#...something nasty and nauseating won

[astfut]

[misaverawrites]

Well Rested (Victor Vektor x Reader)

summary: After a particularly nasty injury, Vik has to give you surgery. You tell him one of your secrets while under anesthesia.

tags: tiny canon divergence (fight is in Watson, not Pacifica.), anesthetized confession, older man, younger woman, female V, Reader is V/goes by V, fainting.

a/n: not enough Vik stuff on here, sad to see it. happy to improve it.

You'd had very little faith that you would actually win this fight against Razor Hughes. Thankfully, Vik had been there supporting you and had given you a little tip that came to your advantage, causing you an incredible win against the heavyweight in a major fight in Watson.

“Vik! Vik! I-I... I won..!" You run over to Vik as he scoops you into his strong arms, "I know, kid! Good job!" As his arms are wrapped around you, you feel a sharp pain in your stomach. It makes you gasp out loud and Vik pulls away from you quickly.

"Kid... Are you alright? Oh shit... I'm gettin' you to the clinic don't worry." That's all you remember him saying before you passed out, you remember waking up one more time just to fall asleep again quickly due to anesthesia.

You wake up feeling incredibly sore, nauseated, and hazy. It's an awful combination and you feel sick until you see Vik. You were always happy to see Vik. It was something you didn't tell anyone, besides Jackie and obviously, Johnny, but, you'd had a little crush on Viktor since you met him. You knew that he was old enough to be your father, but you looked at it more like a schoolgirl crush on a celebrity than anything else.

Except, he wasn't a celebrity... He was your ripperdoc. You watch, still hazy and anesthetized as he slides over to you on his wheely chair. Pausing the recording of his boxing match to talk to you. "Alright... V?" He moves a strand of hair out of your face and continues talking, "Razor hit you damn hard, caused an internal bleed."

You laughed uncomfortably, causing you a bit of pain in your abdomen and making you shift. "I still... I still kicked his ass good, Vik." Making Vik smile at you, his brown eyes sparkling under the lights of the clinic. You stare at him, hazy, the feeling of his eyes on you makes you feel blushy and anxious.

"Jesus, V. This shit is gross... You wanna just tell 'im?" Johnny chimes at you, annoyed and the sudden intrusion on the moment makes you hiss from within your head, "Please, Johnny, shut up."

"Vik?" You murmur, you're not thinking. This could be a mistake but you won't remember it well enough later. Vik is looking at charts but hums to acknowledge you and you take this moment to take the plunge, Johnny egging your drugged-out haze in the meantime.

"You're like... really pretty, Vik." That's all you can say, making Johnny metaphysically facepalm and consider slapping you around. Vik chuckles but has a mild panic in his eyes. You mean it, obviously, anesthesia does that to people. This wasn't the time, nor the place for you to be telling him all the mushy feelings you had for him. "V... say it." Johnny eggs you more.

"Thank you, V. I have been told once upon a time that I am, 'like... really pretty.' Glad to know I've still got it." Vik tries to play it off as easily as he could. He likes you as much as you like him, but you're young and headstrong, wouldn't want to be stuck with an older guy like him. After that, you slowly descend back into sleep, curling up on the chair and pulling the blanket over you tightly, little giggles and murmurs coming from your sleepy form.

Vik stares at you just for a second. You, at least, find him attractive enough to comment on it. Do you like him too? That is too good to be true and his life doesn't tend to work that way. Night City doesn't tend to work that way. He continues to monitor your vitals and file his files away, keeping an eye on you.

You open your eyes, slowly, they were still sensitive to the light in the clinic. You hear the crack of a bell on a screen and wriggle a bit, your abdomen feels sore but much better than it had when you last remembered. "Vik?" You murmur, nervous and sleepy.

Vik spins around in his chair to face you, a smile on his face. "How ya doin' kid?"

You giggle, causing some abdominal pain, "I thought I told you to not call me kid, Vik, and I'm feeling much better. Not surprising since you're the best ripperdoc in Watson."

You and he have an energy around you, awkward, you're not incredibly sure why. That is until Johnny reminds you of something, "You know you kind of told him about your little crush on him, right? You at least told him he was, 'like... really pretty.'" He teases you.

Oh no... Oh no, no, no. Is there any other way to say what you're feeling other than Oh fucking no?

"Vik?" You squeak out, more nervous than when you were at Konpeki Plaza. "Can I talk to you, please?" Vik sighs and nods, getting eye to eye with you. "I am... really sorry, Vik."

Vik shakes his head, it takes all he can do to be gracious. "It's fine. No big deal anyway." You turn your head in confusion and laugh, "Vik, I'm sorry it came out like that, after an emergency surgery while I was higher than hell but, I still like you. If you maybe felt the same about it?"

Vik smiles a bit, almost... giddy. Which was new altogether. You don't see him that excited often, it was cute. "Yeah, I... I like you too, V." He laughs a little as you sit up carefully, planting a kiss on his cheek and he goes back to watching the boxing match. "Maybe I should win fights more often." You muse out loud to him.

"Maybe you should stop needing emergency surgery though, just a thought." He considers back as you laugh, "It worked so well this time though, Vik." He pulls away from the match for just a moment to kiss you on the cheek before murmuring, "The last time it'll work. Now get some rest, V." To which you decide to comply, sitting in the ripperdoc chair with a blanket covering you as you comfortably lie there. The awkward energy dissipates between the two of you and is replaced with the new energy of comfort.

You remember when you and Jackie had toasting before the job with Dex, "To new beginnings." You had both toasted. Now, in your head, you'd decided that that toast was going to definitely go honored.

To new beginnings.

[redrosesartcabin]

Kenji x first perspective female reader:

Things happened

—————————————————

(Hey, how is it going peeps! This was requested by @xxno-0xx . I hope you all, and especially the requester, like it. Only one warning: It involves some swearing, so if you don’t like that don’t read. If the requester doesn’t like it, please tell me and I’ll edit the story! Also: The story plays somewhere either between season 2 and 3, or somewhere around season 3. Though not in a canonical episode)

It’s crazy how things sometimes happen.

A very vague description, I know, but it’s the only way I can convey how I feel.

Things happened that made me have the opportunity to go to Jurassic Worlds Camp Cretaceous.

We had won the league as the best female Baseball team, with the price being -besides the typical golden trophy and some media glory- a trip to Camp Cretaceous for one of us. And as the team leader, I was chosen as the one who can go.

“Oh no it’s fine!”, I had said. I already had a funny feeling about the trip. But they all had insisted, “it’s fine”, they had said, “it’ll be cool” they said.

Oh and weren’t they just so right. I am super peachy.

Practically prancing through the jungle and killing Dinos with my little finger-

Ok that’s enough, I think y’all got the gist: The shit had hit the fan.

Things happened, that made everyone be gone, and suddenly it was up to us to survive on this pretend Prehistoric nightmare.

At least my beloved baseball bat had survived the fall of the Camp Cretaceous building. After that discovery I didn’t let go of it anymore. I took it everywhere with me, hitting every living being that even dared to breath in my new found friends direction.

Friends… I had never thought, before the evacuation of Jurassic World and all that crazy stuff happened, that I’d ever call any of them that. I hadn’t really found any of them to be friendship material. I love baseball and building things out of wood in my free time and had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. The only person in the group who had come close to that was Yaz, but she had been so closed off, that I couldn’t really tell before we became a group that fought for their survival. Darius also had been ok, but I was older than him and we didn’t have anything in common, so that checked itself out. Everyone else sort of annoyed me in one way or another. Especially Kenji’s pompous ass. He had appeared very full of himself and just generally narcissistic, or at least painfully self centered and pretentious.

Now imagine how surprised one might be, when one figured I was crushing on the guy.

Let’s just say, that things happened that made me see Kenji in a completely different light.

Turns out he has a good enough sense of humor to catch my drift when I speak “in sarcastic” as he likes to call it. Turns out, he was a loyal and fun friend. Turns out he was just a lonely soul, neglected by a father whose work is more important to him than his own son.

Everything turned out different than it appears about him. He still sometimes annoyed me with his pranks and especially when he wouldn’t shut up about his wealth. The latter however became very apparent as the means to show that he was someone, although he didn’t need to prove that anymore. But of course he would think that’s how people would like him, his father had taught him no better.

The first thing I mentioned somehow makes me love him even more. It annoys me, gets such a rise out of me, that it’s somehow funny again. It gives me a spark and Kenji seemingly seems to enjoy seeing that spark. And him enjoying that spark makes me somehow happy as well. It would start with a cat fight and ended in rigorous laughter.

“Why so serious?”, he would sometimes ask when I’d respond with a glare towards him when he’d steal my bat for what felt like the fifty millionth time.

“You’re getting so creative. I barely saw it coming”, I answered dryly and one could practically see the words alternating between being written in small and big letters.

“Well then you should have no problem finding your sweet baby bat then”, he cooed. Looking deep into his dark brown eyes and almost devilish handsome grin made me both want to punch and kiss him, which may have made me irritable and even madder.

“Finding? Why should I find anything if I have a living and breathing treasure map. Come here!”, I demanded with a creepily sweet grin as I’d walk towards him. Then he’d run, I’d run, we wrestled for a second on the ground only to break into a laughing fit, rolling on the floor, crying tears, resolving this nonsense prank and then getting back to either relaxing or fighting off Dinosaurs… again.

I didn’t think, however, that anything could happen between Kenji and me.

For many a reason, though only two are essential: For one, we were busy surviving, one barely had time to get downtime with the group, yet alone for themselves. Secondly, I didn’t really know, or couldn’t really tell, if he felt the same. Maybe it was my own insecurities coming to light or something, but I just couldn’t really believe it.

Seemed unlikely.

But then things happened.

Kenji and I were on the run from an especially nasty, big Dinosaur. We had been collecting some water in big canisters and wanted to head back to camp when it sneak attacked, unexpectedly.

It snared at us, opening its huge mouth, showing a row of thin, long, sharp teeth.

“Fuck off, you tooth pick mouthed asshole!”, I hissed back at it, flailing my bat at it in panic.

The reason for my irrational action was mainly, that we were stuck between two huge rocks, backed up against another rock with no way out.

Maybe hills or mini-mountain were a better description, but it’s also not important.

All that I could think of was that we were stuck and that little fucker wanted to eat us.

“Calm down, y/n, this isn’t making anything better!”, Kenji tried to reason with me. I was close to shouting some obscenities at him or a dry ‘got a better idea, genius!?’, but this time his dark brown eyes, that often had a mischievous twinkle, calmed me, instead of creating the usual spark. I crawled closer to him as we were pressed to the stone wall.

The Dino however wouldn’t give up. Vehemently, it pressed its ugly snout between the walls, stretching its uncomfortably wet tongue towards us and exhaling a nauseating breath.

I was paralyzed, as I looked at that thing, not knowing what would happen next.

Suddenly, I felt my bat being taken out of my hand. I watched as Kenji took on a fighter stance, the bat positioned over his head, ready for the hit.

“What are you doing! Didn’t you just tell me that we should calm it?”, I asked. He turned around, a frown adorned his face, “I said you should calm down”, is all he answered before he darted towards the animal.

“NO!”, I heard myself scream. I had never heard such a sound come from my throat. It was shrill, loud and all in all I couldn’t recognize myself. I was terrified, even more than when I first caught sight of this beast that had brought us into this situation.

Everything seemed to pass by in slow motion as I saw Kenji swing the bat towards its snout. At first I thought it was over for him as the Dinos mouth opened, the teeth seeming to scrape Kenji’s head, that’s how close it was to him… but then I saw Kenji swinging the bat again, directly hitting its head so that it flew against the stone wall. The beast wailed in pain, seemingly backing up, and just like that, it was gone.

“I… I made it”, Kenji first whispered, before he laughed, repeating, “I made it!”, even louder, jumping into the air and forming a victory fistbump in the air.

“That was awesome! Did you see how- Y/N?”, Kenji��s joy subsided as he looked into my angered expression. With a swift motion I took my bat back, glaring at him as I pressed out, between gritted teeth “let’s just go, hero”

Kenji seemed to have caught the sarcastic undertone of me calling him a hero, because I could physically feel his mood shift closer to mine, “hey what’s with that attitude? I just saved our lives!”

“By doing what I also wanted to do. Great!”

“You were panicking! I don’t know if you would’ve gotten a good hit by panicking. Besides, I couldn’t risk you getting hurt!”, he explained.

For a second I could feel my heart flutter, but that didn’t help my opinion on what just happened.

“But you were ready to risk yourself?”, I asked, my tone bitter.

“Why are you so mad?”, he asked, “we are safe, what more could you want?”,

“I-“, I stopped in my tracks, thinking. Yeah: What was I so mad about? He was right, I had panicked. Panic never helps with concentration and right decision making. I found it impressive, that he had the courage and the focus to fight the Dino off. But I just couldn’t fight off the thought of it going wrong. What if he would’ve been eaten?

“What-“, I wanted to repeat what I had been thinking, but could feel a hiccup, breaking the tear flood inside me. No- I was not going to cry. I took a deep breath, looking directly into his confused visage, “- what if it would’ve gone wrong, I’m just… I- I wouldn’t have known what to do without you. I can’t imagine being without you anymore”.

I saw and heard him gasp, his glance unfreezing from his confused state.

“I didn’t realize I was that important to you”, he answered.

I chuckled, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, “everyone is important to me from the group, I wouldn’t have liked any of them to risk their lives for me but- but especially not you. I- I can’t believe I’m going to say this - I had vowed to take this to my grave ya know-“

“- Get to the point”, Kenji urged me.( I wasn’t looking at him, but he later told me he had smiled whilst saying it, I however thought he was getting annoyed and was almost too scared to continue. Stupid how that sometimes works)

“- I, eh- I’m in love with you I think. Or at least I definitely feel very strongly for you”, I confessed, “there! Now you have something to use against me. Finally got something you can laugh at again on this miserable Isla-mpf”, my self deprecating monologue was interrupted by soft lips catching mine. It almost took my breath away, but then I leaned in, still not believing this was happening, though it definitely was.

“I’m not going to laugh, I love you too. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk everything if I didn’t”

“That’s cheesy, but I appreciate the honesty”, I said, wearing my usual shit eating grin as I regained confidence back.

“Oh look who's talking now”

“Oh shut it!”, I laughed and just like that, I found myself kissing him again.

“And here I thought I had to worry, but you two just ran away to make out”, I suddenly heard Darius in the background, half serious, half amused by the moment he found us in.

I quickly broke away from Kenji, grinning sheepishly, “You know how it is Darius: You get chased by a Dino, and then you need a kiss to make the boo boo go away… just so happens I got a bit of a chap on my lips, and Kenji wanted to make it real good again”, I explained, earning a silent chuckle from Kenji.

Darius rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smile either, “let’s get you love birds home”

————————

And so things happened. Did we have much time to enjoy us being a couple? Not really.

Did more things happen, making everything crazier and tougher?

Did the rift between Darius and Kenji make me anxious as I was sitting by Kenji’s side, as he, with an expression that was too serious for my liking, drove the yacht?

Absolutely.

But I know, that at least he’s by my side still, as am I, and we will make things happen so that we can finally be free from this place.

Hopefully, we’ll make it.

Depends on what the Dino on the yacht has to say about it...

[hamonsurveysoverdrive]

Abomination

Have you ever hugged someone for over a minute? I mean, maybe?

Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? I don’t know.

Would you take the 3 minute beatdown to be in a gang? No thankssss. Do you check your texts right away when you receive them? Absolutely not.

Has the last person you texted ever been mad at you before? Justin has been mad at me multiple times lol.

Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? Yes.

How old do you look? Early to mid-20s.

Do you like movie nights? Always.

Is there a trampoline in your backyard? I don’t even have a backyard.

Does the thought of having children scare you? I already have two, so yes, the thought of having more sounds like a nightmare.

Are you nice to everyone? No.

Would you rather date someone older than you or younger? Justin is younger than me.

What will you be doing in the next 2 hours?

Probably driving home.

Who did you talk to on the phone last? Actual talking? I think the kids’ dad.

Does it make you uncomfortable when you receive a compliment? Sometimes.

When you are home alone at night and hear strange noises, are you afraid someone is going to break in? Yes.

Do you wake up cranky? Sometimes.

What is on your wrists right now? A bracelet that says “Redrum” on it.

Are you a beach, country, or city person? City.

Are you an official couple with the last person you kissed? Yes.

Looking back, did you ever think you would be where you are now? No.

Do you like someone? My boyfriend.

Are you happier now or three months ago? Now.

What’s the greatest thing that happened to you today? Nothing great has really happened.

How old do you think you will be when you finally have kids? I was 19 when I had my first kid, 22 with my second.

Are you waiting for something? Sure.

If you could change your eye color would you? Maybe to grey.

What was the weather like today? It sunny and nice.

Do you think you’ll be married in ten years? I hope not.

Does your ex still love/like you? Probably.

Are you stubborn? Oh yeah.

Do you tend to hold a grudge? Yes.

Where were you at 9am this morning? In bed.

How has the week been? It went by so fast!

Did you go out or stay in last night? I went to Justin’s house, so I’m not sure if that’s considered going out or staying in lol.

Something you do a lot? Worry.

How many states have you lived in? One.

Can you commit to one person? Yes.

Who was the last person to hold your hand? Justin, or one of my kids.

How many chances do you tend to give people before enough is enough? Way too many. Do you think you and your best friend will be friends in 10 years? Yes.

What do you miss most about your ex? Nothing.

Are you attracted to the last person that kissed you? Yes.

What’s a fact about the last person you kissed? He’s an only child.

Something you really want right now? A million dollars.

How long have you liked the person you like? For about 3-4 years.

Does any part of your body hurt right now? My shoulders and neck, a little.

Did anyone see you kiss the last person you kissed? I assume not, since it was just me and him in his garage.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone? Now.

Are you happy with the way things are going? Yes.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? Yes.

What plans do you have for tomorrow? Nothing in particular, I think.

Has a friendship ended recently that you wish hadn’t? Nope.

Have you ever given your ALL to someone who walked away? Yes.

Have you ever kissed the last person you texted? Yes.

Do you and your last ex hate each other? Nah.

When was the last time you were sick? Like a year ago.

Are you one of those people who are always cold? Not really.

Do you tend to waste a lot of money? Yes.

Have you ever regretted kissing someone? No.

When was the last time you got a haircut? In July.

Did you sing at all today? Yeah.

Would you rather be able to control the weather or control traffic? Weather.

Do you own any articles of clothing with skulls on it? Yes.

Are you faster at text messaging or typing on the computer? Typing.

If you won a trip to a nude beach would you go or give the trip away? I probably wouldn’t go.

In your opinion which is the stronger emotion: love or hate? Love.

Tongue piercings - cute or trashy? Neither?

When it comes to jeans: skinny, flared or boot cut? Skinny.

Would you rather be a star ballerina or a star break dancer? No thanks.

When it comes to Baseball would you rather be on the field or in the stands? The stands.

I’ve got to know, who do you prefer: Mario or Luigi? Mario.

Have you ever changed clothes in a public area (not a dressing room)? Yes.

How many months apart is your birthday from your best friends? Kelsi’s birthday is six days before mine, Krystle’s is 6 months before, Needles is 5 months before, Carly’s is 10 months before.

Yes or no: Techno music? Nah.

Yes or no: pigtails? Nah.

They say diamonds are a girls best friend; what do you say? I think that’s stupid.

Has anybody ever told somebody one of your secrets? Yes.

Have you ever kissed anybody who had a mustache? Yepp.

If you were famous do you think you could handle the popularity? Probably not.

Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a letter P? My high school boyfriend’s name was Phillip.

Did you talk to one of your best friends today? What did you talk about? I talked to Justin, Krystle, and Carly.

Do you get on better with funny or serious people? Funny.

Do you have mood swings around the time of the month? Yes.

Have your friends met the last person you kissed? Yes. Most of my friends are his friends too.

What if you saw your best friend holding hands with your ex? I’d be very, very confused.

Your last relationship, who dumped who? I ended it.

How old were you when you had your first boyfriend/girlfriend? 13.

Is your hometown nice? Some parts.

What if you got stuck in a lift with the last person who Facebook messaged you? Ugh, I’d rather not.

When/where did your last hug take place? Earlier today, at my mom’s house.

Do you consider yourself mature enough to make your own decisions? I’m 31...

Have your parents ever told you about their love lives, and any previous relationships they had before they met? Yes.

You get a text from someone saying that they want to hang out - who would you most like it to be from? Justin.

Do you and your friends have any inside jokes? Sure.

Do you think someone has feelings for you? Are these feelings returned? I know my boyfriend does, and obviously they’re returned.

What if the last person you texted were to ask you out? Well, he’s already my boyfriend, so.

Do you believe in love at first sight? Explain. No, that’s dumb.

Would you prefer to be somewhere else right now? If so, where? And why would you prefer to be there? Yes, like, in a room surrounded by millions of dollars, where it’s free for the taking?

When you listen to music, do you ever find that the songs affect your moods and change how you feel? Sure.

Can you remember what you dreamt about last night? No.

What’s one thing about today that you didn’t like? Feeling nauseated.

Who is the last person that you said i love you to, besides family members? Probably Justin.

Are you mad at anyone right now? Nope.

Is there one thing all of your ex’s had in common? Sarcastic assholes who can carry a good conversation. And they all have daddy issues.

What’s a compliment you receive often? My eyes, my lips, or my hair.

Have you ever had a friend that got a bf/gf, and then completely ignored you? Yepp.

Would you ever go back to any of your past relationships? No.

Who was the last person to comfort you when you were upset or crying? Probably Justin. Do you prefer to text or talk on the phone? Text.

Do you know anyone that’s gotten an abortion before? Yes.

Do you think you could forgive someone for cheating on you? Not anymore.

Have you ever been arrested? Yes.

Who’s the last person that gave you roses? Justin.

Do you still talk to the first person you kissed? No. What if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? NO THANKS.

Do you have a picture of you kissing someone? Yes.

Who was the last person to comment one of your pictures? Rey

Have you learned from your past mistakes?

Am I supposed to list everything I’ve ever learned for every mistake I’ve ever made, or...?

Who’s the last guy you texted? Justin... jesus this whole survey is becoming about him.

What about the last girl? Krystle & Kelsi in a group text.

Who was the last person to make you cry? Myself.

Have you ever not been able to get someone out of your head? Sure.

What is one quality that you really appreciate in a person? Honesty.

When was your first real relationship? Well, I don’t really count high school relationships as real relationships, so I guess when I was 20.

Have you ever cried over an ex? Yes.

Do you ever think about your ex and cry? Not anymore.

Is there anyone in your life who you won’t ever want to lose? Of course?? Have you ever snuck out of your house? Not really, no.

Have you ever snuck someone into your house? Nope.

Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yes.

How many people have you kissed? Way too many to try and count.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve done on a dare? Idk

Have you ever cussed someone out? Yes.

Have you ever cheated on someone? Yes.

Have you ever had a friend-with-benefits? Yes. Have you ever spread a nasty rumor about someone? Not intentionally.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? Supposedly.

Have you ever been physically abused? Yes.

What’s something you really regret saying to someone? Nothing.

Is there something really bad that you’ve done, that only YOU know about? I don’t think so.

Does it take a lot to make you feel guilty? No.

Have you ever broken a really important promise? Probably.

Have you ever gone out with a best friend’s ex? Yes.

Have you ever made out with someone who was just a friend? Yes.

Have you ever cheated on a test? No, but I’ve helped others cheat.

Have you ever told someone’s deep, dark secret? No.

Do you ever lie to make yourself sound better? Not really.

Have you ever made up a false rumor to get back at someone? No.

Have you ever gotten in a fist fight? No.

Have you ever purposely hurt yourself? Yes.

Have you ever mooned/flashed someone? Yes. Got sent to an alternative school because of it lol

Have you ever caused someone major embarrassment? Not major, no.

Have you ever pushed someone into a pool? Yes.

Have you ever got in a fight with someone and never made up? Yes.

Have you ever farted and blamed it on someone else? Yes lol

Have you ever copied someone else’s homework? Yes.

Have you ever skipped school to do something more fun? Yes.

Have you ever skipped school to get out of a test? No.

Have you ever kissed someone the same day you met them? Yes.

What’s under your bed? The banisters that are supposed to go on my bed, the ceiling fan is in the way.

What’s on that way top shelf or in the very far back of your closet? Games.

Do you have a super-secret hiding place and what’s in it? No.

Have you done something recently you hope no one finds out about? Nope.

What is your last thought before you fall asleep? It varies.

Have you ever you shop lifted? Yes, in my angsty youth.

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Game of Hearts

Author: @mxshimxchi (moshimochi on ao3)

For: @brooding-basket-case

Rating/Warnings: T, no warnings

Prompt: “High School AU"

Author’s notes: This is an exploration of Hinata and Komaeda’s relationship while they’re students at Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s also a non-despair AU, and I took some inspiration from NDRV3’s Talent Development Plan! I hope you enjoy c:

He wasn’t sure what led him to be sitting on an uncomfortable bleacher watching the school’s sports festival basketball game. He’s never cared much for sports, but maybe he couldn’t deny an opportunity to see members of Hope’s Peak Academy shine on the court. Or maybe he couldn’t resist seeing how a meritless reserve course student would fare as a replacement team member, pitted against a crew of athletes brimming with hope. Regardless, here he was, slightly uncomfortable and trying not to flinch from the overpowering sounds of a rowdy crowd, blaring horns, and his boisterous classmates he sat next to.

While he tried to follow the bouncing of the orange ball, his eyes kept leading astray towards the reserve course student yet again. Hinata, after all, was the one who directly invited him to watch the game. Perhaps he was trying to prove himself, Komaeda mused, and show that he could keep up with the more talented players. It was a futile effort, but like a trainwreck Komaeda couldn’t peel his eyes away from. Especially how Hinata’s shirt would flare up, exposing his midriff. Or how he would miss a free throw, with his strong, untalented, tanned arms. Or how his basketball shorts clung tightly to his sweaty thighs. It was hot in here, right? His relationship with Hinata was nothing but complicated. They ate lunch together on a number of occasions, and while Hinata primarily spoke to his other classmates, like Souda and Nanami, sometimes just the two of them would eat their bentos in front of the fountain dividing the main and reserve course campuses. While they bickered constantly, it never stopped them from planning to meet again for lunch later in the week. Sometimes, even, after a particularly nasty brawl, Hinata would creep his hand towards Komaeda’s, and interlace them. On a handful of occasions, one of them has been reckless enough to pull the other in a brief kiss, breaking apart so fast one would miss it if they blinked, and leaving no gap of time for either of them to ruminate on the dangerous boundaries of intimacy they tiptoed. It was easier that way, to avoid thinking about it. But Hinata, despite being a good-for-nothing reserve course student, was an enigma who incessantly occupied Komaeda’s brain, and made his chest burn warm with relentless embers.

He gets lost in daydreams of feeling Hinata’s strong arms wrapped around him when the final buzzer sounds off, signifying the end of the game. Hinata’s team won, and with the rest of the group they cheer and share a bout of high-fives, Hinata himself earning a few gleeful slaps on the back. Hinata grins in a way that makes his entire face shine with glimmering hope. Komaeda isn’t entirely sure of his own motives when he waits for Hinata outside of the locker room. He faded easily into the backdrop of the scene, other students paying him no mind as they chatted, laughed together, exiting the gym. He mused that sometimes, being an unremarkable nobody could be used in his favor. When it seems like most of the students have trailed their way out of the gym, he slips into the locker room, where he finds Hinata and a few other students still cooling off. “I’m sure my lost gym shorts are somewhere in here!” He announces, very inconspicuously. Hinata gawks at him but quickly turns away, pretending not to notice Komaeda flitting around the lockers. Despite his occasional dense and stubborn nature, it appears Hinata picked up the hint, taking his time and waiting out for the other team members to finally exit the room. He moved on instinct, drawing closer to Hinata, until the other had his back pressed against the cool steel of his locker. “Good job, reserve student! I’m surprised at how well you kept up with the team.” He presses his lips into Hinata’s, fleetingly, because Komaeda rations that Hinata might deserve a reward for performing so well despite the odds.

“Hey..” Hinata says, blushing with embarrassed heat. His eyes twitch nervously to the locker room entrance, and Komaeda can feel his body tense against him.  “Aren’t you worried if someone sees us?” “Why,” He lilts with a coy smile, “Are you ashamed of dirtying your hands with someone like me?” “D-dirtying- No! Geez, what are you even saying…” Hinata grumbles, raking a disgruntled hand through his sweaty bangs. “Besides, I thought you would be embarrassed to be seen with me… Since I’m a reserve student…” He notices Hinata’s olive green eyes flicker away from his for second, casting a downwards glance towards the floor. Normally he’d jump upon this moment, elate in the fact that Hinata is finally showing a bit humility in the face of an Ultimate, even a pathetic one like himself - but something doesn’t feel quite right about pouncing upon this opportunity. The thought of it turns a sharp feeling in his stomach, butterflies morphing into painful strings, and he doesn’t really understand why. Komaeda licks his lips, notices how Hinata’s eyes flick up and stares at his mouth. “Why don’t we go back to my dorm then?” He laughs nervously. “The Ultimate dorms?” Hinata balks, “You know I can’t go there.”

“With my luck, I doubt we’d get caught.” Komaeda muses, and he knows his luck isn’t as simple as that, but his Dr. Hopper exploded in his face during lunch today, so it might even out.

Hinata blinks at him once, twice, and then rubs the back of his neck. “I should probably get showered first.”

“Yes.” He concedes, because while watching Hinata get sweaty and exert himself during the game was undeniably alluring from a distance, he did just wash his bedsheets yesterday.

Hinata has a strange look on his face. Komaeda isn’t really sure how to process the beat of silence that’s overcome them, so he winds a strand of hair around his finger, tries to muffle another anxious laugh and bites his lip. Tries not to yank his hair out. “Okay.” Hinata finally concedes, grabbing a towel, and leaving Komaeda alone in the locker room. It feels unreal to Komaeda that this is happening, that he’s really bringing Hinata Hajime back to his dorm, to be together in private. —-

Just as planned, there are no security guards in sight, or other Hope’s Peak students lingering around outside of the dorm building to spot Komaeda smuggle Hinata inside. Komaeda practically jams the key trying to open the door to his room with eager energy. Entering into the wide space, Hinata’s jaw drops with awe. “This is huge!” “Your room isn’t this size?” He shuts the door behind them, trying to feign a cool and disinterested energy. Hinata snorts. “Maybe, like, half.” He flops onto Komaeda’s bed, arms sprawled above his head. “Wow, this is really comfy, too. My mattress is like a brick compared to this.” “You think so? Compared to my bed at home, I always thought this was rather uncomfortable.” “Must be nice to live in the lap of luxury.” Komaeda wants to tell him that there’s nothing nice about his existence, but has a rare moment of restraint to press his lips together. He would hate to break the mood gradually building between them.

Instead, he offers a lighthearted laugh. “Your sheets don’t have a thread count over 1,000?”

“Shut up,” Hinata grumbles at him, but underneath the snark Komaeda can see the slightest hint of a crooked smile. There’s something about it that’s insufferably endearing. Komaeda feels himself moving closer to the bed and climbing next to Hinata, rather than consciously deciding to do so, and suddenly they’re face to face. Wide olive green eyes meet his, and Komaeda is conflicted from trying to decipher if the color is bland or the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the color of earth and life. When they kiss, it feels like a greater victory than his team’s success at the basketball game.

He desperately just wants to keep indulging in the feeling, falling back into the feeling of letting his body move with the motions of this love without thinking, but Hinata breaks them apart. The distress playing across his face sends a different kind of nervous energy through Komaeda’s spine.

“What are we?” Hinata asks quietly.  “I mean… What does this mean. For us, I guess.”

It feels like time slows, sluggish and nauseating. “Do you-” Stop it. “Do you really think-” Please, stop it. “That someone from the worthless reserve course-” Fucking stop it. “Could date someone from the actual academy? I may be the lowest of the Ultimates, but you’re still barely worth my time.” Disbelief, sadness, and rage swirl within Hinata’s eyes. “So was this all just… Messing around to you? Fucking nothing then?” “What led you to believe that it was something? What kind of deduction process brought you to that brilliant conclusion?” “You were the one who invited me here!” Hinata sputtered. “I thought…”

“What?” Don’t. “That I… Cared for you?” It scares him how Hinata’s face drops in blank resignation. How easily these terrible words spill out of his mouth. “Fuck you. Whatever.” Hinata rips himself out of the bed, exiting the room and slamming the door, leaving a trail of festering rejection in his wake. The bed feels empty and cold, suffocating any of the remaining warmth left in the room. Komaeda doesn’t know what else he expected.

A week later, Hinata has been notably absent from lunchtime breaks, leaving no word to any of his main course friends. On the tenth lunchtime without Hinata-kun’s presence, he eats his bento in silence next to Nanami, who’s deeply engrossed in a game on a handheld console.

Right when he thinks she might not notice if he were to slip away and sulk by himself, she starts to speak. “Hey, Komaeda-kun…” Nanami doesn’t pause playing her game, just continues to press buttons at a dizzying speed while speaking to him, pink nail polish against dark chrome. “Where’s Hinata-kun?” The question stings, and he’s thankful she isn’t making eye contact with him. “How should I know?” She frowns at his retort, but doesn’t break her rhythm of attacks against a virtual foe. Komaeda tries to distract himself by watching her avatar swing menacing dual swords at a boss monster. “Hinata-kun hasn’t been coming to lunch recently… Did you two get into a fight?” “I only said what he needed to hear.” He says, trying to convince both her and himself. “He should know his place.” “You should be nicer to him… I think.” Her drowsy voice mumbles, trailing off until Komaeda notices a bright K.O. flashing on her screen. Having vanquished the monster, she finally looks at Komaeda directly, dusty pink irises shaded by her pale fringe. “Hinata-kun is a good person. He’s been a good friend to all of us. You, too. When you used to eat lunch alone, he would usually try to talk to you, right? So that’s why…. You should probably make-up with him.”

“What am I supposed to say to him?” Social interactions have never been his strong suit, let alone conflict resolution. In fact, he seemed to have a perchance for making literally any conversation he injected himself into worse, like a corrupting poison, corroding all of the relationships around him. It reminded Komaeda why he wanted to keep his distance from Hinata in the first place. “I meant what I said.” I hate myself for it. Nanami’s pondering expression dissolves into defeat. “I don’t really know what you should say…” She pouts, crossing her arms. “I always choose the wrong dialogue options in dating sims.”

He leaves lunch feeling even more conflicted than before. —- When he takes a walk later that evening, he tells himself it’s just by coincidence that he lands in front of the reserve course dorms. Of course, it’s a bit less coincidental that he has Hinata’s room number written on a piece of paper crunched in his hand. Finding a dropped file by a school residence administrator was nothing short of extremely lucky.

The building itself is a stark grey, contrasting with the welcoming brickwork of the Hope’s Peak main campus. The windows are small, almost like slits, restrictive of any natural light. Like the main campus, the front door requires and ID swipe for access, but it doesn’t take Komaeda long to push open a back door left unlocked. Despite the money the reserve course costs in tuition, Komaeda figures most of it must not go towards facilities or security. He checks the number on the note with the number on the door once, twice, a third time, until he finally dredges up the confidence to land a knocking fist against the door. He can hear a chair scrape against the floor from inside, casually noting the thinness of the walls, and shuffling towards the door. Then, he’s greeted with a bleary-eyed Hinata, piles of textbooks and papers lining the desk behind him. “Good evening, Hinata-kun.” He smiles, trying to swallow the shame in his throat. Hinata radiates a blend of impatience and distrust. “Why are you here?” “I wanted to talk.”

“Not interested.” Hinata moves to shut the door, but is blocked with the side of Komaeda’s designer shoes. Komaeda tries not to flinch thinking about the scratches that might be left on the leather after this, but it would be a casualty taken in stride if he could make this right. “And I also wanted to offer my apologies.” Hinata’s eyes narrow, and rakes his fingers through his spiked hair again. It’s a nervous tic that Komaeda has familiarized himself with, and realizing that makes his head spin “… Whatever,” Hinata finally amends, moving away from the door. Komaeda rocks anxiously on his feet, looming in the threshold of the cramped room. “You don’t have to just stand there. You can sit.” Stepping inside, Hinata’s dorm feels claustrophobic, like the walls are slowly compressing him with building pressure. It does nothing to help the situation. “I offended you,” Komaeda starts, sitting on the bed. “And I wanted to extend my apologies.” Hinata sits back in his desk chair, and his wider frame looks disproportionate in the small room. Almost as if the walls are restraining his form, his light. “I’m surprised you thought a worthless reserve course student was worth apologizing to. I thought I was barely worth your time.” Komaeda bites his lip. “I was unnecessarily cruel to you. I’m sorry.” “I really don’t get you sometimes,” Hinata sighs. He knows what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know if it’s okay to say it. One wrong step and they’ll plummet over the edge of acceptable contact and into a range of where his capricious luck might designate Hinata as a target. But by stepping away from the ledge… Isn’t it hurting Hinata just the same? The dilemma squeezes the air from his chest. He knows, deep down, what he needs to do to make things right. Seeing Hinata in a state of distress is haunting him in a way he doesn’t think he can live comfortably with. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He adds quietly. “But if I’m not mindful of my luck, it will wound you even worse. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to you because of me.” Hinata sharply inhales, and looks at him with a gaze that makes him feel vivisected and vulnerable. “I understand if you don’t forgive me,” Komaeda continues, “I would understand if you hated me, too. There are lots of reasons to hate me-” but he’s cut off when Hinata’s lips come crashing into his, a palm roughly entangling into his hair, holding him still. “Oh,” he breathes. “I don’t hate you,” Hinata murmurs to him, lips catching against Komaeda’s. “Oh,” he sighs again, feeling himself wind up against Hinata’s steady touch, wanting to spring into his embrace, and collides against his lips again with equal force.

When they finally part, Komaeda again face to face with Hinata, draped next to each other. The proximity, filling each other’s space, contained by the too hard bed and too small walls starts to feel almost comforting. “Can we stay like this? Just for a little while.”

Maybe they don’t need to use words. Maybe they can express themselves without crossing any lines or falling over the edge, but just appreciate the comfortable and still moments between one another. For now, this could be enough. Hinata finally smiles, intertwining their hands. “For as long as you’d like.”

[jamesv-t]

I follow too many football teams

Decided to sit down and compile a list of all the various football teams I'm following at the moment, across different leagues and countries, and note the reason I started supporting them as well as the extent to which I follow. I was surprised.

Arsenal WFC: started following the club on 4th July 2018, when they signed my favourite footballer, Tabea Kemme. Bought a season ticket and attended as many games as my work pattern would allow; from the first game I was amazed by Dutch striker Vivianne Miedema, the best forward I'd seen play since Robert Taylor's purple patch in 1999. Despite missing all 4 of Tabea's appearances for the club, I bought a shirt with her name and number on it which I've worn to every game possible, home and away. The last match I saw in person was a 4-0 win at Brighton back in January (easier to get to than home games, so of course I'd go) during which I realised that despite Tabbi's injury worries, I was in deep enough to care about the other players. This turned out to be prescient as two days later she retired from playing. Thanks to the FA Player, I can watch (almost) every match streamed live to my tablet.

Matches seen: 5 home, 5 away (Lewes, Brighton [Amex], Crawley, Spurs [new White Hart Lane], Brighton)

Shirts: 1 - 2018/2019 home shirt with Kemme 22 on the back.

Gillingham FC (mens): Where it all began. Attended my first game against Doncaster Rovers in April 1995, taken by my dad and granddad. The Gills won 4-2, my younger brother and I had room enough to chase each other around the terrace. Since then I've experienced nauseating lows, dizzying highs, and creamy middles. As of 21st May 2019 my support for the club has been on hold - they appointed Steve Evans - a man who had previously convicted of tax evasion and falsifying accounts, a man who had previously sought to incite Gillingham staff and players whenever his teams played against the Gills, and an all round nasty piece of work - as manager of the first team. I could not in good conscience support a side managed by him, in person or remotely, so I packed away my shirts/scarf/badges, muted the club's social media accounts, and my Saturday afternoons were a lot more fun as a result. He's still at the club, they're currently fourth in the League One table, but this summer they cut loose the associated women's side, so I don't know if I'll ever go back.

Matches attended: bloody loads. In the three figures, easily. Had a season ticket one year. Attended at least 1/3 of all games - home and away - in the promotion season linked above. Been going at least once a season for the past 20-odd years, mostly more than that. Away games at Crawley a few times (making it my joint second most visited stadium, apart from Priestfield and tied with Meadow Park), once at Spurs (old White Hart Lane), West Brom, Millwall (that was fun, got the tickets through work, ended up with the home fans, Gillingham got a last minute winner that we couldn't celebrate), Charlton twice, a reserve game at Leighton Orient, the above linked game against Wycombe when we went down, strangely not Brighton though despite living here for nearly 10 years.

Shirts: had plenty over the years. I've still got the shirt we got promoted in with Thomson 27 on the back, signed by a number of the squad, somewhere. Currently I only have two - the 2009 promotion shirt because it looks pretty good, and the 2011 home shirt because of fond Football Manager memories!

Borussia Dortmund (mens): Over a decade ago I started a relationship with a German woman. In the getting to know you stage, I asked her what her nearest Bundesliga* club was. (My small talk has since improved. Slightly.) She replied "Dortmund", and I started following the club. I'm not saying that I'm responsible for the team's subsequent uptick in form - they won the league two seasons running after I visited the ground, adding the Pokal (cup) in the second season as well - but I'm not not saying that either. The availability of streams plus the free-flowing, attacking football made them an easy follow, especially at a time when Gillingham went 35 games without an away win in all competitions. I look forward to the club starting up a women's side next season, especially as they're starting from the bottom rather than expecting to be parachuted into the Frauen Bundesliga.

Matches: just the one so far in person, an entertaining 2-3 loss to Wolfsburg in December 2012.

Shirts: had a 2004 home shirt that was horrible material, very plasticky. Also have a really comfortable and stylish 2012 away shirt that I couldn't wear for a few years due to it having Hummels' name on - thankfully he's returned from his Bayern defection now. A Munich fan who stayed with us a couple of years ago found the whole thing hilarious.

*I'm glad I specified the country, as while she grew up nearly 100km from the Westfalonstadion, she was only 20km from FC Twente - but it was complicated enough explaining to people in the early days why I was following a German team, and I think trying to tell them I was following a Dutch side due to my German partner might've been far too much!

BSG Chemie Leipzig (mens): Dortmund aren't the only German side I've hitched my wagon to, but they're the most high profile. Faced with an indefinite period of time with nothing to do during lockdown, and growing tired of my other FM careers, I set about giving myself a challenge. Due to the high praise dished out by the media to Red Bull Leipzig, a team funded by the energy drink conglomerate who bought their way up the league, I decided my challenge would be to - in the words of Sir Alex Ferguson - "knock them off their f**king perch. I wanted to make another team the biggest side in Leipzig. Scouting around the Wikipedia page for the city, and aided by this thoroughly informative Reddit post, I settled on Chemie due to their political leanings and colour scheme. Six real-life months and a dozen fictional seasons into the career, I'm one Bundesliga and one Pokal away from equalling the energy drink's trophy haul. I've taken an interest in the real life side as well, languishing away in the fifth tier of German football (an unholy hell of regional leagues and village sides).

Matches: not yet. One day I'll stand on the terrace of the Alfred-Kunze-Sportpark, Freiberger in hand, cheering on the side. But the raging pandemic that brought me to start the career is, ironically, preventing me from properly indulging.

Shirts: none, as I rarely wear football shirts these days. But this t-shirt is pretty cool.

Gillingham WFC: Simple thing here - when the side were cut adrift from the parent men's club as part of a cost-saving measure in the summer, I decided to go with the team who were not managed by an odious berk. I'm kooky like that.

Matches: one so far, a pre-season friendly away at Lewes last summer. I was the lone Gills fan. There were more dogs supporting the home side than humans cheering on the away team.

Shirts: none, as the club have switched to red after no longer being under the men's umbrella.

Valur (women's team): Some of these have deep, meaningful reasons behind my follow of them. Others, less so. In the early part of 2019 a friend of mine and his Czech girlfriend moved to Reykjavik to live for a bit. We visited them and were surprised to see floodlights from their balcony. Their flat overlooked a football ground, where Valur play, and so it was a simple thing to follow their side to feel closer to Paul and Barbora. It was weird seeing Valur's main striker, Elin Metta, posting Insta stories of playing with the same friendly cat that Paul does!

Matches: just the one streamed so far, due to a dearth of matches available online, but Valur won!

Shirts: christ don't give me ideas.

ACF Fiorentina Femminile: And if you thought that was a tenuous reason...last month we took a tour around Italy, stopping in Rome, Florence, Bologna and Venice. I wanted to get something football related to remember the trip by. Venice was out - I was going to the Venezia store anyway to pick up a few things for a mate who had guided them to glory on Football Manager, and didn't want to tread on his toes. Rome was unsuccessful - Lazio's kits have been cool in the past, but their right-wing fans aren't for me, and Roma had some lovely coloured merch but nothing that grabbed me. A surprise heavy shower sent us scurrying into the Fiorentina club shop, a place I'd earmarked to visit anyway, and a lovely flattering jacket jumped off the shelf at me. (It helped that it was reduced from €100 to €30!) Why the women's side over the men's? Women's football is just much more fun!

Matches: just a 3-1 loss to Sassuolo a few weeks ago. Who loses to a Phil Collins single?!

Shirts: no shirts, but a sexy jacket.

Ashwood City FC (mens, fictional): Ashwood City are Kent's only Premier League side. One of the founder members of the Football League, they've never been relegated from the Premier League. They're also fictional, the main subject of football podcast The Offensive. Now in its third season, it's been a weekly highlight, weaving current football events into an ongoing story arc. It's occasionally sweary, frequently hilarious, and clearly written by someone who's lived in Kent judging by the accurate jabs at Kentish people/Gillingham! It also used an entire episode as set-up for a reference to the 1992 Whitney Houston/Kevin Costner film The Bodyguard, which still frequently makes me chuckle at random moments.

Matches: tricky, as they don't exist. Like Steve Evans' moral compass.

Shirts: nope.

[toyboy-molloy]

Sherlolly and number 7

7. fake relationship au

| also on ao3 | the prompt list |

this is one big cheesy, cliché yuckfest but honestly #sherlolly mood

It started with flowers and chocolates, sentanonymously to her workplace; bouquets piled high with her favourite flowersfrom daisies to hibiscus and the finest Belgian chocolate. There may have beenno distinctive indication as to the sender but Molly was no fool. This was why,when Scotland Yard’s finest arrived that morning, she was huddled over a microscope,running all sorts of tests on a halved chocolate truffle.

“Everything alright, Molly?”

The pathologist turned to the Detective Inspector,a wild look in her eyes, “Greg, thank God. Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’timportant. Could you run a check for me?”

Sherlock and John, who’d taken up position atthe consulting detective’s preferred microscope, paused to listen as Greg tookout a notebook.

“Yeah, sure, what’s their name?”

“Pete Truman. He…was arrested six years agoand was serving time for assault in Leicester. I just…I want to know if he’sout yet,” the way she was wringing her hands had Greg biting his lip, pullinghis phone from his pocket.

“I’ll run him through the system,” he saidbefore leaving the lab, his phone pressed to his ear as he spoke to hiscolleagues.

An awkward silence descended on the room.Molly turned back to her results, finding the chocolates clean; she wasn’tsurprised if she was honest. Paranoia. John was the first to address the elephantin the room.

“Er, an ex, Molly?”

After a moment, Molly took a deep breath andfaced her friends – it was for the best that she explained, they’d only worry.That, or Pete’s mangled corpse would end up on her morgue slab if she’d keptthe information to herself. Who knew when it came to them two.

“He was my lab partner in Uni. I thought hewas my friend but…that wasn’t how he saw things. When I told him I was movingto London for work, he was hell bent on following me,” as Molly explained, sherecalled her relationship with Pete – how overly sweet he was, how reluctant hewas to let her out of his sight. Towards the end, he’d virtually become her shadow.She continued, “I told him he’d misunderstood and he turned nasty. He gotdrunk, trashed my flat and got into a pretty vicious bar fight. After he gotsent down, he promised he’d find me and ‘make things right’. I haven’t seen himin years but if he’s the same person…he’d never have forgotten. He was neverviolent to me,” she hastened to add at the look on their faces; the morgue slabending was looking more likely the more she spoke. She ran a hand through her hair,“I can’t go through all that again. What am I going to tell him?”

“Tell him to sod off,” John nearly shouted,gesturing angrily, “you don’t owe him anything.”

Molly shrugged, “I’ve tried. He’s not the sortof man you say no to.”

“Tell him you have a boyfriend.”

Both Molly and John swivelled to stare insurprise at Sherlock; the two of them had almost forgotten he was there. He washuddled over his microscope, working on his latest case – Molly had simplyassumed her tedious problems were beneath him.

Shooting a confused glance at the army doctor,Molly answered, “I’ve tried. He never believes me.”

Silence fell once again, the detectiveapparently delving into his mind palace. John and Molly shared another glance,the former shrugging briefly. Minutes passed until, finally, Sherlock openedhis eyes and rummaged in his pocket, retrieving his phone.

“Angelo’s. Tonight, eight. Can you managethat?”

“Erm…” Molly blinked, taken aback by thesudden change of direction the conversation had taken, “why? What do you mean?”

Suddenly, he was on his feet and at her side,smiling almost triumphantly at her, “well…” in a matter of seconds, Sherlockhad cupped her neck and leaned down to kiss her tenderly, capturing the moment onhis phone with his free hand. Swallowing hard, Molly opened her eyes to findSherlock smirking at her, “you have a boyfriend.”

He swept away, leaving her gobsmacked…not thatshe was complaining. Not at all. John, however, took slightly longer torecover; he quickly closed his mouth and awkwardly shuffled after his friend,wondering what the hell had gotten into him.

Molly couldn’t stop staring at the Twitterpost Sherlock had made after the bizarre snogging incident at Bart’s. The image– on his account under the handle @consulting_detectiveSH – was accompanied withthe simple caption ‘smitten’ followedby an emoji of a heart. He’d even tagged her, @barts_mhooper, and added the affectionatehashtags bestsnog and workbreak. Smiling, Molly placed herphone in her bag and looked around the restaurant – happy diners milled about,chatting and enjoying their meals. Angelo’s staff flitted between tables,filling orders and conversing with customers.

Molly glanced at the door nervously, taking aswig of her glass of wine; she’d arrived early, having rushed home after hershift, changed into a simple red dress and hurried out. Sherlock was yet toarrive, or Pete for that matter, and she just hoped the former would make itbefore the latter. Thankfully, five minutes later, the detective strolledinside, with Rosie Watson balancing on his hip.

“Sorry I’m late,” he was saying, placing Rosieopposite her Aunt; the youngster looked pleased to see her, if a little tired.Molly was about to greet him in return when the coat came off; it wastremendously unfair that Sherlock Holmes managed to look mouth-watering atevery opportunity. He sat close to her, close enough to rumble into her ear, “anysign?”

Molly swallowed, finding it immenselydifficult to concentrate, “n-not yet.”

Rosie, who’d been contentedly sucking herthumb, pulled a menu closer and perused the options; it didn’t matter that she couldn’tunderstand the writings, Angelo had her usual order of bitesize spaghetti bolognesememorised. Molly was busy watching the windows, studying passing taxis for thefamiliar blond hair and- and…

“Sherlock…” Molly sighed breathlessly, her visiongoing blurry as Sherlock continued to suck at her neck in the most heavenly way,only humming his acknowledgement into her skin. She forced herself to focus, “w-whatare you doing?”

He mumbled something about keeping upappearances or having to make things look genuine, Molly didn’t really care.She just didn’t want him to stop. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knewit might help if their intended target was on the receiving end of thespectacle. It didn’t take much for that thought to disappear for good, Sherlocknipping at the spot below her ear to be exact. It took all of Molly’s willpowernot to moan, or slide her hand up any higher from wear it was resting on hisknee.

Not even the clearing throat of Angelo’s headwaiter was enough to stop the detective’s actions, “would you like to…orderanything Mr. Holmes?”

“S’getti!” Rosie exclaimed delightedly,giggling as the waiter winked and made a gesture of disgust at the nauseatingdisplay of her aunt and uncle.

“I-I think you’ve made your point,” Mollyreplied in a voice that definitely didn’t sound like her own. Rosie waswatching them curiously, sipping from her glass of orange juice the waiter haddelivered. Sherlock finally removed his lips from her skin, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to stop?”

NO!

“I have work tomorrow,” she said lamely, herhand still firmly in place on his knee; Sherlock merely chuckled and resumedhis previous ministrations as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

They were interrupted yet again not tenminutes later by the arrival of Pete, a tall, skinny, balding ex-con, a far cryfrom the long-haired blond student Molly knew in Uni. The woman on his arm wasshorter with should-length red hair, her eyebrows raised as she viewed the performanceSherlock was reluctant to cease. He had no choice when Molly stood to hug heruncomfortable looking former friend.

“It’s good to see you, Molly,” Pete smiledgenuinely, holding her hands gently between his own. He looked well and not atall what Molly had been expecting at all. He glanced at the neck-sucker and thebored child, smiling, “…looks like we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

They took their seats opposite, forcing Rosieto shuffle round and hide shyly behind the elbow of her uncle. Pete introducedthe woman as his fiancée, Martha Kirk; they’d met through the prison’s pen palsystem and struck up a relationship almost immediately. Relieved didn’t beginto describe how Molly felt.

“I’m so happy for you, Pete.”

The man smiled at his lady, intertwining theirhands before looking back at his former crush, “so, come on, what about you andyour…” he briefly glanced at the neck-sucker, who appeared in deep thought, “husband?Newlyweds if I ever saw it.”

Molly bit her lip, preparing to come clean, “well,not exactly…”

“Three years strong, actually,” Sherlock pipedup, linking fingers with Molly, meeting her gaze and brushing away a strand ofhair for good measure. He kissed her knuckles, adding softly, “everyday feelslike the first with Molly.”

Molly was sure her eyes were as wide assaucers when Sherlock had pressed his lips to her hand, but his final words hadrendered her completely speechless. There was something about him that told herhe meant it. Before she could properly function and tell him she felt the same,Martha reached over patting their still joined hands.

“Never lose that, love. It’s so rare.”

Sherlock caught Rosie’s eye and noticed theyoungster smirking at him as if she’d just won a bet; knowing her father, sheprobably had. At that moment, holding Molly’s hand as the waiter took theirorders, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“We didn’t have to lie to them,” Molly wassaying as they strolled down the street, clutching Sherlock’s coat tighteraround her shoulders. Sherlock said nothing, balancing his sleeping nieceagainst his chest. Molly breathed in his scent, smiling to herself, “he’sgetting married, right? It’s pretty clear he’s not interested in me in theslightest.”

“Mmm,” was the only thing he said and Mollyvowed to drop the subject until they’d reached Baker Street.

She was determined not to leave withoutanswers. They’d had a surprisingly pleasant evening, swapping stories with Peteand Martha, laughing and drinking like old friends. The thought and effortSherlock had put into each little detail of their supposedly fake relationshipwas far too detailed for her to simply forget about. He’d covered everythingfrom his crime scene proposal, private wedding and even the birth of theirnot-daughter, Rosie, who was thankfully fast asleep against her uncle’s arm bythen. When they’d reached Baker Street and handed Rosie back to her long-sufferingfather, Molly accepted Sherlock’s offer of a nightcap. Once safely inside, shedecided to have it out with him.

“Are you going to tell me what all that wasreally about?”

He stepped closer, removing the glass of winefrom her grasp, replacing them on the coffee table, “I think you know perfectlywell, don’t you?”

“Every day feels like the first…” she repeatedbreathlessly as he tugged her close, resting his forehead against hers.

“Always.”

[how2pedia]

Something Is Rotten at Big Meat Inc. #Funny #HumorTimes #Humor Please subscribe my channel for future fun. https://ift.tt/2AFwfAW FaceBook - https://ift.tt/38F5SaW Twitter - https://twitter.com/LaughingAmerica Tumblr - https://ift.tt/2ChwdQl Pinterest - https://ift.tt/2DojRGz Big Meat profiteers employ a wholly unethical, cost-of-doing-business approach. Upton Sinclair’s landmark 1905 book, “The Jungle,” exposed the food contamination and worker exploitation hidden in the fetid stockyards and meatpacking plants of Chicago and other major American cities. The muckraking journalist dubbed the nasty and brutish meat factories “a monster … the Great Butcher … the spirit of capitalism made flesh.” The nauseating details of worker and consumer abuses that Sinclair exposed were so horrific that the ensuing public revulsion and outrage were transformative. Congress quickly passed a food purity law (the 1906 Federal Meat Inspection Act), and union organizing drives sparked nationwide contract bargaining that eventually gave long-oppressed meatpacking workers the clout to improve factory conditions and pay. Indeed, by 1970, the Amalgamated Meat Cutters and the United Packinghouse Union had won enforceable safety rules and solid middle-class wages — about $25 an hour in today’s dollars. Now the median wage for hourly workers in meatpacking plants is down to about half that — $13.23 per hour — some 30% less than production workers in other manufacturing jobs. Around 1970, just when working families, consumers, environmentalists and others were making real progress against corporate powers, the baronies of industry and high finance initiated a radical counteroffensive. One of their core efforts was a long-term propaganda campaign to legitimize unethical, anti-social corporate behavior. “Shareholder primacy,” as they dubbed their malevolent principle, asserted that the corporate hierarchy’s SOLE purpose and overarching moral duty is to maximize stockholder profits. Under this self-serving theory, CEOs and board members must do everything legally possible to lower wages, shortcut safety, squeeze out competitors, cheapen quality, minimize environmental protections, dodge taxes, avoid scrutiny and safety, and otherwise manipulate the system to funnel revenues into shareholders’ pockets. When a corporation sets up a workplace that routinely results in maiming, mangling, sickening, disabling and even killing workers, those outcomes are not “accidents.” They are intentional, immoral decisions by executives and investors to increase profits by treating the human beings who produce the corporate product as disposable. To cover up this wholly unethical, cost-of-doing-business approach, meatpacking profiteers put out a stream of B.S. to extol their industry’s commitment to the well-being of its beloved family of employees. Shareholder primacy is, of course, pure hokum, a mumbo-jumbo mandate for greed with no basis in law, economics or ethics. Yet, over the past 50 years, the shareholders-made-me-do-it dictum has ruled nearly every industry, none more than meatpacking. By 1980, the largest meatpackers were buying up smaller competitors, relocating plants from unionized urban areas to anti-union rural counties, dehumanizing and de-skilling workplaces, slashing wages, setting injury-causing work processes and imposing strict labor rules that leave workers with little power to complain about, much less to stop, abuses. A century ago, Sinclair condemned the “unspeakable” practices that went on in “packing houses all the time.” But today’s conditions would leave him no less appalled. While unions and other reformers have set higher standards for cleanliness and safety, there’s a big difference between what’s put on paper and what actually occurs. Progress in standards, it turns out, has been efficiently canceled out by the sheer enormity of today’s facilities; the massive volume of animals slaughtered and butchered day and night; and the treacherous work speeds corporate bosses demand. The Big Three multinational giants dominating the U.S. meat market (Brazil’s JBS, Arkansas’ Tyson Foods and the Chinese-owned Smithfield Foods) run factories typically covering hundreds of acres. There, 1,000 or more low-paid workers stand elbow to elbow in “The Chain” — high-speed “disassembly” lines that snake through the factories. Slogging through 10- to 12-hour shifts, they wield as...

[meggonagall]

Saving Severus Snape - Chapter 24

A/N-*This chapter deals with some minor sexual assault and moderate violence. If that is something you are not comfortable reading, I would suggest scrolling down to where the date changes to the 22nd of December. There are only brief mentions of the assault after that, but does not go into detail.* 21st December 1976 The voice was familiar. It was more hoarse than she was used to, and there was a distinct slur to it from alcohol, but she was positive she knew who it was. Hermione grasped her wand firmly and pointed it in the direction of the disembodied voice.

“What are you doing, Sirius?” she hissed. “And could you please show yourself? It's a little disconcerting speaking to someone who is invisible.” Sirius fumbled with the Invisibility Cloak, she caught his trainers in front of her a few times, before the rest of his body made an appearance. Her eyes rested on the nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey he held in his hand. He gave her a lopsided grin before lifting the bottle to his lips to take a drink. “You could get in serious trouble for that, you know,” she snapped at him. He let out a loud laugh. “Serious trouble,” he repeated, then stumbled a bit. Hermione rolled her eyes. “I am in no mood to deal with you while you're in this state.” She stood from her seat and glared at him. His hair was completely disheveled, his shirt was buttoned incorrectly and inside out. She had a feeling that he was up to no good with someone, before she had the misfortune of running into him. “Goodnight, Sirius,” she said with a sad shake of her head, then turned to walk away. Barely making it two steps, she yelped when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her entirely too close to him. “What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing!” she shouted and tried to pull her arm from his vice-like grip. The smell coming from him was nauseating. There was nothing worse than the bitter smell of alcohol on someone’s breath. “Pipe down, Devereux.” He laughed loudly again, clearly unconcerned with being caught completely pissed with the evidence still in his hand. His hold on her was too tight, and regardless of who he was, she was still entirely too uncomfortable being so alone with someone so drunk, who had made his feelings about her clear on numerous occasions. “Sirius, maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey. You know she doesn't ask too many questions. Get something to sober up,” she tried to convince him. A noticeable quiver was present in her voice. “Nah, I reckon I'm fine just where I am.” His smile frightened her. It was always predatory. Her gut was telling her to run, but her head was trying to make sense of the situation. She refused to believe that the man she knew would be the type to corner a girl they fancied in a dark corridor, alone, while he was inebriated. The same man who lived off of rats in a cave for nearly a year, just so he could be nearby to protect his godson. The same man who escaped Azkaban, and was on the run while he hunted down the traitor who led to the deaths of his best friends. The same man who was locked up in his childhood home, with the ghosts of abuse and torment lurking in each corner, just so he could help bring down the tyrant who murdered his friends, and wanted to destroy his godson -- his only family. But when she looked into the youthful grey eyes of the Sirius Black who stood before her, it was a painful reminder that he was not that man at this time. Now he was a sixteen year old boy, who had just run away from home, and had mountains of baggage and unresolved trauma from years of living with parents who treated him worse than a house elf. He was troubled. And in that moment, he was trouble. “Sirius, I -” “Why Snivelly?” he interrupted and pulled her body against his. The stench coming from him made her eyes water. Her eyes narrowed as anger bubbled in her chest. “That's none of your concern.” Sirius laughed again, the whole thing seemed amusing to him. He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head back. “Well, perhaps I can make you see sense.” Hermione knew what he was about to do, and should have stopped it, but fear and shock that he would actually be so bold froze her. He leaned down and kissed her sloppily. Between the sour taste from the Firewhiskey, and the disgusting amount of saliva, she gagged and shoved him back hard. “How dare you!” she screamed, then jumped due to the shout of pure rage she heard coming from behind her. Before she could even register what was happening, she saw a fist collide with an audible crunch to Sirius’ nose. “Severus, no!” Hermione shouted with an attempt at grabbing his robes, but it was no use. Sirius fell to the floor, and Severus dove on top of him, so overcome with anger, he didn't even use magic. He was punching every last inch of Sirius that he could reach. Hermione knew that under normal circumstances Sirius would have easily been able to hold his own. Perhaps even overtake Severus. Sirius was much broader, and if he was not as intoxicated, could have easily won this fight. “Filthy -- fucking -- animal! Don't -- ever -- touch -- her -- again!” Each word was punctuated with another blow to his body. Hermione didn't know what to do. Sirius’ face was covered in blood, and Severus seemed to be in a frenzy. It didn't look as if he would stop. She rushed forward and grabbed Severus’ arm as it raised to deliver another blow to Sirius’ head. “Severus! That's enough!” He turned his head to look at her; there was murder in his eyes. The minor distraction seemed to be exactly what Sirius needed. Hermione winced upon hearing a nasty crack when Sirius’ foot connected with Severus’ chest. Severus yelled out in pain, the sound tore right through Hermione, who took her wand and placed a shield charm between both boys that was so strong, the blue light blasted both of them back from each other. She stood with her chest heaving, her arm shook as it was still extended out in front of her. Severus was laying with his arm wrapped around his torso breathing shallowly, while Sirius sat up holding his robes to his bleeding nose. Footsteps pounded down the corridor. “Sirius! Snape! What the fuck do you two think you’re playing at?” Remus yelled from behind her. Hermione turned around, feeling like the color drained from her face. She’d been hoping that no one would have heard, and that she could have possibly cleaned them both up a bit, before insisting they both head to the Hospital Wing. Remus stood running his hand through his hair, his eyes darting back and forth between the two boys on the floor, before finally landing on Hermione. “What happened?” he asked. Hermione took a deep breath. “Sirius had a little bit too much to drink,” she began to explain, her voice shaking, “and he kissed me.” Her nose scrunched, the vile taste still lingered in her mouth. “Severus saw, and...well.” She gestured towards the two of them groaning on the ground. Remus eyes widened, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he whispered with a murderous glance towards Sirius. “He’s normally not like that. I don’t know what must have gotten into him.” Hermione managed a small smile. Remus always took on the responsibility of apologizing for Sirius. It wasn’t right, she thought. He couldn’t control the actions of his friends any more than she could. “You’re both going to have detention,” Remus told the boys. “After the holidays.” Sirius glared at Remus as if he was a traitor. “What the fuck, Moony?!” “AND,” Remus went on, as if he didn’t hear Sirius, “I’m going to have to inform both of your house heads about this.” “Of course you do, bloody Saint Lupin,” Severus growled, then winced as he tried to sit up. Remus rolled his eyes and let out a loud breath. “Can you manage taking him to Pomfrey?” he asked with a pointed glance towards Severus, then walked to Sirius, extending a hand to help him up, which Sirius reluctantly took. She nodded, still feeling completely numb after the events of the last fifteen minutes. Remus casted a cleansing charm on Sirius, removing most of the blood, and brought his attention back to Hermione. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, quickly eyeing Severus again before looking back to her. Before Hermione could answer, a loud snort came from Sirius. “She’s fine, Moony. It’s not like she just had her bloody teeth knocked into the back of her fucking head.” “I’m fine, Remus,” she assured him, while kneeling down next to Severus. “Go on and take care of that.” she spat with an angry look aimed at Sirius. A sad smile crossed Remus’ lips. “Right. Have a good night, Hermione.” She nodded, and then the two boys stood up to leave. Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, and told Remus to hold on a second. “Hermione, I -- I’m…” he mumbled, looking ashamed of himself. As he should, she thought. “Just go, Sirius,” Hermione told him, not quite sure how long it would be until she could forgive him for this. Remus placed his hand on Sirius’ shoulder and gently pulled him along. With one more apologetic look at Hermione, the boys both turned and left. As their figures disappeared into the darkness, she thought she could hear them quietly arguing with one another all the way down the corridor. When she brought her attention back to Severus, he looked as if he was losing lots of color, her heart felt heavy. “Come on, Severus. Let’s get you up to Madam Pomfrey. I think you might have a broken rib.” Gingerly she hooked her hands under his arms, and took her time gently helping him back to his feet. He grunted when he stood up, his eyes scrunched in pain. “I could have killed him, Hermione. I might have, had you not stopped me,” he told her. She saw the look in his eyes when he was on top of Sirius. She believed him. “Well, luckily you didn't.” Hermione smiled weakly. “A minor hex would have done the trick, Severus. I was just about to send one his way myself, before…” Severus tried to respond, but with every attempt to speak, he seemed to lose even more color. Hermione tried not to let the worry she felt show on her face. They started to walk together, with Hermione holding on to Severus as tightly as she could without causing him more pain. It was no easy task, and even making it half-way down the corridor seemed to take forever. He was getting heavy, bearing nearly his entire weight on her. It was difficult to move and she wasn't quite sure if she could carry on much longer without hurting them both. She stopped walking, took a step back and pointed her wand at him. His eyes widened. “What are you-” “I can't carry you,” she interrupted. Hermione used the same spell that adult Severus used on herself, Harry and Sirius, when they'd all passed out near the Black Lake after the Dementor attack her third year. A stretcher appeared underneath him, then levitated him above the ground. “This isn't necessary,” he growled while laying on his back. Hermione began walking, stretcher in tow. “Nonsense. You can't walk, and I was proving to be no help. This will be better for each of us. Now hush, you're in no shape to argue.” As much as she knew he wanted to, Severus did not argue with her the rest of the way. He was almost completely silent, save for a few groans and hisses from the pain. When she opened the door to the Hospital Wing, thankfully it was empty. The medi-witch must have fixed up Sirius and sent him on his way in the time it had taken she and Severus to get up there, she thought. Madam Pomfrey immediately rushed to them in her dressing gown. “Miss Devereux!” she exclaimed, waving her wand mid-run preparing a bed for Severus. She took one look at him and shook her head. “Fighting with Black again, I suppose?” Hermione nodded. Pomfrey tutted, and sent Severus onto the bed she had just gotten ready for him. “I assumed as much,” she went on, waving her wand over his body, doing her diagnostic spells. “Just mended his nose. The foolish boys.” Her voice was filled with half-exasperation and a half-motherly tone. Hermione sat on a chair next the the bed, while Madam Pomfrey rushed to her healing potions cabinet. “Two broken ribs,” she called back over her shoulder, then turned around with a bottle of pain potion in her hands. Severus’ eyes met Hermione’s, she reached over and wrapped her hand around his. “Over night for you, I'm afraid,” Pomfrey said while pouring a glass for Severus to take. “Here,” she handed it to him, “drink up.” Severus took a sniff from the cup and crinkled his nose. “Never gets easier,” he mumbled, before tipping it back and taking the potion in one gulp. He frowned at the taste and placed the empty cup on the table next to his bed. Madam Pomfrey flourished her wand once more, and Hermione heard the sickening cracks of Severus’ bones resetting themselves. It was lucky she'd given him the pain potion first, because from the sound of it, Hermione knew that would have been excruciating. “Not much more for you to do besides rest, Mister Snape. Now say goodnight to Miss Devereux, it's nearly curfew,” Pomfrey told them both with a look on her face that meant she was not to be argued with. Hermione didn't want to leave, but knew she had no choice. Reluctantly, she squeezed his hand and stood. “Goodnight, Severus. Get some rest. I'll come back first thing in the morning.” She leaned down and placed a soft kiss to his forehead. Severus took another potion Pomfrey gave him -- a sleeping potion, then smiled sadly. He's eyes started to droop. “Goodnight, Hermione. I - I lo-” He stopped. A tint of red filled his cheeks. “I'll see you tomorrow.” Her heart skipped a beat. “What were you going to-” “Alright that's enough for tonight,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, and all but pulled Hermione away. Hermione’s stomach dropped. Was he about to say…? No, she thought. There was no way. Slowly she walked to the door, looked back and saw that Severus’ eyes were already closed. Hermione left the Hospital Wing, and the entire walk back to her common room, the words she thought he was about to say kept replaying in her mind. *** 22nd December 1976 Hermione had difficulty sleeping, images of Sirius’ glazed over eyes and memories of the stench of his breath kept replaying over in her mind. Of course she'd been through a lot worse, with being tortured, losing loved ones, erasing her parents’ memories and fighting in a war, but she'd never been attacked quite in that way before. She feared something more sinister would have happened with Greyback in Malfoy Manor all those months ago, but what happened earlier that evening was the first time she'd been handled as if she were a piece of meat. It nauseated her. Obviously she also worried about Severus. He had been lucky that one of his broken ribs did not pierce his heart or lungs. The whole situation could have ended up being much, much worse, and all of those what ifs played on a loop in her head. Just before sunrise, Hermione had finally given up on any hopes of sleeping. She quietly got out of her bed and padded her way towards the showers, hoping that the hot water would calm her nerves and ease the tension she held in her back. It was daybreak by the time she'd gotten out and dressed. The girls were still sleeping, having a bit of a lie in due to there being no classes, so Hermione left the dorm and walked down to the common room to kill some time before it would be acceptable to visit Severus in the Hospital Wing. When she sat on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, she sighed and pointed her wand at it, igniting a crackling fire. She stared into the dancing flames, again reliving the events of last evening. Severus meant to say something to her before she left the Hospital Wing. It sounded as if he was about to say he loved her. It could have just been the effects of the sleeping potion. Perhaps he didn't know what he was saying. She'd already come to the realization that she was in love with him, but Gryffindor courage be damned, she would not be the first one to express those feelings. What if he didn't feel as strongly for her? She'd only scare him off. Hermione exhaled loudly. She fought in a war, for Merlin’s sake! Why was the thought of telling someone you loved them more terrifying than that? Impatiently, she looked at her watch. It was seven o'clock. If she took a slow walk to Severus, she could reach him by seven-thirty. That would be completely acceptable for a visit, she thought. She couldn't stay cooped up in the common room any longer, since she felt as if she could climb the walls. When she arrived next to his bed nearly a half hour later -- she timed it perfectly -- he was still asleep. He looked so much younger while he slept. The lines between his eyebrows from his usual scowl were smoothed out, and his lips were fractionally turned upwards, almost like he was smiling. She wondered what he was dreaming of to cause such a serene look on his face. Not wanting to wake him, she took a seat next to his bed and opened a book she'd brought with her, just in case he was still asleep when she arrived. Madam Pomfrey came out about fifteen minutes after her arrival, and looked for a moment like she was about to tell Hermione off, but stopped when Hermione gave her a pleading look. The young medi-witches eyes softened. She placed a finger up to her lips, signaling for Hermione to remain quiet, then waved her wand across Severus’ body, doing some more diagnostic spells while he continued to sleep. Pomfrey nodded after she was finished, looking satisfied by the results, and gave Hermione an understanding smile before heading back to her office. Hermione went back to reading her book. Periodically looking up each time she heard Severus stir, hoping that he would wake, but also being glad that he was getting the rest that Madam Pomfrey prescribed. About an hour later she jumped upon hearing his voice. “Hey,” he said, wiping his eyes, his voice scratchy from sleep. Hermione placed the book on her lap and smiled as she took his hand. “Good morning,” she replied with a gentle squeeze. “How are you feeling?” He shifted his position, trying to sit up. His face screwed up in pain. “A little better, but not much.” He craned his neck, looking in the direction of Madam Pomfrey’s office. “Could probably do with a bit more of that pain potion.” Before Hermione could even offer to fetch her, Madam Pomfrey was right there, and if Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have sworn the woman had Apparated with how quickly she arrived. Handing him a goblet full of the potion, she shifted her eyes to Hermione. “You've been well looked after all morning Mister Snape. The girl hasn't left your side.” Hermione flushed, giving Severus a sheepish smile. When he took the cup from his lips, a small smile appeared. “You've been just watching me sleep?” he asked with a slight chuckle. She lifted the book from her lap. “As interesting as I find you, Severus, I had other things to keep me occupied.” He shook his head, amusement plainly written on his face. Madam Pomfrey quickly checked Severus over once again, now that he was awake. She informed them both that his ribs were healing as well as she could have hoped, but he would still require one more night there to recover fully. Severus and Hermione had identical scowls on their faces. Each of them had been hoping to spend the day together, not under the watchful eye of the school medi-witch. Hermione stayed with him for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, refusing to leave even for meals, and ate with Severus in the Hospital Wing. They kept their conversations light, not speaking much about what happened the night before, and certainly neither one of them bringing up what Severus had almost said before she left the previous night. As the day progressed, she was happy to see that he seemed to be improving with each hour that passed. His movements were becoming more fluid and less painful, and most of the color had returned to his face. When it was nearly suppertime, Severus’ expression grew somber. “Hermione?” he asked, angling his body towards her. She hummed in response, while turning a page in her book. He reached for it and pushed it down, causing her to look up at him. When seeing the frown he was wearing, she grew concerned. “What is it, Severus?” “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I should have been there before…before he put his hands on you. If I'd just arrived earlier, none of this,” he waved his arm over his injury, “would have happened. What he did to you would not have happened.” Slowly she stood up, bent down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, his brow was furrowed. “What was that for?” he asked. Hermione sat back down and exhaled. “Severus, if you think for one second that you're going to blame yourself for the actions of someone else, you're sorely mistaken.” He tried to argue, but silenced him with one look. “Stop,” she ordered. “You cannot control everything, so please just stop. It is not your fault.” “But if I -” She groaned loudly. “We’re not arguing about this. What's done is done and cannot be changed. It is no more your fault than it is the Giant Squid’s.” His mouth puckered, it was obvious he hadn't agreed with her, but to her satisfaction he dropped the subject. Soon after trays of food were brought in for each of them, and after they ate they spent the rest of the evening reading quietly next to one another, or discussing their plans for the following day when Severus would be released. Surprisingly, Madam Pomfrey let Hermione remain until a little past curfew, then after giving Severus his pain and sleep potions she insisted Hermione return to her dormitory. Again Hermione kissed Severus goodnight, and again his eyes were closed before she'd even reached the door. She felt monumentally better after spending the day with him, and could not wait to get into bed. After barely sleeping the night before, she was absolutely knackered. When she was nearly to Ravenclaw tower, she heard footsteps behind her. “Merlin’s Beard, not again,” she whispered to herself, before turning around with her wand out in front of her. Just as she assumed, Sirius Black was standing behind her, hands up in a defensive position, and looking much better than he had the last time she saw him. Cold fury raced through her veins “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast you into next week, Black?” she growled. Sirius dropped his arms, his shoulders sank. “I can't…” he said. Hermione lowered her wand minutely. “What do you want?” she asked, silently asking whatever higher power there might have been why she had such rotten luck. “I wanted to -- no,” he shook his head, “I need to apologize.” She raised an eyebrow, but did not lower her wand. “Oh? And you think that will just make everything better, do you? Say, ‘I'm sorry,’ and everything will just go away? Do you even understand how wrong what you did was?” Her voice grew louder with each word she spoke. He flinched as if she hit him. “Hermione, I'm not going to make excuses for what I did, alright? And yes, I know it was wrong, which is why I'm here trying to apologize to you. Last night that...that wasn't me,” he told her, his eyes wide and sincere. Finally Hermione lowered her wand. He was right. It wasn't him. Not the him she knew from her time, that was. Clearly this Sirius Black still had a lot of growing up to do. “I know it wasn't,” she admitted in a whisper. “But I'm not sure if I can accept your apology.” His head jerked up fast. “But Hermione-” “No, Sirius. There are no buts about this. I'm not sure if I can accept it yet. It's going to take me some time.” Sirius nodded and ran his hand through his hair. “I understand,” he said just barely loud enough for her to hear. Hermione took a step away from him and placed her wand back in the pocket of her robes. “I appreciate you coming to apologize. But, please, from now on, you really need to just stay away. Do you understand?” Hermione asked, hating that she was even having this conversation with someone she cared for. He nodded again, looking like a small child who'd just been scolded. “I do. I will. And for what it's worth, I truly am sorry.” Hermione’s eyes filled with understanding, remembering again that conversation she had with Sirius during Christmas her fifth year. “I know you are, Sirius.” Now she knew for certain what he had apologized for that evening, and that he absolutely knew who she was when he met her again later in his life. They stood facing each other in an awkward silence for several seconds, until she sighed and began walking away. “Goodnight,” she called over her shoulder, as she left him alone in the dark corridor. 

[miax1119]

Land Girls fanfiction

Land Girls fan fiction

Based upon season 2 and 3. Main characters: Esther, Fred, Vernon Storey, Connie, Joyce, Martin, Mrs. Gulliver, Lady Hoxley.

Martin had his operation and Esther paid its price to Vernon Storey. Life went on in Helmstead. Martin’s eyesight got better by the day and after two months of the operation he was completely back to normal. Esther was preparing sandwiches for the party at Hoxley Manor when the smell of sausage made her nauseas. She stepped backwards a hand to her mouth trying to compose herself when Martin entered the kitchen proclaiming he no longer needed his toys and wanted to give then away to the wings of victory fond. Esther tried to reason with him. He was nothing more than a big kid but Esther accepted his decision.

They arrived at the garden party at Hoxley Manor. To Esther’s regret Vernon Storey had been released from hospital the week before to convalesce at home. He went straight towards Esther as soon as he saw her. Fred was standing next to Esther and saw Vernon coming and gave her a heads up at Storey’s approach. Vernon’s eyes were filled with joy at the sight of the woman he desired. He could never forget their little fling. How he had longed to touch her breasts again. She was a fine woman. “Esther, how lovely to see you” His eyes wandered towards her bosom and she felt like he was undressing her with his eyes, and knowing he had seen her undressed didn’t make her less uncomfortable. She turned her head away from him while saying “It´s Mrs. Reeves to you, Mr. Storey” She went outside the tent to get some fresh air but was soon confronted by Mrs. Gulliver “Ah Mrs. Reeves” She was about to engage a long lecture when she noticed Esther’s pale feature and the way she holding a hand to her mouth and the other to her stomach gave cause for concern. “Are you ill Mrs. Reeves?” Esther was fighting hard against her nausea. “No, it´s nothing. Was there something you wanted?” “Yes, your son looked like he was a bit too keen on the half empty pint glasses. I wondered if you´d noticed?” “I´ll see to him straight away, thank you” Esther walked inside the tent and hoped her stomach would agree with her decision. I did and she talked briefly with her son and sent him outside to cool off.

Mrs. Gulliver’s curiosity was stirred. She would keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior from Mrs. Reeves. The Pastor was making a toast and they all drank for freedom. Mrs. Gulliver watched Esther whom didn’t seem to agree with her pint. Odd Mrs. Reeves usually didn’t say no to a glass of beer. It actually didn’t seem to agree with her. She looked nauseated. Mrs. Gulliver always suspected something unholy was going on in the house of Frederic Finch. So many lonely women and only one man with manly desires and now she suspected proof of this sinful living was growing inside Mrs. Reeves.

As usual Esther was first up in the morning and now she was sitting at the kitchen table lost in her thoughts, hot coffee in hand and enjoying the morning sun when Fred entered the kitchen. “Morning” he said “Morning Fred” Fred went over to the stove to warm some milk for himself. It didn’t take long “you want a cup Esther?” The question brought her back from her heavy thoughts and her nagging suspicion. The smell of hot milk was too much for her stomach and she began retching. A hand to her mouth and she ran out the door. The girls were just coming down the stair chatting along but was stopped by Esther who hurriedly outside to throw up. Everybody left behind were looking quiet stunned after her. Nobody made a move so Fred went after Esther. She was leaning against the tree just outside the house. She had stopped throwing up but was out of breath. Fred came up to her and put a hand on her shoulder “how are you doing?” She didn’t answer. She was to scared her suspicions might be right. She was pregnant with Vernon Storey’s child. How could this have happened? She was 41 and Vernon must at least be over 50. How could she have let this happen? Fred already knowing about the arrangement a few months back, since he was the one to pull her together, afterwards, he now had a nagging notion. He had noticed how she had become nauseated and more tired for a few weeks. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Esther let a few tears slip “I must look a mess” “how can I help you? Fred asked “nothing – unless you can turn back time”. Fred gave her a small hug and they went back inside to finish breakfast.

A month went by. Still Esther kept feeling poorly. Mrs. Gulliver made nasty comments to all in the village and Vernon Storey was getting more and more anxious for Esther to come to him and ask for his help. For her to surrender. But she didn’t come…

One evening Esther was doing the dishes and Fred was seated at the table he noticed how Esther was beginning to show. She wasn’t wearing an apron and therefore her skirt and blouse had become quiet wet around her waistline. The fabric of the skirt and blouse clung to her abdomen and a visible bulge was making its presence quiet obvious.   Fred was lost in thoughts; Esther was a fine woman in her prime just rotting up here. Not even lady of her own house. She worked hard all day. First up – last to bed. She shouldn’t be working so hard in her condition. She looked exhausted. Fred offered to help her wipe the dishes and she accepted his help with a smile. Without warning she felt a big warm hand on her abdomen. She froze and didn’t look at him but Fred didn’t move his hand. “Let me be the father” He could feel the wet fabric underneath his fingers and the softness of her stomach. “People already think we live in sin – you and I living under the same roof”. She put her hand over his. “What about Stanley? When he comes home” “Esther, he has been in that POC camp for more than three years. The odds of him making it home – are bad” She knew of cause. They didn’t see Martin standing at the stairs. He heard them – they thought his dad was dead - the thought was devastating to him. Fred removed his hand and touched Esther’s cheek. “Let me take care of you, Martin and the baby” A tear ran down Esther’s cheek. She looked at Fred and nodded. Fred squeezed her hand and they resumed the dishes without further conversation. Martin didn’t know what to think – a baby? His mother was having a baby? Had she been cheating on his dad? He was furious and went to his room.

2 weeks went by when all of the sudden there was a knock on the kitchen door. Esther was home alone preparing supper for the family. Vernon Storey entered the kitchen one big smile on his face and flowers in his hand. “Martin told me you weren’t feeling well so I just stopped by to offer my help” The twinkle in his eyes made her skin crawl and stomach curl together. “I don’t need your help” She felt trapped between the kitchen table and Vernon. He approached her and pressed her back against the table. He looked at her with great lust and put down his hat and flowers looking at this fine woman, the mother of his child. “Oh but I think you do” he touched her arm. “How are you feeling love?” she didn’t answer. “and how´s my son?” he placed his hands on her hip and pressed his body against hers. Esther tried to push him away “I´m not your love !” Vernon laughed “Of cause you’re my love – you are caring my child” he slid his hand to her abdomen. “Get your filthy hands off me!” Esther pushed harder against him without success. She looked him directly in the eye “I´m pregnant yes –with Fred’s child!” Vernon froze “WHAT!” “You heard me. Everybody in this town already suspect me and Fred, sharing a bed. Now they´ll get the proof” “Don’t be silly – who´ll believe you?” “Oh I think the whole village will. Gulliver is already running around town spreading lies. Isn´t that how you heard about this in the first place? Anger rouse in Vernon. Esther saw it in his eyes and she feared what was coming. She was right to fear him. He pushed her onto the table while pulling at her dress so it tore and revealed her under dress and a lot of cleavage. She tried to yell and scream for help but Vernon slapped her across her face making her fall backwards onto the table and dizzy. Vernon took advantage of her semi-consciousness and ripped her stockings. “Well then, I shall refresh your memories”. He spread her legs and stood between them, opened his trousers and was about to have his way with her, when a loud thud broke the disturbance and Vernon Storey fell unconscious to the floor. Fred pulled Esther to an upright position and tried to cover her with her torn dress. It was no good. Vernon had ripped it for good. Fred assessed Esther’s condition and her face. A large bruise on her cheek and a little blood was coming from her lower lip. “Esther – Esther can you hear me? It´s Fred”. She felt very dizzy and had trouble focusing. To their luck Frank entered the kitchen ready for supper. “What´s going on here?” But then he didn’t ask more – it was apparent what had taken place. He looked at Esther who had been nothing but nice to him “You want me to get rid of him?” Frank asked “Then you take care of Mrs. Reeves. Fred nodded and helped Esther to her room. She was still quiet dizzy and disorientated. “Martin mustn´t see me like this. He mustn´t see me like this” She repeated with trembling hand and tried to remove her torn dress with no luck. Fred looked at her with compassion and gently told her to let him help her. She trusted him and he removed her dress and stockings. He remembered his late wife and how he missed touching her. He took hold of Esther’s hands and looked her in her eyes. Beautiful blue eyes. “Listen to me Esther – Tomorrow you and I are going to the doctor. I´m the father – don’t forget that. Vernon Storey won´t come back here again. You´ll be safe. I´ll keep you safe” She looked down “but this is my mess Fred. Not yours” “Now listen to me. I care about you - and Martin. You live under my roof. I´m the father. Please let me” Esther nodded and gave him a smile of appreciation. There was a knock on the door and Frank entered “I´ll drive Storey home” Frank looked at Esther. He felt furious somebody would hurt her like that. “I´ll make sure everybody thinks he has had a pint too much. You two okay?” “Yeah, you just go - and thanks. “Say nothing of it” Frank left Fred cleaned Esther’s face up the best he could and put her to bed. He told Martin and the girls Esther had been attacked by an unknown intruder but a few days later rumors told Storey was at home with a concussion. They simply added two and two together – Vernon was the attacker. He always had a good eye to Esther.

A few days later when Esther was able to show her face outside the farm she and Fred went to the doctor and Esther´s condition was confirmed and Fred noted as the father. They would soon have to tell the girls and Martin. Esther feared Martins reaction but to her surprise he took the news well. He would never call Fred dad, and Fred didn’t expect him too. Martin was a sensible teenager and ever since he overhead the conversation in the kitchen, he knew his mother had made sacrifices for him and she too deserved happiness. The girls didn’t find out until one day Connie noticed Esther’s growing stomach. All the girls were having their weekly bath in the kitchen and they helped each other washing their hair. They were all standing in their under dresses and Esther was pouring water over Joyce’s head and couldn´t avoid getting quite wet herself from the splashing. Connie was sitting on a chair reading a magazine. They were all laughing and enjoying themselves. Connie whom was known for a fast line noticed Esther’s wet under dress clinging to her abdomen and a more round figure than usual. “oy Ester- who´s washing who? You´re nearly as wet as Joyce. We better lock the door, you´re practically naked in your wet dress and showing more than usually” Connie giggled. All eyes went to Esther. She looked down at her dress and tried to cover herself a bit but without success.. “My God Esther, have you been too deep in the cookie jar?” Connie giggled but soon stopped when she noticed the look on Esther’s face. She was looking down shamefully “yes –well you might as well know…” But she couldn’t get the words over her lips.. Connie went over to Esther and took hold of her hands “Esther, are you expecting?” Esther looked startled “Is it that obvious?” “Well it is when you´re half naked” Connie smiled at her. Joyce got out of the tub and dried herself while asking “how far along are you?” Esther didn’t know what to do of herself which was obvious to the girls. Connie fetched a towel and put it around Esther’s shoulders and asked her to sit down while Joyce got her a cup of tea. Connie was first to break the silence “Is it Fred’s?” “Why do you say that?” Esther replied. “Well, you do live like husband and wife for the most part” “It´s not like that!” Esther felt despaired. Joyce handed her the tea “It´s well sugared. Have you been to the doctor?” “Yes, Fred and I went about two weeks ago” “So it is Fred’s baby?” Esther didn’t answer. “You´re worried about what people will say?” “Yes. I´m not 17. I won´t be forgiven, and if my Stanley comes back” The tears got the best of her and she cried silently. “Couldn’t you get a divorce?” Esther looked up “but I still love Stanley” Connie knew a lot about life and its temptations also knew love wasn’t always a two way street. Sometimes love expands. “you don’t have to explain yourself to us. But it will be showing soon – it already is” The girls smiled. “I know. I just don’t know how to let the world know” “how long do you think you can hide it?” Joyce asked “I don’t know – a month more. Maybe two like Bea. Hiding in the house. Wear baggy clothes”  “You can´t hide this Esther. Martin needs you you’re the head of this house and Mrs. Gulliver will know for sure”  “I suspect she already does” Esther stood up dizzy with mixed feelings. Joyce steadied her. “Let me wash your hair and then it´s straight to bed” Esther agreed and climbed into the tub. The hot water felt good and so did her bed afterwards.

But sleep didn’t come easily and she was having nightmares. A song was spinning in her head “Run Rabbit Run rabbit Run Run Run.” She tossed and turned in her bed. She felt chased – someone was after her – Vernon – he was forcing himself on her – she couldn’t stop him – she tried to scream but no sound came out – he was taking her baby – she heard someone call her name and shake her “Esther wake up, wake up”. It was Fred. He had been sitting in the kitchen unable to sleep thinking of how to solve the situation with Esther. He heard Esther calling out “stop Vernon stop”. Fast on his feet he went up the stairs to Esthers room. He bent over her and it was obvious she was having a nightmare and who was causing them. She had tossed her covers to the floor. Fred shook her “Esther Esther wake up” suddenly two bright blue eyes looked into his. She was pushing him away but Fred kneeled beside her and took her into his arms. Joyce and Connie had also come running and was standing in the doorway. Esther was crying into Fred’s shoulder “What if he takes the baby Fred? It´s my baby – what if Vernon takes it?” Fred took hold of both her shoulders and looked directly in her eyes “Now you listen to me: I AM THE FATHER – no one else needs to know – you understand?” Esther nodded tears running down her cheeks when suddenly she gasped and felt her abdomen – something was happening. Fred was unsure of her upset expression “what, what´s wrong? Is it the baby?” “I think it´s moving – I just felt it moving!” She smiled and then took Fred’s hand and placed it on the abdomen. Fred’s mouth fell open and a smile forced on his big round face. He looked down at his large hand covering her stomach and Esther’s small hand on top of his. He didn’t know why but he leaned in and stopped inches from her face seeking permission. He believed he got it and kissed her gently on her lips. The kiss was returned and Esther caressed his cheek while the kiss deepened a bit. Connie and Joyce quietly left the doorway – giving Fred and Esther some privacy.. “You´re a fine woman Esther. I´ll promise to take good care of you – all of you” He looked down at her protruding stomach. “We will start telling people soon. You can´t hide that little fellow much longer” They smiled and Fred got up to fetch her covers and tucked her in. “Sleep tight love” “Thank you Fred, and you too”

A week or so later Mrs. Gulliver was on her postal round coming up Pasture Farm where Esther was hanging up the washing in the yeard. She was close to 5 months pregnant and it was getting more and more evident that she was expecting. Winter was coming and she seldom went outside without a coat and inside she usually wore a cardigan. But this noon she was in a hurry running late for at meeting with Lady Hoxley. “Good day Mrs. Reeves” Gulliver called out as she approached slowly on her bike. Esther had just hung up one of Freds big shirts, lost in thoughts and not expecting visitors, turned around with surprise forgetting she was suppose to hide her condition, but instead rested a hand on her stomach “good day Mrs. Gulliver – have you come to discuss the spitfire found raising? Casuse it´s not until 2 o´clock” Mrs. Gulliver had stopped her bike and starred at Esther. Esther followed her surprised gaze to her stomach and immediately cursed herself. She quickly picked up the laundry basket to cover herself but it was too late. “Mrs. Reeves -  YOU ARE EXPECTING!” Esther approached Gulliver “Please keep your voice down” She took hold of the handlebar “And please keep it to you self” “I knew something was going on between the two of you and now here´s the proof of your sinful living” “Well if you knew it was hardly a secret, was it now. But please keep it to yourself” Esther let go of the handlebar and walked towards the house “i´ll see you at the Manor Mrs. Gulliver” Esther knew Gulliver would tell everyone in town within nightfall and perhaps it was for the best.

She met Fred inside the house and he couldn’t help noticing she was in a bad temper “What´s going on?” “It´s that rat Gulliver. She just stopped by and I forgot to cover my self!” She ripped her cardigan on the nearest chair and pulled it on in anger. Fred smiled a bit. He liked to see her not all covered up. He already felt the ownership of fatherhood to her unborn child. Pregnancy suited her. “All of Helmstead will know i´m pregnant by nightfall” she stopped mid pace next to Fred as he caught hold of her hand “Maybe it´s for the best Esther – you can´t hide it for much longer” He looked at her stomach and back into her eyes “You´re practically glowing” he smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous” She smiled back a bit and went upstairs.

Mrs. Gulliver and Esther met with Lady Hoxley in the afternoon. Gulliver hadn’t mentioned anything about her previous discoveries. Esther was surprised and thankful. The three ladies were discussing the upcoming found raising. It had been a long day and Esther was feeling the strain of being pregnant, not as young as when she were expecting Martin, and just exhausted. Maybe she would be able to have a lay down when she got home. She felt ready to drop and forgot to listen: “Mrs. Reeves don’t you agree?”   “I´m sorry I was lost for a moment” “You don’t look well Mrs. Reeves” “oh I´m fine thank you” she tried to stand up but was surprised by her unsteady legs. Gulliver and Lady Hoxley were fast at her side. “Take it easy Esther” Gulliver said almost nicely “Maybe you should lay down a bit?” Lady Hoxley guided her to the nearby sofa. “Mrs. Gulliver please get Dr. Channing” but Esther resisted “No my Lady, that’s not necessary” “you´re not well Mrs. Reeves. Might as well let the doctor have a look at you” Esther looked at Gulliver with pleading eyes and she came to her aid: “Perhaps some fresh air will do you good. I will escort you home”   Lady Hoxley felt like she was missing something and then she noticed Esther’s hand on her stomach, trying to cover herself. Esther didn’t like to be a burden nor the center of attention and got up from the sofa and stumbled right into the arms of Dr. Channing who had just entered the room looking for Lady Hoxley. “Mrs. Reeves are you alright?” “No she´s not – please have a look at her” Richard helped Esther to a seat and kneeled beside her “what are your symptoms?” “Please it´s nothing, I’m expected at the farm – I better get going” Gulliver interrupted “she´pregnant and hasn’t been feeling well for a while” Lady hoxley was taken aback “Surely that can´t be true” “It is” Gulliver confirmed “That´s what comes from sinful living, like Mrs. Butler and I have always said…” Dr. Channing cut her of mid sentence “thank you Mrs. Gulliver – I´ll take it from here”. Gulliver left with a grumpy expression and Esther was alone with the doctor. “Have you been to a doctor?” Esther was looking down “Yes” “How far along are you?” “Close to 5 months” “Right – Well - you can´t continue with the land girls. The work is too hard and i´m afraid you might lose the baby” “Please I can hide it a little longer” “But the work is too hard and you´re not 20 anymore” “I know” “I´m sure Mr. Finch is interested in keeping you safe”

When Esther got home she told Fred about what had happened. “You shouldn’t be working with the girls any more. Your place is in the house from now on. Tomorrow you should go to town and by some fabric. You need clothes with more space” He smiled at her and looked down at her stomach. Her hands were touching her protruding abdomen. “Am I showing that much?” “I´m afraid so. And so you should” “What will we tell people Fred? I´m still married” He took her hands into his big ones “That we live under the same roof and that I’m the father – no more to it”

Two months went by. Esther was approaching 7 months and showing a fine round baby bulge.

Martin was looking forward to his new role as big brother even though he knew his mother had been unfaithful to his dad. Fred had en talk with Martin explaining the situation, the money his mother didn’t have for his operation, the dilemma of Vernon Storey and the option of having the baby removed, which likely could cost the life of his mother. Fred had talked to Martin man to man. He even let Martin have a taste of his beer. Martin felt respected and heard and knew this was only going to work, if the village people believed this baby to be Freds, not Vernons.

Gladys Gulliver was not as spiteful as Esther would have thought. She talked about Esther behind her back that was her nature. But she also had a little bit of compassion for Esther which showed one day in church. The land girls, Esther and Mrs. Gulliver were decorating the church for all hallows eve an evening service. They were just about done and the girls went home to change and get supper ready while Esther and Mrs. Gulliver were the last to finish up..

It had been a long day and it wasn’t about to be over soon with the evening service at 9 o´clock.. Esther wasn’t sure she would attend. She didn’t feel like she had the energy. She had been experiencing small twinges in her back all day. It would be good to get her feet up.

The two ladies were putting the hymnbook at every bench when Esther felt a pain unlike the others. It was a sharp pain in her back and she groaned while her hand went to her back while the other held on to the wooden bench. She was standing hunched over the bench focusing on her breathing in an effort to control the pain.

The church was deadly silent and her groan didn’t escape Gullivers ear. She let go of what she had in her hands and went over to Esther.

“Are you alright Mrs. Reeves?” Esther had her eyes closed “I don’t know” She breathed out. “Fred is at the pub, could you get him please?” Gulliver rubbed Esthers lower back and talked gently to her “Now you sit here. How far along are you by now?”

“Seven months” Esther sat on the bench, eyes still closed. She leaned back and placed her hands on her protruding stomach. Gulliver placed her hand on Esthers stomach too which surprised Esther so much so opened her eyes and gave a little gasp. She looked at Gulliver whom was starring at Esthers stomach.

“We never had any children, Clarence and I. Our marriage remained barren. I failed as a wife. Maybe that´s why I became so spiteful”

“I´m sorry” Esther said and just then the baby made a kick at their hands.

“Oh my” Gulliver gasped and smiled. “What a feisty little fellow, all ready making trouble just like his dad”

Esthers smile disappeared and she looked down. “I´m sorry Esther. I didn’t mean to” “It´s alright – as you make your bed, so you must lie in it. This is my own fault”  

“How´s the pain?”

“It´s getting better”

“You must have overdone yourself for today. I will get Mr. Finch so he can take you home to bed”

Esther let the last remark slide. She didn’t want an argument.

Esther sat alone while Gulliver fetched Fred. She looked at the beautiful church, and this was a silent moment between her and God. She placed her hands on her stomach and leaned her head backwards closing her eyes. This was how Vernon Storey found her. He observed her from distance. She really was a beautiful woman whom he desired a great deal. He approached her slowly “I´m sorry for my mistakes Esther” She opened her eyes surprised by his voice. She had expected Freds voice.

“What do you want”

He held his hand upwards a sign of peace “Nothing, nothing at all. Didn’t expect to find anyone here”

“I´m just waiting for Fred. He should be here any minute now”

Storey looked over his shoulder a bit nervous for any sign of Fred, but all was silent.

He sat down respectablely beside Esther and watched her pronounced stomach with sadness.

“How are you feeling?”

“I´m alright” she lied.

“I´m glad… I am sorry about all of this Esther. I would hope you would change your mind and let me be the father”

“That´s not going to happen!” She replied with anger. The pain in her back was returning and she didn’t want Vernon to know.

He put a hand over hers “Esther I never… I just wanted us to be a family” He didn’t get to say more. Esther couldn’t hold back her pain and made a sharp intake of breath while clutching her stomach. She tried panting but the pain wouldn’t go away. She closed her eyes and hoped Fred would come soon.

“Esther, are you in pain? What can I do?”

“GET FRED!” was her short answer.

“ESTHER – I`M HERE!”

Fred followed by Mrs. Gulliver hurried down the aisle.

“FRED” Esther cried out. Vernon moved away and gave room to Fred. Fred put his arms around Esther “What´s going on?” “I don’t know – I think I need the doctor” “come on I´ll get you home… Vernon could you get Dr.Channing at the Manor?”

“Sure, I´ll be on my way” Vernon rushed to Hoxley Manor. 

[ah17hh]

Satan's Stardrowned (a short story) via /r/satanism

Satan's Stardrowned (a short story)

(Disclosure: I commissioned this work)

I - Inner Wasteland

The shrill cry of crows shook the window panes. And those calls were answered by an equally shrill squawking of a parrot that sat in a wire cage. The large bird— a black lory with wings like red flames—ruffled its feathers as it screamed, sending fluffy downs into the air. Stacked at the base of the cage were piles of old newspapers decorated in milky-colored waste and empty boxes of wine. As the two avian adversaries battled it out with incessant screeching, a pile of mismatched blankets shook to reveal a woman with long auburn braids.

She slipped the blanket just below her nose revealing her bloodshot eyes, "I'll seriously eat both of you."

And as Estelle's stomach growled aloud like a fearsome beast, it seemed likely that her threats were serious. She glared daggers at the caged bird that chirped along with no care. Estelle sighed realizing that her words meant little to her feathery friend. She enjoyed the bird's company despite its constant chattiness. It, at least, was a more inviting sound than the rantings of her coworkers. Even the thought of seeing the slimy grins on their faces made her feel nauseated. And she had only just recovered from a bout of vomiting.

Beside her piles of scattered bedding sat dirty dishes— a bowl of partially eaten soup and a mug of thick, dark liquid. Estelle reached over to the spoon that sat in the bowl. She stirred the contents and grimaced. Day old tomato soup wasn't her idea of a proper breakfast. But as she glanced over at the clock ticking on the wall, three in the morning wasn't a proper time for anything.

Rubbing her eyes, the woman contemplated her existence as well as how many steps it would be to the microwave. She decided they were both too much of a hassle. But despite her attempts to hide her face beneath the thick wool of her blankets, the birds' calling won out. Estelle groaned as she sat up in her makeshift bed.

"Well, I'm up," she said to the caged bird, "What do you want?"

Despite her pleas, the bird said nothing legible in response. Estelle shook her head as she rose to her feet. She left her windswept and cluttered bedroom for an equally disheveled kitchen. Plates of partially-eaten food, unsorted utensils, and over-ripened fruit laid scattered on the counters. Estelle squinted her eyes, hoping the mess would disappear if she pretended it wasn't there.

With a throat burning like she breathed fire and airways far too congested to properly breathe, Estelle sifted through her cabinets. There was only one purification liquid that could properly ease her sickness and it was red in color and tasted nasty but was hell's ambrosia all the same. But as the woman slammed each of her drawers and cabinets in quick succession, she was unable to find the dry wine she sought.

She dug her nails into her temples. A week with the flu was one thing, but not being able to drown her misery in booze left Estelle feeling frustrated. Her eyes darted to the kettle. At the very least, she figured tea would be a good substitute. She had assembled quite the collection despite hardly being much of a tea-drinker.

Estelle sifted her hand through the bags of tea that were packaged neatly in a metal tin. She sighed as she glanced through the selection. Making choices was never her strong suit, especially when the options available seemed endless. And when she struggled to make a decision, she knew the voice in which to turn.

"If only you left some 'spells' that made waking up everyday bearable," she thought. Estelle plopped down at a small square table that housed one lone chair. She dug her nails into her scalp, rustling her fringe and releasing loose strands of hair from her braids.

If it weren't for the squawking coming from her bedroom, Estelle would have curled up into the chair and fallen back to sleep. But she knew that Naamah, her prized lory, wouldn't stand for even a moment without ample amounts of attention and snacks. Checking what was left from the fruit bowl, Estelle at least had a papaya to appease the goddess.

She rinsed a knife and plate from her pile of unloved kitchen tools. The plate had a five-pointed-star engraved on its surface. Estelle had always been annoyed receiving star-clad gifts. It seemed as if everyone who heard her name assumed that she needed to hoard astral paraphernalia. Had it been gifted to her from anyone else, it would've ended up listed on an online auctioning site. But because it was from him... Estelle chopped into the fruit, squishing it with the blunt end of the knife.

As the blade slid beside her fingers, Estelle imagined the gushing papaya juice as blood. Her mind had turned clouded from her sickness— it became clouded from many sources. And with so much that had gone wrong, Estelle wondered if she should reclaim some of that misfortune and enact it by her own hands. If she were to take her blade and stab it repeatedly into her own body— turning her smooth olive-toned flesh into a sea of blood-filled holes —she wondered what would happen and if any of it would truly matter.

Though, those thoughts were interrupted by a piercing sound. And this time, it wasn't Naamah's song that alerted the woman. Her ringtone was something that started as a joke between her penpal. She had always wrote to him about her fondness of hearing humans screams. Something filled with so much raw emotion— it was both beautiful and hideous all at once. And she found it endearing that he sent his own scream to alert her when her boss called. The inflection he captured was one that accurately conveyed how she felt when she heard from work.

Part of her wished to let the phone ring and accept whatever consequence would come from using more of her undocumented sick leave. But from where she stood, she saw the bills piling up at her mail slot. Another week without a paycheck would probably mean the end to hot running water and Estelle was too fond of late night bubble baths.

Hacking up her lungs to clear her throat, Estelle ran back into her bedroom to retrieve the screaming device. Between the duet of birds and her own raspy voice, she didn't expect to be understood. But knowing her boss, she didn't anticipate him listening to much that she had to say.

"Stella! So glad you picked up. I've been trying to get in touch with you all week. May just called out last minute and we have a tour that starts at six. I know you called out this week, but I was wondering if there was any chance that you might just come in for a few hours and..."

Estelle zoned out his voice as he spoke. She contemplated if she was more annoyed that he insisted on using that nickname or that he wouldn't let her get a word in. And no amount of coughing seemed to stop him from his rant. Even in the middle of the night, that man was far too energetic for his own good. She had to wonder what cocktail of pills he was dosing to get on that level of excitement at odd hours.

When the pause came, she was too bored to argue, "The lakeside trail at six? And it's just a shared tour? No bells and whistles? No frills?"

"Well, as always, I'd expect you to give that beautiful starry-eyed smile of yours to each-"

She gagged, "Sounds great. I'll be there."

As her finger glided against her screen, she heard the man's voice darkened, "You know, we were going over our attendance sheets yesterday. You've had a lot of unaccounted for absences. I told the office that it must be some kind of mistake though. Our team starlet would never act so irresponsibly."

"Sure wouldn't."

"You know, I was glad that I caught you up this late. Couldn't sleep? Too busy stargazing?" he said as he laughed too hard at his own joke.

Estelle slammed her head repeatedly into the back of her pillow, "The phone just woke me up. I'll get some rest before my shift starts. Goodnight."

Before he could respond, she had already hung up and tossed her phone into the pile of blankets. She groaned and massaged her head. The thought of putting on a chipper facade and hiking on a brisk autumn day made Estelle question whether she would rather quit her job and allow the eviction process to take its course. But she stood once again— she had promised she would continue on. And she didn't intend to break that promise.

Repeating the steps she needed to take seemed to always help. Feed Naamah, feed herself, get dressed, and then... Estelle slipped down to her knees. Even with it all spelled out for her, making the first move was always the most difficult step. And when she did force herself to act, she had to question why any of it mattered.

Her eyes darted to a desk built from scraps of welded metal— the altar. That was, at least, what she and her penpal always called it. That desk was the last welding project she completed during her apprenticeship. And it seemed fitting to make it her designated writing desk as those letters were the only thing motivating her to stay at that shop.

She sat down and pressed her hands against a stack of stationery and pens. A thin layer of dust had formed over the top of the parchment. She wished to let it remain. There was no use in upsetting the dust in its natural habitat. And besides, there was nothing for her to write anymore.

Naamah squawked again, capturing Estelle's attention, "Yeah. There's no point in stalling is there?"

Before she sat up, her fingers slid against the statue that sat on the altar— a being with the head of a goat and the body of a human. Estelle sighed. It was the last gift he sent. And as much as she felt ungrateful to say it, she'd rather destroy and burn everything he gave her if it meant hearing from him again.

Continue reading here

Submitted October 27, 2019 at 01:33AM by throwaway_horn_egg via reddit https://ift.tt/31Rmnvv

[words-cannotdescribe]

They Call Me Salvation Ch.1

 When I was a kid my mom would tell me stories of angels. When I would lay down to sleep the last thing that she told me was that the angels were watching over me as I slept. I remember that terrifying me, the idea of some celestial being just watching me as I slept. It even just sounds creepy. 

  She was a religious woman and she was in church every time the doors opened. First in and the last out, she was always situated in the front pew. She even taught Sunday school classes for the children of the church. 

 Needless to say, her life revolved around church, and God and the stories of the Bible.

 This would play an important part in my upbringing. I had been raised in church my entire life, being dragged along by my mother. She didn’t read me fairy tales as bedtime stories. Instead, she read to me the lives of Daniel, Joseph, Ruth and who could forget about the big man himself: Jesus Christ himself. I was constantly reminded that I could go to the Lord with any problem I had. All I needed to do was pray and he would handle it. 

 As I grew older I found myself praying that she would just leave me alone. 

 I was a teenager when I began to pull away from her religious way of life. Looking back on it now I guess it was really inevitable. Children with my kind of upbringing typically turn out one of two ways; They either become just like their parents and become hyper-religious or they defect from the church and do what they can to distance themselves from their old lifestyle. I chose the latter.

 My teenage years would best be described as a massive trainwreck. I fell in with the rebellious cliques at school. You know the ones. The ones that skip class to hang out behind the gym to smoke and talk shit about the rest of the school body. I spent more time in detention than I did at home and my once exemplary grades had fallen to barely passing at best. I dyed my hair and went behind my mom’s back to get piercings. I snuck out at night to go vandalize cars smoke weed with my so-called friends.

 One thing remained constant, however, my mom continued to try to fix me. The more I rebelled the more she doubled down on trying to force me into the church. I lost track of how many times she told me that I needed to stop living such a carnal life if I wanted to get into Heaven. That she wouldn’t stand by and watch her only daughter die a sinner and if I continued on this path that was what was bound to happen. At the time I always blew her off; I would roll my eyes or scoff and walk out the door.

 I wish I had listened to her. 

  As soon as I turned 18 I moved into my girlfriend's apartment. I just wanted to get away from my mom in any way I could and that was the quickest possible way. I packed up my things while she slept and by the time she had woken up any trace of me was erased from that house. I remember her blowing up my phone with texts and calls. She was begging me to come home, threatening to call the police to bring me back, asking what she had done wrong. She said anything that she could that she thought might bring me back to her. Finally, I sent a simple message saying that I was never coming back and wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. She didn’t reply.

  I thought I knew everything back then. I thought that I was in control of my own life finally and I was elated. I could do whatever I chose, whenever I chose. What I chose to do was drop out of school. I pulled myself out of school as fast as I could and before I knew it my new life was filled with going to parties with my girlfriend and our friends. My days were drunk away and I became very familiar with the burn of alcohol and things were fun. I was having the time of my life. Life was one big party and I couldn’t be happier. Why wouldn’t I be? I finally had my freedom, I had friends that I thought cared about me and I had a girlfriend that I loved. I had everything I had ever wished for, but I guess I should have been more careful with what I wished for. If I had just listened to my mother and saw what she was trying to teach me then perhaps I would have been graduating from college soon. I would have had a chance to have my own career, my own family, and happy life.

  Instead, I shunned her and I paid the price for it: my life.

 As a child, I remember being fascinated with stories of Hell and Satan. While other children longed to know more of the eternal paradise of Heaven; what with its streets paved with gold and its reputation as a place of peace and life, I was curious about the Underworld.

 My main fascination laid within the fact that despite all of the claims that God loved humanity and wanted the best for them that he would allow his creations to go to such a place. Why would he allow that? The scripture states that Hell was created for the Devil and his angels, not for man. Yet it also states that Hell is enlarging its borders day by day. I never understood why God would let his creations fall so low if he truly loved them so much. However, one thing that stuck with me for life: Hell was a place of fire and suffering.  I can assure you that they're wrong, about the fire part anyway. I would know, after all, I've become rather well acquainted will Hell over the last decade.

 Hell is cold and calculating. Floored with dull gray slate and crags and boulders as far as the eye can see. Rusted chains and countless hallways filled with rooms but never seem to lead to anywhere in particular. Think of the labyrinth, with its channels and unexpected twists and turn, then add the never-ending soundtrack of screaming and the nauseating smell of sulfur then you've got a better idea of Hell than whoever wrote the Bible. I'm telling you after you die the number of inaccuracies become stunningly obvious. At least that's how it was for me. It's not like I had much else to do other than point everything out as I was being escorted to my very own torture chamber. Gee, I felt honored. How nice of them to give me my own personal room to serve out the after-life sentence that I had been handed by the most corrupt judge of them all.

 Something else that you'll notice when you arrive on Satan's doorstep is that demons don't look like demons. They don't have horns and wings and the blood-red skin. They don't even have fangs or anything that humans had thought demons may have looked like. You heard me, all of those renaissance painting are wrong. Demons look like anyone else. Your next-door neighbor, a particularly nasty ex, maybe even a sibling or a complete stranger.

 For me, my demon was my very own father.

 I hardly knew the man in life, he left my mother and me when I was just ten years old but even then he wasn't particularly active in my life. He was always "busy at work" or being "sent on another business trip by the boss". Looking back on it, if I had known what I know now it should have been obvious that all of those business trips were really to his secretary's house to fuck her into the mattress. 

 I'd later go on to learn that his affair had been going on for three years before he left. Or maybe it hadn't, who knows. That's the thing about demons, you never know when they're telling you the truth or when they're lying through faces of stone. They're creatures of sin, what use do they have for the truth? When it causes you pain, that's when. 

 You see, abuse isn't just physical and anyone who tells you that is full of shit. Sure there is the immediate satisfaction of hearing screams of agony and moans of pain. There's a rush in watching scarlet red pour from gashes and slits in the poor soul's flesh and nothing could ever compare to watching someone take their last breath, their chest stilling only for it to resume a moment later for the torture to begin all over again. That all gets boring after a time, however, the best feeling is feeding someone the truths- or lies- they had feared to hear for their entire life.  Slowly but surely tearing down every single wall and taking a sledgehammer to any small sliver of resolve that they may have been clinging to. When you see that last glimmer of light fade from their eyes that's when you know you have won because it's always about winning. It's about proving to that soul on your rack that you hold all of the cards in the end and nothing that they feel or think can do anything to change that. A demon would love nothing more than to just pull up a chair with a bucket of popcorn and enjoy your demise as if it was a fine film.

 They always make you a deal at the end of every day though. A deal that sounds so beautiful sliding off of their silver tongue, a deal that you would have to be stupid to refuse. In exchange for your quasi-freedom, you must become the torturer. Sacrifice whatever humanity you still had left and let the underworld embrace you to become one of its very own. You're already in hell anyway so what's the point in refusing it.  

 Over the course of my stay here, I've had a few strong souls come across my rack. The rare few that took it on the chin and no matter how many times you offer them the relief they tell you to go hell(which is redundant in and of itself because I'm already there, thank you. That's how we found ourselves in this situation jack ass) and then they go on to endure for another day. These are the ones that no matter how much pain they are dealt they refuse to buckle, they refuse to choose to inflict pain rather than endure it. From time to time I found myself envying them for I was not one of the strong ones. I won't deny I was weak. If I wasn't then I wouldn't have found myself as a cold-blooded demon with a taste for pain and blood, but hey at least I got some cool powers out of it. 

 Truth be told I don't know how long I lasted on the rack. The thing about Hell is that you don't know what time is. It isn't as if they have clocks hanging around and you can easily turn your head and think "Oh! It's one o'clock, looks like I only have 23 more hours of torture until tomorrow". That's not how it looks. You lose track of everything when you die. You don't know what time it is, what day it is, all you know is where you are at and that's kind of hard to get wrong. I'm getting sidetracked. I tend to do that a lot.

 Anyway, however long I lasted doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that I didn't last long enough. At some point, something within me snapped and I didn't just climb off that rack, I jumped. I was willing to do anything to end the horror that unleashing that same pain on to someone else seemed so small. It didn't matter that I would be putting someone else in my very position. Nothing mattered other than ending my pain. Funny thing, selfishness had actually been one of my sins that landed me in this place. I was never much one for putting others before myself but selfish is a bit harsh. There's nothing wrong with wanting to get ahead while I could and if I had to cut down a few people in the process then so be it. 

 That's all it has ever been about and all it will ever be about: Getting ahead and winning this twisted game of cat and mouse that I've found myself in. What game you may ask? Well, you're about to find out.