#[[ also i kind of want to return to my old formatting it fucking slaps hard

[jwicks]

[[ i honestly, genuinely, want john to move on from helen. not in the sense to forget her or to lose love for her, but to have peace in the idea that she didn't have to be the only one. Not only is it what she would've wanted ( now that I've found my peace, find yours ), but it could do so much good to heal him from the pain of losing her. one of the issues john has in grieving her is that he had to grieve alone. it's why she scheduled for daisy to be delivered to him. because she knew he needed someone to grieve with and to love in her absence; his love for her was so big that having nowhere to put it would ruin him ( and it has, like, look at the events of the films ). to quote doc ock for a moment: if you keep something as complicated as love stored up inside, it could make you sick ]]

[indianamoonshine]

scoundrel • ben solo x reader (part ii)

summary: (here’s a drabble that’s also formatted as headcanons? i’m not sure what i was doing but whatever.) you’re in a relationship with poe, but you’re not very happy with it. the history between you and ben solo comes back to slap you in the face when he returns to ajan kloss after a year. smuggler ben is a dick and you’re very into it.

time frame: post -tros

rating: this chapter is T.

☆ ben was rather intimidating. mostly because of his size and stature, but also because you couldn’t face the truth and that truth was...you still loved him.

☆ it’s a bitch. a real bitch. it’s a thought that hasn’t gone away in over a year. it’s a nagging itch that won’t fade from your skin. you were touch starved for him; for his hands, and the tangible way his eyes swept along your form. so when he saw you for the very first time in, oh so long, your breath evaporated from your lungs. you hoped it did from his too.

☆ you had an inkling that it did.

☆ commander klein, head of systems, had asked you to deliver a few documents to ben as casually as he could muster up. everyone knew the history between you and solo. everyone. but you couldn’t deny a command from a head officer - you begrudgingly complied.

☆ ben’s (naturally) in the hangar. it’s been two days since he’s been home and the two of you hadn’t even crossed paths - a blessing from the gods, perhaps.

☆ he’s fixing up his ship. the amidala. rey had taken the falcon and ran with it to wherever the hell she stowed away to and, for some reason, ben let her. it put a sour taste in your mouth; rey seemed to take everything of ben’s.

☆ ben is covered in grease and the smell of ship fluid is thick in your nostrils. your head spins - you’d definitely blame it on the chemicals.

☆ you’d definitely not blame it on the way ben wipes his brow with the hem of his shirt. the toned muscles against his torso were likeable to a fuckin’ legend’s. damn him. he was a legend. is a legend.

☆ what a dangerous piece of shit. and that piece of shit was the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on...and the most beautiful man who’d ever laid hands on you.

☆ oh gods. his forearms. the way his biceps tensed when he clenched the headboard every night while above you. every fuckin’ night. the tendons in his hands stretching as he grabbed a fistful of your breasts and squeezed hard but yet still so...

☆ your mouth was physically open, dissociation coming to self-realization when your jaw began to ache and your tongue darted out to lick your lips. you shook your head in an effort to sway the memory.

☆ when ben sees you he lights up, but tries not to make it too obvious. he throws the rag he’d been cleaning his hands with to the floor.

“hey,” he says, grinning. he walks towards you and the scent of his sweat makes your knees buckle.

his damn sweat.

☆ (someone once told you that you’d know you were in love when even their body odor was pleasant. you wish they were wrong.)

☆ the perspiration highlights the tautness of muscle in his arms. you look to the ground in an attempt to hide the blood spilling beneath your cheeks.

☆ “i was told to give you the flight manual on the new x-wings.” you feebly pass him a data pad.

☆ ben weighs the device in his hand. “aw, how kind of you...” he pauses. “but i don’t need it.”

he hands it back to you.

☆ your eyebrows thread together. stubborn bastard. “why not?”

“i can figure it out myself,” he tells you before turning back to his ship.

☆ ben lays upon a mechanic creeper and slides below the low end of the amidala. from underneath he calls out, “raymond!”

☆ “ben, i walked all the way across base to give you this. the least you can do is take it.”

he slides out from beneath the ship again. “you could’ve just sent it to me.”

“i can’t,” you say pointedly. “it’s encrypted.”

☆ ben takes a moment to watch you as though you’re a piece of art on display. he always made you feel that way; he always made you feel beautiful.

☆ “alright, petals.” he stands and crowds the space between you, palm upright so that you may give him the data pad.

☆ (the old wive’s tale...you know the one...about hands? it’s true. they’re massive. they dwarf yours.)

☆ you give it to him carefully as though not to touch his skin. if you did, it wouldn’t end well; it would end in fire.

☆ he places the data pad on a tool crate nearby and then asks, “do you still work in weapons?”

you cock an eyebrow. “why?”

he hesitates and turns his back. “i was just wondering how you met dameron.”

☆ here we go.

☆ “your mother introduced us, actually.”

it was true. leia had introduced you to poe, but it was doubtful she’d meant for him to ask you out. you wonder if she beats herself up for it.

“my mother?” he grimaces and mumbles under his breath. “ouch.”

you fold your arms across your chest. “why do you want to know?”

ben tosses a tool into the crate and it clatters loudly against durasteel.

“is that what you’ve been doing while i was gone?” he wonders, a cutting edge to his tone.

“it’s not his fault,” you recant.

ben chuckles a little; it’s sardonic. “what’s not his fault?”

you hesitate, watching as he takes a seat upon the creeper again. his eyes - dark and intense - stare into yours, awaiting an explanation.

“it’s not his fault that you left.”

☆ ben squares his jaw and is silent for a few moments before he mutters, “i didn’t leave.”

he turns back to the ship.

you scoff. “you were gone for a planetary year, ben.”

“i asked you to come with me!” his voice raises defensively. “we were still together when i went away.” he points his finger in your direction. “you were the one that left.”

ben rubs his hand against his face in exasperation. “for fuck’s sake, raymond! get chewie will ya?!” he calls again towards the ramp.

“chewie’s back?” you’re taken aback. you hadn’t heard that. “does that mean...she’s here?”

jealously. it licks at your insides.

ben says, “yeah” as nonchalantly as he can.

☆ you go to speak, lips parting and fists clenched, but he interrupts you.

“with that bullshit message you sent me...” he shakes his head, trying to busy his hands with gathering tools. “you didn’t even send me a holo-vid. you sent me a poor excuse of a message. i’m surprised you didn’t write it on fucking parchment.”

“maybe i should have!” you lash out. “would that have been romantic enough for you?!”

ben let’s out a brash “ha!”

“it was great timing, by the way,” he continues. “it’s like you have a sixth sense for that shit.”

you roll your eyes, shoulders tense. “what are you talking about?”

ben takes a moment to answer. he looks down at his hands. “i got shot that day. i almost didn’t make it.”

☆ oh.

☆ your eyes soften, all the rage that had been building up inside of you fizzling into steam.

suddenly none of what he said before mattered.

“why didn’t you tell me that?” you whisper.

ben avoids your eyes. “why would i want to cause myself more pain?” it doesn’t sound like a question - it sounds like a statement.

like something in his repertoire.

☆ you blink once or twice, unsure of what to say next. it’s been so long since the two of you fought. and it hadn’t gotten any less painful, either.

☆ there’s a natural instinct to go to him - you don’t fight it. you place a hand on his shoulder and hover over him almost protectively.

“ben, i’m sorry.”

he takes a deep breath and pretends like it doesn’t phase him. “yeah. it’s fine.”

there’s a beat.

“i’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty,” he mutters. “i’m sorry.”

you have to stop yourself from running your fingers through his hair. “no. it’s fine. i know.”

☆ later that night you receive a message on your datapad:

“meet me at our place.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #282

“daddy’s flown across the ocean / leaving just a memory / a snapshot in the family album / daddy, what’d you leave behind for me?”

What is your favorite type of dance? I like modern dances, especially those unusual or creepy with unique music. They’re the dances I look forward to watching in dance competitions. Do you find making scenes in public fun? Oh fuck no. Lemonade or pink lemonade? Pink is Supreme in so many ways. Where do you feel safest? At home, especially if Mom is here. Have you ever been to a gay pride parade? No, but I’d love to. Would you take your dream job if it were out of the country? No. I don’t want to move to Africa. What do you like to do when you're home alone? HAHA okay so I almost exclusively watch Unus Annus when Mom isn’t home because I will almost without a doubt cackle at least once, and… explaining why I’d be laughing would be WILD. UA is a fucking gift & I’mma miss it when it’s gone. What kind of music calms you down? My best bet is nostalgic music that I hold very close, like Ozzy. The soundtracks to SotC and SH2 are also magical when it comes to soothing me. Who did you last go to a park with? Uhhhh… probably not since I took family pictures for someone. Got some nice ones. Have you ever been robbed? Thankfully, no. Are you working, a student, both, or neither? Neither, and at nearly 25, it’s fucking humiliating. I’m thinking of appealing my disability case (you very rarely get it the first time), but of course self-doubt and anxiety just slaps me across the face again and again by asking, “Do you really need it?” That shit is agonizing. Very highly regarded people in my life agree that it’s realistic for me, at least at this moment, while I sort out my mental health. I don’t plan on being on it forever, fuck no. But right now I am, no matter what anyone says, a leech in my home. What's your favorite holiday? Christmas. I prefer Halloween’s “vibe,” of course, but I am much more excited and just thankful at Christmastime, especially now as an aunt with children who *understand* the holiday. Their joy and excitement is enough of a gift to me. It’s always really hard on Mom because she’s convinced she doesn’t do enough (she cries at least once like… every year), but my sisters and I always reassure her. It’s also a nice opportunity to see Dad and my stepmom, also with my sister’s family, and once again we get to see the kids so happy. But enough about them; what I love most about Christmas is I generally am able to put my troubles into perspective and take the time to remember I am, in the big picture, lucky to have what and who I do. And SNOW!!!!! If you can’t tell I’m stoked for Christmas. Do you prefer male or female friends? Both are great, but I’m more relaxed with female friends because of the whole “scared of men” ordeal. What's your favorite dessert? Biiiiihhhhh lemme get my hands on ice cream. Do you ever go on chatroulette or omegle? Noooo, I never did. That shit creeps me out. Besides, I’m shy. What kind of tea do you drink? None. Do you know anyone in a gang? Not to my knowledge… What color is your fridge? White. We decided to use the fridge already in this house versus our old one. Is your phone mostly on vibrate, silent, or ringtone? It’s just about always on vibrate. Do you own black sunglasses? I don’t own any sunglasses. Are you currently looking for a job? Fuck if I know. Not actively, but if something suitable magically popped up, I’d definitely pursue it. Do you watch MTV? No. Do you like to tell people who you like? Historically, I tend to keep my mouth shut about it to people who know that love interest unless explicitly asked, and even then, it depends on if I think they’ll keep their mouth shut. How often do you braid your hair? It’s too short to be braided. I very rarely had it braided beforehand. What color is your microwave? Black. Do you wash your face in the morning when you wake up? If I remember, especially if I’m groggy. Are you interested in the ocean? No more or no less than the average person. What's a big turn on for you? Keeping physical stuff outta this, I’m just such a fuckin sucker for being authentically romantic lmao. Have you ever thought about being a teacher? Heeeeeelllllll no. What's the first thing you do when you turn your computer on? Close out of the stuff that automatically pops up after it starts. Do you drink Gatorade? Ugh, ew, no. Do you hate when people replace 0's with O's? EX: 9:OO AM. Lol no, it’s honestly aesthetically pleasing in some formats. Did you hate riding the bus? Some of my best school memories are the long bus rides home w/ Jason so uh- Do you ever use XOXO in texts, letters etc..? Nah. Has anyone ever told you they liked you to your face? Yeah. Have you ever touched an elephant? No. Reading or writing? Writing. Do you have a childhood nickname? Mom called (and sometimes still does lakjdf;alkwe) me “Twinkie.” She gave sweets-oriented nicknames to all her kids. Have you ever had a Moon Pie? UGH they’re gross. I have this faint memory as a kid of a sweetheart babysitter my sisters and I had always offering us banana moon pies as a snack or dessert, idr. I’ve always hated anything banana-flavored. Has your car ever had troubles? N/A What's your birthstone? Amethyst. Would you join the navy? I want nothing to do with anything remotely related to war. What's your favorite board game? Battleship. Do you like chess? I’ve never played it nor even know the rules. If you’ve ever tried drugs or alcohol, what was your reason for first trying it? I was absolutely parched after a long, sweaty walk and was offered it to “try” by my mom without me knowing it was alcohol… the “WAIT NO STOP” from everyone was so quick lmao. It was just hard lemonade, so nothing super serious. Do you think you could ever have an abortion if you unexpectantly turned up pregnant right this second? I probably would. There is no fucking way I can emotionally handle carrying a baby right now. But I’d feel like absolute shit, even though I’m pro-choice. I just don’t want to picture myself in that situation. Is there a situation where you caved into peer pressure and regretted it? Probably. Although generally, I’m very resilient to peer pressure when it comes to something I really don’t want to do. What is your favorite video game console? Why? PS2, of course. I think the best games came from that era, many ahead of their time. Example, the original Shadow of the Colossus graphics massively pressured the limits of the software, and it still to this day blows me away. Sure, you have some lag in return, but the end result was just magnificent. I seriously, seriously, seriously hope I’m able to play the remake one day. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? I was. As of this minute, what is going through your mind? How I need a change and purpose in life so motherfucking badly. Where’s the last place you went? I was riding around with Mom, doing some errands. Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes. When was the last time you went apple picking? Never. Do you have a good relationship with your cousins? We don’t really… have a relationship. We don’t talk, we just kinda “exist” knowing we’re related. What was the last kids movie you saw? I watched some of Hotel Transylvania 3 with my niece and nephew. Do you know anyone who was born in Africa? When I was still in college, there was at least one guy in my class who was. Tutored me in math. Patience of a saint, haha. Have you ever been to an internet cafe? I actually have zero clue what that is. Has the year gone quickly for you so far? I’ve barely discerned 2018-2020, if I’m being honest with you. It’s just a lump of time where I’ve done jack-all. I mean yeah, school fits in there somewhere, but mentally I wasn’t in a wonderful place and haven’t been “happy” for a long time. My mental state has been the same for a few years. How many siblings does your significant other have? N/A Are you one of those people who can drink vodka straight? Oh, I hiiiighly doubt it. I loathe the taste of alcohol. Do you share a middle name with any of your friends? I legitimately have one of the most basic white bitch middle names in America, I know tons. How many pairs of jeans do you own? None. Do you know the name of the pharmacist at your local drug store? One, yes, considering Mom worked there before the cancer and is still in touch with this pharmacist. What flavor is your toothpaste? Mint. Are you sleepy right now? I think I’m permanently sleepy. Do you like crime films and tv shows? Not especially. Are you bitter about anything? Many things. What was the first online account you remember having? Neopets. My older sister helped me set it up when I was somewhere around eight. Do you use emojis? More than I used to. I’m gradually converting from emoticons to emojis, oof. What was the last type of soda you drank? Mountain Dew. Do you remember much from high school? I probably remember too much from high school, if I’m being honest. I remember far too much in far too much detail during the almost four years I dated Jason. Where would you go for the ultimate honeymoon? Probably the Bahamas, mostly for the pink beaches, aha. It would also be an incredible photography opportunity. Do you know anyone who has a strong accent that is hard to understand? My former best friend’s dad was so southern that yes, I could barely understand him whatsoever. If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you get? If you mean a fresh, new one and not a glow-up on the Mark tribute tat I’ve mentioned five thousand times, a tribute to Teddy featuring his portrait, pawprint, and the Powerwolf lyrics “and we’ll meet where the wild wolves have gone.” I’m going to be picky as a motherfucker about the design itself, though, so realistically it probably wouldn’t be tomorrow since I’d probably commission people to draw in varying styles. Ugh, I need that tattoo gun, my man. What was the last podcast you listened to? Do you listen to it regularly? That would be 4 Peens in a Pod (it’s… not a porn I swear, it’s Fischfuck and the boys lmao). I’m waaaaaaaaaaay behind on it, though. I watch so many different things now that I’m behind on like… everything I watch/listen to. Are you on a first-name basis with your boss? (or last boss if unemployed) I think I was with all of them? What was the last thing you wrote in a Word document? This survey. Because I combine short ones into Big Boys that I usually don’t finish in one go, I save my progress on it. Who do you miss and what do you miss about them? I miss a number of people and would rather not retrospect on them. What were the best and worst costumes you’ve ever worn? *shrug* Do you know anybody who is gay and married? I think so. What did you last take painkillers for? A headache. Are there any hobbies you want to get back into? Ugh. A whole fucking lot. I’ve thought quite a bit recently on how I miss video editing, but I just don’t have the motivation and dedication for that anymore. Have you ever shared a home with a friend? Yes. What’s the craziest or weirdest place you’ve ever slept? Nowhere that strange at all… Probably just like, the floor, but even then with blankets and stuff. What did you have for lunch today and who made it? I haven't had lunch yet. Are you allergic to anything? How did you find out? Pollen is pretty obvious, while serious discoloring and itching let me know I was allergic to silver. Have you ever been on a date with someone you met online? How was it? Yeah, I was visiting her for a couple weeks. It was nice. Who was the last very physically attractive person you saw? In ~real life~, probably some friend on Facebook. Do you know anyone who is deaf? We recently found out actually that my youngest niece is deaf in her left ear due to a massive buildup of fluid in it. I’m so ready to hear about her reaction to hearing normally once it’s taken care of. Has there ever been a person you regret ever being friends with? Probably at some point. “Ever” makes this question difficult. Do you think you have a good understanding on love? Yes. What do you think of your parent(s)? I love them both immensely while acknowledging their flaws. What celebrity do you think should of never become famous? I don’t care enough to think on this honestly haha. Did you ever get into the Twilight saga craze? What about the Harry Potter craze? Neither. What's your opinion about Katy Perry's song "I Kissed a Girl"? It was bold for its time, for sure. I’ve never minded it. Actually since coming out as bi I’ve known that this song has to be included in the recession dances of my wedding if my partner is female lmao. Do you believe in heaven? If so, what's it like? If not, why? I hope there’s some sort of total bliss after death if you’re deserving of such, but I don’t know. I definitely don’t know how I actually picture it. Even if there’s not, well, I’m assuming I just won’t exist anymore, so I wouldn’t be able to care anyway. Sometimes I hope that's the case. What email service do you use for your main (or only) email account? Hotmail. Did you ever believe in the Tooth Fairy? Yeah. I remember there was one time where “she” didn’t trade my tooth for munz and I was so mad lmao. Mom apparently forgot and slipped something under the pillow while I was getting ready for school. How I fell for it, who knows man, kids are wild. How do you feel about Taco Bell? I’m not a Mexican food fan, really, but I do love their cheese (with or without chicken) quite a bit. The cinnamon bite things are bomb as FUCK, too. I’m still mad tilted they took potato products off their menu tho because I used to destroy the fiesta potatoes. How often do you go on to YouTube? I’m like… always on it. Not focusing on it at all times, but something’s in the background. Back when Spongebob Squarepants was famous, were you interested in it? Well of course, man. What's your dream pet? Ugggghhhh a sunset morph ball python, probably. Buuut I’ve seen some over $2k with their rarity. More realistically, I really, really want a Brazilian Black tarantula. And an arctic morph hognose. I want a lot of pets. ;_; Who's been your favorite teacher growing up, and why? God, I have a lot, honestly. All things considered, the answer is probably Miss Tobey, who was my physical science teacher in high school. She’s an extremely close family friend now involved regularly in my family’s lives. She can be… difficult and says shit before thinking, but we love her nevertheless. What's your favorite fairy tale? Fuck outta here if you say Shrek isn’t one. Do you have a favorite pen? Uh, no… I barely ever use pens anyway. Has a child ever asked you a question you found difficult to answer? Yeah; it happens sometimes with my niece and nephew. Name five books you've read in the past year. I think I’ve read the first three Wings of Fire book within the same year, and I’m currently on the forth. Other than those, I started The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, but only got through the prologue I think before my focus shifted onto WoF. I still plan on reading it at some point, though. ^Are any of those books your favorite? No. The prequel to The Testaments, The Handmaid’s Tale, is very high up there, though. Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? Not at all. Once I read it once, I’m done. There are VERY few books I’ve reread, and most of those were children’s books from when I was little. Do you have a favorite talk show host? Don’t watch any. Which sounds the most refreshing: a hot shower or a cold one? I prefer hot showers unless I seeeeeriously need to cool down. Have you ever made your own soap? No. Can you sleep with socks on? UGH NO. When was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why? Ummm good question. I don’t know about *that* mad. Maybe when Ashley’s mother-in-law shared a massively homophobic article that condoned conversion therapy on Facebook that resulted in me removing her from my friends and RAGING to my mom about it. That was forever ago, though. Do you have a favorite candle brand? No. What is your opinion on taxidermy? I have… very mixed feelings. If the animal was hunted for sport, then it’s fuckin disgusting; you literally killed an animal with the intention to show off the fact you’re a goddamn murderer. On the other hand, taxidermy of naturally-deceased animals can be educational, and even… artistic sometimes? I don’t know. I can’t really pick one stance over the other. Would you ever want to own a body part in a jar? Actually, yes, particularly of fetal animals (that WERE NOT killed for the sake of displaying), but for the same reasons above, I’m not sure if I would *really* do it. They are incredibly interesting to me, more so than taxidermy probably, but yeah, I still question the morality of it. What is the worst thing you have ever done to your own hair? I don’t think I’ve ever really done a “bad” thing to my hair. What qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship? I’m very clingy and, in the beginning, very paranoid that you’re going to leave. Have any of your childhood habits carried over into adolescence/adulthood? I had AWFUL separation anxiety from my mom for a very long time as a kid, and I guess that evolved into my extreme inability to handle loss well, maybe. I’d say they’re at least somewhat related. What is the first band that comes to mind when I say 'dark'? Cradle of Filth popped up first. As far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers? Abuse, arrogance, and distrust probably top the list. Be honest: do looks really matter to you? Nah. It’s nice to be physically attracted to my partner, but it’s not a must. Have you ever done something simply because you were of age? No. Do you think it's worth it to tell someone you had feelings for them when you don't have them anymore? I mean, what’s the situation? Are you hanging out, talking about relationships casually? I’d say it’s fine then if it’s relevant to the conversation. I don’t think it’s worth going out of your way to tell someone you liked them if you don’t anymore, though. Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Y’know that ride at fairs where you go up really high on a circular thing with other people and then drop abruptly? That. I screamed like a mf lmao. I had to put a lot of effort into not yelling “SHIIIIIIIIIIIT” lmao. What's a food you love but don't get to eat very often? Stuff involving shrimp, ig. What's your favorite mythical being? Dragons! Have you ever felt a baby kick? I don’t think so, and I don’t want to, considering it’s fucking terrifying to me. I can’t even see a baby move without screaming and wanting to hurl. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Who the fuck knows… What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Said things I shouldn’t have. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? A lot. I can’t be bothered to go through all of them. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? I’m not sure. Do you feel that way around anyone now? I don’t think so. What is your main heritage? German or Irish, idr which is more prominent. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? “Bitches” by Hollywood Undead came to me first lmao. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? More than anything, watching inspirational YouTube videos. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? I suppose maybe my ears? I had tubes put in as a kid, I had an absolutely agonizing ear infection once, I had earwax adhered to my eardrum, and they've always been STUPID dry and flaky. Are you watching your weight? Like a hawk, but it doesn’t seem to matter anyway. :^) Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? Most of my closest friends I’ve met online. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? You’re asking the wroooong person, lol. I’ve just seen way too many… Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? Lots of things; drawings, some writing, photographs, video edits… What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? Just ketchup and mustard. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Sex. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? MEERKATS and MARK What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Tell me I’m weak. Or that my mental illnesses truly do make me unlovable. Just essentially do fucking not make me feel what Jason did. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Said some extremely mean and potentially scarring shit.

[arrcayde]

Friday, 24th of January and Saturday, 25th of January. Thessaloniki Concert Hall, Greece.

spam ahead (including a photo dump with my holiday pics xxxx), with my bad formatting too and spouting of random thoughts.

I am SO SORRY for how long this turned out, i am a rambly mess who doesn’t know how to edit.

Oh yeah, I also didn’t record anything from the show because I’m deathly afraid of ~~~~ushers~~~~

I will start with saying the instagram people for the production are so nice and will answer any question you have (from my experience. i asked them a LOT)

Had all the main leads on, Amy the Friday and Celinde the Saturday.

Amy Manford and Celinde Schoenmaker were both amazing as Christine, though they do seem to both be directed as being helpless for a good chunk of the show. It is really great in Point of No Return when they go full on ‘fuck it, lets give the Phantom what he wants and overwhelm him’, including a brutal chucking of a bowl of oranges across the stage. During Wishing and Wandering Child there were some moments were ummm the idea of suicide was floating there, with her getting close to the edge at the beginning of Wishing, and in Wandering where Christine is entranced by the Phantom and stands on the edge and teeters back (I was scared shitless). Also during Il Muto, both did a funny high pitched ‘hee-hee hee hee’ after getting poked in the bum by the Poor Fool himself, which made me laugh so hard.

Lara Martins was AMAZING as Carlotta, fainting with the sandbag dropping down during Think of Me, and slapping someone sweeping the floor for daring to be present near her after Prima Donna. (Also she had a weird fake dog which was weird but oh well)

Arvid Larsen as Andre was hamming it up every scene he was in and I LOVEDD it, always bowing down to Carlotta and (not sure if right word but) disciplining Firmin’s attitude. Also his Torero masquerade costume, had his trousers all the way up to his nips lol.

Ben Forster as the Phantom is.,,,, um,, well I guess Ramin had a big influence on him? He was a great singer, though very pop sounding. I think I read/saw somewhere on Instagram that he saw this production as deconstructing the ‘magic Phantom’ of the replica into a more emotional human character, and I do kind of see it but um,,, constant anguish is a bit much?? I was low-key hoping for an understudy to go on to see something a bit different the second night alongside Celinde.

Nadim as Raoul, he was there yes. I do like they decided to give him a bit more of a clear arc, with him checking himself out in the mirror during Little Lotte and then going up to beat up the Phantom in Wandering Child (though the Phantom had a KNIFE , a PHANTOM KNIFE). He did seem a little bit bored but I think that was part of the character at the beginning, like he was a playboy who hasn’t heard no or had a girl disappear on him.

There were the projections during the Overture and Ent’racte. They didn’t really add or detract from anything?

The dressing room mirror is tiny so thats fun.

Masquerade was amazing, I loved the turntable where Christine and some of the ensemble act like a music box (and the ending where there is the call back to that with Old Raoul). The mirrors weren’t there but I actually loved it with just the columns, it made the room feel expansive and not as ‘restricting’ as the brick wall on the inside of the stair-drum-turntable thingy (I will get to that) which was in the background of a lot of scenes. Costumes were great, I loved the way the costumes were translated into a more simplified colour palette, it was BEAUTIFUL.

Loved the rooftop in general, especially with the snow.

The Don Juan Triumphant set was umm a bit bare, and the sitzprobe for it was good with the ensemble being scared into singing, rather than possessed (alongside their ‘Don Juan Triumpher’ sheet music!).

They seemed to love throwing stuff from above, with what looks like random bits of dandruff coming down whenever the Phantom is supposed to be near (I think??? or they just cant control the snow??). The rose petals (with the beautiful rose covered curtain) in Prima Donna was great, as was the snow in Wishing. The confetti bombs in Masquerade was good but um a bit much and then its just on the stage for the rest of the show hmmm.

The stairs, I am conflicted on. I think its great that there’s another setpiece for some bits (like Why Have You Brought Us Here, and Journey to the ‘Graveyard’ / Rooftop), but the steps have the brick texture, so when used to go into the Phantom’s lair and the rooftop, it can be a bit weird. It isn’t like the black box travelator where it is left up to you to decide what it is, its visually a decrepid brick wall so you see the same thing for going up and down in the Opera House (do I make sense here, jesus my brain is fried). The inside of the stairs is a grey brick wall, which turns out to be the background for the lair, the rooftop and Christine’s dressing room so I do get a bit more sick of it.

The Curtain was loud, and the chandelier um,.,,,, made a noise and lowered slowly.

The audio was a bit off sometimes: you could tell the title song may have been pre-recorded, that the ensemble are in a separate room during ‘Track down this murderer’,, and that the audio is bouncing off the Phantoms mask during ‘Why so Silent?’.

LOVED the costumes of the production, the more limited colours (except in Hannibal) worked well though sometimes could look a little bit too drab and grey, like really old instagram posts from 2012 that we used to put a lot of filters on and make look all grey and vintage (I am beyond guilty of this)

Thessaloniki has some nice museums, I’ve only been Greece once before but didn’t see much of the historical stuff, so it was nice to see.

[madokasoratsugu]

meta on what happens to each character post ‘moonlight is but reflected sun’ . this is as close as it’s gonna get for an actual epilogue to the fic, i hope you enjoy!  as usual, read on ao3 if possible for formatting - bullet points aren’t too bad for this meta, but i personally think the ao3 version’s format might flow better.

read on ao3

Fritz still doesn't get along with most of Marchen for the rest of the rebellion (overthrowing Hildyr, taking back the castle and rescuing Genaro). an enemy of an enemy is a friend, but knowing he nearly killed at least two people present is. hard to get over instantly. Fritz understands, Lucette doesn’t. Fritz jokes about how Lucette may run off again because of this, covers his mouth and looks the most surprised by his own words. he is more like the wolf than he’s starting to realise. maybe this is a good thing. 

Parfait and Delora are the ones who accept Fritz the fastest. Parfait does so the moment he steps into Marchen, Delora the moment he steps out toward the castle. there is a special kind of courage to be recognised (and feared) in a man who willingly throws himself back into the jaws of death just to get the truth from the one he loves, the very one who condemned him

“You’ve done well.” Parfait tells him, soft like no parent has spoken to him in years. “You’ve had courage, and kindness. Not many would have had that strength. Thank you.” Parfait never says a name. she knows that that is not important. and then she hugs him, and hugs him tighter as he lets out an aching sob into her chest.

Parfair still dies to stop Hildyr, magic is still lost. but with Mythros' influence over Varg gone, Delora lives. the gate scene pretty much never happens; once Hildyr flings the first spell at Lucette, Delora has thrown her shield up, thrown herself in the role of Lucette’s mother, and she’s not fucking budging. no one is taking another child from her again.

Alcaster is long dead at the hands of Hildyr by the time they storm the castle. Mythros is caught for questioning, but escapes during the post-revolution chaos/celebration. Fritz never gets his answers this time, either. maybe it’s better this way. Fritz certainly doesn’t think so.

a rescue for Lucette was attempted, but quickly aborted when Lucette was found missing. two is enough to cover each other's sixes, so Garlan doesn't die. but he does get severely injured, especially at the knee that puts an end to his career as a knight. its ok though, because as Karma puts it: "He can start a new career as Jurien's house husband instead". and he does. as well as become one of Lucette's newest minister of defense. 

Fritz becomes Prince Consort cum Head Knight, Lucette the Queen. compared to facing your worst fears and standing up to a long loved parent, these responsibilities almost seems like taking candy from a baby.

until Fritz starts taking etiquette classes and attends rigorous prince training. he’s never wanted to die more. Lucette laughs, but helps him out with his academics anyway. they have so many dance lessons together in empty ballrooms and corners of the garden, even though both are already excellent dancers. but most days it is Rod and Emelaigne who guide him, and it’s through many an etiquette class that they grow closer. the trio def eventually all see each other like siblings.

Emelaigne tells him one day when they’re rearranging knives that she doesn’t blame or fear him. it’s a stupid decision, Fritz subtly hints at when he says thank you. Emelaigne smiles at him and says i know, when she puts the butter knife next to his pinky finger. Emelaigne smiles at him and says i trust you, when she lifts the steak knife and hands it to him to arrange next.

things are weird around Lucette and her step-siblings for a while. having a near death experience together caused by your fiance does that to people. but Lucette goes to town with Emelaigne more often now, though she sticks to the shadows with Rod. Lucette learns to bring a book while waiting for Emelaigne to finish conversations in shops, make small talk with Rod over such novels, with Emelaigne between shop shelves over everything and anything. it is easier work than Lucette imagined it to be, if such tasks that slowly turn into enjoyments, can be considered work at all.

“Does Rod like chocolate?” Lucette asks, absentminded as she stares at a flower shop. that is when Emelaigne knows, truly, that maybe at least one family has the hope of being rebuilt. 

“Cinnamon! He likes that flavour best!” “Then let’s go to the best bakery in town.” “Not the best baker?” “No, unless you have a craving for chocolate croissants.”

Fritz immediately clears Jurien and Garlan’s names with the Order of Caldria, and Jurien becomes co-head knight with Fritz. she takes care of the training and soldiers most days, while Fritz does paperwork and acts as the figurehead leader. most soldiers will never respect the two of them as much as they did Alcaster. most soldiers will also never know the things the two of them have sacrificed to protect all their lives, all the lives of those they treasure in town. 

Jurien and Fritz silently make peace with this with a shared bottle of whiskey under the moon. “Varg was a total dick.” Jurien abruptly says, bottle half empty. Fritz laughs. “Is that an indirect insult to your superior?” Jurien grins. “Yes.” Fritz laughs, again. it’s good to have friends.

among her immediate family, Ophelia expresses her joy for their union the most readily. she loves Lucette, but in the end she is still the one her father chose over Lucette. Lucette understands and forgives, but it is hard to forget. she asks Fritz if that makes her cruel. Fritz smiles sadly, and says no, it just makes you human.

Genaro doesn’t quite know what to do with himself or his daughter after everything. neither does Lucette, nor Fritz. it’s a weird situation when your fiance’s father was plotting to kill his former best friend, who also happens to be your father. it’s an even weirder situation when you learn that that father that nearly died may not have hated you for your entire life after all. it takes many years and many awkward conversations, but Lucette can at least see her father as someone to depend on now. as for seeing him as a father, and him her daughter - well. she’s lived without one for seventeen years. she’ll live another few decades without one. at least with her as nothing but his ward, his successor in line, he can look at her without flinching now. 

it’s all Lucette’s ever wanted, so she hooks her arm through Delora’s, and lets her mother lead her down the aisle instead.

Fritz is what makes Lucette happy. it’s all Genaro ever wanted, and so Genaro’s blessing is quick, and immense. happiness is something Genaro was unable to give Lucette, will never be able to exceed Fritz in giving. it is a secret he takes to his grave. this world’s cruel truth has hurt his daughter enough. 

Karma is the one who’s the most suspicious of Fritz for the longest time. he’s clashed swords with him, he knows murderous intent when he sees it. he may see him in a better light after fighting side by side to take down Hildyr and brainwashed soldiers, but some days he glances at Fritz, smells the metallic tinge that never leaves him and thinks blood, and doesn’t dare to think whose. trust is something to be earned. Fritz doesn’t earn Karma’s for years. 

it’s a good thing, Fritz tells Lucette after yet another argument she’s had with her redhead friend, it means he cares, that he wants to think the best of us - or, me, i guess. he doesn’t tell her some nights he still dreams of gilded cages and his mother, and Lucette. he tells her with a smile having doubts may save her life in the future and she slaps him. he tells her about her dreams then, and she kisses the cheek she slapped and cries because he won’t. it’s not a fairy tale romance, but it’s theirs, and Lucette reminds Fritz of that. Fritz nods, and sinks into her hug, and tells her about another childhood memory of his mother. maybe this time it’s a happy one. maybe it’s not. but it’s their romance, and this way he is letting go of his parents’, and that’s what counts.

“I don’t trust you.” Karma says. his voice carries in the wide training ground. “Doesn’t mean I don’t trust that you won’t protect her, or make her happy.” Fritz mirrors his gentle smile, and lifts his longsword. “My sentiments exactly.” Karma lifts a brow, his rapier, and strikes true.

Rumpel continues working on breaking his curse, and every time he returns to the palace, he comes back wiser. his words do not change, but they hold gravitas now, a sure assuredness behind every syllable. he was the first to look Fritz in the eye, after Parfait. he continues to do so, even after they’ve retaken the castle, even after seeing Fritz wielding a sword bloodied by innocents. his gaze is saddened, but he holds Fritz’s eye. Fritz is the one who looks away. he is more of a knight than he realised. maybe this is good.

when Rumpel returns, he always returns with advice and tea leaves for Lucette. Lucette takes both with an eye roll and a smile. he ruffles her hair, asks if she is alright and she always says, yes. he always sees through her, and tells her what she needs to hear - ‘tell him how you feel’, ‘then just kiss him, if you want to so much’, ‘be selfish with him’. often Lucette isn’t sure if Rumpel is advising her, or airing wishes left undone. but they always help, so she always thanks him, and gives advice of her own back, do not forget about yourself, and only once does Rumpel smile wrinkled, fingers curling around an old journal beneath the table. not anymore, he promises.

Waltz takes to Fritz after a while. it starts with both realising the other is someone also irrefutably screwed over by an adviser that slipped out of their grasp. it really starts when Waltz confides i should have broken her out, when Fritz replies so should i. shared regrets and trauma makes fast friends. Waltz understands Fritz in a way that no one else has, no one else will. there is darkness both wield with strength, command with ease and make bend to their will. it is a frightful thing to know you can do. it becomes less so when someone else kinder than you can do the same.

Lucette asks Fritz once, how he took to Waltz so easily. Fritz only smiles, and kisses her temple, says, ‘secret’, in lieu of ‘our mothers died because of us’, ‘the most vital moments of our lives were stolen from us by the same person’, ‘we would have given our lives for you in that tunnel if it meant you never had to see your mother and let her hurt you again.’. sometimes it is easier to lie. sometimes Lucette knows, so she just sighs, and tells him to pass on the message that they are both fools and she will not condone death. Fritz grins and asks how she will punish him if he is dead? Lucette deadpans necromancy, and Fritz laughs, kisses her again. he promises, swears to live for her (again). he is more like a prince than he realised. maybe this is a good thing. 

Waltz doesn’t tell Lucette about their history all at once. he asks Lucette once, if she remembers anything happy at all in her childhood. her eyes film over, and she says maybe, i can’t -. and her knees are buckling. repressed memories, enchanted amnesia, where does one draw the line between the two? Waltz doesn’t want to find out. all he does is wrap her in a hug, say you don’t have to remember and wish she did. eventually she will, but by then Waltz is in Brugantia and Karma is healing the wounds she would only have torn open wider. when they meet again and her once-bleeding wounds are scars like his is, they will laugh about poorly sewn dolls and the sweetness of sweets stolen from kitchens, and laugh more over their respective betrothed's horrible accents.

‘could have been’s are dangerous, Waltz tells her one night, with a knowing smile. ‘do not dwell on them, little star.’ black and velvet and two instead of one. thoughts Lucette brush aside as she brushes Fritz’s odd lock of black away from his face. she will remember, but she will not wonder. she kisses Fritz’s temple where the black tresses end, and sinks in the familiar smoky laugh that tumbles from him.

"What do you love about me?" Lucette asks, another night, the first one they spend together. everything feeling terribly new and odd, their fingers intertwined in the space between them, every other part kept to their separate halves of the bed. Fritz blinks, staring up at the canopy, thinks."How high can you count?"

“How do you love me?” Lucette asks, another night, curling into Fritz’s warmth. Fritz pulls her in closer, hums sleepily into the top of her head. “Deeply, and truly.” 

“Why do you love me?” Lucette asks, another night, curled into herself, back to Fritz. Fritz combs his hand through her long hair that pools around her and over the bed. slowly, he makes his way up to her roots, hand buried in auburn and thumb smoothing over the shell of her ear, her lashes blending into her flushed face. at the lack of resistance, Fritz moves closer, the crinkling of the sheets tangling around his legs the only indication he is moving at all. slides his other hand over the bed, softly shifting the folds, pausing next to her hip. fingertips barely grazing her tailbone as he slips his other hand lower to the nape of her neck; her breath hitches as he leans forward, fingertips tipping into the dent where her spine ends, tracing over her hipbone, her waist, her stomach. closes in, hand shifting down from her nape so his lips can take it’s place. “Because.” Fritz murmurs into her skin, as if trying to etch the words with breath alone. “I couldn’t have done anything else.” 

like a snare, his words draw her back in, away from then and back to them. an exhale leaves Lucette, her chest caving in as she relaxes into Fritz’s languid frame behind her. he is more like a hunter than he realised. maybe this is a good thing.

"I know - I know we’ve discussed this, and it’s pretty much already set in stone but -.” Laughter. “Will you marry me?”

“Of course. I - oh - Of course.”

their romance is not a fairy tale but it is, finally, theirs. and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

[writeyouin]

The Painter's Tale

Description: When a woman posing as a man is rewarded a wife, will she have what it takes to keep the act up or will her new bride find out her secret?

Chapter 1 -  A Dreadful Mistake

A/N - I just started watching The Handmaid’s Tale and love it so far so here’s a fanfic for y’all, though I don’t know all the terminology yet.

Warnings - While this chapter is pretty tame, it won’t be later so if you don’t want to get into themes of rape and cults, this isn’t for you.

Rating - M

Victor punched the wall hard enough to make a faint crack in the weak plaster, his hand throbbing from the hit. In one moment, his entire life had changed, spurring a chain of events that had quickly spiralled out of control. That moment had been only a few days earlier and Victor had thought himself to be lucky enough to have avoided any change in his menial life, but nobody was that lucky. On his unfortunate day, he like many others had seen a high-speed car coming towards an old man, and not just any old man; General Harkins, one of the highest ranking ‘Angels’ of the twisted society that now ruled after the collapse of the previous one. Victor knew who Harkins was when he tackled him to the floor, saving him from the rebel car; if he hadn't, he wouldn't have bothered saving the man.

Now, Victor really wished he hadn't saved the General, though with the amount of witnesses at the time, that hadn't really been an option; if Victor hadn't saved the General, he probably would have been executed. Though, if he was being honest, execution was looking pretty good.

Ignoring his aching knuckles, Victor looked to the floor of his humble shack, picking up the letter that had caused his outburst. He had to read it properly, to know who SHE would be. His entire life after the formation of Gilead had been designed to avoid this. He managed his life as a lowly painter and decorator, keeping to himself when he could and saying as little as possible when he couldn't. Was it a lonely life? Maybe, but lonely was better than dead, or worse. One might wonder why he'd chosen a career in painting when he knew he was capable of more, but the answer was obvious to him and him alone. A low career meant a low status, and a low status meant he wouldn't be assigned a wife, though that was a privilege to most men.

Well, so much for his mighty plan. The letter was clear as day. As a reward for his act of heroism, General Harkins had pulled a few strings to assign Victor a wife. That was where the problem lay. Sure, Victor would be assigned some infertile bitch, but even infertile bitches wanted sex. How long would could he possibly hold off on that option? Probably not long. Sex would be expected of him and women talked amongst themselves; his new wife would eventually let it slip that Victor hadn't touched her. In that supposed future, Victor would be tried as a gay man, and then it wouldn't be long before the court learned what he truly was; a woman in disguise. Of course, there was still a chance that Victor would be executed after that, but it was far more likely that the Eyes would torture her, and only after the heinous act, send her to be a handmaid.

Victor, or Victoria as she was previously known, couldn't let that happen; she would rather kill herself than become a breeding bitch for some stuffed shirt who probably couldn't get it up. Yet, as much as she was considering it, suicide wasn't the most appealing option yet; that was strictly a last resort. Thinking fast, Victor took the letter to her cramped tool shed where she kept a few neglected writing supplies. For somebody of her lowly station, even writing a letter was a dangerous task, but write she did.

 Governor Harkins,

 I am gratified by your overly generous letter and while you offer too much for my small act, I humbly accept, though I must be bold and ask of you a favour, even though it is not my place to do so.

You see, my father has forced it into me that a man should only be with one woman throughout their life, and while I couldn't agree more, I know I cannot be truly happy without a child of my own to teach the trade of home repair.

Just like our country needs fine men like you, it also needs strong young men to maintain it and do the lowly jobs.

With that in mind, I'd like to request that my new wife be fertile, so I do not have to commit an act of infidelity.

If you cannot send me a fertile wife, then I must decline your generous offer.

Please excuse me for stepping out of my station.

Yours faithfully,

Victor Wallace.

 Yes, the letter was an act likely to get Victor killed, but she had to send it anyway, knowing that one of three outcomes would occur once she did.

1 - She would be tried for her insolence and found out.

2 - General Harkins would take the offer of a wife away and nothing further would happen, other than a slap on the wrist.

3 - Somehow, against all odds, General Harkins would provide Victor with a fertile wife, but surely Victor wouldn't be that unlucky.

Anastasia wondered about the man she'd been chosen to marry; no handmaid had ever been married off as far as she was aware which made the situation all the stranger. At night, when the matrons were asleep, some of the other girls would talk and gush about how lucky Anastasia was to be rescued from the horrible fate that awaited them. Yet, Anastasia didn't feel lucky. Lucky would have been if her parents hadn't moved to America from Russia in the before times, if the before times had ever even existed; it all felt so long ago now. During the first purge when Gilead was forming, Anastasia's parents had been killed like most immigrants at the time. The only reason Anastasia had been spared was because she was young and fertile; everything Aunt Lydia said women should be. In fact, it was probably because Anastasia was a Russian immigrant that she'd been chosen to marry someone so low; after all, nobody wanted diverse genetics anymore, racist bastards.

Despite her lack of excitement, Anastasia listened to the other women jabber on about her betrothed. Apparently, he was the painter to the Red Centre that served to train all new handmaids; at least now she knew who to blame for the sparse environments of the place that tried to brainwash all fertile women. What she learned about 'Victor,' was that he didn't speak much, though that was probably to spare punishment to himself or the women. However, when he did speak, it was said that he only offered kind words. Anastasia didn't want kind words. Nor did she want to be married, or to be a handmaid, but when did women ever get what they wanted anymore?

Victor sat on the bottom step of the staircase, her hands clutched so tightly that the knuckles were white. Nobody would have guessed that the young 'man' was to be married by the end of the day, and to a handmaid no less, instead they would have probably thought that Victor was about to be sent to the gallows. Victor hadn't met her bride-to-be yet, but she was already afraid to marry the woman. All she knew about the handmaid in question was that her given name wasn't like the other handmaids. Instead, she'd been named Mary, which either meant that the Red Centre had given her that name after the beloved Virgin Mary, or the whore Mary Magdalen.

When ‘Mary’ arrived, they both had a few minutes alone together in 'the parlour' as ordered by the accompanying Aunt Lydia so they could familiarise themselves to one another; as if Victor's cramped living room could be called a parlour. Neither of the two spoke, both unsure of what was appropriate to say with the Aunt listening in from the other side of the door. Victor stared coolly at Mary, sizing her up as she did in return. Mary had dark brown hair under her habit, pale cracked lips, skin that put ivory to shame, but that all seemed fairly normal to Victor; what wasn't normal was the way Mary’s charcoal eyes held no fear, only contempt. Victor thought that all handmaids knew nothing but fear, clearly, she was mistaken. If Mary hated him as much as her eyes said, Victor couldn't tell her that she was a woman too, it was much too risky to hope that Mary would take pity and they could live as friends; Victor was screwed.

Mary, or Anastasia as she'd previously been known, loathed the man before her, not that Victor was much of a man by the look of him. He was smaller than her own five foot four, reaching only her shoulders when stood, he had carrot-red hair cut messily short, a light spattering of freckles on lightly sunburnt skin, and pale green eyes, one of which was lazy; a poor-specimen of a man indeed.

"I uh-" Victor cleared her throat, slipping easily into the deeper voice she'd crafted at the beginning of her deception, "It's nice to meet you Mary. Uh, Under His Eye."

Mary had to fight to keep her lip from curling. "Under His Eye," She greeted neutrally.

Victor was surprised by Mary's heavy Russian accent; in any other circumstance it would have been beautiful in its uniqueness. "So, uh, is there anything you'd like to know about me?"

"You are to be my husband, under God's name that is all I need to know."

"Right, I-"

Aunt Lydia walked in. "That's enough time," She said forcefully. "Now we must begin the ceremony."

To call it a ceremony was overly generous. Since Victor had little status, the wedding simply consisted of the exchanging of the new vows stating that Mary would serve Victor in all 'his' wishes, and then a piece of paper was signed, noting their marriage for the public record. That surprised Victor, she didn't think there were any public records anymore.

After that and a reading from the bible that neither Victor or Mary really listened to, they were left alone together. The night was late by that point and Mary awaited the moment when Victor would take her to the bedroom to fuck. Victor felt the seething hatred filling the room again; it was claustrophobic.

In an attempt to break the rising tension, Victor spoke plainly, "What's your name?"

"My name is Mary."

"No, not your given name, your real name, from before."

Mary frowned. Was Victor testing her? She couldn't tell. "It's not important."

"Please."

The sincerity in his voice made Mary reconsider. Perhaps Victor wasn't as strict as everyone else, it would be better to be married to someone like that, someone without a stick up their ass, "Anastasia."

"It sounds nice. I um- It's late, we should go to bed."

Anastasia went back to her steely glare; so, he was just the same as every other man. Fine. She was at least prepared for that. She followed Victor up the creaky stairs of the shabby apartment wondering how a professional decorator could let his own home lapse into such disrepair.

The bedroom was just as pathetic as the rest of the house, its only feature being a double bed that at least looked comfortable; not that she was going to be comfortable for the next ten minutes or so, if Victor lasted that long.

"This is the bedroom," Victor led the way in.

Anastasia held back a snarky, 'Obviously.'

"My work room is the door before it... That has a sofa in it so I'll uh, be sleeping there for a while. Give you some time to settle in and all that. If you need anything... don't hesitate to call on me." Victor let himself out awkwardly, "And uh, I'll get you some wife clothes tomorrow."

Anastasia watched him shuffle away, more confused than she had been during Gilead's founding. Either Victor was gay, or something was very wrong in this house. She knew he'd asked for a hand maid so why didn't he want to use her for what she was for. Maybe he was impotent, God she hoped so. Either way, she would do her best to discover what was going on later; for now, sleep had never been more inviting.