little notepad when you only nodded, dumb-struck when Stevie – Steve? – ordered for you. “Coming right up! You want anything else, Stevie?

“Just a refill, please?” he looked up pleadingly and the woman sighed, patting his head.

“You’re addicted, hon, I feel sorry for your stomach. I’ll bring the pot.”

“You’re an angel, Anna.”

“Yeah, yeah…” she mumbled as she walked away.

Steve laid his very much muscular forearms on the table, leaning in, giving you his undivided attention.  “So… what’s your name, doll?”

Unlike with Bucky, Steve’s endearment somehow made your belly warm, your gaze lowering at his soft tone. You introduced yourself quietly and forced yourself to look up again – you were not raised by wolves, after all – and offered him a hand to shake, rising from your seat just a inch.

To your surprise, your companion gently took your fingers and turned your hand, kissing the back of it. As in, actually kissing it, his lips brushing your skin, his gaze locked with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your rear fall back into your seat in surprise.

Who knew the downtown boys could be so charming?

“Pretty name for a pretty gal,” he commented. “So, what brings ya’ here?”

“…lunch? I told you?”

He clicked his tongue discontentedly at your poor excuse – it wasn’t exactly a lie, but… “Bad liar. Kinda like me.”

Was that right? Was he as innocent and honest as his eyes had been telling you ever since you noticed him behind Bucky? So far, he was nothing but nice to you. He could be your partner in crime – and you don’t lie to partners, especially when you’re a bad liar in the first place. You shifted in your seat, inhaled deeply and told him your dark secret.

“I just… I needed a change of scenery.”

His smile turned into a solid grin, mischief playing in his blue irises now, accenting the drop of green in them you hadn’t noticed before. “Well… looks like ya’ came to the right place.”

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One of the things Steve really liked about Maximoff’s was the domestic atmosphere. It was a family diner, one started by immigrants and yet not missing anything from the American way anyone could big mouth about. It was familial, relaxed yet with efficient staff and people practically knew each other by name – the regulars did at least.

Which meant that the stunning girl in sunflower dress who walked in wearing elegant high heels turned heads instantly, both in a good and bad way. Steve found the absurd figure both amusing and fascinating; she appeared utterly lost in her well-mannered way, her skirt brushed the tights just above her knees, catching an eye of me than one guy- and really, Steve had trouble not staring as well, but he at least attempted to.

Bucky, not so much.

Steve had to give it to her though – she was adorably startled when Buck opened his big mouth and tried to flirt with her… if that was what it was supposed to be, but she didn’t run out of the door just yet, even trying for a polite talk.

Cute. How could Steve go back to work knowing this remarkable creature was in his favourite diner? They would eat her alive, serve her like the next special!

Alright, that was a bit of an overstatement, but still.

And now, seeing her eyes widen as Wanda, the owner’s daughter and the twin sister to Steve’s colleague, placed a huge hamburger in front of the woman who simply couldn’t be from around here – uptown, if Steve guessed correctly – he knew he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Luckily for him, not missing it still meant keeping his job, because they didn’t wait long. It was another thing Steve loved around here – they were quick, ready for the onslaught of hungry customers around noon, so ready that the pair barely exchanged few words before they were served food and the sinful strawberry milkshake—and thank fuck- coffee.

He sipped at the hot bitter liquid, hiding his smile at the curious, desperate and utterly adorable expression on the girl’s face as she was trying to figure out how the hell she should eat that. But because he felt a bit sorry for her too – she never had a hamburger, had she, how was she even alive – he lowered the cup and took mercy upon her.

“Ya’ just need to take it to your hands, bite and hope for the best that your cute dress won’t get a new colour on it,” Steve remarked, not bothering to keep a straight face. “Just dig in, uptown.”

She huffed, clearly slightly irked at his jab, but obediently placed her fingers to the sides of the burger and brought it to her red-painted lips. Steve settled comfortably to his seat, a coffee and a free comedy show with the prettiest actress he had ever laid his eyes on playing right in front of him.

“So… why did ya’ need a change?” he brought up after few moments, watching her reaction to the taste, a pleasant surprise on her face, a drop of grease in the corner of her lips. His fingers twitched on the cup with the need to wipe it away from her otherwise perfectly cleaned up face.  

He liked her face – it wasn’t hidden under tones of shiny coloured shit girl used these days.

She swallowed first, shaking her head, but never letting her food from her hands as if someone could steal it before she finished. Steve felt that on spiritual fucking level.

“It is a complicated issue,” she said, dodging the question. Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Try me.”

And with a sigh, she did, even when averting his gaze, lost in thought.

“You don’t know what’s like. All those… strained faces, smiling and nodding when asked to even if you don’t agree… not even being able to scratch your nose during dinner without people looking at you like you insulted them, their children and grandchildren that aren’t even born yet…“

Steve blinked at the waterfall of words, not expecting her to actually share that much. He only managed to stare at the embodiment of a good obedient uptown girl – minus the burger – while processing her words.

They sounded… not right. He never thought of it that way. His ma’ worked tooth and nail to keep them fed and he gave up going to art school for the very same reason. Hearing this girl, who was probably blessed with enough money to bath in it, complain about her life… was strange and frankly insulting, but when he thought of it, she did list some quite unpleasant downsides.

Gee. What people did to keep the picture perfect up. Can’t scratch her nose.

“Oh my, you must think I am a complete brat,” she exclaimed into the silence that fell on their table and Steve winced, both startled and pleasantly surprised. The self-awareness in her. “Spoiled privileged girl who doesn’t appreciate how lucky she is not having to work sixteen hours a day to feed herself and her family. Gosh, I am a terrible person, I’m sorry for rambling.”

Seeing her so self-depreciating caused a smile to spread on Steve’s face once more. Self-awareness indeed, realization in the purest form.

Where the hell did she come from?

She was… an odd egg, that was for sure. Steve certainly liked that and he hated seeing her with her lips turned downwards; so he spoke what was on his mind, as he always did.

“No… no. I think I understand… to a point.”

“Likely story,” she uttered, taking an angry bite of the hamburger.

So fucking adorable when angry – if that was what she called it. Steve could kiss that pouty lip of hers.

“I do!” he protested, raising his hands palms up and gesturing to her subtly to show he saw her point. “And for the record, I promise you – you can scratch your nose all you want with me.”

The smile she gave him could power a damn city, even if it wasn’t necessarily radiant – just very, very sweet and almost shy. “Thank you, Steve. I—never mind. Do you… have family?”

Steve, taken aback by her question, hesitated only for a moment. She had been honest, he should too. And to his genuine surprise, he enjoyed talking to her, so why ruin that with making shit up?

“Nope. Ma’ passed away few years ago. Dad’s been gone a while. Just Buck and guys from my shop.”

“I’m sorry. Really. I can’t imagine.”

He shrugged it off, ignoring the pang in his heart – the loss of his mother, only few years prior, still hurt. He missed her – she was an incredible woman and the kindest mother.

“That’s life. But thanks. You?”

“Both parents and—” she started off reluctantly, but then downright sighed. ”-a sister.”

“Don’t sound too excited about it,” Steve remarked sarcastically and she sighed again, putting her unfinished food away, frowning at it. “Full already?”

“It’s huge!”

“Gimme. No food comes to waste on my watch. Drink your milkshake,” he hummed, pulling the plate to his side of the table, much to her obvious astonishment – and was that a hint of amusement? – and took a bite. She shook her head, wiping her mouth with careful taps of a napkin, but was totally grinning at his actions, which left him unfairly giddy. “Ya’ were sayin’? About your family? More like your sister ya’ don’t exactly love?”

Steve almost choked when the smile slipped from her lips, mentally cursing himself.

“I know, I know! Once again – terrible person, I am aware. And I do like her, she’s family,” she said quickly as if to save the situation and prove she could treat her sister properly. Steve found the ‘she’s a family’ a bit of a learned phrase, utter shit, but he’d listen to more. “It’s just… Sharon… she’s the younger sister, but she is… perfect. Everyone thinks so. And she is! I swear I am not jealous, but… I wish I had more of a sister and less of an omnipresent perfect lady to tell me my hair doesn’t look good today at every occasion.”

Steve deliberately took a long nice look at her hairstyle. There was not one hair out of place on her head. She had some sort of an elaborate braid on her head Steve couldn’t hope to understand, making her look like a princess – well, kinda like a queen even, but her young face and playful and elegant dress wouldn’t make for a serious and grey sovereign. Princess it was.

“Was ‘dat today?” Steve asked, wiping his fingers to a napkin as he finished her meal and took a large gulp of coffee.

“Yes… again.”

His eyebrow slowly rose, sceptical and pitying. And kinda mad at people who ever told her she was anything but perfect. Beautiful. Stunning. Adorable.

“Well, no offence, doll, but your sis sounds like she should ease up on the bitch juice and have her eyes checked. Your hair’s fine, this whole…” he gestured vaguely to her head, “complicated thing ya’ did with it, is pretty like the rest of ya’.”

He should probably ease up on the compliments, but he couldn’t help himself. She seemed flustered at it and he loved it. She was cute. Her only flaw was that her hair wasn’t loose – Steve would like to see what she looked like, wild hair to run fingers through--

“…thank you. What is, eh, bitch juice?”

Steve chuckled when called out on his mistake. “Nothing really, means she shouldn’t be mean to ya’. Probably shouldn’t say ‘dat home, tho.”

Her smile made its return, sweet, shy and happy as she learned something new. “I will keep it in mind. Thank you for sweeping in, taking me under your wing here. You are a great company. I like you.”

Steve would deny it till the day he’d die, but that moment, his chest puffed with fucking pride. She liked him. Take that, Barnes! Take that, uptown snobs! She liked HIM.

“Well, if ya’ ever come to downtown ever again-“ he sort-of joked, the realization that this was very likely to be a one-time thing settling heavy in his stomach.

He wasn’t kidding anyone – he liked her too. A lot. Even when she was bitching; or maybe because of that, in addition to her 100% cutesy and pretty face… and figure.

“Would you meet me?” she asked excitedly, eyes lighting up with joy, which… Steve didn’t see coming.

“Uhm-- sure. If ya’ wanted.”

“Next Tuesday? What time?” she pried, sipping happily at the remnants of her milkshake. Nope, not the visual he needed—dammit.

Wait, what did she just say?

“You’re serious?” he asked incredulously, earning a shrug and a soft smile.

“You are funny and nice… and handsome.” Well, his ego just levitated through the ceiling, he wasn’t gonna lie- “I told you I liked you. Does that… mean something different here?”

He felt his lips curl up in a gentle smile at her slight confusion. She sounded so innocent. Steve’s heart could melt – and she already had him wrapped around her finger, which he surprisingly didn’t mind.

“No, doll, means the same thing. I like you too,” he assured her. “Gotta run, tho. Ya’ get home alright?”

“Yes. I only have to walk to the gallery nearby. I should go too…. Do I pay at the counter or somewhere-?”

“Nope. I do,” Steve interrupter her inspection of the diner and she swiftly rose to her feet.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly-“

“Lemme treat a pretty girl, ‘k?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them – but if he had, his reaction would be exactly the same. This might have not been a proper date, but no matter how much more money she no doubt had, Steve’s ma’ would box his ear if he let the lady pay.

The fact she casted her gaze down, shy at his supposed chivalry, was only a pleasant bonus. He could kiss her at that moment, so friggin’ beautiful and shy, and possibly interested.

“You say that a lot,” she whispered, glancing up at him from under her long eyelashes, tiny smile playing on her lips.

Steve shrugged it off and headed for the counter before he could act on impulse and actually pull her in to smack his mouth to hers.

“Just sayin’ the truth. Six p.m. works for ya’?”

She hummed as he paid for her and his coffee. “I will make it work.”

That was good enough for him as he offered this very place to meet.

Once they left the diner, she managed to take him aback once more when she rose to her tiptoes – a heroic act in her pumps – and pressed a soft chaste kiss on his cheek before saying a simple goodbye and began to walk the opposite direction than him.

Steve was grinning like a fool for the rest of the day and not even Bucky’s wiggling eyebrows could ruin his mood.

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Sleepovers were for children, you had been told by your mother more than once; so you claimed that what you were going to do with Pepper would be a girls’ night (women’ night?) and she suddenly seemed ecstatic, because Pepper was a fashion goddess and you still had a lot to learn about being chic.

You didn’t even care for the insult, as you were not about to spend time with your friend. No, Pepper was only kind enough to help you out and plot against the evil forces of uptown, covering for you while you’d be having a—a date with Steve. The week couldn’t past fast enough.

But finally you were here, wearing a pink dress – if a bit too chaste, but practical for a summer evening – with decorative black buttons, short sleeves and a bow around your waist, hair styled by the ‘fashion goddess’ who lived up to her title and charmed two French braids on your head. You were nearly jumping on spot, looking around subtly from time to time – you still had two minutes to spare.

So you stood there, trying not to tap your foot – which was really tempting, the elegant flats with an inch-tall heel making tapping much more easier than your usual pumps – and politely smiled at each person passing you.

When you caught a glimpse of a tall blonde figure, your smile widened into an honest one. He was even more handsome than you remembered – and he reciprocated the smile upon seeing you, his eyes not-so-subtly travelling up and down your figure. He was wearing simple blue t-shirt, one that hugged his muscular figure tightly, causing your mind to wander into strange places, and a pair of jeans – a simple outfit that he clearly felt comfortable in, a backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders.

“Wow. I feel underdressed now. And we might have to change plans,” he said upon greeting you, deep timber that haunted you in your sweetest dreams.

You subconsciously crumbled your skirt between your fingers, your smile faltering as you suddenly felt self-conscious and disappointed that you didn’t dress to his liking – or to fittingly to his plans.

“Oh, no! Should I run and change?”

Steve instantly shook his head, taking a hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. Your cheeks heated up, your heart speeding up at his affection.

“Absolutely not. You look beautiful,” he opposed, giving you a once-over again, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Thank you. You too--handsome, I mean.”

And he was. Gosh. And that ruffled hair of his-! How did you want to run your fingers through it—and not to give a damn about such action being inappropriate.

“Thanks. I—uh, I was plannin’ for a small trip with… a bit of climbin’, which was stupid, I know-“ he stumbled over his words, scratching the back of neck sheepishly, clearly having absolutely no clue how giddy you had been – and still were – for spending the time with him in any form.

You cleared your throat. “How much climbing?”

“Not too much…? It would be safe, I promise. But I’m worried about your dress-“

“I’m not!” you blurted out, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your hastiness.

Steve didn’t seem to mind; in fact, a slow mischievous grin spread on his lips, beckoning you to follow him.

“Then come with me if ya’ wanna know what it’s like to live.”

The sentence was rather ironic; before you knew it, you were sitting nearly on the edge of a damn roof, precisely 37 storeys above the ground, on a building that wasn’t even finished yet.

Apparently, Buck’s – Bucky’s – uncle worked as construction manager, which opened you the doors to one of the unfinished additions to New York’s skyline. Some storeys you had to indeed climb, but with Steve’s support, you had felt ridiculously safe, grateful for thinking to bring flats instead of usual attire – and the reward was absolutely worth it.

Seeing the sunset, sitting on a picnic blanket after finishing simple sandwiches and a lemonade, you felt like you had the world at your feet.

It was breath-taking, for the lack of better term, enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Never in your life you had felt so… light. So free. Despite the heights you found yourself in, you had never breathed more easily. And as sentimental it might sound… you were sure it didn’t only went down to not being under scrutiny from your family and those bigheads who thought that they had a claim on the world, hence claim on you too-- no, you could tell with absolute certainty that at least part of this liberating feeling went down to the person sitting next to you, staring with you at the sunset and the lights of the city coming to life, flashing neons shining in the streets.

Your hand blindly reached for his, covering the back of it, feeling the slight roughness of his knuckles and skin – a hand of a workman. He didn’t retreat, but you could feel his gaze shifting to you.

“Thank you for taking me here, Steve,” you whispered, a tender breath of wind carrying your voice to a faraway place, to a dreamland. You couldn’t tear your eyes from the marvellous scenery. “It’s… it’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his hand shifting under yours, escaping your hold, fingers running up your arms to nestle on your jaw, gently cradling, causing your breathing to hitch, your heart speeding up to a at least a hundred per minute. “You are, doll.”

You turned to him, melting in his touch, and while you saw his face inching closer to yours, nerves working, regretting your inexperience, not for a split second you thought of retreating.

When Steve’s lips met yours, all rational thought left your mind, carried away by the sweet breeze of summer.

Girls’ night never felt so magical.

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Part 2

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Tags: @wxstedhexrt, @comicshoplife, @elysianecho, @scentedsongrebel, @orions-nebula, @pies-wands-and-more (I know you didn’t ask explicitly, but I can take a hint)

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I’m almost embarrassed to say that it turned out, once again, much much longer than I intended. But some might box my ears if I did, so... yay?

Credit for the fic title and chapter title goes to @queen-kass-the-writer​ - thank you!

And thank you for reading!

#cxp1k #marvel #fanfiction #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark x pepper potts #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #modern au #80s au #writing challenge #uptown girl #forbidden love #grease and pearls #anika ann

[lovelylaurie]

Chronology - Part 2

Adolescence  Laurie x (March) Reader Words: 2478 Request: @psychshawnjuleshanluke A series where each part follows reader and Laurie’s relationship over time.  Part 1 | 2 | 3 

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     Meg sighed dreamily. Her breakfast plate sat untouched before her. Jo screwed up her face, “Ugh, gross!” She followed the gaze of Meg’s fluttering eyes out the window, only to find John Brooke on the path outside, gazing back at her, “Aaah! Gross!” She ran across the room to draw the curtains. Brooke looked embarrassed and began to walk away briskly. Amy looked up at Meg mischievously and slipped a few pieces of toast off her plate with a sly hand. 

     Over the past few weeks of summer, your world had begun to change, ever so slightly shifting into maturity. Meg was engaged now and seemed wholly unable to think about anything else. Though you wanted to be happy for her, and wished for her to have the future she wanted, you, like Jo, couldn’t help but feel some contempt. Just last winter, you were running around and romping as usual. But come spring and summer and everyone was suddenly different. Jo, noticing this as well, had a quicker temper than ever. Too much talk of the future sent her storming off to the attic, presumably to skulk. And you were inclined to agree. Even Amy, though still very much a young girl, was beginning to realize her dream of becoming an elegant lady. She fussed about her hair and clothes and accessories. Instead of playing Pilgrim’s Progress, she had taken to strolling around the house haughtily, pretending to be some rich aristocratic lady. But worst of all, worse than any of this, was Laurie, who would be going off to college in the fall. The thought of it alone gave you an acute sinking feeling. For now, you were attempting to ignore it and live every day to the fullest. But it was a difficult thing to take your mind off. You kept returning to an image of the March house, quiet, dark, and dusty, reeling from the twin losses of Meg and Laurie. Though you knew the house would still be full, and Meg would visit often, the feeling of loneliness was incredible and overwhelming. The other loss, Laurie’s, somehow loomed darker, more ominously leering. “Well! I’m off!” you stood up suddenly, trying to shrug off the intense foreboding that gripped you. “Where are you going?” Jo asked defensively. “Laurie’s,” you answered, without so much as a glance back at Meg’s dazed and faraway expression.      You ponder, as you walk the path to the Laurence house, how difficult it is to leave one’s closest friend. It has you utterly and completely torn. In seeking comfort and escape, you turn to Laurie. His presence, his very being, has always been its own consolation. His smile warms your heart and his cool, contented expressions calm you. But now, every thought of him is a double-edged sword. Every thought of him has you thinking of his coming departure. Every chime of his laugh and twinkle of his eye has you missing him already. But loneliness and distance are worse, so you seek him out every chance you get. And however much you want to stay at home with your sisters, you simply can’t. Jo’s contempt is similar to, but different than, yours. She seems to have already fully realized these changes and departures, and stubbornly resolved to refute them every chance she gets. Meanwhile, you have been ignoring it as much as possible. Her animosity and constant irritation only worsen your loneliness. By now you have arrived at the Laurence house. You enter without knocking, as has become custom. But upon entering the study, the scene before you causes your cheeks to redden with embarrassment. Laurie and Brooke are seated at the table by the window in the midst of a lesson. At the sound of the door, Laurie, whose legs are resting nonchalantly on the table in front of him, turns to look at you. Relief washes away his expression of extreme boredom. “(y/n)!  What a wonderful surprise.” He jumps up immediately and waltzes towards you. Brooke looks hesitant and you look horrified. How could you have assumed Laurie would be free? Of course he would spend his few months remaining before college preparing academically. Or at least, his grandfather would force him to. Your blush deepens as you consider that just as he has served as a distraction for you, from change, you have served as a distraction for him, from education. “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked.” “Nonsense, come in.” He is wearing a white linen shirt with large, flouncing sleeves and an unbuttoned silk vest. You make a move to leave, but he shuts the door and leads you away. Brooke looks exasperated, “Laurie, please sit down.” He is ignored. “You are always welcome, (y/n), I insist.” Part of you, the polite and mannerly part, wants to leave. But the door feels miles upon miles away, and the thought of spending a day alone is utterly and gut-wrenchingly awful. After an awkward pause, you say to both of them, “I’ll let you get back to your lesson, but do you mind if I stay?” Brooke seems taken aback, but accepts, “I suppose that would be alright.” “Stay as long as you like,” Laurie assures you, returning to his seat.     So you settle into the study, walking the shelves and flitting through old books. Laurie follows you with his eyes, and Brooke appears worried, presumably that your presence will only distract him further. But then you immerse yourself in a book and read quietly on a couch, close enough to hear them but far enough away that you are apart from their discussions. With time, you notice that Laurie is more quiet and subdued than you expect, and his feet have not returned to their spot on the tabletop, Brooke’s tone loses its edge of irritation, and Laurie buttons up his vest while reciting verb conjugations in Latin. By lunchtime, they’ve finished. The second he is allowed, Laurie strides across the room and seats himself beside you on the arm of the couch. “I promised Grandfather I’d eat with him, but after that, I propose the wildest and most riotous adventures.” “I can’t wait.” You smile and Laurie continues talking, but out of the corner of your eye, you see Brooke giving you a long and pensive stare before leaving. The following day passed with little to note. Laurie was occupied almost until dinner time and you were forced to spend the day between Jo and Meg, where a sense of animosity was growing.     But during breakfast the day after that there was a knock at the door. Marmee answered and you heard her conversing with Mr. Brooke. When she returned, she asked for you. Meg looked considerably crestfallen. Jo rolled her eyes, “You’re already engaged, Meg, seriously.” Brooke had the same thoughtful look he did two days ago, as he said, “Good morning, Ms. March-” “(y/n)” “-(y/n). I was wondering if you noticed anything out of the ordinary regarding Mr. Laurie’s level of focus while you were present the other day.” You tried not to laugh at the way he said ‘Mr. Laurie’ or at his exceedingly formal tone. He was about to be your brother-in-law for Christ’s sake. “I’m not usually there, I can only speculate.” “Well, you see… He was focused, intent, and, well, reasonably respectful.” “Which he isn’t usually, I’m sure.” He nodded, “Correct. I attribute it to your presence.” At that, you blushed a bright scarlet. “He frequently skips lessons or rushes out early, and I’ve noticed that it is to come here, and, frequently, to see you. But while you were with us, he seemed placated. Or at the very least, temporarily mollified. I came here, Ms.- (y/n)- to ask that you accompany us again today.” “Okay,” you squeaked, “I’ll just… grab a few things.” Laurie has been your best friend and closest companion for almost as long as you’ve known him, but your pulse quickened to think that you could have that effect on him. You returned to your family and found your sisters’ faces full of amusement, even Meg. “I’m going to accompany Mr. Brooke to the Laurence house today,” you proclaimed matter-of-factly. “I’m glad to hear that Laurie will be focused on his lessons,” Meg chided. Jo and Amy laughed and Beth and Marmee smiled as you gathered your book and scarf in a small bag and hurried out.     When you arrived at the study a few minutes later, Laurie was slouched against the window with, once again, complete and utter boredom. “Brooke, I could have sworn I saw- (y/n)!” He sprang across the room to greet you, “Oh, please tell me you’ve come to take me away. I can’t stand another minute of this.” “It’s 9 am,” you laughed. “I’m at my breaking point.” He smiled with an air of levity forming at the corners of his lips. “Vive la révolution, Laurie, but only after your lessons.” You resolved to thoroughly explore the room today, and laughed at Laurie’s frequent proclamations of “Vive la révolution!” whenever Brooke scolded him for getting off task. Other than that, he remained focused and even appeared at times diligent. Many days were spent just like this one as the summer drew on, hours wiled away in companionable silence and distant closeness. You would remember these times, later, when he was away, and imagine he was beside you in your loneliness. Perhaps equally lonely, himself.      Finally, as you neared the end of summer, Mr. Brooke deemed Laurie prepared for higher education and released him to his final weeks of freedom. He then could often be found at the March house, as early as breakfast, and frequently staying late into the evening.     One afternoon, a week from Meg’s wedding, you had both escaped from the preparations and planning to the woods surrounding your houses. You had climbed up to a low-lying branch of a large tree and was now seated there, reading. Laurie was lying down on the grass below you, gazing lazily at the sky through the tree branches. “I can’t believe one of the March sisters is getting married,” he said. “Yes, and to your teacher,” you replied bluntly, trying to brush him off and avoid the conversation. You still wanted to ignore everything, but the time was fast approaching when you wouldn’t be able to any longer. “Is there something on your mind, (y/n)?” His tone is tender, soft, and caring. “Nope, I just want to read my book.” He chuckles, “No, you’re not.” You look down and glare at him, “And how do you know that?” “You haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.” “That’s what you’ve been paying attention to?” He must have been more bored than you thought. “What else is there to?” You didn’t realize until later what he meant by this, but for now, you just stared at him curiously. “Come down.” He sat up against the trunk of the tree and patted the space next to him. You sighed, gave a small smile, and obliged, hopping down from your branch to sit beside him. “So this has something to do with Meg?”      You paused before responding with an apprehensive, “Yes.” Meg’s marriage was definitely part of your melancholy. And although you didn’t plan on telling him this, Laurie’s leaving for school was affecting you much more. “What about her?” “It’s just- she’s getting married and- and moving away. And as much as I want to be happy for her, which I am, I can’t for the life of me figure out why.” Laurie gave you an odd look, so you continued, “Okay, I know why. But it’s just that she’s leaving all of us for this… this boring bachelor. I just find it odd.” “Perhaps it is, but they love each other very much. And you know what happens when two people love each other very much-” “YES! I do, Laurie!” you shrieked, and you both burst into laughter. Then you saw that familiar glint of mischief in his expression that had you forgetting everything, forgetting Meg, forgetting Laurie’s university. But soon it all came rushing back, because this is what you would miss, that look in his eye, that smile. You stopped laughing. Laurie stared at you contemplatively as you leaned back against the tree trunk and pulled your knees up towards your chest protectively. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “But that’s not everything, it is?” “No,” you admitted. He didn’t respond and instead put his arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean into him. He traced circles on your shoulder with his finger. You sat here for a while, reveling in this hint of bliss, before he whispered, “You can tell me what it is if you want.” You couldn’t say no anymore, you couldn’t simply walk away. Not here. Not now. “You, Laurie. It’s you.” His finger stopped moving and his arm hung over you with far more weight than it had just moments ago. “You’re leaving and I’m going to miss you,” your voice broke, “so much.” The softness wasn’t gone from his voice, but something else was there as well, something much more morose, “I have to do this, (y/n).” “I know that, and I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” “(y/n),” he turned your face towards him, putting his hand on your cheek, “I will think of you and I will write to you and I will come home as often as I can, I swear it.” He was just inches away. Your heart beat fast, and though you didn’t quite know or understand what was happening here, you loved it. “Laurie-” in a second, he closed the space between you. The kiss had a depth of emotion and feeling that encapsulated everything you could have possibly said in that moment. It was not long before you would forget what you were going to say, the memory being overshadowed by what came next. You put a hand on his chest. He was warm and soft and it felt so natural to be this close to him. The kiss ended, but he didn’t pull away.  Then, from somewhere behind you, you heard, “(y/n)! Laurie! Come, it’s time to get back to work!” It was Marmee. Laurie merely sat up straighter and looked in her direction, but you jumped up and brushed yourself off. As you and Laurie walked home, you realized how fast your heart was beating and how breathless you felt. You were dazed and stared off with a glassy and faraway look that was oddly similar to the one Meg had recently adopted. Laurie was skipping slightly as he walked, unable to control a smile spreading across his face.

#fic #Laurie #Laurie Laurence #theodore laurence #laurie little women #laurie x reader #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence little women #laurie laurence little women 2019 #little women #little women 2019

[florafey]

The Tipping Point - Snippet 3

This is just 4,336 words of me extrapolating on my characters and their personalities and a little more of the noble, upper-class culture they live in. We get full names, as well. 

For clarity, this scene is set five years before the majority of the story takes place, so the main characters are quite a bit younger in this scene than they “actually” are. In this scene they are teenagers; they are anywhere from 19 to 25 in the “present time”. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Five Years Ago : 206 Annum Effugium (A.E)

The sun was shining, therefore the children were excited. 

“Don’t run down the stairs, Wynona. You will trip over your dress and find out how hard that marble is.” Duchess Gallio prided herself on being the epitome of a perfect, well-bred lady of status, and therefore did not raise her voice at her young daughter. Winnie, barely six, did not yet care about being a lady and did not heed her mother. She knew a stronger scolding wouldn’t come, anyways. 

Thea, arm in arm with Iona, was just as happy as Winnie about the weather, though Thea knew better than to run down the palace staircase without first lifting the hem of her dress. She watched with amusement as Winnie’s skirts caught around her ankles and made the girl stumble and slow down. 

It was mid-April and the cold front had just broken. It had been a hard winter. Nearly seven months of snow, frost, blistering wind, and chilly drafts that occasionally seeped through even the palace walls. Thea hated the cold and everything that came with it. She preferred the spring dresses with their loose skirts that didn’t weigh nearly as much as she herself did, she preferred the street festivals she was allowed to attend and even those she wasn’t, and she much preferred day-long picnics spent outside in the sun. While Duke Kaiso spun the most magnificent tales in front of the fire, Thea would still take grass stained knees and bouts of wrestling that made her mother shriek. 

Winnie amazedly reached the bottom of the long staircase without knocking her teeth out. When she spotted Thea, she grinned and didn’t slow her run into the other girl’s arms. Iona cooed at Winnie as Thea propped her on her hip and made her way out into the palace’s sprawling garden. The sun was out and so were the birds, the butterflies, the bugs, and the troublemakers. 

“Now, Winnie, if you eat lemon cakes today, take care not to get any on that gorgeous dress of yours,” Thea said. She knew Winnie would attack the plate of lemon cakes the moment she saw them without any regard for her words, but she said it nonetheless. 

“Momma says I won’t be allowed to eat lemon cakes today.” Winnie sounded distressed. Her little hands were tangled in Thea’s curls. Thea turned a sympathetic look on Winnie and said, “Well, then you’ll just have to spend the whole afternoon with me. How awful.”

Winnie squealed and clapped her hands, simultaneously tugging Thea’s hair. Iona laughed and steered them over to where the rest of the noble families were sitting. 

It was a large picnic. Nearly every member of the seven noble families were there. The first picnic of the year was always the biggest, symbolizing unity between the houses and a celebration of the breaking of winter. 

Thea’s parents, Duke and Duchess Fontaine were seated next to their closest friends and Iona’s parents, Duke and Duchess Tithonius. Iona’s older brother, Cicero, was nowhere to be seen. Judging from how the Duke Kaiso’s only son, Adonias, was also missing, Thea assumed the two were off somewhere beating teeth out of each other. They knew by now to take their arguments far from everyone else. The Tithonius’ cousins, the Anatolious family, sat under a nearby tree with their only daughter, Valerie. Valerie was speaking to Winnie’s older brother, Matthias Gallio, and was giving him a grin almost as sharp as her eyes. Twins Ruth and Wren Dexion were engaged in a playful game with each other and seemed to be trying to convince a young teenage boy to join them. Freiderich Augustus Quintilla was fourteen but looked twelve. He was only a head or two taller than Ruth, who was currently wrapped around his leg, cackling. Freiderich was clutching a book and looked for all the world like he might pass out. His pale skin stood out against his red-blond curls that only added to his youthfulness. 

From besides Thea, Iona gave a shuttered sigh. 

“Where is my brother?” She grumbled. “Father is going to tan him for not being here.”

Thea set down a squirming Winnie, who ran off to join Ruth and Wren in attacking Freiderich. “I’m sure Cicero had every intention of coming, Iona. Adonias probably caught him in the hall and started running that mouth of his.”

Iona couldn’t stop the smile that flickered on her mouth. “For having grown up together, you would think they would have learned how to get along,” she mused, taking a seat on the warm grass. Thea sat and stretched her legs out. 

“I don’t pretend to understand them. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes, please. I can’t stand the two of them. Always at each other’s throats. When was the last time you were in town?”

“Not since I went with you last week. Why?”

“Oh, Madame Ahr-Yusa put out the most gorgeous display of dresses a few days ago in time for the new season. They’re to die for, you’re going to melt when you see them!”

The two girls fell into an easy stream of conversation over the next hour concerning the latest fashions arriving in the capitol with the spring season. After Madame Ahr-Yusa’s gowns were discussed it was the hats from Madame Ingrid and then the daggers from Master Quell’s shop, famous for their ability to never dull. Being trained to fight was a lesson the noble families of the Cerulean Isles did not fail to teach their children, for the palace could often be the most dangerous place to live. But while the young boys learned to fight with broadswords and fists, the young ladies were taught to take lives whilst in corsets and heeled shoes. 

Thea, despite her mother’s wishes, had ensured her education was as well-rounded as she could. Upon hearing her wishes to learn how to swordfight, Cicero had handed Thea his broadsword, which she had quickly found to be much too heavy. So she had commissioned a sword to be made to fit her. It was thinner, lighter, and laid in her hand perfectly. It had taken her almost a full month to get even the most basic movements mastered whilst in a gown, but she was making steady progress. She subsequently felt as though she had provided Cicero with four weeks’ entertainment as he watched her struggle with the balance between her dress and sword. If she hadn’t thought his laughter had cracked a few of his ribs, she probably would have attempted to do it herself. 

The girls ate with Valerie and discussed the upcoming festival, the first of the season. Valerie often took advantage of festivals to buy as many unique knives as she could, but Thea found herself drawn more to the entertainment and the music. Thea had seen Valerie’s collection of sharp rings, and was surprised to know that Matthias Gallio was still trying to court her. Val was currently wearing one of her weapons, a thin, strong piece of metal that glinted at her knuckle and exposed a razor-sharp blade when her finger curled  in. 

But for all her danger, Valerie Clementine Anatolious knew how to be a perfect lady. She could dance for hours in a tightly-laced corset and never lose her breath. She could balance a stack of books on her head while walking down the stairs. She could make her voice heard without raising it, and she could make Thea double over in laughter with the slightest quip. Thea liked her very much. 

In the middle of the girls’ conversation about the festival in two weeks, Friederich Quintilla managed to finally slip away from Winnie and the Dexion twins and loped over in time to hear a few words.

“The Vernal Festival? The weather should be good, it seems. Unless we get an unexpected cold front in which case we may have some rain, but…” He was suddenly aware of all three girls staring at him and trailed off self-consciously, “...but it’s highly unlikely…” he swept his red-blond curls off his forehead but they needed a trim and fell back into his eyes. Friederich was three years younger than Thea and Iona, and four years younger than Valerie. Thea didn’t know him all that well; he took all his lessons with the prince and His Majesty’s private tutor. Duchess Quintilla, his mother, was a woman to rival Duchess Gallio. Prim, proper, fragile. Spoiled, overprotective, overbearing. Thea was often distracted whenever Duchess Quintilla was in the same room as her, the diamonds the Duchess wore were cut so sharply that they sparkled even at night. 

To ease Friederich’s embarrassment, Thea inquired, “What book are you reading, Friederich? Let me see.” 

The boy handed it over and sat in the grass next to her. Thea was delighted to see it was written by a man named Isaac Von Hue. A few of his novels sat in her own room. 

“You read Von Hue as well?” She asked. “I only just finished The Paper Lantern. How did you come across him?”

“The prince, actually.” Where anyone else Friederich’s age might have boasted this, Friederich almost lowered his voice to draw less attention to the fact that he was so close with the young heir. “His Grace learned to read using books by Von Hue and Ryner and Pav...Pavlish…”

“Pavilishchev,” Thea supplied. 

“Yes, thank you. Anyways, he suggested this one to me quite a while ago and I’m embarrassed to say that I never read it sooner only because it didn’t seem very intriguing.”

Thea had to laugh. “Just because he is the prince doesn’t mean you have to agree with his literary tastes.”

“Still, I was hesitant. I don’t fancy adventure novels or daring rescues.”

“Well, has Von Hue changed your mind? You’re nearly done with this book so it seems he might have.”

Friederich thought about it, then shrugged. “Perhaps. I’m not quite sure. What book of his did you say you had just finished? Maybe I’ll try that one next.” “The Paper Lantern,” Thea smiled. “It’s my favorite of his so far. There’s a lot to be said for the battling of wills between the ruling patriarchy and the strong minds of the women underneath it. When you’ve read it, I would love to discuss it with you.”

Val, only hearing Thea’s last sentence, leaned over Thea’s lap and said, “Don’t take her up on that, she’ll talk a whole day and night away.”

Thea made an indignant noise and shoved Val away from her. Val tugged on Thea’s hair with a sharp smile and went back to her conversation with Iona. 

“I’m pleasantly surprised to find you read as much as I do,” Friederich said. “I’ll come to you when-”

They were interrupted a second time when two figures strode leisurely into the garden. One had short, fair hair, and a set of bright green eyes. He was tall and broad chested and currently spinning a wooden sparring staff in his left hand. A very familiar smirk was twisting his mouth into something arrogant and borderline rude. Adonias Montague Kaiso. Twenty years old; three years older than Thea and the eldest of all the noble children. Thea’s interactions with Adonias were limited to pleasant greetings in passing or during lessons, and the few times he picked arguments with her to either see how sharp her claws were or for an excuse to take Cicero to the ground again. Adonias had soon learned, however, that picking fights with Thea weren’t worth it; she always knew what he was doing and very rarely rose to the bait. 

The young man behind Adonias was only two years his junior. He contrasted Adonias astoundingly, in both looks and behavior. This man’s hair was a red-brown color and hung in loose waves to his shoulders. Half of it was tied back with a strap of leather. His eyes were amber and his brows dark, his skin dark enough to show that at least one of his parents was not native to the Isles. He was slightly taller than Adonias and just as broad, but strode into the garden with his hands slipped casually inside his pockets. Cicero Caspian Tithonius. The second eldest of all the noble children and the instigator of half of all the fights between him and the eldest. 

Iona seemed relieved to see her brother finally show up. Thea was relieved to see that neither man seemed to have been fighting the other as of late. It was a rare occasion that Cicero and Adonias had a civil conversation, but it did occasionally happen. Perhaps it was due to the formal clothing they currently wore. 

Adonias propped his sparring staff onto his shoulder to bow to his mother and the Duchess Quintilla. He accepted the food they offered and Thea heard him smoothly apologize for his tardiness. Adonias was almost as adept as Valerie in walking the line between being an outright aggressor and a noble. 

Thea heard Cicero acknowledge his father with a perfunctory, “Sir,” before moving to kiss his mother’s cheek and sit besides her. Duchess Tithonius was a stunning woman with bright eyes and dark skin. She had left Tasnia when she had met and married the Duke, and bore his children only months after their marriage. She was very nearly a second mother to Thea. Her accent was much thicker than either Cicero’s or Iona’s and she often sang in her native language, her voice melodic and winding and something Thea knew to be unique to her country’s people. 

Winnie chose this time to get bored with the Dexion twins. “Thea! Come find rocks with me!” Her once-white gown was already grass stained around the hem. Thea didn’t know what Duchess Gallio had expected. 

Thea held up Friederich’s book to show Winnie she was currently occupied. Winnie pouted and called, “But you promised!”

Thea had not, but she returned Friederich his book and went to join Winnie in the warm grass. 

“Where is your puppy, Thea? Can she come play?” Winnie picked up a handful of rocks, deemed them unworthy, and threw them down again. 

“Clover? She’s probably sleeping on my bed right now. There’s a lovely patch of sun that lands right on my pillow around noon.”

Winnie giggled. “She’s sleeping? But it’s not morning anymore.”

“Oh, she’s a lazy thing. Maybe after the picnic you can come with me to wake her up.” 

Thea allowed Winnie to hand her the rocks she wanted to keep, knowing the girl would forget all about them the moment her mother called her over to eat. But it was Matthias who fetched his sister, not the Duchess. 

“Come along, Winnie. Don’t you want lunch?” Matthias held his hand out towards his sister and she grabbed his fingers. Matthias Gallio was only a few months older than Thea and she was under the impression that he was the most proper young noble out of all of them. He was well trained how to fight but not to the indecent extent that Cicero or Adonias had been. He was just as likely to be dancing or reading or making sure his unruly little sister didn’t knock over anything valuable. Which, in the palace, was nearly everything you could touch. 

Thea returned to Iona and Valerie to find they had saved her a few bites of lunch. 

“I was thinking we could walk down to the river,” Iona said, looking that direction and shielding her eyes from the sun. “It isn’t too warm for a walk.”

Thea hummed in agreement around a bite of lemon cake. She understood why Winnie liked them so much. “I’ll go with you. Will you come, Valerie?”

“Oh, perhaps.” Val adjusted her silver skirts. “I doubt my mother would be pleased if I decided to steal Adonias’ sparring staff and go a few rounds with him.”

“I’d give anything to see that,” Thea said honestly. “My coin would be on you, too. Speaking of Adonias, we should ask the boys to come.”

“Let’s not,” Iona protested. “They’ll simply bicker the whole time.” “They aren’t that bad. And besides, it’ll be more fun with them.”

“We aren’t fun enough for you, Thea?” Valerie feigned hurt. 

Thea rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing invisible crumbs from her bodice. “I won’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to incriminate myself.” She left the girls and made her way across the lawn to where Cicero was engaged in light conversation with his mother. The Countess’ eyes lit up when she saw Thea. 

“Theadora Dior, precious girl, come to me!” The Countess opened her arms and Thea couldn’t help but smile and run to her. The Countess was sitting on a low stone bench so Thea knelt in the grass and embraced the Countess. She breathed in the woman’s scent of sunshine and perfume, and allowed the Countess to kiss her hair. 

The Countess Tithonius was the only woman apart from Thea’s own mother that sometimes referred to Thea using her middle name as well. But Countess Fontaine only used it when Thea was in trouble; Countess Tithonius called her with melody and happiness. 

“Good afternoon, my lady. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

The Countess tsked. “None of that, girl. I need no special respect.”

Thea made a face. “Of course you do.”

From besides them, Cicero laughed softly. “You flatter each other.” He shook his head, smiling. 

Thea ignored him for the time being. The Countess did as well. She ran a bronze hand through Thea’s hair and said, “What are you three troublemakers scheming up over there? I can tell you have something in mind. This warm weather is enough to bring the most out of anyone.”

“Troublemakers?” Thea smiled. She folded her feet more comfortably under her and rested her arms on the Duchess’ knees. 

“My lady, I cause no trouble. You mistake me for your son.”

Cicero had been watching Thea and his mother’s interaction with half-lidded interest until Thea mentioned him. She could practically feel him staring at her.

“Careful,” he warned mildly.

The Duchess tsked again, waving a hand. “As I say. Troublemaker Fontaine, that is your name.”

Laughter bubbled out of Thea and soon the Countess was laughing with her. Her laughter, Thea thought, was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. 

“We are only going to walk to the river. It won’t take us long. We should be back within the hour.”

“Don’t fall in.”

“No, Countess.” The two were still smiling. 

“You came all the way over here to bid me farewell before leaving for only an hour?” The Countess knew Thea had not.

“I was going to ask your son if he would like to come with us, but I’m sure he would rather stay here with you.”

“I would,” was Cicero’s instant reply. He was spinning a needle-blade between his fingers, and shot Thea a honed smile when she looked at him. 

The Duchess flicked her hair back behind her shoulders and regarded her son with a mix of disdain and disappointment. 

“Son from my womb? Sometimes I wonder. Run along. I know it pains you to sit still for too long.”

Cicero smiled genuinely and the needle-blade vanished with a twitch of his fingers. 

“As you wish, my lady.” He stood, kissed his mother on the head, and held out his hand to help Thea stand. Thea curtseyed to the Countess, who pressed a hand to her heart, and turned away with Cicero.

“It’s a wonder I can make myself leave your mother’s presence,” Thea mused quietly. “She’s a magical woman.”

Cicero made a noise of agreement. He placed her hand on his arm and she took it as a lady would whilst walking with a gentleman. Val and Iona had convinced Adonias to come along, but Matthias would stay with his younger sister and the young twins. Thea and Cicero were a few paces ahead of the other three but Adonias’ voice still rang out clearly from behind them.

“Is that why you two don’t get along?” Thea asked. “He’s loud and you’re so broody.”

“I don’t brood, Thea. And no. Adonias is only loud because he’s deaf in one ear.”

“Firstly, you do brood. And second, how do you know that? Which ear?”

Cicero raised a brow at her.

“See, that’s a brood,” Thea said. “I win. One point for Theadora.”

“You’re a child. And I know Adonias is deaf because he can’t hear shit if you talk on his left side. I asked him about it a few months ago and he seemed surprised I had figured it out. Nobody else has, apparently.”

Thea took in this information with interest. Then she shrugged and turned to more important matters.

“Are you planning on going to the Vernal festival in a few weeks?”

“I’ll decide that the morning of.”

“Ugh, how boring. How will you know what to wear?”

Cicero knew a joke when he heard one but the look of absolute incredulity that he gave Thea was enough to send Thea into a gale of laughter. 

“You’re in a good mood.” He observed dryly. The river was almost in sight; they were picking their way over small stones that lead to the bank. 

“How could I not be, it’s spring. Sometimes I think each winter becomes harder and harder to bear. I could just die from boredom and the awful cold.”

“Find someone to keep you warm.” Cicero’s smile was razor-sharp and simmered with bait. Thea felt her face heat, but she stuck her tongue out and said, “Don’t be lewd.”

“Then don’t ask for it.”

“I did not.” “Like a child asking to be fed.” Thea’s mouth dropped. “I- What does that mean?”

But they had reached the river and Cicero only laughed. Val and Iona had caught up with them, Adonias still spinning his sparring staff. The girls found a part of the river shallow enough to wade in if they held their dresses up but it was only a matter of time before Valerie splashed Iona, soaking her bodice, and Iona retaliated in kind. Thea’s dress was brand new and she didn’t want to spoil a wonderful day by having an argument with her mother, so she fled from the battle well before she could be dragged into it. She was content to place herself on a warm rock next to the boys and yell advice from the sidelines. 

Adonias came to sit next to Thea. His presence was welcome until he looked at the two girls playing in the water, sighed heavily, and said, “That’s hot.”

“You’re a fucking pig, Adonias.”

Cicero let out a startled laugh. “Language, little Fontaine.”

“I’m serious. If there was a rock nearby big enough to kill you with, I would consider it. This is why Iona stopped sleeping with you.”

Cicero dropped the stone he had been sharpening his knife with. “Excuse me?”

Adonias sent Thea a poisonous glare. She simpered back, knowing what she had done. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry. You seem to have some explaining to do. A hasty mouth makes mighty trouble, isn’t that right, Adonias?”

Adonias was about to respond when Cicero seized his collar and hauled him to his feet. His blade winked in his hand. Adonias did not take well to being manhandled and was quick to shove Cicero’s hand off his neck. But Adonias was unarmed and the accused violator of a sister’s propriety. Thea stood, suddenly seeing how bad this could get. 

Val and Iona turned at the disruption, and Iona was the first to call out. “Cicero! Adonias!” This was not Iona’s first or fiftieth time breaking the two apart; she knew how to get their attention with only her voice. She climbed out of the water and onto the riverbank, dripping from her hem but still somehow managing to look regal. 

“None of that. I mean it. If you want to fight, you will go someplace else and not ruin the mood of this afternoon.” Her words were final. 

Val broke the tension when she followed Iona onto the back, wringing out her short hair. “I’ll fight you, Adonias. If you promise to cry when I beat you.”

Thea scoffed out a laugh and was rewarded with Val’s wink. Cicero, thankfully, miraculously, dropped the subject but shoved Adonias hard enough to send him rocking back on his heels. Iona raised an eyebrow but kept silent. 

Cicero came to sit next to Thea, who had taken up her perch on the sunny rock and was smoothing her skirts out and trying to look innocent. He used the pommel of his knife to turn her face to him and said, “What was that about a hasty mouth making trouble?”

Thea removed the knife from his hand and hid it in the folds of her skirt. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Lies sound repulsive coming from your mouth.”

Thea bit back a rather inappropriate quip that would have been more suited to Valerie’s tastes. 

Adonias had fallen into smooth chatter with Val and Iona as the girls tried to figure out how to dry their hair and dresses as quickly as possible. Thea glanced at them and was amused to see Valerie using her skirt to polish her bladed ring. When she looked back at Cicero, he was leaning back on his hands, tilting his face up to the sun, closing his eyes. His hair was glinting a deep red in the sunlight and beginning to curl with the rising humidity. The tension had gone from his face and left in its wake a Cicero that Thea often never saw. His mouth was parted slightly, his breathing steady as he soaked up the warmth. But Thea’s heart had begun to pound so she forced herself to look away before she could notice anything else.

#the tipping point #original story #original character #florafey

[the-quiet-winds]

Make a Move Just to Stay in the Game (part two)

y’all already know. it’s me. it’s @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts (who probably hates how many mentions she has in her notifs (but that’s showbiz baby))

[part one]

[Part 2: Rather be a Comma than a Full Stop]

for the next couple of hours, parr walks her through some basic translations before letting the girl try a short paragraph by herself. katherine is deep in thought attempting to work out whether this particular word meant “book” or “to throw”, as well as wondering why on earth two such different meanings were assigned to the same word, when parr speaks.

“may i ask you a question?”

“of course,” katherine says politely, looking up from her translation.

“if you’ll forgive me for my curiosity, how long have you and her majesty known each other? you seem to be very close.” parr’s voice is free from judgement or skepticism, merely a natural interest from seeing them interact.

“only a couple of months,” katherine admits with a shrug. “we met the end of september, it’s february now?”

parr gives a mysterious grin.

“what?” katherine asks.

parr gives a gentle laugh, covered by her hand. “nothing, i promise.” katherine narrows her eyes slightly and parr relents. “i’ve known the queen for a while, you know. she always has claimed favorites among her staff, but then they are generally asked to leave by the king himself.” katherine cringes at this. “but it seems she’s taken you, lady katherine.” she smiles. “quite taken indeed.”

katherine frowns slightly, and parr speaks again, apparently worried. “i don’t mean to offend. i think it’s wonderful, actually.”

katherine unconsciously relaxes and she gives parr a small smile. “thank you,” she says, returning to her translations. it doesn’t take her long to finish and parr takes the paper from her, checking it through and making corrections as she goes. she hands the paper back to katherine with a grin.

“excellent work, lady katherine. there were only some small mistakes; you just need to watch out so you don’t mistake a ‘t’ ending for an ‘nt’ ending. overall, a very good first try by yourself.”

katherine grins. she looks the paper over as she shakes out her wrists and cracks her neck.

parr glances at her pocket watch then looks back to katherine.

just as she opens her mouth to speak, lady eleanor walks in, holding a tea tray.

“i was just about to ask about tea time,” parr laughs. “perfect timing.”

eleanor gives a tiny smile and ducks her head. “thank you, lady parr.”

parr is admittedly surprised as she watches katherine fix her tea: very little sugar at all, mostly milk. parr follows suit.

“lady parr?” katherine asks. parr raises her eyebrows and katherine remembers. “sorry, just parr.” the other woman smiles and gestures for her to continue. “can you tell me a bit more about you?”

parr is slightly surprised, but nods. “well, as you know, i’m catherine parr- well, catherine neville, but I can’t say i’ve ever been fond of that name. although i can’t say my first husband’s surname was much better. burgh,” she explains with a dramatic roll of her eyes that makes katherine giggle slightly. “i’m working on a book, currently.”

“what’s it about?” katherine asks curiously. parr pauses for a moment.

“methods of prayer,” she says finally.

katherine wrinkles her nose a bit and looks just above parr’s head in thought. “i’m not much of the religious sort,” she admits. a vision flashes before her eyes - one of tiny katherine howard praying every night to be saved from her horrid life, but no prayers were ever answered. “but it still sounds very interesting,” she continues. “would you let me read it someday?”

parr seems to think the question over in her head. “if i ever finish it, then i’d be happy to let you read it,” she says with a nod. “it... may be best not to mention this book to anybody else, though.”

“why?” katherine asks, confused, and parr sighs.

“it’s not entirely... safe for me to be outspoken in my religious beliefs right now.” she shakes her head slightly. “but let us not dwell on that. why don’t you tell me some things about yourself, lady katherine?”

katherine’s smile fades slightly. “well, um, there’s not too much to tell.” she looks down at the tea saucer in front of her. “i’m katherine seymour, formerly howard. i’m fifteen, hailing from lambeth. my grandmother is the dowager duchess.” she fights to hide the chill down her spine at the thought of that place. “i was brought here to serve jane...her majesty... in september as a lady in waiting, and she just took me on as her ward around six weeks ago.”

parr still looks curious. “you do seem to have a bit of formal education, and i feel i may know your father from a passing meeting, so what was your childhood like?”

“I, um...” katherine shifts awkwardly in her chair. “my mother died when i was five.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” parr says softly. katherine shakes her head.

“it’s okay, I don’t remember much about her.” she misses the pained expression that flits across parr’s face at that. “i, uh, went to a school run my my step-grandmother. we had lessons there, just not enough to teach me everything i need to know.” she decides to stay quiet about what happened for the moment; she likes parr, but she’s only just met her.

parr senses that katherine is holding back, and doesn’t know whether to press on or not. she pretends to have not seen it, then pursues a different line of questioning. “so you learned to read and write?” katherine seems a bit relieved at the change of topic. “what’s your favorite book?”

as they discuss literature, katherine seems to relax even further, whatever previous anxiety she was holding released. “i heard the chatter from outside,” another voice suddenly pops into the conversation, and katherine internally smiles at jane’s arrival. “i do hope i’m not interrupting.”

“not at all, your majesty,” parr smiles. “we were just taking a break for some tea.”

“would you mind if I joined you?” jane asks. parr hops to her feet, offering her chair to jane.

“please, take a seat,” she retrieves another chair from the corner of the room and brings it over as jane sits down, nodding her thanks to parr.

“i must admit, i’ve been missing my little seymour,” jane laughs slightly, the term of endearment slipping out without thinking. had it been in front of anyone else katherine might have been embarrassed, but parr doesn’t even react at the nickname, simply listening to jane as she continues. “how have you been getting on, love?”

katherine smiles a bit. “i’ve learned a lot already,” she says cautiously. “we’ve been working on latin a lot, actually. i really like it.”

jane smiles back. “i’m glad to hear that, love.”

parr nods in agreement. “she’s made exemplary progress for only a day’s work.” she looks to jane. “you’ve got a real bright one here, your majesty.”

“well, i always knew that,” jane smiles, looking at katherine proudly. katherine’s cheeks flush pink slightly at the praise.

“if it’s okay with both of you, when we finish today i’m going to leave lady katherine with some latin exercises to complete before our lesson tomorrow,” parr says. “nothing too much, just some things to try.”

katherine nods enthusiastically.

“i don’t think i can say no to that,” jane laughs. katherine looks so adorably happy at the thought of working on her latin, jane would never dream of squashing that excitement.

parr smiles. “i’m also going to reach out to a few fellow educators, see if any of my colleagues might like to join us at any point.” she looks to katherine, whose excitement had waned slightly. “would that be alright, lady katherine?”

she nods again, slightly more trepidatious. “that’d be alright,” she concedes quietly.

jane catches this immediately, and later when parr is packing up her belongings to leave for the day, jane pops her head around the door.

“kat, love, lady eleanor would like to know if you’d like to feed the hounds with her.” she leaves out the fact that jane had asked eleanor to do this task, and katherine lights up at the chance to see the palace’s hunting dogs. she excuses herself politely and then, when she thinks she’s out of sight, runs in a rather unladylike fashion to the corridor where eleanor is waiting. jane, meanwhile, hovers in the doorway, watching parr tidy away papers and books.

“can I speak with you a moment?” she finally says. parr looks up.

“of course, your highness. what do you wish to talk about?”

jane fiddles with her hands and parr nearly smiles - in the one day alone, she had noticed katherine doing the same thing. they really were as close as a mother and daughter could be.

“i would advise you, lady parr,” jane begins, voice hesitant, “to be careful in who you bring in to teach katherine. she is a bit...particular.” jane hates the way she says this, but doesn’t want to divulge katherine’s entire past.

parr blinks slightly, a slight frown forming on her features.

“oh, i see. well, that’s understandable, and if lady katherine doesn’t like any of my fellow scholars then of course her wishes will come first. they are all very educated, though, and it would help her a lot in her studies to have them present. unless...” she pauses for a moment, as if contemplating whether to say what’s on her mind or not. “i don’t mean to pry, your highness, but is there a specific type of person katherine would prefer to have teach her - or perhaps, a type I should avoid when asking my colleagues?”

jane stiffens slightly, unsure about exactly how to proceed. “she...well, she...” jane swallows. “there are certain men that have a tendency to just...make her uncomfortable,” she offers. “so perhaps just...choose carefully, please? for katherine’s sake.”

parr nods once. “i understand, your majesty. i will choose only people i completely trust. you have my word.”

jane doesn’t entirely know if parr read between the lines and worked it out, or if she hadn’t quite understood the full story, but jane hopes parr will stick to her promise. she decides it might be for the best if she stays close by for any lessons where parr brings a colleague.

parr gives jane a polite respectful bow and jane returns the unconventional gesture with a curtsey of her own.

“i will return tomorrow, your majesty,” parr says. “please, give my farewell to lady katherine, and remind her to watch her verb endings in the work i’ve given her.”

katherine arrives in the sitting room a half hour later, grinning and a bit warm from playing with the dogs.

jane looks up from her book when she enters and smiles. “looks like you had fun, darling.”

katherine  nods and plops down on the couch next to jane, snuggling against her. “it’s been a good day,” she comments absently.

jane kisses the top of her head. “i’m glad, love.”

katherine curls up even more against her and closes her eyes. jane gives her a gentle nudge.

“remember, you’ve got work to do, young lady.”

“quick rest first, please?” katherine asks, not opening her eyes. jane chuckles.

“okay, love. half an hour, and then you need to get your work done.”

“agreed,” katherine yawns. “i’m actually kinda excited to do it, i’m just-” she yawns again, cutting herself off. jane smiles softly at her.

“get some rest, kat.”

jane still has her book open, but her thoughts are taken up with how proud she is of her girl.

katherine makes a quiet noise and jane knows exactly what it means. she closes  her book and puts it on the table, allowing katherine to rest her head in jane’s lap. jane’s hands find her hair, caressing the soft and slightly tangled locks of dark hair.

katherine smiles and sighs contently at the new arrangement. her features relax as she drops off into a light doze.

jane smiles softly to herself, looking down at katherine’s peaceful face. katherine was slowly growing from a sweet little girl to a wonderful young lady, and jane couldn’t be prouder of her; she’d seen a couple of the translations katherine had been working on during the tea break, and she couldn’t believe how much katherine had learnt in the space of just one day. it was moments like this, however, with katherine fast asleep on her lap, which reassure jane that katherine growing up doesn’t mean they’ll grow apart. she’s still jane’s little seymour, no matter how tall she gets or languages she learns, and jane’s heart swells with love.

let the girl sleep a little longer, she decides, latin will still be there later.

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #catherine parr #julie and jess write #make a move just to stay in the game #hold onto me you're all i have

[ladyherenya]

Books read in September

I fell down a couple of rabbit holes -- that’s my metaphor of choice for when I ignore my TBR list and get distracted reading other things, usually in a search for comfort reading.

Also, I clicked the wrong thing in the Kindle app at 1am and now I have a free trial of Kindle Unlimited so I decided I might as well make use of it.

Favourite cover: A Conspiracy in Belgravia.

Reread: Obsidio by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff, Penric’s Mission and Mira’s Last Dance by Lois McMaster Bujold and Exit Strategy by Martha Wells.

Still reading: The Princess Who Flew with Dragons by Stephanie Burgis.

Next up: Pumpkinheads by Rainbow Rowell and Faith Erin Hicks.

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing. And also Dreamwidth.)

The Bride Test by Helen Hoang: Khai hasn’t found a girlfriend, so his mother arranges for a young woman from Vietnam to come to California for the summer, to see if she and Khai will suit each other. This is romance, a genre which doesn’t always share my narrative priorities -- some things are resolved too neatly, and I’d have liked more of Esme’s relationship with her daughter and of her adult education classes -- but I enjoyed reading this, so I’m not complaining. I liked how Hoang portrays Khai’s autism. He has a greater capacity for love than he realises, he just needs support to understand his feelings.

Secrets of a Sun King by Emma Carroll (narrated by Victoria Fox): I read this because I love the narrator and really liked Carroll’s Letters From the Lighthouse. This book is set post-WWI, and involves friendship, family secrets and the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Lil’s grandfather is in hospital and she becomes convinced that his recovery depends upon her solving the mystery surrounding the package sent to him by a famous and now-deceased Egyptologist. I predicted the twists, but I can see how this would strongly appeal to children who want a blend of history, adventure and mystery with a hint of fantasy. (Where was this when I was twelve?)

The Spirit Ring by Lois McMaster Bujold: Fantasy set in Renaissance Italy. Fiametta, daughter of a master mage and goldsmith, witnesses a violent coup. She flees -- and meets Thur, a guardsmen’s younger brother coming to Montefolgia for an apprenticeship. This was published in 1992, after Bujold had published several Vorkosigan books and won a few Hugos, so I wasn’t expecting it to feel so, well, rough by comparison. That said, bits of it still shine! The plot makes every detail count, the final confrontation is memorable and I liked the characters. And it’s interesting to consider this as a precursor to Bujold’s World of the Five Gods.

A Royal Pain by Meg Mulry: This turned up when I was searching Overdrive for something else (Goodness knows why, none of my search words are its title or description). It sounded like it might be entertaining, maybe a bit like The Princess Diaries. It isn’t, at least not enough for me. Two-thirds through I decided to abandon it -- and then a bit later I decided I might as well skim read to the end and see how everything turned out. I don’t feel qualified to say anything insightful, I just wandered in here by mistake...

The Enchanted April (1922) by Elizabeth von Armin (narrated by Nadia May): Four women respond to a newspaper advertisement and rent a house in Italy for the month of April. This is delightfully funny and observant, with idyllic descriptions of spring in Italy. I liked the friendships which develop between four very different women, and the way they are challenged -- or inspired -- to reconsider their opinions about others. The ending is, unsurprisingly, very tidy and conventional. (Not many options for happy endings a 1920s novelist could easily give to unhappily married women.) Reading nothing but sunshine and fairytale endings would become unsatisfying, no matter how wonderful the prose, but sometimes it’s just want one wants.

The “Lady Sherlock” series by Sherry Thomas:

A Conspiracy in Belgravia: Disgraced Charlotte Holmes has found a home with the widowed Mrs Watson and an income under the persona of “Sherlock Holmes”. Her latest case sounds simple but is complicated by connections to the wife of Charlotte’s closest friend and Charlotte’s half-brother. Meanwhile, Charlotte has a marriage proposal to consider, ciphers to crack, and a murder victim to identify. I like the way certain qualities of Doyle’s characters are assigned to different characters -- so Charlotte’s sister Livia is writing stories about Sherlock, and Mrs Watson’s niece has medical training. I enjoyed reading this and immediately embarked on the next book.

The Hollow of Fear: I could not put this book down -- the stakes are so high and personal! But in the end I didn’t find this a wholly satisfying mystery because much of the tension is the result of Charlotte concealing a lot about her suspicions and plans. It’s fun watching Charlotte in disguise, and I don’t mind some misdirection, nor Charlotte keeping thoughts to herself. That fits with her character. But the extent of it felt contrived. Disappointment aside, I liked the journey, thought one of the twists was handled with particular deftness, and I am eager to read the sequel.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn (narrated by Saskia Maarlveld): A long, complex, powerful three-stranded story about war and its aftermath. In Boston in 1946, Jordan, a teenager passionate about photography, is suspicious of her new stepmother. In Germany in 1950, war correspondent Ian now hunts war criminals. And in Siberia before the war, Nina becomes a pilot. From the beginning, this was interesting, with tense scenes. But I wasn’t strongly invested, and I was unsure of the narrative’s structure. As the story continued, I discovered that it is richer and more nuanced because of its structure --  and that I was becoming very attached to these characters. Surprisingly so.

The “Dear Professor” series by Penny Reid

Kissing Galileo: The description made me curious, so I looked at the sample chapters... and, unexpectedly, was convinced I should read this book. Because it’s smart and funny! And I liked how the characters deal with an awkward and potentially very problematic situation. (Emily works as a lingerie model, and when her professor visits the store, he doesn’t recognise her.) I really enjoyed the progression of their relationship -- how obviously they like each other’s company and care about each other, how they have an intellectual connection that goes hand-in-hand physical attraction, how they learn to understand each other better.

Kissing Tolstoy: The first book is about Emily’s friend Anna, who signs up for a Russian literature class, unaware that the professor is someone she accidentally had an almost-date with. This is a shorter than Kissing Galileo, nearly novella-length, and because I read them back-to-back, suffered somewhat in comparison -- it’s less complex, and features a professor who doesn’t deal quite so well with being attracted to one of his students. I wasn’t so convinced their relationship was a good idea. But there’s some entertaining awkwardness and people being opinionated about Russian literature. I liked Anna’s nerdy interests and her friendship with Emily.

Marriage of Inconvenience by Penny Reid: I was curious what else Reid has written and sometimes I like fake relationships stories.  This book makes a convoluted set-up feel plausible. I liked how Kat and Dan’s relationship developed, I liked the ratio of romance to plot, and I liked how involved and supportive all their friends were. But my enjoyment ebbed as I read, which is probably a reflection on what I want from this sort of story rather than on this book’s merits. I don’t find the corporate city setting very interesting or appealing.

Dr. Strange Beard by Penny Reid: I enjoy stories where characters are passionate about their interests.  In this, one of the characters is a vet but his job had no real presence in the story. What a waste.

A Desperate Fortune by Susanna Kearsley: Sara accepts a job decoding a ciphered diary from 1732. The diary is written by Mary, a half-Scottish woman raised in France, who agrees to disguise an Englishman by pretending to be his sister. I like how these two stories sit together. There’s a gentleness to Sara’s, as she discovers things she likes, including the sensory delights of winter in France and people who accept her. In contrast, Mary’s is full of danger, deception and the discomfort of travel. But there’s also subtle, common threads running throughout: life-changing choices and trusting people. I liked so many things in this book.

Echo in Onyx by Sharon Shinn: Brianna becomes the maid for the governor’s daughter, who has three “echoes”. When one of Marguerite's echoes is killed defending Marguerite, Brianna disguises herself as the echo so that they can conceal the incident. The concept of echoes is unusual and Shinn has clearly given careful thought to how they would affect society and daily life for those who have them, as well as reasons for their existence.  I wasn’t surprised by the final twists, because I know how Shinn usually deals with injustice, but parts were still quite tense. And I liked Brianna’s attitude -- so sunny and resourceful and loyal.

A House of Rage and Sorrow by Sangu Mandanna: I really liked A Spark of White Fire so I was surprised by my reaction to this sequel. Halfway through, I was pushing myself to stay focused and just wanted to cross it off the list. So I left it there. I don’t know if there was something in the pacing or the first book’s ending which stopped me from caring -- or if I just wasn’t in the mood to read about rage and sorrow and things going to hell in a handbasket. I might try again one day. I did like the first one.

#Herenya reviews books #Lois McMaster Bujold #Sherry Thomas #Sharon Shinn #Susanna Kearsley #Helen Hoang #Kate Quinn #Emma Carroll #Penny Reid #Sangu Mandanna #Elizabeth von Armin

[badmuslim-blog1]

Do as the Romans Do… Unless the Romans happen to be be Misogynist Pigs

Oct 11

Today I attempted to leave “the grounds” to go to the corner store thats 10 steps away for some ice cream and maybe some chips or treats. My “family” here stood at the door holding me back, one auntie holding the door latch, the other holding my arm trying to persuade me not to go. I say persuade but they were not about to let me leave no matter how I insisted. Even as I told them I had permission from my parents who weren’t present at that time, they insisted that it’s not allowed. “It’s not allowed, it’s not allowed”. I couldn’t tell at first if they meant the men of the house, my uncle and their sons, didn’t allow it or if the PEOPLE didn’t allow it. Although I’m quite sure those are one and the same. The elderly women, my uncle's wife, the lady of the house stood there telling me she’d get in trouble if she let me go. “Take Abudy with you and go, just wait and we’ll call him, you can go to the mall”. The mall is a medium-sized general store that is family and woman approved. Unlike the convenient stores around the corner which apparently only men can enter due to the people working there. She went as far as to whisper in my ear that they were “bad” men using creative descriptors that were meant to deliver a point I suppose.  

Probably that they’re sleazy or street kids that don’t know how to behave well in front of a lady. The thing is that’s pretty much every man in this country. So I don’t see the issue. Her sons, my cousins, mean well enough. They grew up in the same decade as me, they’ve been exposed to roughly the same international modern ideals and values, they’re educated and they get the whole freedom for women thing, however, they’re not exactly lining up to liberate the women of Iraq from their barred kitchens and suffocating limiting circumstances. Hell, they participate, not like the worst of them, but they participate complacently in the messed up, corrupt, oppressive, inequitable social muddle that is the Iraqi social structure. Their codes of conduct, their mannerisms, and common laws, perpetuating their unjust systems. The younger one Abdulla I often find trying to persuade me they’re not that bad and they’re more progressive and fair a society than other places than other parts of Iraq. It’s a sweet gesture but he always falls short and ends up laughing awkwardly and looking away. It’s refreshing talking to someone who isn’t completely OBLIVIOUS as to why I’m not impressed or satisfied with the way things are here.

Let’s be real for a second, put the situation into perspective. It’s not like I’m seriously about to leave the house to walk around these streets that I don’t know and I’m not familiar with. I’m not that reckless and irresponsible, I’d want to be shown around first, get a tour, a rundown of the area. The issue is the people here don’t seem to trust me to have the sense to not do so. To know better. They think it’s necessary to supervise every move of a grown, stable, educated woman not because she’s new to the area and may get lost or run into some rowdy people, but because she’s a woman, meaning she may accidentally walk through the door that leads to outside instead of the bathroom. Then she may accidentally run into the street and get hit by a car, or she may attract kidnappers in the middle of the day, In the middle of a populated street.

Incidentally, I know this environment all too well, I grew up in this very same house, only it was surrounded by a whole lot less desert and like-minded Arabs. A household where the 5-year-old son is sent to check who’s at the door before the 14-year-old daughter. A household where if the outside world got bad enough, and the situation dire, the son would be taught to ride a bike or a motorcycle to school and back safely while the daughter would drop out. A household where a son getting married means gaining a helping hand around the house, someone to serve the family and the son, during the day and the night. However the daughter getting married means selling her future, and her body to another to do with it what they want with no way out in sight short of a black eye and broken bone.

Some families grow out of the bad habits they learn back home and only chose to keep the good, the loving caring qualities and traits they inherit, while others don’t shake it off. Mistaking learned, conditioned prejudice and oppressive behaviors as culture, religion, and tradition. That mixture happens to be a deadly one when associated with desperate, possessive, controlling parenting. When you have that formula set up, all that’s left is to classify a degree. How bad is the burn, how far is one willing to go when they think they need to save their children even if they have to hurt them first. And voila, you have extreme circumstances such as honor killings.

Now all that’s left is me sitting here in a puddle of disdain, bubbling fury, anger over the fact that people want to force their way of life onto me when this is not the life I’ve been dealt. I’ve been gifted the opportunity to live a different kind of life. One far from this one in all the ways that matter, I’d be so very stupid to give up a life of freedom to chose and live as I want for the very one my grandparents escaped decades ago when fleeing war. Now they think I’d be willing to come here and live an ordinary Iraqi woman’s life, an Iraqi’s wife. Why would I? You know how they say we all have a fight or flight instinct when faced with extenuating or high anxiety circumstances? I used to pretend I was the former because it sounded more powerful but I’m definitely the latter. It’s why I had planned to leave for Mexico in August, leave my family for a year and move out afterward, permanently. It’s why I’ve been formulating a plan to sneak away in the night, run away to Baghdad, seek out the British embassy and plea my case, hoping they’d give me an out. Because running away is my method of self-preservation. As humans we all have an innate instinct to want to self-preserve. Especially when we feel our free will at risk, our freedom, and hence a need to survive. It’s a beautiful thing, this instinct need to be what comes natural, to live with a free body and mind.

#immigrants #arab #arab household #helicopter parents #suffocating parenting

[rohobi]

Pulse 03 | (m)

Kim Taehyung | Medical AU |  Smut | Angst | Trauma | Patient death | Medical Jargon | Medical Inaccuracies | Mature Content | Multi-fandom Medical Team |

COUNT: 8k Words  CHAPTER SUMMARY: ❝There are wounds that never show on the human body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.❞ LISTEN ▶ 

↳ INDEX → CHAPTER 4

↣ SEOUL HEARTS HOSPITAL | Dr. Kim Taehyung

Changing into a new pair of blue scrubs in the bathroom, Taehyung asks himself at which point did everything in his life go wrong. He was so tired. So fucking tired and so fucking unhappy and so fucking miserable. He’s been hiding it behind a smile, burying it deep within him.

A pain like no other. 

He scrubs his face with a cleanser he thinks belongs to Dr. Yoongi, hoping that it might make him feel grounded in something other than misery. But no matter how hard he scrubs, the feeling’s still there. 

Like scum.

Patting his face dry with a white face cloth, he takes a deep breath. It might as well tattoo itself across his face, nothing could take it away. Sadness made its home in his bones a long time ago and now he was living with the consequences of it.

The memories of a happy life he once had, grew into shards of glass over time, cutting him up in the inside. Why can’t he go back to that time? Why can’t he be that person he was? Why does he feel so damn guilty all the time when he was just trying to be a good son for a mother who’s on her way out? 

The wounds he sustained, ripped open at every reminder of you, are his worst enemy to date. He wonders if his mother’s aware that everytime he smiles, the ingenuity of pretending to be happy tastes like rotten fruit on his tongue.

He could never be happy again, as neurotic as that sounds, he doesn’t think he deserves to be. 

He hates himself.

Staring at his face in the mirror, he takes another deep breath as he stands up straight. He adjusts the lapels of his pristine white coat while brushing his teeth with his other hand. At least he enjoyed his job, the patients were usually older adults who reminded him of his grandmother, it was nice being around people who liked him. Lots of broken bones.

It was ironic, a doctor who could mend broken body parts for other people, lived uncomfortably with a broken heart.

One he broke himself.

One he could never mend on his own. Taehyung wondered if he would get any category one acute surgeries tonight. He loved the cases from ED. Traumatic neck of femur fractures -the greater trochanter fracture in particular were fun, he enjoyed being the specialist whenever he ran down. He loved the spinal injuries and the tibial fractures, knees and shoulders.

Bones. He loved them. It was the best distraction from life that he knew. Taehyung had always been really interested in Emergency Medicine but he could never do it, knowing it was your speciality and knowing you’d never want to see him again. 

He tried to respect that, he tried to respect the distance you wanted but sometimes, he just wants to know if you're okay. If you're happy. If you're loved. If you ever kept his child. If someone took up the space in your life that he used to. He's too afraid to act on those curiosities, to cowardly to come forth, too ashamed in himself for letting people control him, too ashamed for never standing up for himself, too afraid of the consequences his family offered if he did not follow their orders. He was a coward. Rinsing his mouth out, he frowns at himself in the mirror. This was the real him, the real Taehyung, the real person who never put up a pretence, someone who was unhappy and in pain every single day. But who else wasn't in pain. He adjusts the red, blue and green pens in his front coat pocket and wraps the bright red stethoscope from his pocket, around his neck. He turns the light off before closing the door behind him. Checking his pager, he clips it on to the waistband of his pants before pushing through the doors with his shoulder. Dr. Yoongi, Taehyung’s bestfriend, waits in the hallway for him with a coffee and an apricot danish for Taehyung. “Morning loser,” Yoongi says, handing him a bag and a coffee, “Got you a coffee that resembles your taste in woman.” "Morning? It's like 8pm," Taehyung smiles, sipping the bitter tasting beverage. “Yuck, Yoongi, my taste in women is not bitter.” Yoongi smiles. “You know, she called me last night, told me you hadn’t come home in a month, that true?” Sighing, he rolls his eyes. “I sent over the divorce papers, I’m only going back there if it’s to pick up those signed documents.” “Sounds about right,” Snorting, Yoongi wraps his arm around his shoulders. “You’ll finally be free from her? How do your parents feel about letting you loose?” “I haven’t told them yet,” Taehyung looks away from Yoongi, gesturing to start walking to work. “I’m pretty sure they’ll disown me. Anyway, enough of that, ready for a good night?” “Sure, we’ll talk about it later," Yoongi sips his own coffee. "I’m more than ready for a good shift actually. I've slept for 12 hours. Had to lecture the new guppies about social hierarchy yesterday, I swear they get loopy when they have rotations at Forest Lake. What are they putting in the water that makes them dumb?” “I don't know, whatever you’re drinking,” Biting into his pastry, Taehyung smiles wickedly at the blonde boy as he marches down the clean white hallway towards the Orthopaedic medical doctors office.

* * *

They stand in the office, preparing to do rounds on the ward. Taehyung’s looking at the list of patients he needs to visit experiencing post-operative delirium and constipation. He has students working with him tonight and Taehyung was fully prepared to dump his workload on them for “experience”.

Yoongi is signing discharge letters for patients leaving in the morning, writing prescriptions for pain relief and documenting orders for the morning nurses. The ward was quiet this evening, leaving a settled and peaceful evening for the nurses on shift but Taehyung wasn’t about to use the ‘q’ word in front of them.

“Shall we see our patients now?” Taehyung smiles, grouping up his 6 tired orienting medical students. “Why are you looking at me like that guys? Doctors rounds are fun and educational.”

“At this time?” One of his students snort laughs. “Not on this ward, it’s just old people-

-shut up Taemin,” a short girl says, she crosses her hands over here chest, rolling her eyes at the boy as she does. “You’re being disrespectful. Dr. Taehyung, please lets visit our patients. Quicker we can do this, quicker we can go home,” Younggi smiles up at him, “And I’d personally really love to see their progress.”

“Jesus Christ,” Yoongi curses under his breath. "Fucking brown noser."

The student ignores Yoongi as she stares back down at her black leather loathers.

“Every patient is your grandmother, try to think like that,” Hitting the top of Taemin’s head with his clipboard, Taehyung instructs a third student to push the trolley of patient files with them as all 6 students follow him down the ward hallway. Taehyung discards his coffee in the rubbish bin on the way. “Okay, because I know you all want to go home and sleep, let’s work in a team. Sound good?”

They all smile. Walking over to the trolley, he gives each of them a patient file. “What do you want us to do with these?”

“There’s six of you, pair up,” he says, watching them look at each other in confusion. “One of you will be assessing and the other will be scribing. You have two patients each, remember to switch.”

Taehyung folds his arms over his chest, they all look at him scared. “Oh come on, when my best friend in med school was in third year, below all of you, she was diagnosing aneurysms and scrubbing in on operations and you guys can barely talk to a patient without crawling in on yourselves. Get a grip, all of you.”

“But ...without you?” Taemin asks. “Can we do that?”

“I’ve worked with all six of you this month. Closely and together as a group. You’ve all grown so much and I believe that you all will make exceptional doctors. Believe in yourselves?” he says, watching them all smile, “So, look at the patient files for five minutes before going in, be polite and think before you speak. If you can't answer their questions, use your confidence and come and get me. I hope that doesn't actually happen though because you all should know the answers. Go on now.”

They all smile at him, clearly happy with the assignment.

“God, Taehyung,” Yoongi groans from behind him. “You still do that? You treat them like babies. That's why they get dumb.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as he watches the students head off to their retrospective patients. He’d given them all stable patients who had questions regarding the postoperative process. Nothing they can’t answer but it was always a confidence booster for his students and he loved seeing them go home happy.

“Yoongi, this is why I am the educator on this ward and you’re an asshole,” Taehyung picks out the last couple of folders before walking into the 4 patient room, handing one to Yoongi.

Yoongi sanitises his hands, pulling out his favourite black pen before following him in into the cubical.

Yoongi watches Taehyung sweeten up to the old lady covered in a mountain of blankets as he reads over her notes. “It’s lovely to see you again Dr. Taehyung, how are you?” she smiles, gazing up at Taehyung like he was the sun and she was the moon. Yoongi watches his little hands rub up and down on her purple, green and pink crochet blanket on top of her. “I’m better now that I have seen you,” he winks and she laughs softly. “I’m here to talk to you about your bowels. The nurses tell me you haven’t moved your bowels since the operation three days ago.” “Ooh my dear, a lady never does number 2 and tells,” She widens her eyes at him. “But yes, I have not. Those wicked nurses have been trying to get me out of bed, I’m just too old for this, doctor. It hurts too much.” Taehyung sits on her bed, cupping her hands. “They’re doing that for you. Exercise is good for recovery, especially since you’ve had a hip replacement. Quicker you’re up, quicker you can go home and be with your kittens.” “Oh is it?” she opens her mouth in a little ‘o’ that makes Taehyung giggle. "My kittens, oh I miss them terribly so." “Do you usually take medication for your bowels?” he asks and she shakes her head. “How about we try some?” She frowns. “I’m not taking any more of your pills doctor. I'm quite content with my remedies but the nurses won't let me take my herbal remedies and rubbing crystals. What can I do?” “Some of your remedies can have a dangerous effect on the medication we give you here, that’s why you can’t take them,” Unwrapping his stethoscope from around his neck, he smiles softly. “What about kiwifruit?" "What about kiwifruit?" “Kiwicrush. It’s a little shot of kiwifruit that helps you move your bowels, it's like a natural remedy, I assure you that it tastes very good,” he informs her, she nods hesitantly. “I’m going to listen to your stomach now, my stethoscope is a bit cold so don't be surprised okay?" "Okay," She nods again. "I'll try the fruit doctor." "Good, Yoongi please make a note of that," Placing the diaphragm of his stethoscope on her abdomen, he listens for any present bowel sounds. Yoongi draws a little picture of abdomen in her files as he examines her, watching Taehyung’s face for an answer. Taehyung frowns, shaking his head for Yoongi. Yoongi then draws a cross through it. Yoongi writes the prescription in her drug chart for kiwicrush and signs her notes before closing them and slipping out of the cubical to tend to the last patient in the room for him. “Everything okay?” she asks, a worried expression drawn across her face. “You frowned, am I dying?” “Oh don’t be silly,” Clasping her hands again, he smiles tenderly. “It’s just that I am a bit worried about your bowels at the moment, and getting you up seems to be the best option right now. I’m going to ask the nurses to give you some pain relief before getting you up tomorrow morning, just so it’s a little easier for you and then, I’m going to ask you to give it your best shot. Mobilising will be very good for your stomach Maurine.” “You sound like the nurse,” She laughs, smacking the top of his warm hand. “I’ll try for you. So, please, call me mama. I’m too damn old to be called anything else.” Standing up, he lifts the blankets up to her shoulders, making sure her toes are covered the way he knows she likes. He turns off the overhead light, leaving a small night light on for her. “Alright mama, you have a pleasant sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” She hums her response as she turns her attention to the window beside her. She stares at the moon with a gaze he can only describe as suddenly haunting as the soft hues of light accentuate an unspoken fear drawn across her face, something Taehyung feels uncomfortable about. “What are you staring at mama?” he whispers, following her gaze out the window. "Are you okay?" "I am okay for now," Standing by the window, he presses his hand to the cold surface as he feels the wind brush against the surface underneath his palm. She laughs softly under her breath from behind him. “It’s a full moon. The wolves are out howling for blood. I’d be careful on such an auspicious night Dr. Taehyung, who knows what might happen.” He turns back to her. “It’s always an auspicious night when one is in a hospital mama, anything could happen here too.” Leaving her cubicle, he pushes the hand sanitiser on the wall into his palm, rubbing the dollop into his hands as he walks down the hallway. “You know, the other patients call her a witch,” Yoongi says, walking beside him with the trolley, patient file on top as he hurries with writing the last note. “Her notes say that she chants under her breath at people, gave me the shivers reading it but you seem close with her, so good for you. If you get hexed, let me know.” “You shouldn’t talk about people like that Yoongi,” Taehyung laughs, walking towards the nurses station. “You’ll be the one hexed. So, what was that patient's primary concern?”

Looking back at the notes, Yoongi says. “Another patient needing laxatives. Typical for this ward. I don’t know why you don’t just prescribe laxatives post operatively anyway. Saves so much time.” Taehyung shrugs, leaning against the station. “I would if it were me doing it. It’s Dr. Minho. He thinks the best laxative is water and exercise.” Yoongi snorts. “He sounds out of touch with real patients.” “He’s a good doctor Yoongi.” “We’re all good doctors until we’re proven that we are not.” Settling in the nurses station, Yoongi starts nibbling at the cake the nurses left out, as Taehyung leans against the station. It was dark, the nurses had turned off the hallway lights so patients could settle to bed. The nurses station was empty as nurses eat their dinner in the fishbowl behind it. Their laughter flutters nicely out from their office into the long empty hallways. Taehyung’s ward was the only department in the hospital who did night doctors rounds. It was the only department in a rush to discharge people, shift them back home for recovery and it was good for student practice. “Dr Minho’s on tonight, floating between orthopaedics and urology by the way. You in ED tonight?” Taehyung asks, “I hear it’s been really busy down there.” “I’m the floater tonight,” Yoongi shakes his head. “We’ve got too many staff on down there. Too many damn know-it-all students too.” "Isn't that good though for the acuity?" he asks and Yoongi rolls his eyes. Looking over Taehyung’s shoulder, Yoongi sighs. "Speaking of the devils." The first lot of students walk towards Taehyung, file outstretched waiting for his signature to co-sign. “Younggi,” Taehyung says, reading over her exceptional penmanship. “Next time, just draw the lungs if you assess them. What is your plan? What do you want the nurses to do?” She smiles, looking at her partner. “Regular repositioning in bed, PRN asthma medications when symptomatic and lots of pillows for comfort.” "As if they aren't doing that already," Yoongi snorts behind Taehyung. "Your kids need to spend a week with the nurses, that'll make ‘em work." All the students arrive back and Taehyung reads through their notes, signing his name at the bottom. Congratulating them on their first lot of assessments. “Now, that is how we’ll do our night rounds from now on. In the morning however, it will be different. I will be assessing your assessment skills on morning ward rounds. One at a time, in front of all of us." They all groan. “Oh shut up, if you don’t like it, drop out,” Yoongi cackles, “You with the orange hair, put the folders back in the office and if you groan again, I’ll steal the muffin I saw in your backpack you had on earlier.”

Taemin, the boy with the orange hair, disappears to do so. "God," Taehyung says, yawning into the crook of his arm, "Why is it so settled tonight?" Yoongi laughs. "Trying to avoid the q word?"

"What's the q word?" a student asks. Know it all Younggi fills her in. "It means quiet, he's asking why it's so quiet tonight." Taehyung sinks against the station, dropping his head onto his hands, a loud groan falling from his lips as Yoongi leans up and smacks his head. "You didn't tell your stupid fucking kids not to say that word did you? Great." "Did I say something wrong Dr. Taehyung?" she asks, insecurity suddenly plaguing her usually confident demeanor. Taehyung stands up, turning to face her. "That word is a cursed word. We don't use it here."

"Oh. I'm sorry?" Re-emerging with his phone in his hand, Taehyung gasps loudly as Taemin walks towards him, face focused on his phone. He was 100% against students using phones on the ward at all times, often challenging them to stay engaged. “Taemin, you know the rules, I don't like phones on the ward- -you're gonna wanna hear this though. A code black has been triggered at Forest Lakes Hospital,” he looks up at the two senior doctors, suddenly pale faced. “My girlfriend’s a nurse there and she’s just texted me “FLH called a code black, it's not a drill, I am fine.” oh god.” "What's a code black?" one of the students asks much to the chagrin of the other students. "That some sort of medical emergency alarm bell?" Taehyung and Yoongi trade vacant looks. “What?” “It’s probably just a drill,” Yoongi says, picking his nails. “They always do them over there. They’re close to a military camp, lots of North Korean defectors get treated there. A code black is a bomb threat kids."  

Taemin looks up at Yoongi. “With all due respect, there is no way in hell that this is a drill. Look,” Turning his phone screen to Taehyung, a picture of ambulances rushing patients out, all wearing equally terrified facial expressions as they pile in the back of the trucks. “They’re evacuating people.”

“Are you sure you aren’t being pranked?” Younggi asks, hovering over his phone to check. Taehyung watches her double tap the picture, her face suddenly growing pale. 

“Doesn’t look like a prank does it?” Taemin whispers and they all watch her retreat back as she shakes her head. 

And then, all of their phones vibrate, pinging with texts, tweets and calls.

All 8 of them, pull out their phones.

Yoongi and Taehyung’s pagers go off. Ward phones start ringing. Grabbing his phone out of his coat pocket, Taehyung opens the first notification on the screen and the picture makes his heart stop; a wing of the hospital was on fire. A wing of your hospital was on fire. “Dr. Yoongi,” a nurse runs out, all the nurses following behind her. “Did you check your pager? Am I calling it in?” “Call it in please. Get your manager to remove all the patients in this ward. Orthopaedics is the mass casualty ward for this hospital kids. Whoever is the ward co-ordinator tonight in the nursing team, call all the other nurses, get them to come in immediately and cancel every single elective operation scheduled for tomorrow,” Yoongi says, reading his pager. "I want this ward cleared of patients within half an hour. I assume from the distance, patients will be arriving soon. So, let's do this quickly and properly according to your emergency protocol." “Why do we need to remove all the patients?” a student asks and Yoongi frowns at him. “Victims do better psychologically and physiologically where other victims are. Hence, why we need to get everyone out now and get the ward prepared for incoming patients.” “How many do you think we will get?” he asks again, his eyes widening in fear. Looking up to all the students and nurses pooling out from their office. Taehyung's hands suddenly begin to tremble by his side. “In this case, probably a lot.” “But you never know.” His heart begins to pound harshly against his ribs. Adrenaline surged down his body at the prospect of all those incoming patients; at the thought of you being in that building. “Text your families that you're okay.” Yoongi announces, pulling him out of his thoughts. Putting his pager in his pocket. Looking up to each and every nervous face in front of him, he grabs the department phone, immediately pressing the emergency number and holding it up to his ear. His hands are shaking but the only one who notices is Taehyung as a voice loudly screams into the receiver. Everyone in the room watches Yoongi's eyes widen and his head nod before hanging up again. "Fuck, it's real. All of you go, get ready. Remove these patients and clear this fucking ward right fucking now." "What about us?" Younggi asks, as the ward lights turn back on and nurses begin to frantically run around them. "What do we do?" “Text your families right now, none of you are going home tonight." ↣ FOREST LAKES HOSPITAL | Dr. Y/N The first blast hit the far west side of the hospital, where the VIP recovery ward was located, as you had run back into the dark and desolate, abandoned looking Emergency Department. You could smell the fire, you could even see it’s smoke boil up from the building in the northern windows of the ER. You ran harder. You were panting, completely solely running on adrenaline.

Your heart raced out of your skin as you looked in every room. In every bay. In every office. You were running completely on instinct and your instincts were telling you, someone was left behind. And you don’t leave people behind. No, not you. The force of the blast rumbled the entire floor, it was weak, a warning of what was yet to come and had you not been standing by an empty bed, it would have knocked you clean off your feet. Falling onto the white bed, plaster from the ceiling fell and the room seeped into darkness as the electricity completely cut out. No generator back up or anything provided you with a light to see in the dark either.

You coughed into your hand as you inhaled the plaster. 

“Hello, is anybody here?” you had screamed, coughing as you run through the hallway you’ve memorised by heart. “We don’t have much time, is anyone here?”

A voice muffled behind a door screams loud and clear out for you as they bang their fists on the hard wood. “PLEASE SOMEONE, I’M STILL IN HERE!” You were right. "HELP ME, I’M STILL HERE, OH GOD I’M STILL IN HERE, HELP ME PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Running down another hall, you hear a terrified scream from behind the controlled drug room. Someone remained like you had thought, banging on the door for their dear life. The door shook from the sheer force of their desperation to get out but the lock made it impossible to break free. “I’m still here,” they sobbed, banging on the other side of the door, “Please save me.” You don’t think as you run towards it, punching in the code for the room and forcing the door open with all of your might. The doctor on the other side had tears down his face, falling straight into you. It was Jungkook. Idiot doctor and housemate, your Jungkook. "Y/N," he sobbed, looking completely broken. "I thought I was going to die." “Well, I’m glad you’re alive and all but we need to go, right now." He looked distraught and terrified, but of all, he looked relieved. Grabbing his hand, you run with every inch of strength you can muster out, of that goddamn building. He holds your hand tightly, practically dragging you as he runs faster, jumping over shattered glass and plaster. 

You hold images of Sunny in your mind as you pick your feet up. You hold the sound of her laughter and her cries, her singing, her screaming. You think of Taehyung, his smile, his embrace, his warmth. You think of a life you still think you can have. You think of punching Taehyung in the jaw when you see him next, you couldn’t die today knowing you haven’t. No, not today satan.

You run towards the clearing. And the automatic doors... ...they don't open. “What the fuck, why won’t they open?” you ask, waving your hand up to the monitor. “Fuck, I thought these would open in an emergency?” Jungkook bangs against the glass. Jimin and Seokjin look up, prompted by the loud banging. Ramming his shoulder into the glass, it doesn't budge. He throws everything close to him at the doors, again, it doesn't budge. They’re stuck. Irene holds back the boys from running over to help you. They had parked on the far end of the carpark to be safe as they waited. You both stare at the red lights of the ambulance in the night. “We need something heavy to smash it.” you say, “We’ll get out, don’t worry.” “How can I not fucking worry?” Jungkook shouts, throwing himself at the glass doors. “It’s just fucking glass, why won’t it break?” “It’s shatterproof material Jungkook.” Looking for an emergency button on the doors and falling short, “I’m going to find the emergency axe thing Jungkook, keep trying to pry it open okay?” 

You were certain that there was an emergency axe somewhere, you had seen it before and wondered if you'd ever need to use it and for what. Slipping on blood, you fall to the floor as the ground continues to shake beneath you. "Where is it, come on Y/N, think." Getting up again, you run to the hallway leading off to the operating theatres and that's where you find the axe, contained in a glass box, nailed to the wall by a fire extinguisher. Punching the glass, it's splinters piercing your knuckles, you grab the axe. You were certain that when this adrenaline stops fuelling your attempts to survive, everything is going to hurt. But you don't have time to think about that as you run back. Jungkook's running into the doors, kicking and screaming at it, continuously bruising his shoulder. “I’m not dying in this fucking building.” "Jungkook," you shout, he turns, eyes glinting in happiness at the sight of the axe. "I have no strength, you smash it." He takes it happily, immediately hacking at the door. "I need to get out." he chants, each time the axe hits the doors. "I'm not dying today." The axe cracks the glass but it doesn't shatter like you thought it would. He hits it again and again, only cracking it. “What the hell is this fucking thing made of?” "Jungkook," Turning to survey your area, you grab anything hard enough to throw through the glass. "Jungkook, move out of the way." "What?" He turns, watching you throw a vital signs machine straight into the cracked glass with a strength you didn’t think you had, shattering it completely. He watches in slow motion as the glass shatters and falls to the linoleum floor. He screams happily as he throws the axe into the reception to their left. He grabs your hand as you run over the ocean of glass pooling onto the sidewalk as you both run into the carpark. The ambulance was so close, yet so far away. The fresh air hits your lungs as you breath it in and then out. You were free. You would be okay too. 

Jungkook turns to you, smiling widely at you. “I’m free!”  "Kim Seokjin! Park Jimin!" you scream, running towards them, "Open the back doors!" But they never hear you, and that you are grateful for because what happens next would've definitely hurt him too. 

The second blast hit as you were running out of the building with Jeon Jungkook. The force of this blast, much bigger than the first, had thrown you in the air and onto the soft grass by the car park, metres away from the now swaying ambulance, winding you. Jungkook had fallen onto the hard concrete pavement of the carpark beside you, hands falling on shards of broken glass, blood dripping from his forehead. He screams in agony, feeling the bone of his arm break and tear through his skin on impact.   Black coloured smoke rushes out of the burning building, covering you and Jungkook in a cloak of silent darkness. It chokes you, filling your lungs with it’s painful toxin as you try to breathe. Jungkook looks at you, expression pleading, lips moving to form words you can’t understand. Everything is blurry and dark and deep and your falling into yourself as black spots fill your visual field. You can’t hear anything but a loud ringing in your ears, you can hear the faint scream of Jungkook at the back of your brain but you can't process what he's saying. He looks at you desperately, is he hurt? That's a stupid question. You know you should get up but you feel compressed, stuck to the ground, and you can’t breathe, feeling winded as though your lungs had lost their ability to take in oxygen. You try to get up, falling back to the ground. Were you hurt too? You look over to Jungkook again, watching him battle his demons, forcing himself to get up and to you. You watch as if it were in slow motion as Jungkook pulls himself up, rushing over to you as he cradles his left arm in his now dirty white coat. There’s a god awful whirlpool of horror in his brown eyes as he runs over to you, you may have saved him but he definitely earned it because he saves you right back. You pull yourself up as much as you can before his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as you both run to the ambulance. You look back at the building, still standing with flames and smoke boiling out the windows. You knew it wouldn’t last long until it collapsed or forced to the ground by another and much larger explosion. You didn’t want to be here for that. Blood dripped from your ears and down the sides of your soot covered face, building materials you couldn’t identify laced through your hair, shards of glass embedded into the skin of your arms. You felt like you had been punched in every soft part of your body. Jungkook looked equally as dishevelled. Waving you both over, Jimin and Irene rush you both into the back as Seokjin revved the engine. Minutes pass of complete silence as you rush. Isn’t that weird, after something so huge, there was just silence? No piercing screams, no sirens, no pleas for help, just fire, fear and silence. Pulling themselves in first, Irene and Jimin sit opposite each other, strapping themselves in.   The third blast hit when you were trying to close the doors behind you. The blast wave hit the truck, pushing you into the back of the truck, shattering the windows, prompting Seokjin’s immediate acceleration as Jungkook toppled straight on top of you.  

The glass from the window narrowly missed the intubated patient on a stroller in the middle of the ambulance, but it cuts across Irene's cheek, something she'll probably need stitches for. She wails in agony, holding a hand against her cheek, immediately applying pressure to the wound as dark red blood dripped down her neck and onto her scrubs. 

Jungkook was afraid of letting you go, and for that, he saved you again. The doors slapped against the sides of the ambulance as Jin speed through the carpark and as far away from the hospital as he could. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s waist tightly as he held onto anything that would keep you both in the ambulance as it sped away. His dead arm curled up painfully against your chest underneath him as Jin's abrupt driving makes you swing underneath him towards the other side of the truck causing shards of glass to tear through your coat as you do. You scream in agony, feeling the shards slice and embed into the flesh of your ass. It’s sweltering, a burning pain filling you by waves as it rolls over you, over and over again. You were hurt everywhere. 

"Are you okay Y/N?" Jimin shouts at you. You clasp onto Jungkook tighter, eyebrows flexed as pain tears through your body. “Hold onto him, we’ll get you out of here!” Jungkook sobs, wailing in pure agony. The sound breaks Jimin as he watches, the once strong Jungkook, completely break and fall apart.   "It's collapsing!" Irene shouts and you all look back to watch in horror as the sound of destruction echoes across the night sky. "The hospital. Our homes. You guys could've ...that was so close." she sobs loudly, feeling the horror of what could've been you two so deeply into her bones. “Drive faster,” Jimin screams, hitting the back of the front seat. Jungkook and Irene watch the orange flames burst from black clouds of smoke, as the hospital collapses from the emergency exit they just left, “Drive fucking faster Seokjin!” He presses his foot on the accelerator with sirens blasting and red lights flashing through the graphite night as he zips away. “I’m driving as fast as I fucking can!” Irene screams when he skids around a corner, her head hitting the wall hard as he drives straight through the car park entrance sign. The sound was like nothing she had ever heard before when she looks to her right, the once dark night now full of orange light as the fire boils and consumes her home away from home. It was haunting, something Irene would never forget. 

They had only just gotten away from the building in time when fire began to rain down onto the trees, there would no doubt be a forest fire too. Everyone would be working overtime tonight. “Irene, are you okay?” Jimin asked, watching her rub the back of her head. She pulls her hand back, fingers covered in blood. Grabbing one of the only packets of gauze from beside him, he clears his throat. “Hold these to your head and hold on tight to your chair okay? We’re going to be fine.” She pants, biting her bottom lip. “Are you sure?” Jimin looks at everyone in the ambulance, he doesn't think he should dignify that question with a response, you were all safe now. “Go, Seokjin! Get us out of here!” Jungkook yelled, as he sunk his head into the crevice of your neck. “Get us to the hospital!” How you both hadn’t died was a mystery. Irene and Jimin pull you both further in by the collars of your coats, dragging your glass covered bodies further into the ambulance when Jin drives over a bridge, forced to slow down. "Irene, grab Jungkook," Jimin says, watching her pull Jungkook up beside her, strapping him into the seat. Pulling you up, he forces you into the seat beside him as he sobs. "Y/N, I've got you. You're okay now, you're okay now." He holds you close, telling you something you can’t hear but he's crying and he's crying hard. He looks like a wreck. 

Holding your hands up to his checks, you wipe away his tears only to smear blood and soot across his face, he leans into your warmth. At least the sentiment was there. “Jimin, I have no idea what you are saying,” you think you shout, dropping your hands and leaning against him. The blood dripping down your right ear stains his green scrubs. “The barotrauma ...I think I have a ruptured eardrum in my right ear. Left feels like it’s resolving. I can only just hear you kind of.” He nods, red eyes sweep over yours. “I’m very glad you’re safe” he mouths and you smile softly up at him, glad you are too. Jimin hands you a bottle of water as he pulls out the first aid kit to attend to the cuts on your face. "Call Yoongi, tell him you're okay. I know he's probably worried." Jimin smiles, lips quivering. "I did, he was scared, still is I bet. The phone cut out during the second explosion, I'm just going to have to wait to see him at the hospital." "What? I can't hear you? Did you call him? yes or no?” Jimin nods, gesturing for you to drink the water. You looked worse for wear with your bloodied and blackened white coat; ripped, crimson stained scrubs; messy hair tied in a loose ponytail; and soot covered face but you were okay.    You were feeling okayish. Drinking the water, you sag against him. Jimin dabs your fingers, brushing his fingers over your pulse, completely thankful you still had one. You look out the ambulance window to see your hospital, the once tall white and green structure, up in flames. All those years of hardwork, patients you’ve saved, lives you’ve lost, friends you’ve made, memories you’ve cherished. All gone. Seemingly in the blink of an eye.

You suddenly want to cry. 

Today wasn’t a normal day at all. As you drink the last of your water, you feel your left ear pop and then you hear the unmistakable sound of the ambulances sirens and Irene shouting at Jungkook and Jimin shouting at Seokjin to update the hospital. You could hear and you wish you couldn't. Everything happened at a lightening speed, as though it all occurred within the single blink of your eyes. Seokjin pulls out the radio, bringing it to his lips as he speeds through the intersection, sirens blazing. “Seoul Hearts hospital, this is Ambulance 22 Kim Seokjin speaking. We are currently enroute to your facility with a 32 y/o male motor vehicle accident victim from Forest Lakes. Patient is unconscious, intubated and-

-yes, we came from Forest Lakes," he stops, listening attentively to the voice on the other end that you can't quite hear. "Mass casualties ...how many have you already got?" "32?!" he shouts, "We'll you're about to get three more- He then scoffs into the radio. “Don’t interrupt me. I have nurses Park Jimin and Bae Irene, Drs. Jeon Jungkook and Y/N who are injured- “Yes, I know the hospital has just blown up, I’m looking at it in my rearview mirror right now, we have two injured doctors in the back of the ambulance as well! Possible internal trauma, possible broken extremities,” he snaps, frustration ebbed into his voice, “We are unable to take current accurate vital signs of the patient and the doctors but our patient is unstable as hell. I'll update you if things change. See you in 5 minutes.”

He slams the radio back down. “Buckle up kids, we’re driving through the city now. Y/N,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You good?” You nod, feeling your hearing fully come back in your left ear. “I think so?” "Good, you crazy fucking bitch, don’t you ever fucking do that again or I’ll cut your legs off." You're all staring out the back of the ambulance, watching the reactions of the public move out the way for Jin and gape at the very mangled up looking ambulance. It's almost a spiritual experience being in this position, having people responsibly move out of the way for you as you zip impossibly fast through red lights and traffic. "How's the patient doing?" you turn and ask Jimin, who had been watching you the entire time. His face pale. "What’s his vitals looking like?" "What?" Jimin shakes his head, forcing himself back into reality. "Um, I haven't checked. Hold on." You watch his heart monitor, the vital sign of life beat after beat after beat. You frown at a particular beat as it moves. "His hearts not looking too good," you point out. "It's not often but his hearts skipping a couple beats." "After everything, I would expect that too. We're just lucky he hasn't got a serious cardiac illness otherwise, he's fucked." Jimin says, shifting beside you. You watch him try to breathe. It was an insidious reminder of your responsibility to save this man. He was dangling by threads, he was so close to death. You look away from the numbers on his screen. You stare at your soot covered hands. That could’ve been you. “Seokjin,” you shout, “How far away are we from Seoul Hearts?” “A couple of minutes,” he shouts back at you, “You don’t need to shout at me you know!”

“I can’t hear anything well,” you say, pointing to your ear and the dried blood around it. “I think the blast burst my right eardrum.” Irene laughs suddenly, smacking her thigh. “I hate to laugh but consider yourself lucky it was just that. When you ran back in, I didn’t think we’d see you again. Jimin ...he-” “I thought I lost you,” Jimin interrupts, not wanting to relive those moments of his life. “You’re stupid but you’re incredibly brave saving Jungkook like that. How did you even know he was in there?” “I had a feeling someone was still in there, that’s just it,” you nod, looking over to Jungkook. The boy looked frightened as hell. “He would’ve saved me too, that’s for sure.” Jungkook stays silent, eyes wide as he tenses his jaw. You watch him cradle his arm, was he hurt? Jimin looks at him, shaking his head. “She saved your life Jungkook, you could’ve died back there. Why do you consistently and constantly go against your superiors instructions? What is wrong with you- -I got locked in the drug room!” he shouts back at Jimin, “It locked behind me when Namjoon asked me to clear it, she only found me because I was screaming for my fucking life. You think I don’t already know that I could’ve died back there, I know okay! I know it very well. I called my parents while I was holding a vial of fucking ketamine, I apologised for being a shit, I told them that I was locked in a room and that I was going to die. You think I wanted to hear my mother cry?” “Jungkook,” Jimin musters, unsure what to say, “I’m sorry, I- “-I was going to swallow it, you know. With the first sign of fire, I was going to kill myself. My girlfriend ...all I could tell her was that I was sorry that I loved her… I could’ve died back there, I could’ve seriously died back there.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. "But you didn't because she ran back- -and saved my life." Jungkook finishes. “Oh shut up both of you,” Irene shouts, “Pick up your damn phone and tell your family, you didn’t die already. Who knows what they’re doing thinking you’re dead. Hell, if I loved you, I would be driving out here right now to try and get you out.” “Seokjin,” You ignore their discussion as you gaze back at your patient. “Are we close?” “I’m driving as fast as I can with my sirens on, Y/N,” he shouts back clearly agitated, “Just focus on monitoring your patient. And Jimin, shut up and please Irene, fucking deal with Jungkook’s arm instead of pissing him off. It looks bent as fuck from the rear-view mirror. The kid is obviously hurt psychologically and physically, stop being assholes and be compassionate.” “You’re hurt?” Irene gasps, her voice now dripping in sympathy. Her bloodied fingers reach out for him. He lets her tender touch explore the mangled arm from underneath his coat. “It’s broken. How did this happen?” You snort. “Besides the hospital blowing up and the waves that were emitted from the explosion travelling at a supersonic velocity straight through us, throwing us in the air with all that glass and onto hard concrete and debris?” “I fell on it,” he says, watching Irene open up the bag on the floor. She nods her head. “You hurt anywhere else?” He shakes his head, letting her dab the wounds on his face with saline and gauze. It’s quiet again as she works his wounds, there’s not much she can do with his arm trapped in his coat like that, he’s just going to have to wait. Irene hands Jungkook her phone to call his family before finishing up on his wounds.  Jungkook dabs her cheek with some gauze. Everyone was hurt in different ways but they were alive. 

The ambulance grows silent when Jungkook sends the group text to his parents and to his girlfriend. 

Jimin fusses over your knuckles, his mind on fire with residual grief and anger over your stupidity and bravery.  But you were okay. For now.

* * *  

Jungkook stares at the face of your patient.

He filters through the faces he knows, the patient’s he’s treated before leaning forward to look at his wrist band. “Oh it’s this guy, oh man, didn't think he'd come back,” he says, looking up at his cardiac monitor carefully, scrutinising every wave of his heart beats, “Y/N, are you aware that your patient has a past cardiac history?”

“Yes, angina pectoris,” You nod your head, pointing to his monitor as Jimin cleans your arms, “Are you worried about those PVC’s (heart skipping a beat) too? He's post motor vehicle accident, fucked himself up pretty bad. He needs surgery pretty much as soon as we get to Seoul Hearts.”

“Angina?” He frowns, prompting Irene to swap places with him beside the head of the patient. “He doesn’t have Angina, I have a photographic memory, I would’ve remembered that. He had an acute myocardial infarction a couple weeks ago and he hasn't been compliant with his medication-

-what!” you shout, interrupting him, commanding the attention of the truck as you dart your eyes into his. “This patient's had a heart attack before? That wasn’t in his medical files at all when he came in. That’s pretty fucking important information. Jimin,” you turn to the boy. “Did you get a history from the family?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Didn’t have time with the code. They still don't even know he's a patient.”

“I can see Seoul Hearts Hospital now, we’re about 2 minutes away.” Jin says, but you’re heart is racing hard against your ribs now. It’s like a dose of adrenaline and you suddenly feel so awake.

“If what I am thinking has happened, this patient probably crashed his car because he had chest pain. Irene,” your voice is shaky, everyone in the ambulance detects the urgency in your voice. You forget about the bomb. “Did you get any cardiac biomarkers from the bloods you took?”

“The ones that detect heart muscle death?” Her eyes widen as she tries to remember, clearly put on the spot as everyone looks at her. “Oh my god. I think so, like almost ...almost immediately but Dr. Namjoon came in before I got to ...I didn’t have time to check exactly.”

“What were they, do you remember? It’s okay, take your time. It’s important to remember which ones there were.”

She closes her eyes and Jungkook resets the vital monitor to get an accurate reading. “He’s hypotensive with ventricular dysrhythmia,” he says, printing the ECG out. He grabs the pen from his pocket as he reads the rhythm carefully. “Was it troponins T and I Irene? Do you remember a T?” She opens her eyes, pursing her lips at him. “I think it might’ve been but I don’t remember- -Y/N, his heart rate is 165, blood pressure is 80/40. I think he’s in cardiogenic shock,” Jimin cuts in. “Vitals are crashing.” "Good timing." you slap yourself. 

“Fuck the bloods. Holy fuck,” Jungkook circles a portion of the rhythm, spotting an ST-elevation in the electrocardiogram (heart attack), holding it up to you as Seokjin drives. “He’s having a fucking heart attack right now Y/N.” “What do we do?” Irene asks. You look back at his cardiac monitor seeing it clear as day now that the patient's heart rhythm goes from erratic to nothing. "HES ARRESTING," Jimin shouts, pulling you out of your gaze. "He’s going into cardiac arrest Seokjin!!“ “This can’t be fucking happening right now. Jimin, we need the defibrillator he needs defibrillation immediately. We need an epi?! Wheres the adrenaline?” You shout, unsure if you could jump straight onto the patient with the door open like that. It looked dangerous. “The ambulance isn’t stocked, there isn’t one in here,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You’re going to have to do chest compressions until we get there but fuck, it could be dangerous for you with the door open so be careful.” “I’ve got this,” You close your eyes. "I can save him." “Jimin, ambu bag, right now. Get on the resps." Without hesitation, you get out of your seat as Jin turns, to straddle the patient. Holding your arms straight, you press the heel of your palm on his lower sternum, compressing it in a steady rhythm with your interlocked hands, one on the other. You hear a couple cracks almost immediately. "Irene, are you sure we don’t have any adrenaline in that bag?” She tips the back out onto the seat looking for a little vial, it all flies out the ambulance anyway. “There’s no medication in here, so no we don’t.” Jimin gently squeezes the ambu bag twice. "We're nearly at the hospital, I can see it out the window now." “Beginning ...30 compressions to 2 breaths. Jimin watch me closely," you say, feeling your own heart rip through your ribcage. "Seokjin radio report change in status.”  “Will do,” he shouts, pulling down the radio to call it in. “Hi, this is Seokjin, incoming ambulance from Forest Lakes we have a cardiac arrest in progress in the back of our truck, prepare for defibrillation on arrival in less than a minute.”  “25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Resps!” Perspiration drips down your dirty face as you pause your chest compressions, turning to the two to the left of you. “Irene and Jungkook prepare to wheel me out of this ambulance and in to that fucking Emergency Department. No one is dying on my watch, not if I can help it.”

Jungkook and Irene look at each other as the ambulance comes to a halt outside the Emergency Department at Seoul Hearts Hospital. Turning off the engine, Jin runs around the truck, pulling down the ramp and grabbing the end of the stroller.

You can ear the screams of agony inside the Emergency Department from here as doctors rush in bright yellow aprons, blue gloves and white face masks towards your truck. 

“Let’s go, get out Irene and Jungkook,” Seokjin yells, pulling the stroller towards him and down the ramp with Jimin shuttling beside it. “Let’s move team! Keep doing compressions Y/N and hold on tight.” 

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #bangtan fanfics #bts v #bts medical #bts hosptial #taehyung #jimin #yoongi #angst #bts angst #bts fic #kpop icons #v fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #bts ffic #bts imagines #bts emergency

[hekate1308]

How Not To Parent

Drowley AU based on my own post - Dean’s and Crowley’s daughter got into trouble at school. Enjoy!

“She gets that from you, you know.“

Dean Winchester, somewhat irritated, turned to his husband. “I’d like to know why. The last time I checked, we both raised her –“

“She’s your biological daughter” Crowley said smoothly, “So she gets it from you.”

“I never blamed any of Gavin’s faults on you” Dean argued.

And God knew their eldest had not exactly sailed the waters of puberty smoothly.

“That may be, but he also never got us invited to someone else’s home to “clear the air”” Crowley spat.

Dean shook his head. “I know you don’t like it, but if you only ever ate with people you like, you’d only ever eat at home.”

“I fail to see how that would be a problem.”

He sighed. “Crowley...”

“I simply see no merit in us “clearing” anything up. This was clearly a fight between Emma and that bully Walt, so –“

“Stop it” Dean interrupted him.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently.

“You’re proud of her for pummelling him to the ground, I can tell.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”

“Not even a little bit? I can tell when you’re fibbing, you know.”

“I can tell when you’re fibbing” Dean mocked him, then sighed again before conceding, “Of course you’re right. Emma stood up for what she believed in, but that still doesn’t mean that she had a right to hit him. We have to deal with this.”

“I could show her how to handle her enemies without –“

“Oh no” Dean raised his hands to stop him, “You’re not showing her your techniques. Not yet, at least.”

“Why?”

“Because I want her to be able to handle them, not completely destroy her enemies and take their livelihoods.”

Crowley smirked.

“Sometimes I really wonder why I married you.”

His smile fell.

“I didn’t mean that, and you know it.”

And he hadn’t. Sam had asked him countless times if he really wanted to go through with it before the wedding (he and Crowley weren’t exactly the best of friends even now) and Dean had stood by his man each time. He wasn’t about to stop doing that.

Crowley still looked a little sad though, so he stepped up to him. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he began, reaching and trailing his tie with his right hand. “Make it up to you tonight?”

Crowley smiled. “I am counting on that, darling.”

Say one thing about him: As nasty as he could be to others, he was always easy to placate when it came to his loved ones.

“He was insulting Dottie Keenan, and she was this close to crying!” their fourteen-year-old exclaimed. “And there’s nothing worse than openly crying in school!” She hesitated. “Except maybe dying.”

“I am glad” Crowley drawled, “That you have your priorities in order”.

“Just as you taught me, Father.”

“I don’t think anyone’s priorities are in the right place at this very moment” Dean said firmly, knowing well that his husband’s greatest weakness was the tendency to go soft when either he or the kids tried their puppy dog eyes on him, and Emma was definitely using them now.

Little cheater.

“Emma, you can’t just walk around and punch bullies in the face. That’s just not how you do it.”

Crowley threw him a glance and Dean glared back; the last thing he needed was to him indeed starting to explain to Emma how to best ruin Walt’s life and look innocent.

Thankfully, he stayed silent.

“Actually I think...” Dean trailed off. He knew he should probably punish Emma, but how could he do that when she had been sticking up for another girl? There were so many bad people in the world, someone had to take them on.

He sighed. “Don’t do it again. And if anyone asks – especially Uncle Sam – you were dealt with most severely, young lady, do you hear?”

She grinned and skipped off to call Gavin, who was doing his first semester at Stanford. They’d probably end up laughing together over their dumb parents.

Dean wouldn’t have had them any other way.

“Look at this tacky window frames.”

“Crowley, not everyone has the money for designer ones” Dean reminded him.

Money had indeed been an issue between them in the beginning, and had more than once almost separated them. Dean had taken a while to realize that Crowley throwing expensive gifts at him was not meant to be condescending, but indeed him spoiling those he cared about at every opportunity.

“I am not talking about them being cheap, I am talking about them being tasteless.”

“Any chance you won’t be acting like this in front of Walt’s parents?”

“If they start badmouthing our daughter, no.”

Dean’s heart beat faster even as he knew that he probably shouldn’t encourage that line of thinking, but he would always be touched at Crowley’s devotion to his family. He took his hand and squeezed it. “Let’s do this.”

To say this was awkward would have been an understatement.

Mr. and Mrs. Irving lacked all understanding that their son’s behaviour might have had something to do with Emma’s attack.

“Our daughter” Dean tried again, “Has told us that Walt was... annoying a young lady she’s friends with, and she wouldn’t lie to us –“

“Are you sure there?” Mrs. Irving interrupted him. “Why wouldn’t she lie, since she was the offending party?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I do hope you have taken proper measures to ensure something like this won’t happen again” the woman dared to announced, “We’ve been thinking about making a complaint because the school didn’t act either.”

That was because everyone at school knew Wart Irving to be an unlikeable bully, but Dean had to word his answer differently.

“The school investigated the incident, and it is procedure in such cases that when it is found –“

“Pardon, but why would you know anything about the procedures involved in such matters?” Mr. Irving asked and studied him with a contemptuous expression on his face.

Really? Not only did they have to raise their son like this, but now they had to be elitists too? Dean was working his usual t-shirt and jeans get-up he put on once he came home for the evening, since he’d decided he might as well get this over with in the clothes he felt most comfortable in.

Crowley, of course, always wore a suit. Dean had only got him to wear something casual on a few memorable occasions.

“I’m a teacher myself” he said.

He was used to people reacting with surprise; apparently no one expected someone looking like him to want to educate kids.

By now, he’d stopped feeling resentful about it.

His husband, he remembered a little too late, had not. Crowley not only seemed to think that Dean was more than entitled to be treated with respect by each and every member of the human race, but also to consider any criticism of his husband as a criticism of himself.

“How could they possibly think” he’d fumed one day after dressing down a rather impertinent waiter, “That I would take anything but the best?”

But then, he’d always been a romantic at heart, even though he pretended not to be. Dean was rather sure his wedding ring hadn’t left his finger since he put it there.

And so, the inevitable happened.

“I do find it fascinating that you cannot manage to explain to your son that harassing others is a bad thing, but you do find the time to judge my husband for not being dressed the way you think teachers should be.”

“It’s not about his profession, it’s about self respect.”

And that, thankfully, was when Mrs. Irving did the right thing for the first time that evening and hastily said, “Dinner was ready.”

Dean guessed she saw murder in Crowley’s eyes and takes his hand as they are being led to the table. He throws him a glance that could be considered apologetic – if Dean didn’t know him that well. It will have to be enough.

Dinner was cooked well enough, he supposed, although it had nothing against his burgers (if he said so himself). Mr. and Mrs. Irving followed the age-old rule that nothing bad should be discussed at table, and he was glad to make some stilted small talk about the school he himself worked at, Gavin’s progress, and Crowley’s business.

As to Crowley himself, the stoic silence he maintained was probably for the best. He could take just about any indignity when it was directed towards himself – otherwise he’d hardly have managed to build up his own firm from ground up – but when it came to his family...

Afterwards, they were led back to the living room while both Irvings disappeared to get them drinks.

For about a minute, they sat next to each other on the couch, completely silent; then Dean couldn’t help it anymore.

He began to chuckle.

Crowley grinned. “I will say this, they are more perceptive than some of my erstwhile business partners.”

“You were pretty obvious. Did you have to look at him like you wanted to stab him?”

“I did.”

“Crowley –“

“I will try not to glare at them. Happy?”

It was an almost heroic act, so Dean acquiesced.

When they finally came back with glasses of red wine for each of them – Dean sighed internally because if there was one other thing that could raise Crowley’s hackles, it was serving him bad wine – he decided to try and broach the subject again.

“Look, I am sorry Emma punched Walt” he began carefully. “And we have explained to her that she should refrain from such techniques in the future when she wants to help someone. But I still feel that Walt’s behaviour needs to be addressed as well.”

“I don’t –“ Mr. Irving began, but stopped suddenly. Dean had no idea why until Crowley took his hand and he glanced at his husband to see him smile at the others – in that threatening, I-am-going-to-kill-you-for-this-later way he had during company meetings.

Quite frankly, he was glad they weren’t sitting at the table anymore so no knives where in reach.

Mr. Irving swallowed and Dean told himself that he had no right to find Crowley’s behaviour sexy in front of the parents of the child their daughter had hit.

“I know you don’t think so, Mr. Irving, but it might be a good idea to think about it again before we sue you.”

“Sue us? Why?”

“For starters, for the emotional damage done to our daughter –“

“She punched our son!”

“Oh yes” Crowley said, leaning forward, still that unsettling smile on his lips. “She did. But guess what. That doesn’t mean a thing when I am after someone. And I should warn you that my brother-in-law is one of the best lawyers in the State. Not only would I win, but I’d take most of your savings and this house, while we’re at it.”

He stood up, pulling Dean up as well. “I think that cleared everything up, then. Enjoy your evening.”

“That was a bit harsh” He said once they were on the street.

Crowley sighed. “Dean –“

“They were not that impolite –“

“That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

“UI don’t understand.”

“Did you notice something about the house?”

“Can you be more specific –“ Dean was about to complain when he went through the rooms he had seen in his mind and realized. “Where are the family pictures? They have a kid.”

“Exactly.”

“But that doesn’t have to mean –“

“Dean, I have pictures from their ultrasounds to Gavin’s high school graduation on my office desk. I know what neglect can do to a young mind.”

Dean winced in sympathy as he remembered what Crowley had told him about his own childhood. “but we still don’t know –“

“I recognize a house without love. I’ve been living in the opposite for too long now.”

“You sap” he muttered.

“Your sap. And we better keep an eye on the situation, in case the kid needs help.”

“Fine” Dean mumbled, dragging him into a kiss, “But if we eventually have to get him out of there, you’re the one explaining to Emma why we did it.”

“It’s a deal, darling.”

#my writings #drowley #dean winchester #crowley #dean x crowley #parent!dean #parent!crowley #emma winchester

[jeremystrele]

The Show Must Go On, With Photographer Sarah Collins And Family

The Show Must Go On, With Photographer Sarah Collins And Family

Family

by Sally Tabart

Photographer and performer Sarah Collins and actor and TV writer Justin Kennedy, with their daughters Polly (6) and Daisy (1). Photo – Zoe Eley.

Sarah and Polly in their gorgeous garden. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Hanging out on a beautiful day in the garden. Photo – Zoe Eley.

The family live in Victoria’s Dandenong Ranges. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Baby Daisy was born in the height of lockdown in 2020. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Polly is a born entertainer! Photo – Zoe Eley.

‘Polly adores her little sister so much and Daisy thinks Polly is a total rockstar’, says Sarah. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Polly and Justin having a kick in the back yard. Photo – Zoe Eley.

The family love their life in the hills. Photo – Zoe Eley.

‘If we take Daisy out of the house she looks as though her mind is being constantly blown’, says Sarah. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Patting the chickens. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Justin and Polly. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Daisy exploring the garden. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Photo – Zoe Eley.

Polly getting her cowgirl on! Photo – Zoe Eley.

Polly exploring the garden. Photo – Zoe Eley.

Justin and Sarah, who first met while judging an improv comedy show! Photo – Zoe Eley.

Photographer and performer Sarah Collins and her husband, actor and TV writer Justin Kennedy, have one of the best ‘meet cute’ stories of all time.

There was a Hairhouse Warehouse commercial on air around 2006, and Sarah became inexplicably captivated with its starring character dubbed the ‘freaky bald guy’ (Justin!). ‘I was living by myself at the time, and if the ad came on and I was in another room, I would literally race through my apartment to get to the TV’ Sarah recalls. ‘I thought the freaky bald guy was the funniest person I’d ever seen in my life. I would think about him constantly.’

In a completely random coincidence, a year later the pair ended up judging an improv comedy TV show together (although she didn’t clock him then) and randomly bumping into each other at a party shortly after. It wasn’t until they eventually went on a date that Sarah figured out that her new beau Justin was, in fact, the ‘freaky bald guy’ from the Hairhouse Warehouse commercial she had been so obsessed with! And the rest, as they say, is history.

Sarah and Justin are now married and have two daughters – Polly (6) and Daisy (1). Daisy was born during the height of lockdown in 2020, and Polly has experienced her first year of schooling almost completely through a screen. They’ve been through the full spectrum of pandemic parenting highs and lows.

But despite all the scary stuff,  Sarah, Justin and their two girls are making it work, mostly by making each other laugh. This is a family of born performers – and after all, the show must go on!

hey Sarah! Your second baby, Daisy, was born during the pandemic. What has her first year been like?

Sarah: Well, it’s basically been a massive sociological experiment. I think all babies born in the lockdowns need to be studied. Will they have better attachment because the parent-child dyad has been unbroken for the better part of two years? Will they have more anxiety? Less? It’s so fascinating.

For the most part it’s been hugely positive. No one ever came up to me in the grocery store asking to rub my pregnant belly. I got very little unsolicited advice from strangers.

At the hospital, all the midwives were saying there were better breastfeeding rates because parents weren’t trying to navigate loads of family members coming in to see the baby. They were saying it had been so positive to the experience new parents were having.

If we take Daisy out of the house she looks as though her mind is being constantly blown. People comment on it. She looks at other humans like they’re the biggest novelty because she’s very rarely seen ones other than us.

In lockdown I’ve had no in-person family support or babysitting, but because Justin has been home this entire time I’ve felt so supported. When we had Polly he was head writer of The Project so he would spend the morning with Polly but not be home until 8.30pm. He worked Sundays too. He was such an attentive dad when he was home, but he was absent for a lot of milestones. With Daisy, because he’s working from home, I’ve been able to call out to him to come see when she crawled for the first time or started waving.

Polly and Daisy are around 6 years apart. What does she think of Daisy?

They are nearly 6 years apart and it has been an amazing age gap for us. There is no jealousy because they have literally nothing in common. Polly adores her little sister so much and Daisy thinks Polly is a total rockstar.

It took us 2.5 years to have Daisy and we nearly gave up trying because we felt the age gap was getting so large. Now I cannot believe how much of a blessing it’s been. Daisy has kept Polly engaged all lockdown with her development, and Polly adores reading and singing to Daisy and making her laugh. They’re such sweet little buddies.

What kind of kid is Polly? How has everything that has gone down over the last couple of years affected her?

Wow. That is a huge question.

Polly is like a supernova. By the time she was two she was already the most interesting person I’d ever met. She was that kid freaking out the the educators at daycare with her oracle insights. She has an immense inner world and seems to know things long before she logically should.

In a five minute period she’ll ask questions about anything from Harriet Tubman and slavery, to Marie Antoinette and the Boston Tea Party. She’s morbidly into celebrity deaths and constantly gets me to check how various people she’s interested in have died.

At times it’s hard to believe she’s 6. She calls BS on so much stuff adults say and do and doesn’t suffer fools. She’s both totally cynical and yet spent most of 2020 pretending to be a horse. You can’t argue with her. If you tell her to go to bed she’ll just point blank tell you she’s a cowgirl and needs to stay up late to stargaze. We’ve learned you can’t easily negotiate with cowgirls.

This also means she can be highly anxious and her brain is so busy she can get really overwhelmed. She started having nightmares after Daisy was born that were so debilitating she couldn’t go anywhere in the house without us. She was so worried something would happen to Daisy. It was both the most heartwarming and horrendous thing to witness as a parent.

How has homeschooling gone for you guys?

Teaching Polly through the pandemic has been tricky to navigate, because she absolutely loathes learning through the screen. During term three it was getting progressively harder to hold her attention and I was pleading with her to at least give her teachers some respect and honour the work and time they were putting in, but she would sit in front of the screen for five minutes then walk away.

Then I had this big realisation: She is learning all by herself constantly. She’s such a good learner! She might be walking away from the screen, but then she’s asking about the Great Fire of London and researching how Harry Houdini died – who cares if she hates subitising?!

We’re just letting her do her thing and watching on in awe and fascination for the most part, with support where she needs it.

You’ve talked a little on social media about how the Pandemic has really affected your household financially. Things got a little scary for you guys last year, with your incomes so greatly impacted. Can you tell us a little about that?

It was an absolute perfect storm.

I discovered I was pregnant in early January 2020, right as this thing called Coronavirus was in its infancy. Because of morning sickness I had to stop the majority of my photography work earlier than expected. I had started up a pretty successful Airbnb that we ran out of our home, but once things started ramping up with the virus, we cancelled all our upcoming reservations. At the time everyone was quite shocked because they didn’t think it was that serious.

Of course we know what happened then… we never reopened and I never went back to work.

Once the Government assistance packages kicked in, I wasn’t eligible for Job Keeper and wasn’t able to do Job Seeker because I was so ill, but also worried about getting the virus while pregnant. Then, despite the fact that you pay tax, Airbnb’s don’t count as real work, so I wasn’t able to claim for that. My days turned into being a full time sick, tired, pregnant lady/mum/kinder educator to Polly.

In 2020, the filming schedules for Justin’s work changed and he had a 6 month gap between shows which had never happened before. We lived off our savings and he began to re-skill, teaching himself how to do SEO work. He received Job Seeker for a short while too, but it was barely enough to make a dent in our outgoings. We began realising things were only going to get worse, and would most likely have to sell the house. We were looking to possibly move back to Toowoomba (my hometown) until things calmed down, or renting in Melbourne for a while.

Once Daisy was born we thought we could get the parental leave payment, but her birth certificate didn’t arrive for 8 months (the Registry of Births Deaths and Marriages closed its offices completely throughout the pandemic) and so that was another stress. Our parenting payment finally came through last week after 12 long months of waiting!

Despite everything though, we feel genuinely lucky because despite huge pockets where neither of us was working, we were able to just scrape by (some days by the skin of our teeth).

Another thing you speak about a lot is the ongoing challenges for the entertainment industry as a result of the pandemic. Can you explain a little more about this impact, and how it makes you feel as both a part of this community, and also as a parent?

Well, you know that old adage about parents not wanting their kids to go into performing arts? For the first time in my life, that is finally making sense.

Seeing other friends rehearse show after show and have them literally all close before they’d even opened was, and still is, completely shocking and heartbreaking.

There is no assistance on offer to the smaller productions and artists in general, but shockingly who knows how many of our seasoned artists Australia will lose because of this? And who is to say that when we finally do get to go back that it will even be sustainable? The insurance will be an absolute nightmare. At the other end of the scale, how many school leavers will choose not to pursue performing arts, because… why would you? HOW could you?

I would love to say the future looks bright, but there is a cost to all of this. As a parent I feel so deeply sad at the cultural cost to our children as they grow up without seeing their experiences reflected back at them.

And I’m just so sad for any kid who had hoped to go to performing arts school and will be robbed of the opportunity to be a cherry blossom in a rehearsal room for three hours a day like I did. Those were really good days. And really good things come out of pretending to be a cherry blossom.

What brings you joy, and what are you hopeful for?

Our beautiful hills life brings me so much joy. The trees, the fresh air, the parrots and cockatoos. Justin and I are also loving seeing what fun things Daisy finds to put on her head. Today it was undies, followed by pants then a Christmas ornament. 

Honestly the next generation gives us so much hope. Have you met them? They’re awesome.

Kallista in the early springtime. Photo – Zoe Eley.

FAMILY FAVOURITES

Family outing?

We love love love visiting shops in our incredible hills community. Nat at The Patch Store, Josephine who runs Kallista Cellars, Mirakye at Epoche and Jo at Clementine By Design. All of them have known our children from birth, and they are the aunties to so many children and families in our community.

Restaurant or cafe?

Bam Bam Italian – it’s the favourite restaurant of every child in the hills. 

Go-to album or playlist?

Because Polly chooses the music so often (thanks Alexa) we’ve been stuck on a heavy rotation of Hamilton, Trolls 2, Vivo and Hamilton. 

Sunday ritual?

Now that picnics are allowed, we go and see Justin’s mum in a park on the cusp of both our 10km radiuses. After months of not seeing each other it’s something we will never take for granted again.

And we always get Pizza from Mad Raven in Kallista. Like, it’s a non-negotiable. We’ve eaten it every weekend for a decade haha. Best pizza in the world.

Follow along with Sarah’s family here and check out her beautiful photography work here! 

[mysticseasons]

2010: DiManno: Golden ice dancers joke about retirement rumours

TURIN, ITALY — The rumours of imminently twizzling off into a burnished golden sunset have been greatly exaggerated.

“Did you hear I’m retiring?” asks Scott Moir after coming off the ice at the practice rink. To which Tessa Virtue offers a lady-like snort.

Well, that’s the buzz, as reported in some quarters, as if the Olympic champions – aged 21 and 19 – are all done now, having already reached the pinnacle of success in their sport. Maybe, like American Evan Lysacek, they could parlay that medal d'or into a TV gig on Dancing With The Stars or their own reality show: Tessa & Scott – Ultimate Ice Dancing.

“I don’t think it would be fair for Tessa to do Dancing With The Stars,” Scott continues, with a faux pout. “I think I’m more made for radio myself.”

In a conference call with journalists last week, before leaving for the world figure skating championships, the young Canadian couple had tried to answer the what-next question honestly. Because fact is, they’ve not seriously turned their minds to the future, had hardly given it a thought beyond the immediate objective of bidding for their first global title here.

“It’s kind of a joke because we did everything we could to say that we don’t know what we’re doing and it still came out that everyone thought we were retiring,” says Moir.

Virtue: “It just seemed to be the one thing everyone jumped on.”

The divine duo has no serious intention of waving bye-bye to competition. But asking them to commit to Sochi four years hence, when they’ve barely worn the mantle of Olympic champions for three weeks, was a bit premature.

“It’s just not fair to each other if we announce that we’re skating because we haven’t talked about it,” explains Virtue of their reluctance to formally tee up another Games, only barely removed from Vancouver. “We’re still in our season and we still have this big event. It’s not the time for the two of us to sit down and make a four-year commitment. Neither of us is mentally ready.

“It’s more out of respect for each other. We want to get on the same page before we announce what our plans are.”

One-off shows and extended tours are on the short-term horizon after Turin, a schedule that will take them from the Maritimes to Japan, living out of suitcases and racking up some major bucks. “Absolutely, there’s a short window there to maximize the spotlight that was on not just us but figure skating and sports in general,” says Virtue of the post-Olympic glow. “Hopefully, after (worlds), we can make use of it and maybe while we’re on tour some other things will connect. The pressure will be off us so we can enjoy life and see what comes our way.”

Just don’t expect Scott & Tessa Go Hollywood. “We’re skaters,” Virtue reminds. “So we’re not going to pretend to be anything else.” Further: “We’re pretty private people. We’re kind of reserved.” Then she looks at her cut-up partner of some dozen years standing: “Well, maybe not you.”

They are reigning world silver medallists and want very much to ascend one step up the podium. And while they would have every right to take double gold from their skating this year and move on to the next phase in their lives, there is also the attraction of doing something memorable in their sport, establishing their place in the firmament of ice dancing along with Torvill & Dean.

“Our goals have nothing to do with placement,” says Moir. “We’ll know when our skating career is over by how we’ve progressed over the years and if we think we’ve got to a place where we couldn’t do any better – then it would be time to retire.”

For now, there are still programs to invent and tricks to devise that will knock the socks off judges. They’ve not yet pushed the edges of the blades to maximum athletic creativity. Following the whirlwind of Vancouver, Virtue and Moir returned to the sanity of their training base in Michigan, with the occasional bow and wave engagement. “The good thing about having this event (right after) is that we got to go back to a normal life,” says Moir. “One of the benefits of training in America is that we can go out and there isn’t that hype.”

Normalcy is a state of being they both covet, which is why Virtue will be resuming her university education soon – she’s majoring in psychology – and Moir expects he will do the same, though he’s undecided about what or where to study. No rush. Savour these moments and all that. Moir muses: “I think, when you look back, you’ll say, `Wow, those were great years. I wish we were still living them.’”

The conversation then turns, as it so often does, to just what gives between this young man and this young woman who claim no romantic attachment. After the Olympics, a Maclean'scolumnist wrote that they should just oblige the country and get it on already.

Moir, feigning ingenuousness: “We’re just talking about getting to second base, right?”

(x)

#an old read #Scott always there for the quotes lol #2010

[wind-in-the-weirwoods]

The Pack Survives

About 1800 words.  This shipfic takes place between S06E09 and S06E10.  I may write more but consider this a one-shot to be safe.  Beware spoilers.

Jon Snow lay in his bunk, staring into the wall.  A fire still crackled and popped behind him, casting shadows around the bare room. He’d learned long ago not to watch the flames when trying to sleep, instead to focus on the darkest patch of brickwork he could find.  Even so, he was restless in spite of the slate-gray mortared bricks filling his vision.

Jon was exhausted. Fighting and killing Bolton men days before had worn him down to where he could barely stand, much less ride a horse or direct the reclaiming and rebuilding of Winterfell.  Sansa had taken up those responsibilities while he recovered, for which he had been grateful.  It was just as well; the rightful Lady of Winterfell should be the one to lead those efforts, not Ned Stark’s bastard.

So here he lay, the small room quiet except for the hearth’s deliberations.  Jon wished he could sleep and frowned, stone-faced, at the difficulty such pursuit warranted.  They had joked at the Wall that men would sleep when they were dead.  In Jon’s experience, that was a lie.

A demure knocking interrupted the quiet.  Jon started beneath the furs piled on top of him and reflexively reached for the dragonglass dagger Sam had left him; Longclaw was out of reach, so he kept the crude blade at his bedside.  It was a better weapon for the tight confines of his quarters than the hand-and-a-half sword.

In better days, Jon would not keep any killing tools by his bedside.  But the faces of dead men were still too clear in his thoughts, and he’d been caught with his guard down before.

He lurched from bed and stumbled, but settled his weight and stalked to the door.  He unfastened the lock and drew it open, careful to stay clear of the gap.

Jon swallowed and asked the darkness, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” a woman’s voice answered, haltingly.  “Sansa.”

Jon’s brow furrowed and he opened the door a little wider.  “You haven’t got a lantern?”

“I don’t need it.  Not here.  Could I come in?”

Confused, he stood aside and gingerly placed the dagger on a shelf.  Sansa did not notice it as she strode inside, or at least pretended not to. Jon shut the door, set the lock, and turned.

There was no mistaking her in the light.  Sansa stood taller than him, auburn hair braided loosely and thrown over a shoulder. She had no lantern, but carried a clay pitcher with both hands.  Jon waited patiently for her to speak as she turned her eyes to him.

“I can’t sleep,” she said slowly, “not here.  Not yet.”

Jon nodded cautiously. He’d thought Sansa would need time to get comfortable in Winterfell again, after all she had endured here.  But he had good sense not to ask her about it, figuring she would mention the problem when she was ready.

“Neither can I,” Jon admitted.  He crossed the room, careful to step aside Sansa’s skirts, and stoked the fire. “Want it built back up?”

“I would.”

Sansa’s eyes were dull and her mouth set in a thin line, so Jon busied himself with reviving the hearth. “Set that pitcher on the desk, if you like.  What’s in it?”  He added a dried log to the fireplace but, unsatisfied with its progress, broke up a peat brick and tossed it into the coals.

Sansa stepped next to where he crouched by the fire and offered a cup.  “Mulled wine.  The kitchens are short on spices, but it’s passable.”

Jon politely tilted his cup back and savored it.  “Best I’ve had in years.”  Jon stood and surveyed the earthenware cup in contemplation.  “The Old Bear loved it, but never shared with me.  Guess he thought it was a perk of command.”

“The Old Bear?”

Suddenly aware that Sansa was still standing, Jon hurriedly moved the room’s lone stool from its place at his desk for her to sit by the fire.  He talked as he worked.

“Lord Commander Mormont. Lady Mormont’s grandfather.  He was Lord Commander before me, I was his steward.”

“His steward?” Sansa asked inquisitively, and for the first time Jon looked hard at her.  She wore the wolf-hide cloak that was twin to the one she’d gifted him over her nightgowns.  As always her face drew his attention and he tried not to stare, but for the moment her mask had slipped.  A thin dark eyebrow rose in surprise and her mouth quirked with the beginnings of a smile that threatened to reach her eyes.  “You served the Lord Commander his meals?”

Jon smiled wanly in remembrance.  Hers was contagious.  “Aye, and fetched hot water for his bath.”  He gestured at the warming hearth.  “And kept a fire burning in his chambers, changed his sheets and blankets, and everything else the Lord Commander asked of me.”  Jon sunk to the floor near Sansa’s seat and stretched his legs out before the fire.

She drank and leaned forward, resting her free hand on her knee and cupping her chin.  Sansa’s blue eyes pierced into Jon over the rim of her cup. “That all seems beneath you.”

“I was a man of the Watch,” Jon explained, “I did my duty.  Then I died. Now I’m here.”

Sansa’s eyes flashed. “Is that how you got that?”  She traced the scar that crossed Jon’s eye with a finger drawn across her own brow.

“No, that was an eagle.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I were. Damned thing hurt.”

Sansa sipped her wine, not deigning to respond.  Minutes passed in silence before she spoke again.  “I hope your Old Bear had better wine than ale.”

Jon grinned at the memory of Sansa choking down the filth at Castle Black.  “I’m sure he did.”

“Was he kind to you?”

Jon thought before answering.  “He was patient.  I was too proud, then.  But he saved my life and I his, once.  Then I avenged him.  And he was kind, in his way,” Jon turned and gestured at his sword, which stood in its scabbard in a corner, ruby wolf-eyes glinting in the dark.  Sansa followed his gaze as he talked, “he gave me Longclaw. House Mormont’s Valyrian steel.”

“Do you think Lyanna wants it back?”

A pained expression crossed Jon’s face.  “I haven’t asked,” he sheepishly admitted.

Sansa gently shoved his shoulder.  “You’re terrible.”

“You’ve always said that,” Jon laughed, looking away and smiling.  “Remember when Arya and I threw snowballs at you?”

“Which time?”

“When Father rode off to White Harbor and Karhold with Robb, to show him the seas.”

Sansa nodded in recognition, teeth flashing in a brief grin.  “Jeyne and I had spent all morning practicing Southron braids, and you two just ruined our work.”  Her face stilled and darkened.  “Father thought the next Warden of the North should know the limits of his domain.”

“He did,” Jon said quietly.

Sansa still hadn’t moved her hand from his shoulder, and he found himself leaning into it.

Her voice was firm. “He would be proud of us.”  She squeezed his shoulder in punctuation.

Jon’s voice was guarded. “Have you been down to the crypts yet?”

“I haven’t.”

“I had fresh torches sent down this morning.  The Boltons let them burn out.”

“That’s good of you.”

Sansa straightened and held her cup with both hands, leaning again towards the fire.  They endured the awkward silence until it became comfortable again.

“You really should make an offer to Lyanna,” Sansa appealed.

Jon sighed.  “It’s on my list.”

“It’s a terrible dishonor, for a family to lose its Valyrian steel.  The Lannisters took ours and melted it down.”

That got Jon’s attention. “They destroyed Ice?”

“Tywin Lannister had it reforged,” Sansa said, “it was enough steel for two swords.  He gave one to Joffrey and its twin to the Kingslayer. Lady Brienne has one of them, now.”

“Maybe we should ask for it back.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “So I can wield it?”

“Maybe,” Jon replied quickly.  Sansa did not answer that so he turned to look at her again, catching her in a rare state of surprise.  He shrugged beneath her stare and explained, “Winter is here, and the enemy is marching. We’ll need every bit of Valyrian steel we’ve got.”

Sansa sniffed.  “The sword would be in better use in Brienne’s hands,” she paused to draw breath, then added evenly, “but if you think I should learn some skill at arms, you will teach me.”

It was Jon’s turn to be surprised.  “Me?”

“Yes,” Sansa answered confidently, “we have no master-at-arms, and you were always Ser Rodrick’s best student.  He said so.”

“When did he tell you that?”

“He visited mother’s sewing circle often.  She wanted to know how you boys’ education progressed.

“But as Lady of Winterfell,” Sansa sped on smoothly, not letting Jon respond, “you are a guest in my home.  You’ve taken my bread and salt, Jon, and I expect you’ll honor me.”

“Always.”  Jon drew his legs up and leaned on his knees, but did not meet her gaze.

Sansa took their empty cups and set them aside, then hung her cloak on an iron hook in the wall next to Jon’s.

She moved the stool and sat next to him on the floor, crossing her long legs.  He carefully turned to meet her eyes.

“Hey,” she said quietly, “we’re home.”  She took his hand in her own.

Sansa was convincing someone, but Jon knew it wasn’t him.  His fingers felt warm against hers, and initially he kept his locked tight together.  But she gently – insistently – threaded hers through his, and they sat there a while together, watching the sparks dance in the hearth.

Jon’s throat was drier than he’d felt in a lifetime, but he soldiered through it.  He stubbornly looked away from her.  “You can rest here tonight.  The bed is yours.”

Sansa’s grip tightened gratefully.  “I’d like that.”

“I’ll stay here by the fire, just give me one of the furs.”  His speech was hurried.

“You’ll be comfortable?”

Jon nodded, his mind in a cave beneath the Wall.  “I’ve stayed in worse.”

Sansa exhaled and stood, loosening her hold on him.  He didn’t move as she stepped to the bed and returned with a thick blanket, setting it around his shoulders.  She retired to the bed and reclined beneath its layered furs.  The sensations of it felt more like home than in her own quarters: the warmth where Jon had lain earlier, the soft, combed furs, and the faint scent of juniper berries.  This was their home.  There were Starks again in Winterfell.

She watched him sprawl before the fire beneath the blanket, a wolf’s shape in the dark. “Thank you, Jon. Good night.”

“Good night, Sansa. I’ll be here.”

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow x sansa stark #game of thrones #game of thrones spoilers #got spoilers #the king in the north #the queen in the north #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa fic #actuallyjonsa #jonsa is endgame #fic: the pack survives #my writing

[onceandfutureflyfisherman]

Thursday in TZ

I’ve been trying to put some photos on this blog but have been unsuccessful.  Internet access here is spotty.  Ironically, cell phone use here is rampant, despite the poverty - just one of many contrasts.

When I accepted Jeff’s request to accompany him to TZ, I had a very strong feeling I would be quickly sucked into doing something meaningful despite my tendency to avoid meaningful activity. Knowing that, I accepted my fate long before I arrived here.  It was only a question of what I would do exactly to help out Empower Tanzania.  Sure enough, I couldn’t resist weighing in when a problem relating to a particular program was mentioned, and no sooner did an opinion fall out of my mouth than I was drafted to find a solution.  Because I have some business acumen, having spent three decades, including almost two decades as a partner, in a major international accounting firm, I was tasked with helping to resolve some problems emerging from ET’s recent creation of a business that I’ll describe in a moment.

In Tanzania, as in most countries, I imagine, gender-based violence (GBV) occurs far too often and of course it is women who are the victims in almost all cases.  In the course of working with large groups of women in the Same district of TZ, ET was able to identify and assist dozens of these victims.  One of the ways ET determined it could help was to start a business to serve two purposes - create jobs and promote entrepreneurial opportunity for the GBV victims, provide products that support the health care and educational objectives of ET.  By the time I first heard about this several months ago, ET had already organized ten groups of ten women each to spearhead this effort and produce certain products, and by the time I arrived here this week, a substantial number of the products had been produced and were ready for sale.

Menstrual care is one of the basics of life for women that often manifests itself as a problem in rural TZ and most undeveloped parts of the world.  In TZ, if women have enough money to afford it, which often they do not, they use disposable sanitary napkins, just like women in the developed world.  But that’s a significant expense when they have so many other priorities.  The alternative is to use rags or paper or whatever is available, which entails a number of health hazards.  The difficulty that TZ girls have in dealing with this is perhaps the leading cause of why a high percentage of them drop out of school at a young age.

Several years ago, an organization in Uganda identified a cost-effective solution to this problem, which was to educate women about menstrual care and to show them how to make reusable, washable pads and liners.  I won’t get into the details here, but just trust me, they work well, and a kit produced using this model that lasts up to three years costs about the same as a three-month supply of disposable pads.  ET adopted this solution and taught the 100 GBV women how to make the kits.  ET provided initial funding for the equipment and the women recently began manufacture of these and a couple of other items.

Now the issues to be resolved, which we began to tackle today, involve how to begin selling the products and how they should be priced in order for the GBV women, and ultimately the Community Health Educators (CHEs) who will sell them, to be compensated at a level appropriate for their efforts.  Again, I don’t want to get into all the nitty-gritty, but suffice it to say that within one day’s time spent interacting with the CHEs and a couple of representatives of the GBVs, we made substantial progress toward creating a sales model and working out the pricing and compensation issues.  There is still some work to be done, and that’s something I’ll be focused on during the remainder of my visit, but there’s a clear path forward, and we expect that the GBV ladies will be paid very soon for the work they've already done, and that the products will be introduced to the villages that the CHEs serve within the next month or two.

I don’t want to say anything more about boring business matters right now - I’ve just tried to give you some context for a few observations I wish to share. I’ve led a thousand business meetings in my career, but it was definitely odd to sit down with six ladies dressed in bright robes and headdresses and to conduct the meeting primarily in Swahili with the aid of Eli Kisimbo, who served as interpreter.  By the time we were halfway through, it dawned on me that matters were moving along just like they did in all the other business meetings I’ve been in.  It made me smile.  At the conclusion of the meeting, the Tanzanians expressed their thanks in a unique way that they often do; they call this practice a name that sounds like “pasha-pasha,” and it involves rubbing their palms together, making a short series of claps or stomps or other noises, then brushing one hand rapidly across the other  while making a happy cry.

Later, after I gave a very brief synopsis of the meeting to the larger group of CHE’s, I was extremely honored to be serenaded with a song named with Swahili words that mean “stung by the bee of knowledge.” The women gathered around me singing that beautiful song together, swaying and ducking to a 5/4 rhythm, smiling and laughing.  It probably won’t surprise you if I say that the images of that performance will never melt from my memory.

I tried to begin writing this post earlier today when I had some idle time sitting in the back of the CHE class, but after I’d composed a paragraph or two, a little Maasai girl of about four or five approached my side and was looking at my laptop screen.  Since she seemed fascinated, I used my fingers to show her how, when I pressed a particular key, the corresponding letter would appear on the screen.  Then I carefully took one of her fingers, pressed it on a key, and showed her where her letter appeared.  Within minutes she was trying out various sequences of letters and numbers on her own, watching them manifest on the screen, and pretending to read them, quietly singing her interpretation of the “words.”  Then she grabbed another toddler who had just woken from a nap, sat the sleepy-eyed little guy down next to me and showed him how to type.  His approach wasn't quite as orderly as the girl’s - soon my writing was deleted. I happily closed the laptop when the kids finally lost interest.

Tomorrow some of us are driving farther out in the sticks to visit a Maasai village.  Hard to believe that it may be even more fascinating than what I’ve already encountered, but I'm told it will be.

#Tanzania #women's health