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riddlecrux · 4 years ago

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Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel meta #pro elain archeron #elain and azriel #azriel x elain #acotar meta #rowaelin #tog

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takahero · 3 years ago

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some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

#the list nobody asked for #im gonna keep adding and editing for personal reasons #it’ll be interesting to see if any of my thoughts change after inkspell tho I’m kinda scared #basta #i could’ve sworn there was another wink!!!!!!!!! I SWEAR #basta: don’t swear oaths u can’t keep #inkheart

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glowing-blue-feathermage · 2 years ago

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I posted 2,311 times in 2022

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@sulky-valkyrie

@barbex

I tagged 2,156 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#anders - 794 posts

#fenris - 375 posts

#dragon age - 324 posts

#fenders - 250 posts

#handers - 183 posts

#hawke - 158 posts

#dragon age 2 - 118 posts

#justice - 78 posts

#fenhawke - 65 posts

#😍😍😍 - 62 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#it should not be forgotten that justice was part of anders for every one of those 7 years anders protested peacefully

My Top Posts in 2022:

I've been thinking so much the last couple of days about Anders trying to give his pillow to Varric before the Chantry Boom. Anders thought he was going to die, was prepared for it and was making his peace. Offering this pillow to Varric was offering him a piece of himself, a memory, evidence that he was here once, a way to remember him. Varric just makes a face and rejects it and it makes me so sad to imagine Anders just left it there in the sewers, unwanted. He goes on to knowingly paint himself as a murderer, as a perpetual monster in many eyes, and does so probably thinking that no one will remember the mage who made it through years of abuse only to become a healer who for years sacrificed warmth, comfort, and material possessions to care for total strangers. And then went to die for total strangers so they have a chance to be free and equal and not have to live in fear like he has his whole life. I just want to crawl into this game, take his pillow for safekeeping, hug him, head into war at his side, and then give his pillow back when we find a safe harbor in the storm. I despair that I can't do this, so thank the Maker that Hawke can do it for me.

140 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

Jos Lavellan, my Inquisitor, by GreyEnchanter!

145 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

Writing fanfic based on video games is so much fun. You can be writing about the characters and the locations and then also go hang out with them and run around in the town you just wrote about and talk to that person that's in your fic.

219 notes - Posted May 19, 2022

I just like thinking about what an actual badass Anders is.

1. He managed to escape on his own, with no conspirators, from a locked, heavily guarded prison not once, not twice, but seven times.

2. He survived on his own for sometimes months at a time outside the Circle with no experience of the world, no money, no possessions, and no practical survival skills, since there was no reason to teach these things to mages.

3. He had the mental fortitude to survive with his sanity AND his compassion for others intact after being held in solitary confinement for an entire year. He knew this punishment, paramount to torture, was on the table then and he STILL had the courage and determination to escape again.

4. He fought and killed Darkspawn on his own before the Warden found him.

5. He survived the Joining, which most do not. He became a Grey Warden and, by default, a Battlemage. He is a force to be reckoned with even before hosting a spirit of Justice and cited as an incredibly gifted spirit healer, which is a rare power.

6. He survives incredible hardship in Kirkwall on his own before he meets Hawke and friends. He deals with and overcomes poverty, starvation, the violent underbelly of Kirkwall, and the constant threat of templars.

7. Even when he knows that the Darktown Healer is no secret, he defies the templars and continues to run his clinic. He is willing to fight and kill for this sanctuary.

8. He inspires and is a vessel for a whole ass spirit of Justice. He can't be killed like a normal man can. He can be run through with a sword and simply pull it out and keep going.

9. He spends years actively defying people who want him dead or worse, instead of hiding, putting his life on the line for other mages.

10. He 👏🏻 is 👏🏻 still 👏🏻 compassionate 👏🏻 after 👏🏻 decades 👏🏻 of 👏🏻 abuse.

312 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I just. Feel really grateful for fanfiction. For everyone that writes it, everyone that reads it, everyone that shares their random feelings about characters and events and lore, or leaves a comment or a tag. What an amazing and intertwined community we live in, inspiring and being inspired by one another to create and consume things for no other reason than that it makes us happy.

1,470 notes - Posted May 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

3 notes · View notes

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years ago

Photo

U N P L A N N E D, part four

Knowing what Harry wanted was a relief. It made you sleep better, even that first night after you drove home and reported back to Lexi over dinner.

Sure--the stakes were now higher in a sense, right? You were going through with it. Something about that felt completely surreal and still somehow impossible, but deep inside of you, buried beneath the fear and the doubt, was a tiny speck of hope. And it was decidedly apple-seed shaped.

When you were five or six, you insisted on pushing your dolls around in a carriage, so much so that you refused one day to go to kindergarten without them. Your mother had you all buckled in the car, your doll beside you and the toy-sized stroller folded in the trunk.

It had always been something you wanted, something you saw in your future--but you’d always thought that it would be in a different order. In fleeting moments, when you made your peace with that, the hope managed to fight it’s way through all of the other feelings, letting you know that it was there and real and maybe things would work out okay.

The reality was this: you were pregnant. You’d decided that you were going to have the baby. Harry seemed involved enough at this stage, and frankly, you were fine enough for now to just push any other thought out of your head.

Where would you live? Where would he live? How often would he see the baby? Would you even have full custody or were you making a terrible assumption? Would he be on tour when you went into labor?

There were a thousand questions that tried to keep you up at night, but apparently growing a human took enough out of you that you fell asleep easily these days. And Harry had warned you it was coming--a quick text to give you a heads up.

310-324-9090 (8:24am): Spoke with Jeff some more last night after I got home. He thinks it’s best if we have a meeting with some of my team. Can you call me later and I’ll give you some details?

You did as he asked--stepped out on your lunch break and spoke to him in the courtyard, careful to keep your voice quiet.

It wasn’t that people at work were nosy--it was more that a random Facebook employee getting knocked up by a famous musician was sure to be a good headline that someone would be killing to write if they got wind. So for now, you tried your best to speak in code.

“They want to have a meeting. Just to talk about some logistics and privacy things and whatnot.” He made it sound so casual.

“The logistics of the current situation?”

He sounded a bit confused. “Of you being pregnant with my baby--yes.”

“This feels like something I would need a lawyer for.”

“You don’t need a lawyer.”

“Aren’t you the opposing side? Isn’t this going to become some weird negotiation around what I can and can’t do with your--you know.”

“I don’t know…”

“Your baby,” you whispered the word quietly, a hand over your mouth to be safe. “Who is mine, too, by the way.”

“Y/N--this is just a meeting, okay? There’s a few things for you to sign--basically just saying that you’re not going to sue me or try to blackmail me.”

Glenne had mentioned that. She threw back another margarita that night in your kitchen and said you’d have to sign an NDA. It’s just something a bunch of people sign, confidentiality, basically. You’ll be fine.

It made sense. Jeff wanted to be sure you wouldn’t sell your story or try to cash in on the undoubtedly pricey offspring you were producing--that’s what Lexi had joked about. Can you imagine how much someone would pay for his baby?

You reminded her that it was yours, too. She threw her head back and laughed, yeah, but his DNA would make it more expensive--like a purebred.

And this was the easy phase, after all--that’s what your mom had told you on the phone when you told her you’d be keeping it. Things were still normal. You weren’t showing, you had no symptoms. Other than the apple-seed growth in your uterus, everything was still completely normal. For now.

You agreed to meet Harry on Saturday afternoon--some office building in Westwood that felt eerily empty on the weekend. Hallways that all looked the same, meeting rooms and conference tables stared back at you.

He’d met you in the lobby, offered a quick hug when you walked in from the fresh air. He took you up in an elevator, fourth floor, second room down on the left.

Jeff was inside with a few others, a small smile when you walked in behind Harry, clad in a graphic tee.

“Hey,” he said, standing and rounding the table to give you a hug. “How are you feeling?”

You could hear the guilt that laced his voice. “Good--I’m fine.”

“I’m, uh--I’m sorry about the other night. I was just--you know, kind of freaked.”

Harry let out a quick laugh, sarcasm threaded through his words. “We were doing totally fine--not freaked out at all.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, sat back down and introduced you to the other faces in the room. Lola, Harry’s publicist, John, a PR guy from his label, Dave, a lawyer. His assistant, Emma, a small smile on her face when you made eye contact.

You turned to Harry quickly--he sat on the other side of the table beside Jeff, fumbled with the top of his water bottle. He said you didn’t need a lawyer--but for some reason, he had one.

That’s when the anxiety kicked in--the swirling questions of what they all thought. They offered smiles when Jeff began talking and you did your best to wipe the sweat from your hands every few seconds on your pants.

“So--obviously, this is big news for everyone here--uh, we wanted to have this meeting, really, to just get a few things agreed upon.”

You nodded, watched Harry for a second until he looked at you.

Dave spoke now--black rimmed glasses sat atop his nose. You wondered what his life was like. A lawyer for top musicians? He probably drove a Tesla, too.“We have to have you sign something, Y/N--just saying that you won’t discuss any of this with the press. It includes no social media posting, no interviews, limited disclosure to friends and family.”

Another nod--that was a given, and it seemed to be for your own protection, too. Lexi had brought it up first. What happens when people find out he’s the father?

“We don’t expect you to hide the pregnancy altogether--to be clear. But for now, the parentage needs to be confidential.”

“Okay,” you said. “But not like, with everyone, right?” Maybe it was a dumb question. “I already told my mom.”

“No--your mom is fine.” Harry answered the question for them, which is when you realized that you were the only one on your side of the table. They sat in a line, the five of them elbow to elbow, their team and against yours.

The only problem was that right now, no one was on your team.

“How much did you tell her?” Dave’s head tilted like you’d said the wrong thing.

“Just a little--she knows it’s his,” your eyes went back up to Harry’s now. He held your gaze for a minute, looked over to Dave and cleared his throat.

“That’s fine,” Harry said.

The look on Dave’s face told you otherwise. “We need to keep the number of people who know to a minimum.”

“Well I certainly don’t expect her to not tell her mother,” Harry retorted, anger more present in his voice than before. You shrunk in your chair, feeling incredibly isolated as they sat across from you.

“Who does know?” Jeff leaned in, hoping to ease the tension between Harry and Dave--a welcome distraction when he looked towards you.

“Aside from people in this room, my mom, Lexi, Glenne--and my doctor, but, I think she’ll be fine.”

Dave started writing on the notepad in front of him. “I can draw up non-disclosures for them, too.”

Emma sipped at her water--you peered past her out the window. It was sunny--a good day for anything but this.

“So--we can move to the financial aspect,” Dave put his pen down and thumbed through some papers. “I know this is always the worst part, but--has to be done.”

You looked around the room, still feeling a step behind the others, confused. You watched as Harry twisted his hands together, stared down at them on the table. It felt like no one even wanted to make eye contact with you, like you were somehow wearing a scarlet letter.

“This agreement details the child support he’ll pay. Monthly until the child turns eighteen. Visiting rights, partial custody if he so chooses. If you sign, it means you agree to the terms and conditions and will hereby agree to share custody, barring any legal changes, of course. Anything you don’t agree to will be settled in arbitration, along with any changes to the agreements set forth here.”

He pushed a packet across the table, the paper was crisp and thick, stapled in the top left corner.

You looked up at him. “Do I get time to read it over?”

“Of course,” Jeff spoke quickly. “We’ll need it either way by Monday.

You tried not to roll your eyes. A whole two days. You swallowed, nodded, ignored the pen that Dave flipped over in his hand, apparently hoping you’d agree to sign now.

“We also have this,” he said, lifting another packet of papers from the stack in front of him. “We’d like a paternity test. This can be completed after seven weeks gestation. The previous agreements and contracts will become null and void if the paternity test proves Mr. Styles is not the father. That’s all detailed in here, though.”

There was a heat on your cheeks, one that felt like it threatened to bring tears. You stared down at the paper already in front of you, words like custodial and proprietary suddenly left your mouth feeling dry.

You didn’t have a chance to respond, Dave slid more papers towards you, this time the pen came with them. “We need you to sign the agreement to DNA testing for paternity confirmation and the basic non-disclosure today.”

You looked up at Harry--he watched as Dave fumbled through more papers, seeing if there was another dotted line for you to put your name on. Jeff stared at the glass of water in front of him, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t his friend, someone who came to his birthday parties or texted memes to his girlfriend.

“I need a minute,” you said, voice hoarse and unsteady. You pushed back from the table, turned and headed for the door without a response from anyone in the room.

“You can have time with the other documents, it’s just the paternity testing we need signed,” Dave’s voice faded when you got to the hallway, you counted the stripes on the carpet as you put more distance between you and your side of the conference table. The hallways were a maze, more rooms and tables and rolling office chairs that didn’t help calm your nerves.

There were footsteps behind yours--Harry’s, no doubt--but you kept moving, the end of the hallway was in sight, a door to a balcony, fresh air, a moment to breathe.

He was right behind you when you pushed it open, the cool metal of the door was prickly on your skin, hot and flushed. You squinted in the sun, he was quiet for a moment, the door shut.

“M’sorry,” he said after a second. You looked down at the cars that were parked on the streets below, people on sidewalks, a breeze from the ocean. “We have to do that--they’d never just believe it was mine without the actual proof.”

You turned around to face him. “Feels kind of shitty, though. They’ll think I’m lying until I can prove that I’m not.”

He rolled his eyes a bit. “Well people lie, Y/N! You might not be crazy but people out there are--so we have to just, I don’t know, they have to take precautions.”

“This isn’t just happening to you, Harry! I know that’s all that they care about--all that Jeff cares about right now--but this is happening to me, too! This is changing my life, too. You’re not the only one with a career and a family and a life.”

“I know!” He said, looking up to the sky as if it were the hundredth time you said it. “I know it is--I’m doing the best I can, okay? I need to know for sure that it’s mine, too, okay? I trust you, I do--but I have to know for sure.”

“Right--cause somehow this is my fault and it all falls on me at the end of the day, right?”

“I never said that,” he said, more hushed now.

“Well, this is on you, too. You’re the father and if I have to take a fucking paternity test I will but--you’re the only person I’ve slept with in the last, like, year.”

His eyes went a bit wide at that--you let out an annoyed laugh and turned back to the view, wishing you were home, beneath the tree in your mom’s backyard in Santa Paula. A good book and a sense of calm, something that felt all too fleeting these days.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You tried to ignore the smirk on his face, crossed your arms over your chest when you turned back to see him again. “So--there’s literally no chance it’s anyone else’s.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth still lifted toward the sky.

“What? What are you smiling for?”

“Dunno,” he laughed a little. “Just--I kind of thought you left that night because you were seeing someone or something like that.”

“What? No--I haven’t--I had a boyfriend a while ago but we broke up.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugged, dropped your gaze for a moment. “Well, when I met you in the fall at that dinner--I don’t know, I asked Glenne about you and she said you were kind of,” he glanced back up at you, “unavailable. Or, you were dealing with something. So I figured when you left and never called it just--had to do with him.”

You thought back to that first night in October, long before the sex and the sneaking out. Sushi and drinks and butterflies when he walked in to the restaurant. You always knew that they knew him--heard his name and heard his songs on the radio. You’d seen him from afar once, a party at Jeff’s old house, you were on your way out when he strolled in, sometime in 2017, hugging other people and shaking hands with beautiful women. You never even thought he noticed you until you found yourself drunk on his couch two years later.

You knew why Glenne said it. You’d ended a relationship in the spring of 2018 and it took you all summer to even want to go out again. Lexi would beg and plead and apparently, a celebration in Glenne’s honor was what it took in the fall for you to finally put on a pair of heels and have a few drinks.

“I wasn’t unavailable--I just--I don’t know, her and Lexi can be protective.”

He nodded, quiet for a minute when he looked out over the hills in the distance.

Your break up was tough, not so much about losing him, but losing the vision you had. There were plenty of red flags--so big that even Lexi could pick up on them. But you brushed it off, pretended like it didn’t matter that he was unreliable and immature. When you finally had enough, you were more upset about the fact that it threw you off course.

What am I supposed to do, now? You’d asked Lexi in the living room, crying on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. How am I supposed to get married at 27 and have a baby at 29 if he’s not the one?

He wasn’t--he was far from it. Lexi poured more wine and said she’d order you a vibrator on Amazon. He’s a fucking dickface, dude, you’ll meet someone else. And fuck that timeline. It’s bullshit.

Maybe it was a gust of wind or the thoughts of how terribly off track this put you, more tears in your eyes when you sighed.

“I’m sorry you have to sign all this shit.”

You bit at your lip, a tiny thud in your chest when his eyes met yours.

“S’not how it should typically be and that’s because of me--or my job, at least.”

You nodded. He was right. If this was anyone else it’d be a lot easier. A lot less paperwork, a lot less questions.

“Do you want to go get dinner?”

“Right now?”

“Well,” he looked over his shoulder--Jeff was down the hall, his figure blurred through the glass. “You probably have to sign at least the NDA if you want them to let you out of the building. But--after that.”

You took a deep breath, wishing you could ignore the guilt that sat on your shoulders. He shouldn’t have spend time with you. You didn’t want him to feel tied down, trapped, you didn’t want to be the ball and chain that would inevitably be blamed for changing his life and ruining his career.

“No, no, we don’t have to, I should go home.”

“It’s Saturday,” he said. “What do you have to do?”

You didn’t expect his question--or pushback at all, really. “I have to clean. I have to organize stuff.”

“Stuff?” A smirk on his face told you he was on to you.

“You don’t have to take me to dinner. We don’t have to pretend like we’re friends.”

He watched you for a second, his eyes scanning your face as if he didn’t know what to say. He pushed his lips out in thought and then scratched at the back of his neck.

“Am I at least allowed to get to know you? If you’re having my baby--if we’re doing this--you’re kind of stuck with me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to backtrack.

“However you meant it--I still want to take you to dinner.”

“Fine,” you said, heat on your cheeks when he smiled, eyes crinkling by the side. “But I have some things to sign first.”

“Right,” he nodded, a stifled laugh under his breath. He turned around and grabbed the door, gesturing for you to head back inside. “After you.”

Another burger, this time, hold the pickles. He teased you at the drive through window that you’d be keeping them in business alone for the next nine months, you parked this time near a beach north of Santa Monica.

“You said I didn’t need a lawyer,” you didn’t look at him, focused instead on the half-eaten burger in your hands before you took another bite. “Feels like I do.”

He looked over at you and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I mean--I didn’t want to freak you out. You don’t need one. You could have someone read over the papers for you. Do you have one?”

You racked through your brain. Maybe Simone would be your best bet, you could bring them into work on Monday and let her give it a read, but, then again, there was no way Dave and Jeff would let you tell another person before the paternity test results came in.

You shook your head. “Lexi watches a lot of Law & Order.”

He stifled a laugh, sipped from his soda and adjusted the dark sunglasses perched on his nose. “I don’t think she counts, love, sorry.”

You picked up your own drink and took a swig, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach when he smiled down at you.

“Hey, it’s alright. I can, uh, I can have Jeff find someone--not Dave--who can read them and you can meet with them, maybe. Go over it all and make sure it makes sense.”

You nodded, a feeling of gratitude swept through you. You offered a small smile of appreciation, another bite of your burger before Harry let out a laugh.

“See? M’not the enemy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

“Hey, I mean it,” he turned towards you now, the sleeve of french fries on his lap shifted, one fell down to the clean carpet of his car. “I know they’re requiring the test, but, I trust you. And we’re in this together.”

You crumpled up the garbage of your dinner, tossed it in the bag that sat by your feet, suddenly too nervous to sit so close to him in the confines of his car. “Let’s take a walk,” you said, unsure of how to respond to his words. It was hard to believe him, he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and walked beside you towards the beach, another stark reminder of the difference between your life and his.

It was obvious again, when the teenager behind the ice cream window at a beach front shop begged for a photo. You took it and prayed she didn’t even remember that you were with him. Hopefully the adrenaline in her system would wipe your face from her memory.

“This is the most beautiful ice cream cone I’ve ever gotten,” he said, sitting on the bench of a picnic table a decent ways away from the counter where you’d ordered. He twirled it around, inspecting it from all angles when you pulled the straw of your milkshake up to your lips.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen one before,” you teased, reaching for a napkin from his other hand.

“S’just so perfect looking.” He reached for his phone, lifted his dessert up in front of the setting sun that sprawled over the ocean’s horizon. “Wow--do you see this?” He clicked the button on his phone, his thumb successfully capturing the moment.

You rolled your eyes, took a quick peek around to make sure no one was nearby. He’d already warned you that he couldn’t stay long. Typically only 30 minutes after you take a photo with someone, otherwise people start to show up.

“I’m sending this to you,” he laughed. “I understand if you want it framed or just as reminder of this beautiful evening.”

He pressed a few buttons and then your screen lit up on the bench in between you.

He peered down at it, then brought his eyes back up to yours. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before he took the first lick of his ice cream. “Ever gonna save my number in your phone?”

You laughed, a bit embarrassed that a part of you had refused to do it. What if one day you woke up and he backed out? Said you were on your own and wrote you a check to never seek him out?

“Yeah, I just--I dunno, it felt weird at first.”

He raised his eyebrows a bit, finally took another lick from his ice cream. “Too personal?”

You laughed, “a bit.”

“Nothing quite as personal as having a baby together, if you ask me.” He took another lick and then dropped your gaze, a small smile on his face when he looked back at the sunset. “M’not going anywhere. Promise.”

When Aarav showed up at your desk on Monday morning, you knew you’d fucked up. When Simone showed up only ten minutes later, you knew you’d really fucked up.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I totally forgot it was tonight.”

“You forgot our bi-weekly Monday night bitch session about work was on a Monday night? On the Monday night after we didn’t hang out last week?” Simone tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you. Aarav let out a sigh.

“I’ve been busy, I’ve been so busy.”

“Well are we still on? Simone and I are free as birds, so--we’re waiting on you.”

You looked at your work calendar, pulled up on your screen. Your last meeting was 3pm--then you were supposed to head towards Westwood to meet Harry and Dave and Jeff and probably the other people who had been at the first meeting.

“Yes, I can--I just, I have to cancel something else. But it’s fine. Not a big deal. That’s on me.”

You picked up your phone and tried to open the message discreetly. Simone pulled up her own and kept talking. “I’ll make us a reservation at Diego’s, yeah?”

“Sure,” Aarav said, “that’s the place with the good guac, right?”

“Right,” she said, clicking her phone shut and bringing her eyes back to you. “But also--can we talk tonight about how Carson told me he heard Levi mention something about talking with someone at Apple?”

Your eyes went wide. “Shut up--did you actually?”

“I’ll fill you in tonight,” she smiled, taking a step back from your desk and heading for the door of your office. “Over a nice, tall, frozen margarita.”

You leaned back in your chair and groaned, playfully insinuating that waiting that long would be torture. Aarav laughed and picked up a stress ball on your desk. He tossed it in the air once Simone walked away.

“You alright lately?”

You looked up from your screen, a half written text to Harry was typed out.

Hey--any chance we can rain check the meeting tonight? I know I have to sign it but something at work

“What?” You looked up at him and clicked your phone to sleep. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You seem distracted, or just stressed.”

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he said, a lilt in his voice like he didn’t quite believe you.

You mulled it over for a second. You could tell him, you could tell both of them. They were good people and they’d sat through many intolerable staff meetings when Carson tried his best to shit on your team as if he wasn’t everyone’s least favorite coworker.

You swallowed it down and looked up at him. “All good--just, busy, really. Really hoping that there’s some movement here, soon.”

He knew what you meant--he was the one you’d been most transparent with.

“I think it’s gonna happen, don’t worry.”

You nodded, let out a sigh, wishing you could tell him that the apple seed in your uterus made things slightly less black and white than just getting a promotion.

And you wished you could have explained that to them that night--especially when they grilled you for not drinking. You shoveled chips and dip into your mouth like it was going out of style--only coming up for air when Simone reminded you about her news.

“So do you want the scoop on Levi or what?”

“Do not get my hopes up,” you warned her. “I’m not in a good place for getting jerked around.”

Aarav laughed and sipped on his margarita. “Jerk her anyway.”

“I think he had an interview.”

“No he didn’t,” you whined, worried it was either false or too good to be true. You loved Levi. He was funny and talented and he taught the three of you a lot. Plus, he didn’t really care that you’d been working from home a lot more often lately.

But you’d been hoping he’d leave Facebook for the last eight months. Ever since he told you that he’d certainly recommend you to the higher ups as his replacement.

“I swear on my life. On Mark Zuckerberg, even. I heard Levi telling Dan from Tech Support about it in the cafeteria the other day.”

Instead of responding, you shoveled in another mouthful of guac, wide eyes when they looked at you for some sort of response. But what were you supposed to say? How were you to supposed to be excited for something that had long been building, moving in that direction, but was now suddenly threatened by a one night stand?

You’d worked at Facebook longer than both Aarav and Simone. Simone came on only a few months after you, but Aarav was a whole year behind. They were also marketing geniuses, Aarav came from a top school in Chicago, Simone from the Bay Area with a degree in New Media and Internet Marketing. Your small team was responsible for digital promotions, those run online or in commercials. As the team’s Visual Designer, you worked closely with the rest of them to bring their ideas to the screen, however that looked.

So when the Team Lead, Levi, had started making mentions about heading to a new job, he casually tried to gauge your interest over coffee in the first floor cafe.

But this was shitty timing. How were you supposed to take maternity leave in the first few months in a new job? Would someone fill your spot while you were gone? The questions that started to race through your mind felt overwhelming, so much so that you wished you could reach for the margarita in Aarav’s hand.

But you didn’t. And you bit your tongue when they asked you again why you weren’t drinking. You didn’t tell them, though you wanted to, that the reason you had to miss work in the afternoon the next day was because you had to sign an NDA, agreeing to keep them and others in the dark about what was sure to be the most wild adventure yet.

And when you hugged them goodbye in the parking lot, you blinked back tears, hoping that one day, they’d know the truth.

You sent the documents to your mom. She was far from a lawyer, but she was likely the safest option you had. Lexi tried to grab them when you left them on the counter, push some sunglasses on her face and read the biggest words she saw in a posh Transatlantic accent. Both individuals agree that any proceedings will be confidential, she giggled and pretended to rip it up, collapsing on the sofa beside you to watch Netflix before bed.

It didn’t make much more sense to your mother, either, she sighed over FaceTime and apologized for not being able to help. That was your cue to text Harry. Is there actually someone I could meet with to go over these papers? Aside from Dave?

He set it up--claimed that Jeff found someone easily and then two days later, a woman with short blonde hair stood on your front step, Jeff in tow.

She sat at your small dining room table--one your mom had tucked away in the basement when you were little--the perfect spot for arts and crafts. You prayed, while your blonde-haired lawyer looked over all the words on the endless pages, that she didn’t notice the paint splotches or pools of glitter that had long been stuck on the dark, stained wood.

You sat there for hours, Lexi came and left twice in the time that the three of you huddled around the papers, Jeff with a baseball cap on as he told you about why these things were important. Rita--who you learned was a connection through Harry’s record label--had already signed an NDA and promised to explain the clauses and constraints in layman's terms.

So you felt slightly less stupid and insecure walking back into the same conference room Tuesday afternoon, alone on your side of the table.

Harry was already seated when you arrived, he offered a smile and a nervous scan over your body before you sat across from him. Jeff ended whatever call he’d been on, Dave’s hand immediately extended to receive the manila folder he’d previously sent you home with.

Another sunny Los Angeles day smiled through the window, Harry’s assistant was nowhere to be seen, the label rep wasn’t there, either. Three against one, this time.

You didn’t admit it to them, but your hand shook a bit when you reached across the table, handed over the packet of papers that somehow felt like you were giving up freedom, giving up your say in things and like you didn’t even know what you’d now lose. It was all in writing now. You were carrying this baby to term and that was the one thing that would keep Harry in your life, for better or for worse.

The only thing you took solace in was the fact that you had access to Jeff and Glenne, and maybe Rita, now, too. You could ask questions or get clarification over cups of coffee or take out.

So maybe that explained the calmness in your gut when you sat on top of an exam table in Doctor Weston’s office, Harry pacing nervously in front of you.

“Can you relax?” You asked, finally letting out the breath you’d been holding for the last few minutes.

Was it okay for you to say that? You still felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, unsure of what would tick him off and how to react. The truth was that you were still strangers--he was still someone you didn’t know. Someone who had his own pet peeves and his own fears and anxieties. He’d met you in the parking lot, he was already out of his car when you pulled in beside him the next week and met him after work.

You’re kind of late, he’d said. A frown on his face when he used sunglasses to shield his eyes.

You’d been in a meeting. You left as soon as you could. Now, he still couldn’t shake the nerves after he’d listed off the things that were keeping him up at night.

“I can’t relax,” he retorted, his words charged. He turned on his feet, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I have to figure out a lot of stuff right now. And I’m nervous, okay? This is a big day.” He motioned over to the sonogram machine, a box of purple gloves was tucked alongside it.

“You’re not the one who has to have someone’s fingers in her--you know.”

He rolled his eyes at that, let out a breathy sigh and sat in the chair against the wall. He clasped his hands together but then looked up at you. You wondered if he thought you looked stupid in the blue and white gown the nurse had left for you on the table. You’d locked him out of the room when you changed, now he smirked up at you.

“Cute dress.”

“Shut up.”

“S’nice!”

“It’s ratty and old and--not very flattering,” you plucked at the fabric with your fingers, looking back at him when he sighed again.

“M’sorry--I just--I had a meeting with Jeff today and we decided to push the album back.”

You were quiet, the air in the room felt stiff and cold. Goosebumps on your skin when you swallowed back the thought: it was all your fault.

“I--”

He cut you off before you could string any words together. “S’fine, Y/N, really. Gives me more time to sit on it and plan some music videos and talk about marketing stuff.”

You would have asked more about it. Asked about the songs or the process or anything in between, but the door opened and Dr. Weston smiled when she stepped into the white-tiled room.

“Hello, hello, how’s mom feeling?”

The m-word got caught in your throat, color drained from your face when Harry looked between you and the doctor. “Good, right, love?” He stood and took two steps over to you, some sort of instinct in him took over, a hand on your back when he realized how frozen you were. “Headaches, she’s said, a funny taste in your mouth, right?”

You nodded.

Dr. Weston sat on the rolling stool and moved towards the sonogram machine, an apologetic smile for the panic she’d caused in you. “Are the headaches helped by something over the counter? Advil? Tylenol?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Advil. Is that alright?”

“Perfectly fine. Just take the recommended dose, no more than it says on the bottle.”

You and Harry both nodded at that--as if he would remember her advice, too.

“Alright,” she reached for some gloves and looked up at you, eyes wide. “Ready to lean back? The gel will be cold but it will give us a good look at what’s going on in there. This will be the first of many ultrasounds.”

You did as she told, pushed your bum back on the table and let your back rest flush against it. She was right--the gel was sticky and cool and the probe that came from the machine poked at your stomach. You ignored the nervousness that pooled in your chest when you exposed your skin in the room, that last time Harry had seen you like this, it was dark and his vision was likely blurred by the alcohol.

“Okay,” Dr. Weston’s voice was calm, she moved along your lower stomach for a few seconds, all eyes were glued to the screen. “So, the big dark circle there in your uterus,” she pointed at the screen and clicked something to capture it. “That’s the lining, there, where it turns to a lighter gray.”

Harry nodded, his lips slightly parted as his arms crossed over his chest.

“And that, the tiny little thing inside of it--” she adjusted the probe again and pointed to the screen, tugging at the whole machine a bit so you could see it more easily. “That’s your baby.”

Quiet for a second, the first time in a while that your pulse slowed and you felt alone again, even if it was just inside your head. The thoughts slowed, your breathing slowed, and Harry’s hip bumped against your arm when he looked down at you.

There was a small smile on his face. One that looked genuine but slightly terrified at the same time. He pointed towards the screen, “s’right there, that’s it.”

“I see it,” you nodded.

He tilted his head to the side. “It’s more--like a pea now.”

You laughed a little, immediately bringing levity to the room. “It wasn’t going to be an apple seed forever.”

Dr. Weston smiled, rolled away from the machine when you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Do you want to do a vaginal ultrasound? We can possibly hear the heartbeat that way--obviously less comfortable.”

Harry looked over at you, all you did was nod. She asked you to slide off the hospital shorts you’d tugged on beneath the gown. Harry twisted around to offer privacy, this time, the probe was more uncomfortable and there was a tinge of pink on your cheeks when he turned back to face you, his gaze trailed down to notice Dr. Weston’s hand under the blanket that was now splayed out on your lap.

Quiet for a second, then she smiled. “That sound, the whooshing--that’s the heartbeat. That’s the baby, again,” she pointed. “Right there.”

“Huh,” you said, once again, eyes on the screen and hands clasped over your stomach. Harry looked down at you when Dr. Weston captured the image again.

“So,” Dr. Weston’s voice was quieter now, she removed the probe and discarded her gloves into the trash. “Still too soon to tell the sex. But--we’ll do another one in about four weeks. If anything changes, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. You can email me on the patient portal or just call the front desk.”

“Okay.”

“I'll print these for you.”

“Can you print two copies, please?”

She nodded, another reminder of how off track things were from the plan. You ignored the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that passed through your veins when she shut the door behind her and left you alone in the room with him.

You sat up, the paper crumbled beneath you and Harry stood awkwardly in the center of the room.

“I, uh--I still haven’t told my family.”

You bit at your lip, unsure. Was it because he was ashamed? Embarrassed? Angry? You didn’t ask.

“I want to, I just--I haven’t seen them in a bit. So. I’m supposed to go home for a while next week.”

You nodded. “You should go.”

“It’s supposed to be for, like, six weeks.”

“That’s fine.”

“No--I’m not--I can’t miss whatever happens.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

He pulled his head back, confused by your words. “I don’t think that’s how pregnancy works.”

You stood from the table and hopped down, suddenly much shorter than you felt before, barefoot on the tile. “Just go.”

He let out a sigh. “I might for a week, but, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to do this,” you snapped suddenly. “You don’t have to come to every appointment and act like we’re actually--I don’t know, together, or something. We can still live separate lives.”

“I’m not acting like that,” he said, eyebrows pointed inwards now. “I’m just doing what’s right. I’m in this, too, Y/N.”

You turned around, shimmied the shorts down from your hips and held the gown in place. You grabbed for your underwear on the chair beside his, neatly folded in a pile as if your life wasn’t a mess.

“I think you should do it. Tell them in person.” You pulled up the elastic band over your hips, still keeping the gown close to your body.

He handed you the black shorts you’d been wearing earlier, the gesture didn’t match the tone of his voice. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m not like anything,” you said, one foot in first, then the other. “I just don’t want you to feel trapped in LA with me. I’m fine.”

You dropped the gown now, holding it to your chest when you turned to reach for your bra. He averted his gaze, stared directly at the vagina poster on the wall. “Right.”

You tugged on your bra quickly, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head. “Right what?”

“You’re right. You’re fine. You don’t need me,” a shrug of his shoulders. “Is that what you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to relax.”

“Well I’m sorry that I can’t,” he spoke quickly now, the anger on his face stopped you in your tracks. “But the last thing I need is for you to act like none of this is a big deal.”

You didn’t mean to do it again--you didn’t feel it coming until the tears were already on your cheeks, wet and falling towards the floor. He sighed at that, steadied his own breathing and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, words broken by the heavy breathing. “It just happens now--I just cry on command.”

He shook his head, watching as you folded the gown neatly on the table, left it there to be discarded by the nurse. “No--I--it’s fine. You can cry as much as you want.”

You turned to look at him, a few breaths to try to steady your pulse. He stepped forward, his arms wrap around your shoulders. You were still for a moment, unsure if you were allowed you let your arms wrap around his waist, or if it would make the crying worse. But you did, and when you did, he leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“S’alright. I’ll go home for a week. Then I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” you said. “Okay.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: longer than usual!!! so excited for all of you to read what’s coming! I hope everyone is staying safe and staying home. I wanted to put this chapter out a bit early since I know everyone is (hopefully) stuck inside. keep all of the messages coming i love chatting with all of you about Harry and Y/N and their little apple seed!!!!

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne@dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles

#unplanned #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles black #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles spotify #fem!reader x harry styles #fem!reader x harry #harry styles reader insert #idkthisisjustforfanfic

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years ago

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Saint&Reading: Sat. Nov.,28, 2020

Commemorated on November 15_ Julian calendar

The Holy Martyrs and Confessors Gurias, Samon and Habib

The Holy Martyrs and Confessors Gurias, Samon and Habib: During the time of persecution against Christians under the emperors Diocletian (284-305) and Maximian (305-311), two friends were arrested in the city of Edessa, the Christians Gurias and Samon, preachers of the Word of God. At the demand to offer sacrifice to the gods the saints answered with a decisive refusal and confessed their faith in Christ. For this they were subjected to cruel tortures: they beat them, hung them up by their hands, tied heavy weights to their feet, and cast them into a stifling prison. The martyrs endured everything with firmness and a prayer to the Lord, which one of the witnesses to the martyrs wrote down: "O Lord my God, without Whose will not a single sparrow falleth into the snare. Thou it was, Who wast diffused in the heart of David in sorrow, Who proved the Prophet David stronger than lions, and granted for a child of Abraham to be victor over torture and flames. Now also Thou knowest, O Lord, the infirmity of our nature, Thou beholdest the struggle set afront us. For the enemy striveth to tear away from Thee the work of Thy right-hand and to deprive (us) from the essence of Thine Glory. But do Thou, with Thine compassionate eye watching over us, preserve in us the inextinguishable light of Thy Commandments. By Thine light guide our steps, and grant us to delight in Thine bliss, for blessed art Thou unto ages of ages". By night they took the martyrs out beyond the city and beheaded them (+ 299-306). Christians buried their holy bodies. After some years the last pagan emperor Licinius (311-324) began a persecution against Christians. A deacon of the Edessa Church by the name of Habib, whom the emperor ordered to be arrested for his zealous spreading of the true faith, presented himself before the executioners, since he did not want other Christians to suffer because of the search for him. The saint confessed his faith in Christ and was sentenced to burning. The martyr went willingly into the fire and with prayer gave up his soul to the Lord (+ 322). When the fire went out, the mother and kinsmen of the saint found his body unharmed. They buried the martyr next to Saints Gurias and Samon. After the death of the saints, numerous miracles were wrought by them for those who with faith and love entreated their help. Thus, one time a certain Gothic-soldier, sent for service at Edessa, took as his spouse the pious maiden Euphymia. Before this he vowed to her mother Sophia at the graves of the Martyrs Gurias, Samon and Habib, – that he would do his spouse no harm, and would never insult her, but would always love and cherish her. At the completion of his service in Edessa, he took Euphymia with him back to his native land. Afterwards it turned out, that he had deceived her: in his native-land he already had a wife, and Euphymia became her slave. Euphymia had to suffer much abuse and humiliation. When she gave birth to a son, the jealous Goth woman then poisoned him. Euphymia turned with prayer to the holy Martyrs Gurias, Samon and Habib – witnesses to the oath of the deceiver, and the Lord delivered Euphymia from her suffering and miraculously returned her to Edessa, where she was welcomed by her mother. After a certain while the Gothic oath-breaker was again sent for service to Edessa. All the city learned about his misdeeds after his denunciation by Sophia, and by order of the governor of the city the Goth was executed. Glorifying the holy martyrs in an akathist, Holy Church addresses them: "Hail, Gurias, Samon and Habib, Heavenly Patrons of honourable marriage".

Repose of St Herman of Alaska

November 15, 1836 in Spruce Island

“I IMAGINE MY BELOVED VALAAM.”

St. Herman’s Letters to Abbot Nazarius

St. Herman even in Alaska considered himself to be under obedience to his spiritual guide and abbot, Fr. Nazarius of Valaam Monastery. Whenever he had the time he would write to Valaam with reports on the missionary team’s work in the Alaskan territories among the native peoples. As we can see from St. Herman’s legacy of “Russian Orthodox Alaska” today, this missionary work was effective and enduring.

May 19, 1795

Rejoice in the Lord, O most blessed and most honorable Fr. Nazarius, together with thy brethren in Christ. Thy paternal kindness and deeds of love towards my lowliness, shall in no way ever be erased from my heart. Neither the terrible impassible Siberian wilds, nor its dark forests, neither the rapids of great rivers, nor the mighty ocean can quench these feelings of mine. For in my mind I imagine my beloved Valaam, and constantly behold it across the great ocean. But because of the great distance, it is impossible for me with my own voice to express to you my gratitude and instead I am obliged to send you, my beloved Batiushka, this little piece of paper. I shall try at the same time to give you a report.

By the grace of the Most High God and thanks to your holy prayers, we have safely reached the American territories, all ten men. The briefness of time does not allow me to describe such a great voyage in detail. Nearly the whole year was spent travelling. We did not meet with any adventures worth recording, although some impressed themselves by reason of the novelty of the place and the varied forms of travel. For the sake of conversation, you can tell those who are curious for news that while travelling on horseback along the Okhotsk road, we were attacked by bears. And on the ocean we saw several kinds of sea animals: whales, dolphin, sea otter, elephant seals and others of which we spotted quite a number. There have been no big storms except one.

We are located on the island of Kodiak, but this is not to be permanent. Our intention is to go to the mainland, although we are not sure just what place will be to our liking. The Americans2 are very eager for baptism—nearly seven thousand have been baptized. On Unalaska, while passing through the Aleutian chain, we were driven by an opposing wind to a place where the Aleuts amazed us with their zeal and readiness to be baptized.

Together with this letter, Fr. Makary is setting off for the Aleutian, Fox and Adrianovsk Islands in order to preach and to baptize. Fr. Juvenal will be leaving shortly for the mainland starting on the Kenai peninsula and then heading to the Chugachi, the Alegmint and further to the Kolosh and ocher tribes, even to the Chilliket.

Oh! Here enraptured in spirit, in spite of all the shortness of time I will snatch a short minute to relate some narratives [of the missionaries’ travels and apostolic fervor].

Finding myself between fair weather and foul, between joy and tedium, between sufficiency and insufficiency, satiety and hunger, warmth and coldness, in all my sorrows I find something that cheers me, when I hear conversations between the brethren about their preaching, and about their dividing up for this various regions among themselves—especially the discussion between Hieromonks Makary and Juvenal, for they set out around Kodiak, too, in the smallest little boats of hide, despite all the sea’s dangers, and Father Archimandrite Joasaph Bolotov remained with us, as if with little children, in the harbor.

And so these hieromonks extended their thoughts yet farther: Once when taking a scroll in our harbor, where I, sinful one, happened to be among them, we climbed a little hill toward the southern side, sat down facing the ocean, and among other things began to speak as to which of us should go where to preach, for the time was then at hand for the departure of the ships on which they had to travel. And then an argument broke out between them which for me, humble one, was comforting and joyful. On Captain Cook’s maps of the north, it is indicated that along a certain river Russians live; among us there are different rumors of them, about which we then recalled in our discussion, wishing somehow to see them. Father Makary began to speak: “According to my intention, if it please God, when I shall be in the Aleutian Islands, in all propriety I should go also to Alaska [the mainland], to which place the Alaskans have already called me, too; and as that side is nearer those Russians, I shall find means somehow to learn something more certain about them.” But Father Juvenal, having heard about Alaska, and in his zeal not allowing the other to speak further, hastened to say to him: “Alaska in the whole belongs to my part, and so I beg you to yield to me and not offend me in this; since the ship now is setting out for Yakutan, I shall have tO go by way of Alaska to go out to this harbor.” Hearing this, Father Makary became shrouded in despondency and, having assumed a sorrowful air, said with feeling: “No, Father, don’t hem me in with this; you yourself know that the Aleutian chain of islands adjoins Alaska, and so it absolutely belongs to my part, and from there the whole northern shore; but as for you, if you please, the southern part of America is sufficient for your whole lifetime.” And I, lowly one, hearing such a debate, went from joy to rapture.

Ah, what a pity, Batiushka, that because of the shortness of time, I cannot tell you more about the customs, habits, and all about the way of life in this country, as well as about our own brotherhood. Cosmas Alexeyevitch was tonsured, receiving the name of Ioasaph. We are now together in the bread bakery. Forgive me, my beloved Batiushka, forgive me—I have no more time to write. l· am asking your holy paternal prayers and your blessing. I remain,

lowly Herman

P.S. To all my beloved and dear Valaam brethren, I most fervently bow down before you and ask your holy prayers.

More letters @Orthodox Christianity

Luke 9:37-43

37 Now it happened on the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, that a great multitude met Him. 38 Suddenly a man from the multitude cried out, saying, "Teacher, I implore You, look on my son, for he is my only child.39 And behold, a spirit seizes him, and he suddenly cries out; it convulses him so that he foams at the mouth; and it departs from him with great difficulty, bruising him. 40 So I implored Your disciples to cast it out, but they could not. 41Then Jesus answered and said, "O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." 42 And as he was still coming, the demon threw him down and convulsed him. Then Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the child, and gave him back to his father. 43 And they were all amazed at the majesty of God. But while everyone marveled at all the things which Jesus did, He said to His disciples...

Galatians 1:3-10

3Grace to you and peace from God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ,4 who gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, 5 to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. 6 I marvel that you are turning away so soon from Him who called you in the grace of Christ, to a different gospel, 7 which is not another; but there are some who trouble you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ. 8 But even if we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel to you than what we have preached to you, let him be accursed. 9 As we have said before, so now I say again, if anyone preaches any other gospel to you than what you have received, let him be accursed. 10 For do I now persuade men, or God? Or do I seek to please men? For if I still pleased men, I would not be a bondservant of Christ.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #ancientchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #sacredtexts #wisdom

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themadchemist · 4 years ago

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FFXIVWRITE-2020

Prompt #14: Part

Word count: 324

Shadowbringers spoilers (not really but it's set in Amaurot so...)

Mention of Anais x Lahabrea

"Yesterday was the most fun I had in a loooong time!" Anais, energetic as always, exclaimed happily to her friends when they inquired about the grin on her face.

"Why? Did Lahabrea finally..." Hythlodaeus wasn't fast enough to dodge the book the speaker tossed at him, he expected that reaction but couldn't miss the opportunity either way.

"Whatever it is you're thinking about, no. But we played chess while we were waiting for my new recipe to be ready and we came up with lots of interesting concepts. It was just like the academy days." Even with the apparent bags under her eyes, she still managed to sound as lively as ever.

"I don't know if the problem is your idea of fun or the fact that enjoy that loquacious nerd's company. That aside, it seems like you finally managed to win a round against him, if your excitement is any indication anyway." said Emet Selch.

"Pffftttt, right..." Lahabrea snorted. "She lost, like always" and laughed. She never won a round against him, and at this rate, she probably never will. "And you're forgetting the important parts in this story. You interrupted my work, dragged me from my house just to keep you company while you were cooking and didn't even provide any challenge..."

"But?" she said expectantly. "But, I enjoyed it, it was a good change of pace, and the food was excellent. It was really fun." Although he sounded calm, he couldn't hide the soft smile on his face, a sight they rarely saw.

"Geez, Brea, you didn't have to complain about it when you clearly enjoyed it. You had fun and that's the most important part!!... Grouch." She may have used it as an insult this time, but she wouldn't have him any other way.

"I suppose it is." And he may have not noticed, but Lahabrea still had that soft smile on his face for the rest of the day.

#ffxiv spoilers #ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #shadowbringers spoilers #amaurotian!wol #anais #lahabrea

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tysonrunningfox · 6 years ago

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Ripped: Part 17

Hey so this took forever because I had to edit it a bazillion times because...this chapter does some real heavy lifting. If none of you hate me just a little bit after this...I’ll be shocked...

Ao3

Astrid (2:37pm): yeah, sorry Fish, I’m not going to make it in to close tonight, I’m still at the station

Fishlegs (2:38pm): thanks for letting me know

Astrid (2:38pm): and I know I owe you, I’ll cover two of your shifts next week

Fishlegs (2:39pm): it’s slow anyway, just worry about keeping yourself out of jail

Astrid (2:39pm): not worried about that at all, I’ve barely been talked to

Fishlegs (2:40pm): that makes sense, given all the reasons to focus on Hiccup

Astrid (2:40pm): what reasons? Astrid (2:41pm): did eretson call you? What did you tell him? What reasons? Astrid (2:41pm): aside from the obvious bad luck, but they already know about all of that Astrid (2:42pm): Fish. Astrid (2:43pm): Fish. Legs. Answer me.

Eretson steps out of the interrogation room where he’s been talking to Ruffnut for what feels like forever, according to Astrid’s fully comatose ass and she stands up to hope for an update. Snotlout is leaning rigid against the wall across from her and he pretends not to notice Eretson until the detective addresses him.

“Jorgenson, the suspect says you were with her the night that she threatened the victim, can you attest to that? How serious did her threats seem?”

Snotlout scratches behind his ear and winces, “uh, I wouldn’t really say I’m a reliable witness for this one.”

“What do you mean you’re not a reliable witness?” Eretson’s face doesn’t move, Astrid half wonders if it still can.

“I mean that I’m…” Snotlout looks at her for help and she glares back at him, willing him to say something—anything—helpful. “Yeah, no, we fucked.”

“You slept with the suspect.” Nothing in Eretson’s miserable deadpan is a question.

“Yeah,” Snotlout snorts, quoting around his words with his fingers, “that’s what we did. ‘Sleep’. Uh-huh—“

“You slept with the suspect,” Eretson booms, his voice filling the sterile hallway and reverberating in tune with the throbbing in Astrid’s head. “The one time you were in the right place at the right time. The one time you could be fucking useful to an actual case—“

“I’m useful a lot, just because my life doesn’t revolve around you—“

“Not a reliable witness,” Eretson scoffs.

“It wouldn’t be ethical.” Snotlout crosses his arms, looking to Astrid for support, and her helplessness blooms into anger and she smacks his arm. “Hey! Assault on an officer—“

“I didn’t see anything,” Eretson shrugs.

“Not funny, that’s going to bruise.” He makes a big, stupid show of rolling his shoulder and Astrid glares at him.

“I’m not a reliable witness at this time,” Eretson sighs at the interrogation room door like it’s an obstacle he has no real interest in overcoming but he has to try anyway.

“Dude—“

“I think the soundproofing works both ways if you need to hit him more,” the detective whispers conspiratorially to Astrid, finally driven to something like humor, and she hates how much she wants to like him even when he has Hiccup on the other side of one of these doors.

“I will if it gets me out of here sooner,” she glances at the clock, resolving to get an answer from Fishlegs in person if he doesn’t text her back soon.

“Yeah, if you want assaulting an officer on your record, go ahead.” Snotlout is a familiar kind of antsy and furious and Astrid can’t help but relate to it after seven hours spent pacing a hallway and trying to put together all her friends’ futures out of barely overheard scraps.

Tuffnut’s credit and bar inheritance linking him to Gruffnut, Ruffnut’s too specific threats, and Hiccup’s knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time are all spiraling, condensing on something Astrid feels looming even if she can’t see it. It’s like she’s looking at the sun, trying to find the source of the shadows while the answer hides in a dark spot in her vision.

“You aren’t even on duty, Jorgenson,” Eretson glares at the uniform Snotlout wore to look more official, and shakes his head, unimpressed. Maybe it’s Eretson’s sleeveless tee-shirt under his usual suit jacket or the dark circles under his eyes, like he spent all night working instead of planning his appearance, but his tolerance for Snotlout is even lower than usual.

Astrid has that in common with him.

“Why am I never on duty when things happen?” Snotlout snaps, forfeiting the staring contest and throwing his arms in the air.

“You aren’t, are you?” Eretson freezes, eyes narrowed, shoulders tense in clothes that suddenly look too small as his jaw flexes. “What are the chances of everything happening when you’re off duty?”

It’s a rhetorical question but Snotlout starts to answer anyway, counting on his fingers and rolling his eyes, “well considering two nights off a week, non-consecutive because fuck me, right? And you multiply that by three creepy murders and one gross foot, carry the—”

“In here, both of you,” the detective swings open the interrogation room door and practically tosses Snotlout inside with a firm grip on his upper arm. He ushers Astrid after him with a dash more patience, and then shuts the two of them in with Ruffnut. The sound proofing doesn’t go both ways, because Astrid can clearly hear the thud and squeak of Eretson stomping down the hallway in motorcycle boots that clash with Snotlout’s shined shoes even through a wall.

“Apparently if Eretson is in a bad mood, I get interrogated for being bad at math,” Snotlout stands by the table instead of sitting and Astrid stares at the stack of chairs in the corner, willing herself to get one.

The one-way mirror on the unfamiliar interrogation room wall sends chills up the back of her neck, triggering her rarely used flight response. There’s no fighting this, the lock on the door clicked automatically when it shut, and the looming feeling verges on oppressive.

“Why would he be in a bad mood?” Ruffnut snorts, “we’ve been having such a stimulating conversation.” She wiggles unperturbed eyebrows at Astrid and points to a bicep, mouthing something like ‘oh my God’.

“You realize you’re a murder suspect right now, right?” The shrill edge introducing itself into Astrid’s voice echoes off of the silent, watching walls.

“And that I’m right here,” Snotlout flexes anyway, his voice tight.

“All of you,” the door opens and Eretson shoves Hiccup and Tuffnut inside before turning and blocking Grisly in the doorway. “Not you.”

“How can I aid in the investigation if you shut me out of the interrogation?”

“Like he hasn’t been hassling me all day,” Hiccup mumbles, standing easily next to Astrid and twisting to stretch his back. She’d think he was being cavalier too if it weren’t for the straight, steady set of his shoulders and his never still hands hanging placid at his sides.

“Maybe we need some space to do our jobs without your creepy face butting into everything.” Snotlout doesn’t help anything and Eretson’s back stiffens as he forces his hand to relax.

“Shut up, Jorgenson.” He exhales and turns back to Grisly, white knuckled grip on the edge of the door, “this is still my case, Grisly, and I need the room.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before slamming it shut and this time, the click of the lock is a defensive measure.

“That’s basically what I said,” Snotlout huffs under his breath and Eretson ignores him except for an audible grinding of his teeth as he tosses a thick manila folder down onto the table.

“You,” he points at the twins, “have motive for Gruffnut Thorston’s murder. Jorgenson here has been off duty for every murder—”

“Consider this, maybe they knew if I was on duty, they wouldn’t get away with it—”

“Hiccup here finds the bodies,” Eretson plows forward, ignoring Snotlout’s interruption, “and sometimes takes Astrid, his alibi, along with him.” His sigh is heavy, exhausted, and Astrid hates the feeling of being engulfed by the slow expanse of his words, the truth of them filling every corner of the too small room. “Where’s the connection?”

“It’s The Venerable Grimdouche, obviously—”

“Shut up, Jorgenson!” Eretson starts pulling pictures out of the folder, some of them bloody, some of them blurry. Some of them streaked with sharp lines of glare from the too bright overhead light that must be in the evidence room. “One more sound out of your mouth not in direct answer to one of my questions—”

“But—”

“Sound, Jorgenson, not even word. Sound.” Eretson sits down but doesn’t look any smaller. If anything, he grows, joining his own bulk to the walls surrounding them. “And I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

Snotlout thinks about that for a second before gritting his teeth and waving Eretson silently on.

“How do you all know each other?”

“Well, Mr. Detective, sir, it all started twenty five years ago when I was a tiny little baby,” Tuffnut starts, “actually technically it starts like twenty-five years plus nine months ago, but I don’t remember that, thank God—”

“We’re twins, obviously,” Ruffnut, as always, caves to rationality only when she’s worried about her brother. “Astrid was my college roommate.”

“And like I said, I met Astrid when she moved into 324 Harbor Road and I was giving a tour to that address,” Hiccup says like he’s rehearsed it so often it’s boring now, a pneumonic device for a test he passed ages ago.

“How did you meet Miss Thorston?” Eretson makes a note and directs his next question at Snotlout in particular, who points silently at his chest and raises an eyebrow. “Do you need me to use shorter words?”

Snotlout’s jaw twitches as his red cheeks verge on purple, “I was just checking you weren’t going to arrest me if I made a sound.”

“Of course not, I asked you a question.”

“I met Ruffnut when I went over to Astrid’s apartment to…” he looks nervously at Hiccup, who shrugs, defeated, and waves Snotlout on, “well, you see, after Astrid learned that Hiccup was giving tours to her house, she started saying it was harassment, and I went over there to cool things down, you know? Let her know that Hiccup is the harmless kind of weirdo, which is still absolutely true, by the way, you think that string bean could kill someone?”

“I’m asking the questions here, Jorgenson.” Eretson turns to Astrid next, looking at her like she’s a panel of wall he’s only recently been told hides a secret passage. “What did you know about your apartment when you moved in?”

“That it was cheap?” Her blood rushes in her ears as she anticipates the next question.

“Were you aware of the Viggo Grimborn connection to that address?”

“Viggo Grimborn?” Tuffnut perks up, “wait, you guys think this has something to do with Viggo Grimborn? Why didn’t you say something?”

“I just did,” Snotlout crosses his arms, “I just said that Venerial Gono—”

“Jorgenson!” Eretson points at the cuffs hanging loose from the corner of the table. “What do you know about Viggo Grimborn, Mr. Thorston?”

“Only everything,” Tuffnut scoffs, “what does Gruffnut have to do with Viggo Grimborn?”

“He was found exactly at the second victim’s murder site,” Hiccup says gently and Astrid feels another jolt telling her to run. “The second victim was at the third site, the first was at the fourth.”

“Alice Roosevelt didn’t die in Berk, everyone who knows anything knows that,” Tuffnut laughs and looks around, surprised no one is laughing with him. “Come on, the secret fourth Grimborn victim? The Bright’s disease connection? Astrid, did you even read the dossier I gave you?”

The dossier.

“Roosevelt?” Eretson is good at his job. He’s competent, as Astrid noticed immediately when he appeared in her hallway, stony faced and professional with a video of her trespassing. It seemed like a good thing then. “Are you suggesting you know something about a theory concerning Theodore Roosevelt, future president of the United States, and the Grimborn murders?” He doesn’t wait for an answer to the question, digging through his folder for a picture near the bottom.

It’s Tuffnut’s binder, the one Astrid hasn’t thought about since she realized she and Hiccup had overheard a murder on their midnight tour. The one she’d given to him as punishment for making her read the Admiral Hiccup Haddock book.

“That’s it!” Tuffnut nods, “I’m so glad it made it to the proper authorities, I’ll assume you’ll get right on the suggested action in Appendix AB, the sweeping of national park memorials?”

“This binder was found at the scene of Jennifer Franklin’s murder.”

“That’s my bad,” Hiccup talks too fast, hands finally flailing, but it’s too late. “Astrid gave it to me when I dropped her off at her house after our tour and then when I was walking back to my place and—you know, found the—I dropped it.”

“I’d like to talk to Miss Hofferson alone for a moment,” Eretson gets up and opens the door, waving out towards the lobby, “the rest of you can wait outside. Give the front desk any updates on your information, we should be about done for today.”

“I’ll stay,” Hiccup volunteers, looking back at Astrid with wide green eyes.

“No, I should,” Snotlout insists, squaring up against Eretson in the doorway, like he’s going to shove his way in, but Astrid shakes her head.

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it.”

All four of them are still peering through as Eretson closes the door.

“Sit down, Miss Hofferson.”

She takes Ruffnut’s chair and folds her hands on her lap to stop them from shaking.

“I talked to Fishlegs Ingerman,” Eretson starts, frustration melting away from his expression as he finds himself oriented on a new path, “and I’d like to run a timeline of events past you. First, you move into your apartment at 324 Harbor Road, then you’re startled by someone giving a Viggo Grimborn tour past the property. As I learned from Jorgenson tonight, he came by your apartment to protect Mr. Haddock from yet another trespassing charge and at that point, met Miss Thorston.”

“That’s all correct so far,” Astrid nods, torn between letting her mind rush ahead or focusing on every nuance coming out of Eretson’s mouth. Then again, she knows better than anyone that his perspective is the only one that matters now.

“At the Berk Archives, where you work with Mr. Ingerman, you asked him to help you solve the Grimborn murders as a way of stopping the tours.” He drums his fingertips on the table like he’s keeping a beat for his thoughts. “At some point, Mr. Thorston gave you his compiled theory—”

“Dossier.” She doesn’t want to hear the next part but can’t think of how to stall.

“Mr. Haddock took you on a private Grimborn tour on the night of Jennifer Franklin’s murder, there is video evidence placing the two of you near the murder site at the approximate time of the event, and now I know that the binder found at the scene was until recently in your possession.” His voice ramps up, more confident than loud and scarier for it, “the only previous evidence for Mr. Haddock not being at the scene of the crime was that he was walking you home.”

She nods, ‘previous’ floating like a ghost of the situation an hour ago.

“Then, the night of Dave Ralston’s murder, you were not only with Mr. Haddock on the tour you loathed so much, but you’re his alibi for where he was the hour before his tour, the window of time in which the murder was committed.”

“Fishlegs was there too.”

Eretson flicks through his notes and his jaw works silently for a second before he looks up at her, eyes narrowed to read the fine print on her forehead.

“You joined the tour in progress because Mr. Haddock was struggling to keep it moving.”

“I did,” she tells the truth because she doesn’t know what else she’d say. Some detached part of her is fascinated with this narrative, wondering how else the truth can twist around these moving benchmarks and warp into an unrecognizable picture.

“Dave Ralston’s foot was mailed from the archives on a day you were working there. Jorgenson and Mr. Haddock frequented the bar that Gruffnut Thorston had fraudulently bought under your friend Mr. Thorston’s name. Miss Thorston had been looking for him for months but hadn’t had any luck tracking him down.”

“Ruffnut put that together herself,” Astrid swallows hard, “she was with Snotlout and he mentioned something about Gruff’s and she took a risk—”

“They wouldn’t know each other if it weren’t for you. And you were leaving Gruff’s bar when you discovered Gruffnut Thorston’s body.” Eretson slides a picture across the table then. A picture of an alley with a disjointed body and blonde dreadlocks smeared across bloody concrete.

Astrid’s nose is numb as she looks steadily at the detective, “all of that is circumstantial and beyond that, none of it is forensic.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he stands up and opens the door, waving her through with frosty professionalism, “it’d be best for you to stay in town.”

The twins are nowhere to be seen, but Hiccup and Snotlout are talking by the front door. Snotlout sees Astrid first and taps Hiccup’s arm, nudging him to look up. Astrid forces her chin up at their instant worry, swallowing hard against the paralyzing fear trying to well in her throat. She’s not scared of people or places or things, but institutions are different. Institutions built on ideas that are grounded by fear.

It doesn’t feel particularly strong to be scared of fear right now.

“Hey, what’s up?” Hiccup rests his hands on her upper arms and rubs like he thinks she’s cold. Maybe she is, she definitely doesn’t care right now. “You know, he didn’t have to kick me out of the room if he wanted to make fun of Snotlout.”

“Apparently being an alibi is actually a kind of a shitty alibi to have,” she sighs and lets Hiccup pull her sideways against the wall to make room for someone passing.

The crisp footfalls pause, leaving the hallway in eerie silence until Snotlout speaks up, louder for having been silenced in the interrogation room.

“What do you want, Grisly?”

“Eretson is trying so hard to shut me out,” Grisly shrugs as Astrid turns to face him and the cold hits all at once, “I have to search for my information elsewhere.”

“Right,” Hiccup’s arm lands reassuringly across her shoulders, “you probably didn’t get much from making me look at mutilated corpses all day while describing how they got that way.”

“I mean, he probably got hard,” Snotlout mumbles under his breath and Grisly’s falsely pleasant expression shatters for an instant into a wolfish glare, more starving than his usual malignant patience. “Big weekend plans?”

“I don’t know what conclusions Eretson jumped to, Astrid,” Grisly says her name like a brag, “but rest assured, I’ll set his misgivings straight soon enough.”

“Really? We didn’t bond today?” Hiccup snorts, “you don’t want to chat about our weekends?”

“Well, I’m sure you two will be together,” Grisly laughs, poison dipped nails on a chalkboard, “however young Hiccup here managed to convince you that he’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, we all have eyes, Grisly, we can see she’s way fucking hotter than him,” Snotlout crosses his arms, “Get to a point or go start skinning cats or whatever you do off the clock.”

“Thanks for summing that up,” Hiccup nods at Snotlout and Grisly and then looks at the door, “I’ve had about enough police station for the millennia, how about you?”

“Fair,” she tries not to feel the chilled pinpoints of Grisly’s eyes on her face as she nods, “I just want to go home.”

“Oh,” he lowers his voice and even Snotlout has the social grace to look away, but Grisly’s still listening, frozen in the hallway with his gray uniform casting all of the walls into grayscale, “I was thinking, given the circumstances it might make more sense for you to come back to my place.”

“Given the circumstances,” she parrots, tone dull like ‘dossier’ interrupting Eretson’s interrogation. “I’m not scared to be at my place, Hiccup. It’s not like the locks haven’t been updated since eighteen-eighty-three.”

Astrid has never been one to swerve. Swerving implies losing control somewhere between this course and the next one. Astrid pivots. She finds one thing she trusts to stay still, one anchor in an otherwise unwieldy situation and she plants her heel, relying on the friction until she has a new direction.

“I didn’t say you were scared.” Hiccup is scared, she can see it and it makes her want to be stronger. To ground herself even in the midst of all these impossible, too clear theories spinning around in her head.

She told Hiccup that he didn’t seem to have much choice how involved he is in all of this, but maybe that’s not the same for her. Even if it is, she’s not ready to accept that yet.

“I’m fine at my place.” If she knows anything for sure, it’s that swerving is how people fall. “Where are the twins?”

“They’re talking to Johnson about the wrong name on the bar, it’s going to take a while,” Snotlout interrupts, ushering them away and glaring at Grisly one last time, “let’s ditch the creepy, nosy audience.”

“Oh, Jorgenson?” Grisly calls before Snotlout can get the front door open and he reluctantly turns around. “I talked to your superior officer, we agree it would be best if you were suspended for the remainder of this investigation. I’m sure you understand.”

“What?” Snotlout and Hiccup snap simultaneously.

“Given your friends continued involvement, we can’t risk any leaks. You can turn in your gun and badge at the front desk.” Grisly nods condescendingly before turning and disappearing into a back room.

Snotlout has to stay to fill out paperwork regarding his suspension and Hiccup offers to walk Astrid home, but she can’t accept. Not because she doesn’t want to or because his falsely blasé presence isn’t comforting, that would be easier, but because she has to go find Fishlegs and figure out what he told Eretson.

It's the truth, of course, just colored wrong and on an edge, like an Enquirer through a standard lens. She doesn’t tell him what happened at the station.

Hiccup texts, making fun of Grisly mostly, and maybe that’s what feels normal enough for Astrid to sleep after checking the deadbolt a third time. In fact, she oversleeps and somewhere between rushing to work and settling into the monotony of sorting through probably useless scraps of paper, she forgets to dwell on every detail of Eretson’s realization. Worse, she starts working through them, trying to see how they fit.

She hates that she’s still thinking about this logically, like she’s studying a case from afar instead of sitting vulnerable in the middle of one. She hates that she doesn’t blame Eretson for the targeted round of questions after her unfortunate circumstances clicked in a room full of suspicious people, all of their connections orbiting around her.

Above all, Astrid resents that she expects handcuffs when someone knocks at her door a little while after she gets home from work.

Her umbrella is still by the door and her hand hovers above the handle as she looks through the peephole.

It’s not Eretson. It’s not handcuffs at all, after yesterday.

It’s Hiccup’s top hat sitting a few inches lower than she’s used to on Snotlout’s head and she forgets the weaponized umbrella and opens the door. He claps his hand over his eyes and she cocks her hip, arms crossed.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re not flashing me or anything, right?” He peeks between his fingers with a shit-eating grin, like he just invented humor with that inane statement and Astrid almost slams the door in his face. “Kidding, geez, I know you’re into the hat, so I was worried it would be like reflex to—”

“Again, with less patience this time, what are you doing?” She sighs, caught between inviting him in and enduring the twitchiness that sets in whenever her front door is open for too long.

“I thought we could hang out,” he holds up a six pack in his hand and she narrows her eyes, scanning his expression. Usually, he doesn’t look much like Hiccup. Not nearly as much as Astrid looks like her own cousins, anyway, but right now, when he’s worried about her and lying badly about it, the resemblance is obvious.

“You’re here to guard my apartment, aren’t you?” She huffs, “I told you, I’m fine—”

“Yeah, you were really insistent about that at the station,” he rolls his eyes, “made you look super innocent, Astrid, good job. You know who wouldn’t be afraid of a murderer coming to their apartment? Someone who is the murderer.”

She bites the inside of her cheek to hold back a useless, childish retort, but her nostrils still flare with the desire to blurt it out anyway. The standoff lasts until Snotlout breaks eye contact to look over her shoulder into her place and she steps aside.

“Come on in.” She shuts the door behind him and locks it, double checking the deadbolt with practiced fingers. “Was Ruffnut busy or something?” She asks and his shrug is unconvincing as he messes with the top hat on his head. The hat and the curtains are the only things that seem like they belong in the space right now. “Or did Hiccup ask you to keep an eye on me? Because that is such—”

“Hey, Hiccup doesn’t tell me what to do,” Snotlout opens a bottle on the edge of the countertop like he’s never had to worry about a security deposit, but he at least he offers it to her first. She takes it, waving the rest of his explanation on. “And Eretson is a pompous, tall dickhead who thinks he knows everything, but all of this creepy shit has been happening nights when I’m off duty.”

“I thought you were suspended,” she swallows back her flippant tone as soon as his face falls, “not—that’s not the same as off duty, that’s all.”

“No, suspended with pay is different than being off duty, since I’m suspended without pay it’s the same thing,” he opens another beer and grumbles under his breath, “if I’d shot someone on accident, keep the money coming, but make friends with Hiccup’s new, equally unlucky girlfriend…”

“If you were just going to get suspended anyway, maybe you should have vouched for Ruffnut when it mattered.”

He shakes his head, like he has grounds to be disappointed in her. “Oh, you mean before you came from behind and took the top suspect spot?” He says plainly and she appreciates the candor. “And I was serious, it would be kind of shitty for me to act as a witness here, especially because I was with her when some psycho gutted Gruffnut.”

“You couldn’t have just said that she wasn’t actually threatening him?” She fiddles with the soggy corner of her beer bottle’s label.

“Not in uniform,” he sighs, “not knowing what she’d do to convince me say something like that if she was the psycho who gutted Gruffnut.”

“She’s not.”

“I know that,” he scowls, “and Eretson knows that and he’ll find something that doesn’t make me one of those crooked cops who can be sucked off—“

“I don’t need to know that,” Astrid hits him again with less intent this time.

“I never get any appreciation for trying to do the right thing.”

“Why should you?” She frowns, “yet. Maybe I’ll appreciate your…near decency later when everything’s done turning out ok.”

“Right, like it’ll take that long before I do something heroic and win you over.” He winks and it’s all wrong under the brim of Hiccup’s hat.

“So you came over here to befriend me?” She raises an eyebrow, leaning back against her only chair and crossing her ankles. Having him here is comfortable enough for her to prod the conversation along. Not necessarily familiar, but better than being alone and jumping at every creak outside her door.

“I already told you, you’re my bro by extension.” He’s too sincere, which makes it awkward that they’ve discovered murder victims and been suspects together. “Plus, if we’re going get this friend-group going without Eretson tagging along or Ruffnut…” The sincerity deepens, uncomfortable, and Astrid bites back an apology on Ruff’s behalf. “Anyway, we’ve got to form cross-group bonds.”

“Right,” she nods, “for the good of the friend-group. That’s what I’m really concerned about right now.”

“Why do you think I’m taking this upon myself?” The bravado is back as he leans back against her counter, taking off Hiccup’s hat and twirling it on his finger. “You and Hiccup have been so preoccupied being Virgin Gorgonzola nerds—”

“Virgin Gorgonzola?”

“The first creepy killer guy, whatever, I don’t listen to any of the shit Hiccup says about him.” Snotlout is purposefully stupid in a way Astrid could never manage, even when it would have been convenient or even kind.

“Let me get this straight, you’re saying Hiccup and I are too preoccupied with Viggo Grimborn,” she enunciates carefully and he rolls his eyes, “and it’s bad for this ‘friend-group’ concept you keep mentioning?”

“It’s what he did with Heather,” Snotlout pauses and Hiccup’s hat tilts to one side, “you’ve met Heather, right? Black hair, really hot, works at the geeky bar where Hiccup’s weirdo tours start?” Something in her expression must prompt him to rephrase because he continues, “not that you’re not hot, you’re super hot, it’s just different kinds of hot. She’s like ‘stab me when I’m not looking, and I have no idea what I did’ hot and you’re like ‘punch me in the face in public and I know exactly what I did’ hot.”

She doesn’t expect to laugh, but that’s the first statement she hasn’t had to take seriously in what feels like forever.

“Not sure what that says about you, but thanks, I guess.” She weighs that and wrinkles her nose, “maybe I get you and Ruffnut a little more now.”

“Whatever, that’s not what we’re talking about,” he scowls at the new mention of Ruffnut, “when Hiccup was first starting to give his tours he met Heather and it was nice until Hiccup was too obsessed with Grimborn,” he says it right, pointedly humoring her, “to notice that Heather had a raging crush on him and everything got weird.”

“Didn’t Heather steal his research?” The concept of Heather having a crush on Hiccup settles off-kilter in Astrid’s stomach. Like that time Snotlout gave her a ride home after the second body was discovered, she feels silly to care about kisses and insignificant little spikes of jealousy when people are dying, but she can’t help it.

“Right, his research,” Snotlout quotes with an outturned pinky, holding his beer like he’s ready for tea with the queen. “Is that what you’re after? His research?” The protective but still suggestive way that Snotlout asks the question is perversely sweet, like he’s a doting chaperone who cares more about Hiccup than the concept of virtue.

“I can do my own research,” she diverts diplomatically and Snotlout frowns.

“I was using research as slang for di—”

“I’m aware of that,” she cuts him off, “I just don’t really think it’s any of your business.”

“You’d think that, but given our apartment’s thin old walls, I’ve heard plenty. None of it complaining.” He raises his beer in a toast five feet away from her and she wonders how shame is distributed among people and how Snotlout’s got lost. “Not that I’d listen to a friend on purpose, that’s a dick move.” His expression is more conciliatory than apologetic, offering to take honest responsibility for his delivery without promising to change.

The first time she met Snotlout, she felt a flash of kinship, because he cleans up after Hiccup the way she does after Ruffnut. His acceptance that he’s some shade of asshole deepens it further because lately she’s been struggling to walk the tight-rope between black and white.

“It might be easier for us to be friends if you weren’t so involved in my hypothetical sex life.”

“No,” he doesn’t even pause to think about that suggestion, “it’s way easier to try and get Hiccup laid than it is to come to terms with being friends with such a nerd.”

“Hey!” She looks for something to throw at him and settles for a box of tissues on her crooked coffee table.

“Don’t spill the beer—”

A dull, sure knock in the courtyard reverberates through the old, heavy window, the sound dodging through pulled back curtains and stalling Astrid’s laughter in her throat.

“And you said you weren’t scared,” Snotlout snorts, tone light but face serious as he goes to look out the window, shoulders stiff to fill a uniform he’s not wearing. “Oh shit, that’s probably the pizza I ordered, looks like the outside door is locked.”

“That door’s unlocked until ten,” she tries to shake off the startled tremor in her chest, “and you ordered a pizza? How’d you know I was even going to let you in?”

“I had the hat,” he puts the top hat back on his head, “I’ll go get it.”

She’s not scared. She’s balking like a horse who won’t cross a frozen river, caught between fear and stubbornness. She should offer to go with him, but that would be admitting it’s a two-person job to collect a pizza from the front door and she’s been too righteous to back down now.

The only thing worse than being scared is getting used to it, adapting to it, living with it like a roommate she never wanted.

“Sure,” she nods and the knock echoes again, the sound magnified by the narrow hallway as Snotlout opens the front door.

“Don’t worry, if it’s the murderer I’ll just bore them to death with my Hiccup impression,” he tips the top hat at her with a nasal ‘milady’ on the way out.

Outside, it looks like the pizza guy is giving up, disappearing behind the ‘Al, I. Safe’ wall on the way. Snotlout sees him though, jogging to catch up, the hat casting a long shadow in the sallow circle of the street light. There’s a pause just long enough for her to feel stupid.

The door is old, it probably locked behind Snotlout or was stuck shut with some mud and the pizza guy didn’t want to yank on it. She really needs to stop jumping at every little sound, especially given that she knows the other murders respected modern structures. They weren’t in the condos, they were out back at approximated locations. Hell, even if some crazy person is targeting her place, it’s more likely there’ll be a body in the courtyard.

The courtyard is hardly even her place. It’s her building, her sphere, sure, but off-center.

The sudden pop is so loud it rattles the window and Astrid flinches, sure the glass is about to shatter. The second pop comes before she has time to breathe or think or restart her heart.

Gunshots don’t echo like fireworks do.

Gunshots pulse, singular jolts of force against the wall of air, shifting reality a meaningful increment where fireworks just fizz and pop, making a scene for no reason at all. Gunshots echo off of old courtyard walls like flickers of remembered violence, and the throbbing leaves the pause between Astrid’s heartbeats feeling like dead silence.

She grabs the umbrella and runs outside.

#ripped #hiccstrid #modern au #serial killer tour guide au #coplout #gun tw #ngl i've been looking forward to this one ever since I had the idea like two months ago #working towards this moment

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anotherferalrat · 3 days ago

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So I may be chillin with Scara now but Scara mains scare me /aff (PLS DONT HURT ME ITS A JOKE PLS-)

Tell me why im doing the wargames event AND A SCARA MAIN PULLS UP WITH:

That electro scorpion bitch

A FUCKIN MITACHURL

NOT ONLY THAT BUT A GODDAMN FROSTARM LAWACHURL

Genuinely horrified. Afraid for my life. But honestly expected as soon as I saw the avatar.

Well played scara main but may we nvr cross paths again bc I am scared of u now🫶

#genshin impact #wanderer #scaramouche #yall got it from here #no more aliases #bro was my last loss too #i couldve made it through the round if not for them #'it took me 3 betrayals to understand the rules of wargames'#Bdhhshshaj unironically gonna start using that whenevr smth inconveniences me #i mean this /aff SO DONT HURT ME #but he reminds me of a tortured shounen protag #just gotta giggle at the funny lil guy #(its the only thing preventing me from crying)#Day 324 of hiding from my friends

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thesoundofnat · 6 years ago

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Three Times Sirius Woke Remus Up

Sirius/Remus

Summary: ...and one time he let him sleep.

A/N: This was prompted by a kind anon. I hope you like it!

[Read it on AO3]

Words: 2 324

Sirius could sense his exhaustion the moment Remus stepped into the common room that evening. A bad full moon the previous week combined with revising for their exams had left him bleary-eyed and irritable, and when he’d disappeared into the library for the third night in a row no one had tried to stop him. Sirius could see him so close to the edge now. So close to giving in to the fatigue.

He slumped down beside him on the couch, shoulders low and heavy. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Sirius said, trying not to let his concern taint his voice. The last thing Remus needed was to be pitied. “Any progress?”

“I finished all the assignments for this week.”

“That’s good.”

Remus hummed, turning his head slightly to meet his eyes. “Wish I could’ve done more.”

“You’d be a damn wizard if you’d manage to do more than that.”

“Oh, ha ha.” But Remus did crack a smile, and Sirius felt his heart break and swell all at once. “Where are the others?”

“In bed, like we all should be.”

“I’ll go in a bit. I need to just-”

“Calm down?”

“Something like that. What are you working on?”

Sirius had been writing the opening line to an assignment due the next morning for the past hour. Had he been a fool he’d think he was more exhausted than Remus, but he knew better than that. No one was more exhausted than Remus.

He sighed, head rolling back to rest against the couch. “A disaster.”

“Hey, I’m sure it won’t be a disaster. Do you need help?”

“I cannot possibly ask you to do that.” It had slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say it. It was an unwritten rule that you didn’t mention Remus overworking himself unless he physically passed out. He hadn’t passed out yet.

But Remus didn’t pay it any mind. “Other times you beg on your bare knees for me to help. Stop being modest, will you? Give me.” He grabbed the parchment and set to work, and Sirius had to swallow the guilt every other minute lest he wanted to fail one of the last assignments of the semester.

Thirty minutes later found them still in the now entirely empty apart from them common room, Sirius finishing up his homework with Remus peering at him with blinking eyes for support. Sirius knew he was on the verge of falling asleep, but he was so caught up on finishing this damn thing that he let out a sound of genuine surprise when he turned to his friend to celebrate only to find him passed out beside him, mouth open and all.

Sirius licked his lips. The way Remus’ head was angled - hanging forward rather than resting against the back of the couch - was a recipe for a stiff neck. He couldn’t have been asleep for long, and the mere notion of waking him up hurt Sirius more than he could explain.

“Moony,” he mumbled, hoping it wouldn’t take more. “Hey, come on, let’s go up to bed.”

Remus didn’t move. Sirius almost had to make sure he was still alive.

“Hey.” He reached out, let his fingertips hesitate against Remus’ arm before he grabbed it. Shaking it slightly, he watched how Remus opened his eyes, trying to blink away the sleep he so desperately needed.

“Wha-?”

“Let’s go to bed.”

Remus didn’t say anything. Only allowed Sirius to help him stand and walk up the stairs. Had this been their home, only theirs, he might’ve let him stay on the couch and possibly curled up next to him.

The library wasn’t Sirius favorite place by any means, but he had to admit there was something magical - no pun intended - about people falling asleep before boring books together. Truly he’d never yawned in unison with so many of his peers until that evening.

“Hey.” James snapped his fingers in his face. “I know that look. Focus.”

Sirius huffed. “Would you let me dissociate in peace?”

“You were falling asleep.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, but I’d rather you finish your reading tonight than whine all of tomorrow.”

“I’ll whine anyway.”

“I know, but do you really want me to keep saying I told you so?”

Sirius hid behind his book again, grumbling to himself. Remus and Peter had been silent since they arrived, but Sirius had complained more than once and James was the only one irritated enough to take the time to reprimand him. What a mother hen.

He glanced at James, purely to see him glare back in that nonthreatening way of his, but his eyes found Remus instead, all but nodding off in his chair. He did a good job of hiding it, but Sirius knew his signs. Could see the way he blinked too much. How he stared too intently at his book. A book that boring couldn’t be that engaging.

James suddenly scraped his chair back and stood, startling both Peter and Remus. “I need to go find a book. I forgot to grab it earlier.”

“What part are you on?” Peter asked.

“I’m trying to write about the constellation thing.”

“Me too. I’ll come with you.”

They both left, and Sirius was torn between lamenting the fact that he hadn’t even reached the part of the assignment yet that required something about constellations, and between grabbing his books and fleeing while James had his back turned. Instead, he turned back to Remus, who’d seemingly fallen back into the state he’d been before.

Actually, it seemed to be graver than before. Eyes closed, head in that awful angle again. He’d nodded off entirely.

Sirius hated this, but Remus wouldn’t like the attention if he waited for the others to return before he woke him. Reaching across the table, Sirius tapped his fingers against the wood. “Moony.”

Remus jerked awake, meeting his gaze. “Sorry?”

“Are you doing all right there?”

He exhaled slowly, as if answering took a great deal of energy. “I’m just tired.”

“Maybe you should call it a night? You did fall asleep on me the other day as well. Did I ever thank you for helping me?”

“You did. It’s no worries.” Sirius noticed how he didn’t address the falling asleep part.

He leaned back, eyes never leaving Remus. “You want some coffee, at least?”

“I’ve had too many cups today. I’ll just get jumpy.”

Sirius nodded. “All right.”

A half-hearted attempt at a grin. “Thank you for caring.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Jerk. I’m just-”

“Concerned?”

“Well, yes.”

“Don’t be.”

“If I have to carry you all the way back to the dorms I swear to god-”

“Mr Black.” The librarian appeared out of nowhere. “Keep your voice down.”

He shot her his best smile. “My apologies, madam.”

She rolled her eyes almost fondly before walking off. They’d done this before.

He turned back to Remus who was giving him an amused smirk. “Don’t look so smug.”

“Don’t look so satisfied then.”

“I would never.”

The others returned carrying four books, one of which Remus gratefully accepted while Sirius groaned. This would be a long night.

Sirius hadn’t meant for this to happen, but a howler too many burst the bubble he’d been containing his emotions in for the past few years, and he locked himself in a broom closet. Pathetic, just like his family kept telling him. It didn’t matter. It usually didn’t matter.

Remus found him like that, curled up in a space he barely fit in, hiding from the world he’d always been brave enough to face. He didn’t say a word. Only closed the door and sat down beside him, their hips and arms pressed together, heartbeats in sync.

That night, in the shelter of the darkness, Remus grabbed Sirius’ hand for the first time. It was a timid motion. A brush of their fingers. A silent question.

Sirius held on to his hand for dear life, squeezing it so tightly Remus had to ask him to ease up, just a little. The first words spoken since they united. Sirius found it apt. He’d always been one to hold on too tightly.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice hoarse, but he didn’t care.

Remus let out a surprised laugh. “Of course it is. I initiated it.”

“I thought maybe you felt bad for me.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Feel bad for me?”

“Lead you on.” He brought Sirius’ hand toward his mouth, brushing his lips against the knuckles. “Not to you.”

They didn’t kiss that night. It wasn’t the right time. Instead, they let their hands do the talking. Do the touching. Fingertips on cheekbones, curling against palms, brushing over lower lips.

They were there for so long that Remus fell asleep, his head finally supported by Sirius’ chest, tucked safely beneath his neck. Sirius would’ve stayed there all night if he could, but he knew they had to return to the common room. To the dorm room where two worried boys would be waiting. It was the only time he’d wished he hadn’t been at Hogwarts.

“Remus.”

Remus woke slowly as Sirius ran his fingers through his hair, blinking blearily up at him. “What time is it?” he asked, no confusion. No questioning how he’d ended up here.

“Time for bed,” Sirius replied. “Come on.”

Remus hummed. “Carry me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wow. You’re so not boyfriend material.”

Sirius moved his hand down, stroking the skin behind his ear. “Maybe I can change your mind on that.”

“Is that so?” There was something definitely not sleepy in Remus’ voice.

Sirius grinned. “Tomorrow.”

“Tease.”

“Can’t let you tire of me.”

“As if that would ever happen.”

It wouldn’t, but war and life and betrayals would keep them apart anyway.

And one time he let him sleep.

When Dumbledore ordered him and Remus to stay at Grimmauld Place together, Sirius had for sure thought it a joke. After all these years, he’d be sleeping door to door with the only person he’d ever loved. It was too cruel, to be in his thirties and to not be able to touch him. To not allow himself to touch him again. His chance had passed him by long ago. He was only an afterthought now.

It was surprisingly easy to fall back in sync with each other, and maybe that made the whole thing worse. They knew each other’s signs, even after all these years. Missed potential. It was too fucking unfair, and it stared him right in the face everyday. He should’ve been focused on the upcoming war, but all he could think of was all that he lost during the previous one.

So, really, obsessing over Remus was the safest choice. He still had him, after all. In a way at least.

“What’s on your mind?”

Sirius looked up. He hadn’t even heard him enter his room, which was pretty bizarre. If there was one thing Sirius knew, it was how this house sounded. If anyone so much as moved in the direction of his bedroom, Sirius would know.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Too much.”

Remus’ lips twitched. “You too, huh?” He entered, hesitating for only a second before settling down on the bed beside Sirius. He was too far away for any part of their bodies to touch, and maybe it was for the best.

Sirius rubbed his forehead. “It feels weird.”

“Being here?”

“Everything.”

“I can’t blame you.”

“I can’t really sleep at night. To be fair I haven’t really slept well in, like, fifteen years, but you know.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “One of these days I think I’m gonna die of exhaustion.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all of this.

Remus hummed. “I know it’s not the same thing, but I’m having trouble sleeping too.”

Sirius was reminded of late nights in the library. Remus passing out with his face pressed against pages of old knowledge. Waking up with a start when Sirius ran his fingers over his neck. Smiling when he realized he was safe.

He wondered if Remus had ever felt safe after they were forced apart. Maybe he’d been stuck in this bubble of terror ever since that night just like Sirius had. Maybe he hadn’t felt a thing, just like Sirius wished he’d had.

Sirius reached out and let his knuckles collide with Remus’ arm. A friendly punch. Nothing more. “Maybe we should get something stronger to knock us out.”

Remus rolled his eyes fondly. “You think I haven’t thought of that? Don’t think Dumbledore would be too happy though.”

“We’ve been stuck here doing nothing for several days. We deserve some release.”

“I’m sure we won’t be doing nothing for long. This place will be filled with people soon.”

“Of all places. Why here?”

“I’m sorry, Padfoot. I know it’s hard.”

Remus grabbed his shoulder. Gave it a squeeze. Let go.

Sirius sighed. “At least… well, I’m glad you’re here, at least.”

Remus’ lips twitched. “I’m glad I’m here too, Pads.”

It was surreal, but only a little while later Remus’ head was angled in that awful way, the silence and familiar comfort having lulled him to sleep. Sirius let his gaze linger for just a moment too long, but it felt forbidden, so he reached out and stopped himself just in time.

Neither of them was sleeping in this house. If Remus had nodded off it was better to leave him be. Let him rest while he could.

It was only years of practice that allowed Sirius to gently push Remus down the bed so that he could sleep like a normal human being without waking him up. He made sure his head was supported by the pillow, deciding against the blanket since Remus got too hot anyway. He still remembered such useless things, but maybe they weren’t useless at all.

Sirius left the room, and Remus remained asleep until the next morning.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius #wolfstar angst #angst #hp fic #mine #three times sirius woke remus up #nat writes

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hollyhellhood · 6 years ago

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The table at the back | Ashton

That day especially had been a busy day at the Cafe you worked. People kept coming nonstop, and since your partner had been ill for two days and had not yet recovered, you thought you could end up killing yourself.

Although, finally, so much work had been worth it. Your boss, Suzanne, had recognized your effort and ended up offering you extra money for it. And, being honest, you needed it. A lot.

You let out a long sigh, letting yourself fall on one of the bar stools. You laid your head on your arms and set out to rest for a few minutes, now that there were only a few tables left and you had attended them all.

The break, however, didn't last long. The murmurs from the back table were louder and louder, and even though they made your head hurt, there was this saying that 'the customer is always right', so it would have been no use if you complained either.

"Hey, you!" You listened from the distance, in the middle of the group's laughter. "The brunette with the long legs!"

You couldn't help frowning. You knew it meant you, of course, but he could have used a nicer nickname. Likewise, you forced a smile and turned around, facing the boy with green hair at the end of the Cafe, who was shaking his hand vehemently to get your attention.

Even from the distance, you could see as one of his friends -the one with messy hair wrapped in the red bandanna- was trying to lower his arm roughly and looking furtively at him, whispering to him to shut his mouth.

You felt your curiosity overtaking you, and without thinking it over, you approached the table with an empty tray in your hands. You couldn't help blushing more and more with each step you took. You had shared some glances with the guy in the holey tee and the bandanna since he entered the Cafe, and you sure didn't catch the message under it, but they made you nervous anyway.

Seeing that you were only a few feet from their table, the boy with the green hair gave a goofy smirk to the boy sitting in front of him, almost indistinguishable from your position. You came to where they were and settled a lock of hair that had escaped your ponytail, returning it to its place while you formed a nervous smile.

"Did you guys need anything?" You asked, noticing how the curly boy avoided looking at you while his blond friend laughed at him for some reason.

"Actually, Sugar Cube," he said jokingly, giving a soft touch to the gold badge in your uniform with the ridiculous name that had been assigned to you at work, "my friend Ashton here thinks that you are cute, but he's stupid enough not to dare to tell you himself."

Your cheeks took on the color of a ripe tomato, and it was no use trying to hide it. Ashton, who looked the same, slid down his seat until the edge of the table, covering his whole stomach in an attempt to hide his embarrassment as well.

"How cute you two are," the one with dark hair laughed, mocking both of you.

The moment you could no longer stand the embarrassment, you turned quickly and disappeared, running behind the counter and into the kitchen.

Luke, the blonde guy, glared at Calum.

"Did I said something wrong?"

Ashton soon got up of his seat, wanting to leave the place as fast as possible and never coming back. He walked briskly towards the exit, muttering curses under his breath as he focused on ignoring his friends who shouted at him to return to the table. He didn't turn to even glare at them.

When he was already holding the doorknob and ready to disappear, a soft hand gripped his wrist and stopped him. Ashton turned slowly over his heels, fearing what he might find when he finished turning. His hazel eyes met yours, and you offered him a warm, shy smile.

Without saying anything, you leave a piece of paper with traces of ink on Ashton's hand.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," you say, as you give him a wide smile before walking away again.

Ashton returned to the table in shock, the whistles of his friends in the background. He threw himself into his seat and looked around the place, not really focusing on anything. He was blank.

"I knew you weren't a lost cause, bro!" Michael chimed in, perhaps too loud.

"What are you waiting for? Read it!" Luke exclaimed anxiously, pushing the paper into his friend's face.

"It would be great to go out one day.

324-4152

Ps: I think you're cute too"

#myworks #ashton irwin #ashton #irwin #5sos #5 seconds of summer

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smkkbert · 7 years ago

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Time for a story - Spoiler alarm!

I started writing the 300th chapter of Time for a story recently. This made me realize two things:

This story has gone so far. 300 chapters is a monster of a fic. I cannot even find the words to tell you how much this means to me. The story encompasses eight years in the life of the Queen Family, told in a little more than three years and with more than a million words. None of this would have been possible with all of your support. So, thank you all so much! I doubt I would love writing fanfics as much as I do if it wasn’t for you.

I guess it is time for my chapters guide to be posted. That way, you know what to expect with the next 50 chapters. I can promise some big movements. The angst storyline (chapters are italic) is probably the most dramatic one we ever had and will have quite the aftermath. Don’t worry, there is no breakup coming! There will be a trigger warning along the lines of Major character death... kind of, though. Like always, there are some blank spaces for chapters that are still free for your ideas. ;)

Now, for spoilers, check under the cut. Enjoy!

301 - Felicity visits Oliver at the office with a special gift. It’s a XXXX.

302 - Tommy turns five years old. He wants a day with XXXXX.

303 - XXXX tries to contact Felicity.

304 - QI helps City Hall to XXXXX XXX XXX.

305 - XXXXXX and XXXXX are joining their parents for a workday.

306 - Emmy, Tommy and Millie hide a XXXXX.

307 - Tommy’s XXXX XX XXXXX XXXXXX.

308 - It’s XXXXXXXXXX-XXX for William.

309 - The news announces that XXXXXX was killed.

310 - Felicity’s in denial about XXXXXX’s death. She collapses in the morgue.

311 - Felicity has doubts that XXXXXX is really dead.

312 - When her friends refuse to believe her, Felicity has to rely on XXXXXXX for help. Eventually, XXXXX joins her side, too.

313 - Felicity and XXXXX learn that XXXXX XXXXXX faked XXXXXX’s death on XXXXXXX’s command. They prepare to leave, sending the kids to XXXXX in the meantime.

314 - Felicity and XXXXX learn from XXXXX that XXXXXXX XXXX XXXX XXX XXXXXX. They try to attack, but XXXXXXX can flee. Meanwhile, XXXX doubts the team’s decision.

315 - Felicity, XXXXX and XXXXX go to XXXX XX. Felicity has to ask XXXXX for help to find Oliver. In Starling, XXXX confronts XXXX with his decision, especially when they learn about XXXXX XXXXXX’s death as well as the missing of XXXXXX’s body.

316 - Finally having found XXXXXXX and XXXXXX, Felicity wants to kill XXXXXXX. XXXXX XXXX XX XXXXXX Felicity gets the chance to.

317 - The Queen Family XXXXXXXX. XXXX apologizes to Felicity, but she turns him down.

318 - XXXXXX comes back home from the hospital.

319 -

320 - Tommy announces that he and XXXXXX are XXXXXXXXX now.

321 - Felicity suggests a XXXXXXXX.

322 - John tells Oliver about the troubles between XXXXXXXX and XXX XXXX.

323 - Felicity learns from XXXX that she has a XXXX-XXXXXXX.

324 - Thea reaches out to Felicity for help with XXXXXX. Felicity helps her, but is not ready to XX XXXX XX XXX XXX XXXXXX XXXX XX XX.

325 - Oliver XXXXXX Felicity in XXXX-XXXXXXX.

326. XXXXXX and XXXXX surprise Felicity with a XXXXX.

327 - Donna joins Felicity XX XXX XXXXXX.

328 -

329 - When Emmy behaves weirdly, Oliver and Felicity learn that she XXXXX XXX XXXXXXXXX XX XXXXX XXXX XXX XXXX XX XXXX.

330 - Felicity and Lyla spent time with Addie and Connor. Lyla XXXXXXXXXXX Felicity’s XXXXXXX XXXX XXX XXXX.

331 - Felicity learns that XXXXX fell in love with her.

332 - Felicity gets a visit from XXXXX X XXXXXX. She’s finally ready to XXXXX XXX XX XXX XXXX.

333 - [Something about Delicity, unsure what]

334 - William tells Oliver he is ready to have XXX XXXX XXXXXX.

335 - Oliver and Felicity discuss their XXXXX.

336 - Oliver gets hypnotized in the field and XXXXXXX XXX XXXX.

337 - The Family goes on another XXXX XXXXXXX.

338 -

339 - Oliver and Felicity try XXXX, but they are interrupted.

340 - Felicity almost XXXXX XXX X XXXX when she joins XXX XXXX XX XXX XXXXX.

341 - Emmy asks Oliver and Tommy what an XXXXXX is.

342 - Felicity sees in the news that there was a XXXXXXXX at City Hall.

343 -

344 -

345 - Emmy asks Tommy and Laurel if they want XXXX XX XXXXX XXX.

346 - The kids plan a XXXXXXX XXXXX with the help of XXXXX and XXXX.

347 -

348 - Connor turns two years old. Tommy mentions wanting XX XXX XXXXXXX.

349 - Addie turns two. Oliver XXXXXXXX XX Felicity.

350 - Oliver and Felicity celebrate another anniversary. Oliver XXXXXXX XXX XXXXXXXX.

#olicity #time for a story #olicity fic #olicity fanfic

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monsteramongmen-tamer · 7 years ago

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#10: “We can’t keep this up forever.” -Seth Rollins.

Thanks to the anon for the request! Hope you like it!

Tagging: @kaitlynwwefan, @panic-angel3314, @earl-01, @nickie-amore, @blondekel77, @reigns420, @littleprincess1621, @m-a-t-91, @luckygillblog, @finnbalorsbabygirl, @unabashedwwesmut, @blackwidow2721, @wrestlingimaginesposts, @wweburnitdown, @thirstiswet, @princesstoniii, @birthday-prinxess, @princess3733

If anyone would like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

About 4 months ago there was a superstar shakeup and you were traded to the red brand. You were sad to leave your friends at Smackdown, but excited to see what RAW had to offer. They had some talented people.

It didn’t take long for you to make friends. It was quite easy, actually. You had a very easy going personality and were always down to having some fun.

Maybe it was also because you were fairly open with people. If you had a problem with something, you would try to fix it, right then and there. But there was one secret you were keeping…

You were in a, sort of, low-key relationship with one of the other superstars on RAW. No one knew about it though, mainly because he wanted to keep it a secret. But you never knew the reason why.

Some days you were okay with it because that meant no one would be in your business, but on the other hand, on the good days when you two were happy, you wanted to show him off. But for some reason, he didn’t want that. You two just snuck around, almost getting caught multiple times.

The thrill of it was so...incredible. You never knew you could get away with something like this, but Seth seemed to know what he was doing.

As if anniversaries were a thing anymore, it has been 3 months since you and Seth started seeing each other. You wanted to do something, but obviously it couldn’t be at work.

Seth had a big match tonight. He was defending his tag team titles against Sheamus and Cesaro. They have had quite a feud lately, but tonight, they were out for blood. Some of the interviews they’ve had and things they’ve said in their live videos...made you nervous.

Your match was over with already. You just fought Dana Brooke to pass the time. No storyline there.

Still in your ring gear, you patiently waited backstage for Seth’s match.

You couldn’t help but wait and watch the monitor. You didn’t realize it, but you were also biting your nails.

“You good? You look like you’re about to have a mental breakdown.” Nia said, almost laughing at you.

You nervously laughed back, “Yeah, I’m good. Nervous jitters I guess.”

“Really? Your mach went well. You won. It’s not like you were in the ring with me” She said, winking.

“You’re right. Nothing to worry about.” You said.

Then you heard Seth’s music hit. You turned your attention back to the screen, as did everyone else back there.

Seth took a lot of hard hits, but he came out of the fight victorious. Him and Dean were in the middle of the ring celebrating. Rightfully so. They deserved it.

Sheamus and Cesaro walked back and looked beat up as well. They were really good performers. You only wished you could be as good as all 4 of them some day.

When Seth and Dean made their way back through the gorilla, everyone was ready to greet them and congratulate them. You were waiting as well, but more towards the back.

Once they made their way through everyone, you tried to congratulate them as well. Dean thanked you, but Seth blew you off, as if you weren’t there and didn’t say anything.

That hurt.

You knew he didn’t want anyone knowing that you two were seeing each other, but all you were trying to do was praise him for his match, just like everyone else had done.

You felt tears start to swell in your eyes, so you quickly found your way to the locker room. Once you made it in there and found there was no one else in there, you let it all out.

It wasn’t just the fact that Seth dismissed you in front of everyone, but everything else was catching up to you as well. You didn’t like living this lie. You wanted to show your boyfriend off to the world, but he wanted to keep you hidden.

Were you not good enough? The more you thought about it, the shittier you began to feel.

All you wanted to do was go to your hotel room and go to sleep. So you packed up all of your things and got your rental and just went to your hotel. It was earlier than normal, but tonight? Tonight you didn’t care.

Once you made it to the hotel and got checked in, you went straight to your room and hit the shower. The hot water running down your body felt good and it was just what you needed at the moment. While you were sitting on the edge of the bed in a towel, you heard a soft knock on your door.

You quickly threw on pajama shorts and a tshirt and threw your hair into a towel.

When you opened the door, you immediately wanted to shut it.

“Hey, didn’t see you after the show. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Seth said, trying to stroke your cheek.

You backed away from his hand, “Make sure I’m okay? What do you care? You don’t to seem to care about me or my feelings around our other co-workers. So why would you now?”

“Y/N. What are you talking about? Of course I care about-” He started, then paused for a minute, “Oh, you’re referring to earlier tonight, aren’t you?”

You looked at the ground. Your silence was enough of an answer.

Seth came all the way into your hotel room and closed the door.

“Y/N, you need to know that I only did that so people wouldn’t suspect anything.” He said, getting closer to you.

You waited a minute before speaking, “Why am I such a huge secret you have to keep?”

Seth looked at you with sad eyes.

“You aren’t- I don’t- why would you think that?” He asked.

“Because Seth. We have been going out for 3 months now and not a single soul knows about us. I don’t like keeping this secret. I want to show off my boyfriend. Not have to hide it. I want to show people how happy I am. Well, was. Now, I don’t know. We can’t keep this up forever. If you’re ashamed to tell people that I’m your girlfriend, then maybe we shouldn’t be seeing each other at all.” You said, tears in your eyes.

You could see that Seth had teary eyes as well and he came over and grabbed both of your arms, “Y/N, the reason I haven’t wanted to say anything is because when I do, things happen. People try to interfere and get in the way. I don’t want that to happen with you. Do you really want this to be out in the open?”

“Yes.” You said quietly.

Seth simply nodded. He then pulled out his phone.

“Hey, can you come down to room 324 quick? Yeah. He can come too.” Then Seth hung up the phone.

“What are you-” You started to ask, taking the towel out of your hair.

Next thing you knew, there was another knock at your door. When Seth went to open the door, Dean and Roman were standing there.

“Boys, Y/N and I are dating. Have been for 3 months now.” Seth stated, arm around you.

Dean nodded his head, “Okay, cool. Welcome to the crew.”

Roman smirked, “I always thought there was something going on between the two of you.”

“You did?” You asked, confused.

“Well yeah. The way you are backstage during Seth’s matches, and he is the same way for you. You guy’s aren’t that good at hiding it, you know. But I’m happy for you, brother.” Roman said.

Seth just shook his head, “Thanks, bro.”

“Can we go back to our room now? We’re exhausted.” Dean asked.

“Yeah, get out of here.” Seth said.

They left, leaving you two alone again.

“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” You said, hugging Seth.

“I know. I wanted to. I want to start showing off my girl. And see? They didn’t care.” He said, hugging you even tighter.

You looked up at him and Seth leaned down and kissed you.

He decided to stay over. When morning hit, you sat together and ate breakfast.

When it was time to go to work, Seth then insisted that you ride together. He opened your door for you and while you walked toward the front doors, he intertwined his fingers in yours.

You looked down at your hand and smiled. Then you looked at Seth, “You’re not messing around with this, are you?”

“Nope. By the end of the day, everyone will know I am dating Y/N.” Seth said.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “You’re such a dork.”

He smirked, “You won’t be saying that later tonight…”

You gasped, “Seth!”

Seth just pulled your hand to his lips and kissed your palm. You walked into work still holding hands. No more keeping secrets.

#seth rollins #seth rollins drabble #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins one shot #wwe

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