#I am. flummoxed by the response I got

[angel-of-the-moons]

Carry-Ons

Anselm Vogelweide x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Anselm being a shameless weirdo, sex toys, NSFW stuff, references to sex so not for kiddies!

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: I blame @reallyrallyauthor for this asjlsnodn. I haven't seen the movie yet but from your writings plus the scene comps I've seen I got this stupid ass idea in my head I have to spit out. Feeling a bit under the weather because of a tummy bug but I'm hoping to get over it so we can still make the family trip.

💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰

When his private plane was down due to a recall on vital parts, Anselm was livid. He had planned on treating you to a nice rural trip for the two of you, where no distractions or "business" aims to worry about. Where--he hoped--the two of you would spend almost the whole two weeks fornicating like horny rabbits in springtime.

He was trying to find different methods of travel, even looking at private charters or possibly outright buying a new jet. He had the money to do it, of course.

But Anselm was completely flummoxed when you actually brought up the idea of flying on a public flight. Like a lowly... commoner!

"Oh, come on. It's cheaper, you don't have to do much..." You say, rolling your eyes as you clicked through flights on your laptop. "And it'd save a little bit of money, if you think about it."

Anselm huffed, licking the spoon free of ice cream (perhaps being a bit too messy with it, intentionally) and rolled his eyes right back. "Money is hardly a concern for me, my love."

"C'mon! It could be fun." You try, grinning and batting your eyelashes at him.

He shot you a skeptical look.

Yeah, he wasn't gonna budge on this, was he?

Well, it's a good thing you know how to talk and twist Anselm to bend how you want him. Both figuratively and literally.

You slowly slide your laptop off of your lap and stand from the expensive leather chaise, sauntering over to his desk and perching your ass firmly on the edge, scooting over until your legs bracketed his torso, your feet planted on either side of his hips and pushing into the cushioning.

Almost immediately, a hungry glare overtakes him, his eyes behind his glasses becoming dark and stormy as he quirked a thick brow.

You pull the handkerchief from the pocket of his suit and wipe his messy beard, tutting playfully. "Honestly, Anselm, you eat like a messy toddler, sometimes."

"Oh... I thought you liked it when I ate messy?" He crooned, tilting his head as your fingers brush through his beard. "Especially if how much you writhe and soak my beard with that sweet little cunt of yours is anything to go by..."

You scoff and chuckle, rolling your eyes at him as you flick him in the chest with the handkerchief. "You know what I mean."

"Hmm, yes." He purred, his hands immediately going to your inner thighs, his thumbs teasing the edges of your stockings, hiking your skirt up to playfully pluck at your garter straps.

Anselm's eyes immediately went between your legs, his tongue running along the seam of his lips as he stared at your crotch.

"Ah-ah." You say, fingers gripping his chin to force him to look at you.

"You're no fun, sometimes, darling." Anselm pouts, his brows furrowing. "Such a tease."

"Will you consider booking a flight, then?" You ask once more.

He frowns further. "No."

You pout in return, your fingers snagging the curls of his beard as you consider another approach.

"Well..." You purr, relinquishing your grip on his beard to grip at his messy salt and pepper curls, tugging his head down so you could look down on him further.

His eyes flutter closed and his mouth opens in a low, breathy sound as you continue.

"How about this... When we book the plane, when we get to the cabin..." You tug him up so you can brush the scars over his left ear with your lips, '...you can do whatever you want to me. Or vice versa."

The moan that comes from him is damn near pornographic, and he viciously licks his lips to moisten them.

"Yes. But we only fly first class." He rattles off, his breath hitching.

Got 'im.

You grin mischievously and hum, "Good boy, Anselm." You begin to turn to get off of his large, ornate desk to return to your laptop and book a flight.

His hands seize your thighs again, and he growls up at you.

"Where do you think you're going?" He rasps, his hands yanking your panties down and pushing your skirt up further.

His thumbs part your folds and once more he licks his lips like a hungry dog.

"If I'm to suffer the embarrassment of flying public... I demand some up front compensation."

💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰💰

Of course Anselm had booked all of the first class seats just so the two of you wouldn't have to sit around other people. It was such an Anselm thing to do.

You had to deal with him loudly complaining of the pitiful lounge you were able to wait in, swatting him on the leg when he would get rude with a random person.

However, watching him deal with a woman who was harassing the staff of the airport over a simple problem with a simple fix was funny. The woman was clearly intoxicated while he began to lay into her.

"Honestly, my dear. Could you make it any more plain that your parents are brother and sister?" He'd said, his tone neutral, the drawl of his native tongue heavy with each word uttered, much to the woman's shock (and the staff's amusement).

"You are obviously wading in the shallow end of your gene pool, judging by how misplaced your teeth seem to be. Your brain must not be developed properly either because you cannot grasp the simple solution to your problem." He clicked his tongue and you had to hide your mouth behind your hand to cover up the laugh that was trying to bubble free as the woman tried to flounder.

Anselm didn't let up.

"Did your mother-aunt drink whilst pregnant with you? Surely you're suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome, or some kind of mental deficiency in a similar regard. Even your excuse for an "accent" makes you sound inbred and ignorant. You--"

The inebriated woman immediately began to bawl as she fled for the bathroom, her heavy mascara running down her face as Anselm slapped a wad of bills into the hand of the poor young worker, shoo'ing them off.

"Split it amongst yourselves. Honestly, I would have shot the bitch and called it a day." He dismissed, walking with you to the bag checking area, his leg brace squeaking almost as loud as you began to cackle.

"I only punish the staff that deserve it, my love." Anselm said, kissing your cheek. "That woman was a filthy creature who needed to be told such things. Honestly, that poor child looked ready to crumble from that woman's verbal abuse."

You grin at him, your matching suitcases wheeling behind you as you pulled them. It was only fair after basically bullying Anselm into booking a public flight.

Honestly now it was more an experiment to see how he would act--to "loosen the leash" a bit on him, you might say--in a "low-budget" public setting such as this. You didn't regret it one bit.

You let the security crew help you hoist your suitcases up and slide them across the metal table, Anselm looking frankly bored already at the tedium. Checking his oxygen tank was rather simple--even if you had suspicions that it didn't contain "oxygen" at all--and it passed through quickly without much examination.

The x-ray beeps softly as the first suitcase is scanned--and the guards frown with concern as they pull it out to check it.

"People are like that everywhere if you're unlucky." You say as the second guard unzips the first suitcase. "Hopefully we won't have any more--"

Your voice goes silent as the top to the suitcase flops open, and placed nice and neat atop the folded laundry...

...was a rather large, ornate, custom dildo and a cushioned leather harness.

The guard slowly creeps his wide eyes up to you as his coworker turns to cough, his face reddening as he tried to hold in his laughter.

"Uh, ma'am--" The one holding the case stuttered.

"That's not my suitcase." You say.

You and the two guards stare at each other, blinking owlishly until all three of you slowly turn to look at Anselm, who was leaning on his cane, a bored but also slightly amused smirk on his face as he watched the debacle.

"...What?" He asked innocently, quirking an eyebrow at the lot of you. "I kept my luggage within acceptable weight limits."

"Uh... I don't... Uh, I'm not sure--" The guard turned to look at his coworker for help, his eyes wide and pleading for help, his cheeks flushed with color.

"I-Is there a protocol for... for--"

"Gah, will I not be able to bring it?" Anselm frowns deeply, an irritated tone slipping into his voice. "I had it custom made, you know. I'd hoped we could make use of it."

He clicked his tongue and shrugged boredly, "Either on the plane or at our destination, I don't care which..."

You pinch the bridge of your nose and curse, trying not to smile and laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Of course the shithead would pull a stunt like this.

The guards looked like a strange cocktail of amused, confused, worried, and aghast at the thoughts running through their heads.

"Uh... I don't... I don't think you can bring that on the flight. For... for security.... reasons..." The younger guard stammered out, awkwardly adjusting his collar with his finger.

Anselm sighs and rolls his eyes, waving his hand. "Fine, fine, you can keep it. I suppose I'll have to check what kind of stores I can order from while we're at our destination."

"Anselm!" You hiss, a grin on your face despite your mortification as the poor guard--in view of cameras and other people no less!--hoists the hefty glass dildo out of the suitcase and sets it in a separate container off to the side, coughing nervously as he checks the rest of your things.

As you boarded the flight, your suitcases being loaded and your carry-on bag thoroughly inspected--you elbowed Anselm.

"What the hell was that?!" You whisper-shout.

Anselm grinned at you, much like a hungry shark.

"Why my dear... If I must suffer the embarrassment of flying public... you deserve a little embarrassment yourself."

[tryin2writehere]

PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES

Chapter Three

He could still smell Susie’s perfume from the previous evening, and Edward wondered if the wisps of smoky vanilla custard were really there, or just in his mind.

“You’re not even listening to me,” Charlotte sighed.

“Of course I am,” Edward turned from the window. He hadn’t been listening to her in the slightest.

“What is it?” she questioned, folding her arms in frustration.

“Hm?”

“You’re clearly not paying me any attention, and you’ve never been prone to daydreaming; what is it Edwina?”

“I’m sorry, Chuckles,” he grinned affably. “You have my attention.”

“It’s just got to be Susie Glass.”

“Hm?” He picked up his long-forgotten cup of tea.

“That’s who you were thinking of a moment ago when you were supposed to be listening to me. You get this flummoxed look lately. Have you told her that you fancy her?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t fancy Susie Glass?”

“I haven’t fancied anyone since the age of seven.”

She raised her right eyebrow, “You’re enamored Edwina, and you know it. You ogle at her like you haven’t eaten in three days, and she’s a braised duck.”

“You’re spending too much time with Freddy. You’re beginning to sound like him,” he teased, and smiled genuinely at his sister, “braised duck?”

“You like braised duck, and you like Susie Glass. It was an inspired comparison.”

“Accurate I suppose.”

“No one could blame you. She is the most stunningly fit éminence grise on two legs.”

Edward stilled, his teacup nearly to his mouth, eyes wide in response.

She huffed her stilted little Charly laugh at his expression, “I have eyes, do I not?”

“Apparently,” he sipped the tepid tea, the sunny bergamot scent still strong.

His pocket vibrated, and he excused himself, opening his phone to a text. A sense of foreboding crept under his skin. He tilted his head, studying the screen, and then tapped the text.

“Everything okay?” Charlotte asked, “You look suddenly quite unwell.”

“She just texted me her location,” he scowled.

“Who?” she responded, peering around him, “Susie Glass? Why?”

“I’m not actually sure,” he said dialing her number and consequently frowned when he reached her voicemail. He looked at his phone and quickly thumb-texted, “Is this a request to retrieve you?”

Answer. Answer. Answer the fucking text Susie.

“She’s not answering.”

“Well give it a moment.”

He shook his head, “Last night, she was distracted. Troubled. Something’s amiss.”

After he hadn’t looked up from his phone for several minutes, Charlotte studied his expression, “you look concerned.”

His eyes still locked upon his phone’s screen, he silently willed Susie to respond so his fucking heart could resume beating, “I’m…becoming a bit concerned.”

Anxiety-weighted silence spread within the room until Charlotte finally blurted, “Go on then, Edward. Go find her. Mother wanted to take the baby and me anyway.”

She jerked her head towards the door, and he planted a quick kiss on her forehead, “thank you Chuckles.”

He heard her calling after him as he raced out the door, “and do be careful!”

He dialed Blanket as he ducked into his car.

“Are you with Susie?” he demanded as soon as Blanket answered.

“No, I’m up in the big smoke visiting my sister.”

“Fuck.”

“Lose track of her?”

“She sent me her location.”

“Well, where she at then?”

“Birmingham, but that’s not the issue; she had a meeting with a gym owner, some former boxer, Sugar Something.”

“Sugar Walsh?”

“Yes, you know him?”

“Heard of him.”

Eddie waited for Blanket to expand and when he didn’t, “and what is it that you’ve heard Blanket?”

“Ah well, heard he likes whizz, fixing fights. Uh. Trafficker. Guns, heard maybe girls sometimes. Supposed to be a cunt.”

“Fuck.”

“You to meet her?”

“No.”

“Why she sending you where she at then?”

“That’s precisely what I’m attempting to determine, Blanket,” Edward explained between clenched teeth.

He steadied himself, “Would she have taken anyone else with her?”

“What? To the meeting? No. No, not since Keith, you know. Just by herself or with me or you know, with you.”

“Fuck.”

“She in trouble?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Best call the old man,” Blanket advised, sagely.

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Susie wouldn’t want me to.”

“Yeah. But -“

“Blanket.”

“Yeah. All right,” he sighed. “I’m on my way.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Be there in two hours.”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“Yeah I heard you, but I’m on my way.”

Edward nodded, “I’ll text you the address.”

“Update me if everything cool, yeah?”

“I’ll do that Blanket; thank you.”

Eddie heard keys jangling, “yeah.”

Of torturous drives, this one topped the list. Eddie's muscles burned with tension, pressing upon the accelerator and squeezing the steering wheel like he was ringing out a wet flannel. The drive through the rain seemingly unending. By the time he pulled into Walsh’s Gym car park, every horrible scenario possible plagued his thoughts.

His hope remained that upon walking into the gym to an anodyne scene, Susie would give him that look, the one where her eyes intimated doubt in his decision-making.

The car park projected eery silence, Susie’s Land Rover the only vehicle. Located in an industrial area in the Digbeth neighborhood, Eddie noted the unusual lack of neighboring businesses and activity.

He plucked his gun from the cubby box before exiting his car, and steeled himself for whatever encounter awaited.

Finding the glass front door unlocked, he surreptitiously entered the gleaming lobby. Left or right? Left or right? Confronted with the two entryways, he chose left and found himself in an elaborately ostentatious office.

He quickly spotted Susie’s large Hermès handbag, the contents spilled across the tatami flooring. Beyond the office, a horrifying path of blood led Eddie through the gym, passing an enormous still-wet rufous stain, followed by another more significant blood trail. One of Susie’s blue velvet stilettos paused his pursuit. His heart surged into his throat, and the overwhelming urge to frantically scream out her name nearly overtook his good sense.

He followed the sanguineous trail like some grisly German fairytale set of breadcrumbs into a dimly lit room full of boxing rings. His eyes pinged around the area and landed upon a large body in an enormous pool of gore.

Not Susie’s body. He resumed breathing, but as he drew closer to the large man’s slumped form, his stomach dropped through the floorboards. Susie’s bloodied face and right hand protruded lifeless from beneath the dead behemoth.

He sprinted to her and dropped to a crouch beside her. With a grunt, he shouldered the giant man off of her. Seeing Susie Glass blood-soaked, stripped of her usual armor, and sprawled upon the floor jarred him into a brief paralysis. She resembled a horror film heroine: blood everywhere, one foot bare, her baby blue silk blouse torn open revealing a lacy cobalt bra, and rivulets of blood nearly covering her bare torso. An open wound above her eyebrow steadily streamed fresh blood into her ear canal.

He slipped his hand under her head and found her hair entirely sopping wet with blood. He pressed his fingers to her neck, instantly finding her pulse. She was alive. A peculiar little laugh of relief sputtered from him.

Urgently, he whispered, “Susie!”

To see her in this vulnerable state of undress (where were her fucking layers?) rattled him nearly as much as her countenance as she returned to consciousness with a sharp frightened gasp and eyes wide with terror.

Before this, he’d been certain he’d cataloged all of her expressions, could predict them based upon circumstance, and draw them to his mind at will. The look on her face at this moment, however, would play unbidden in his future nightmares.

“Susie, Susie, it’s me,” he tried, scanning the room for anyone who may have heard them. “Is anyone else here?”

Unresponsive to his words, her eyes wide and wild and pinned to the corpse beside them. Eddie gave her a little shake, instantly regretting it as she winced in pain, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Susie, please look at me.”

She glanced at him blankly, then back at the body, then back at Eddie, recognition finally glimmering: “Edward. What’r you doing here?”

“Susie, you need to answer me. Do you know if there is anyone else here?”

“Here?” she looked around as though trying to place where ‘here’ was. “Sean and Don. In the slaughterhouse.”

His head swiveled madly, looking for whatever she referred to.

“They’re dead.”

“There were two of them?”

“Sean and Don. Don and Sean.”

“You killed them both?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“Fucking yes, Eddie,” she grumbled and attempted to pull herself up, crying out in anguish as a result. The sound of Susie Glass in pain sent shockwaves through his body.

“Just stay still for a moment, Susie,” he tried to invoke placidity in his voice. “I need to check you for injuries. Is that alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to see if you’ve been injured. Is that-“

“I’m injured?”

He swallowed thickly, deeply concerned at her level of confusion.

“That’s what I’m asking, Susan,” he said softly, gently pushing the hair back from the open cut on her forehead. “Can I take off your jacket?”

“Another time Edward. Quite tired.”

“Does it hurt anywhere? I’m just trying to determine if you’re okay.”

“Am I?” Her normally bright blue eyes were nearly black with dilated pupils. She looked like a frightened deer, and this filled Eddie with dread.

“You will be,” he tried to smile reassuringly.

She suddenly clutched his lapels and pulled Eddie closer to her face as if to kiss him and whispered, “he spiked my drink.”

“What?”

“That dead cunt,” she suddenly yelled and lunged in the direction of the dead body. Yelping in pain from her sudden movement, she groaned and clutched her midsection, “he spiked my drink.”

“He fucking drugged you?!”

He never wanted to murder an already-dead man more.

“Yes, Eddie. That’s what I said,” she groaned again. “Fucking hurts.”

“We’re going. I’m carrying you,” he gently nudged her fully into his arms, carefully standing so as not to jostle her, “which way?”

“It’s a horseshoe. For luck. You have to point it up.”

“Okay then,” he raised his eyebrows and nodded, his jacket and shirt instantly absorbing some of the blood she’d been stewing within.

“Where we going?” She rasped.

“A and E,” he scanned the area.

“Mmm, not keen on that idea. Not bleeding out,” she looked down at herself, “am I?”

“No. You’re going to be fine,” he kissed her temple and hoped he sounded convincing. He didn’t spy any gaping wounds, aside from the forehead laceration, but being covered in the dead cunt’s blood hampered his ability to asses her.

She giggled, a sound completely foreign and yet utterly delightful to him, “Edward, you’re carrying me.”

“Indeed,” he tightly smiled down at her, turning backward, pushing against the glass door, finally exiting the hell Susie had been trapped within.

“No hospitals,” she directed, but with unguarded watery round eyes.

“No, you’re right, Susie. We’ll have the family doctor meet us,” he agreed, easing her into his car and securing her with a click of the seatbelt.

He rounded the car, trying to cooly note any pedestrians, cameras or cars. Finding none, he slid into his seat pressing the ignition in one fluid motion.

“My knife,” she lurched forward and unsuccessfully reached for the door handle, instead hitting the window button, “its scrimshaw, doesn’t set off metal detectives…detectives? No, No. Detectors!” She announced like she’d solved a riddle.

“Leave it,” he said, rolled her window back up (covertly hitting child safety lock) and peeled out of the parking lot.

“Was my mother’s,” she slurred softly and fell back against her seat, defeated, hissing in pain from her sudden movement.

He glimpsed her aggrieved face; she’d never mentioned her deceased mother, at least not to him, “I’ll have the cleanup team retrieve it.”

She swiveled her head to him, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded, “promise?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “What’s hurting the most right now?”

“Hm? You hurt Edward?” she mumbled, eyes lolling.

“Susie stay with me for just another minute - are you able to determine if you were stabbed or shot anywhere?”

She squinted like he was far away, “I was stabbed and shot? Fuck me.”

“No, no, you’re okay. You’re safe.“

She quietly observed him, “I’m safe?”

“Of course. I’m with you, Susie. Go ahead and rest. I can handle the remaining issues.”

“Just for a moment then. Ta.” She closed her eyes, and the tension left her face. Within a minute her breathing deepened into a steady rhythm.

He thumb-dialed Geoff, and before he even uttered a greeting, Eddie launched into orders: “Call Doctor Halley. Get him there now. Susan is injured, I don’t know how badly, but she’s also been drugged. I’m not sure what with.”

“How far out are you?” Geoff didn’t miss a beat, all-business, bless him.

“An hour, Geoff; I’ve another call to make; see you shortly.”

Disconnecting the call, he then pulled up Felix in his contacts.

“Your Grace,” Felix answered.

“I’ve got a situation Felix.”

“Go on then.”

“I had to leave the location, I’m texting you the address. Three bodies, bring me the knife, the high heel, the handbag, check for cctv - this, this has to be perfectly executed Felix. You’ll need to retrieve Susie’s car. Blanket should be there shortly as well. And Felix, move quickly.”

After disconnecting the call, he glanced at Susie, his eyes rolling over her, head to foot, trying to tamp down a building rage he couldn’t sort. His gaze again landed upon her feet, one blue velvet heel on and one delicate little bare foot, toes painted cherry red. He couldn’t fathom why this sight in particular upset him so much, but he physically shook with anger, repeatedly clenching and flexing his hands upon the steering wheel.

“Audible,” Susie murmured, pulling his attention to her face.

“Susan?”

She turned her head towards him, and without opening her eyes mumbled, “read the Magna Carta.”

“You’re alright Susie.”

He had no idea if this was true, but he desperately yearned to blanket her in comfort and security. He awkwardly placed his hand alongside her face. Her skin too cold and clammy, he clenched his jaw and pressed the accelerator to the floor, the darkening countryside whipping past.

After an emotionally exhausting drive, he finally pulled in front of his home, cutting the engine, he bolted out of the car. Upon quietly pulling the passenger door ajar, he hovered over her, carefully unbuckling her seatbelt. He swept his arms under her knees and back, easily lifting her from her seat and into his arms. She moaned lowly, wincing, though still unconscious.

“Almost there, Susie. Just a few more moments,” he said softly.

The front door opened, and Lady Sabrina ushered them forward, “come in Darling.”

Geoff appeared from somewhere, “the doctor is five minutes away.”

Sabrina regarded Susie’s appearance, her shock and concern evident, “what in the world happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure, Mother,” he headed to the stairs, clutching Susie’s cold body close to his chest. “Send the doctor to my room when he arrives.”

“Of course,” she replied, and he ascended the staircase, two at a time, whispering solace as he traveled, “I’m here Susie. I’m with you. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

As he gently deposited her upon his bed, he surveyed her form, and the reality of her small, prone body in front of him lodged a lump in his throat. Susie Glass exuded authority, competence, precision, and cutting intelligence. She earned it. She demanded it. She deserved better than whatever happened in Walsh’s Gym.

He released a quivering breath and quickly blinked away the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, shaking his head, trying to free himself of bootless could-have-should-have-would-haves.

Where the fuck was the doctor?!

Author’s Notes:

My apologies for taking forever to finish this chapter, for promising quicker turnaround and for the short-ish chapter. This is going to be a longer story than I expected. I love writing them. 🖤

Tell me what you thought of this chapter. What worked for you? What didn’t? Or just say hi! I love our tiny fandom.

[ernmark]

Ask Game!

Thank you to @sapphosewrites for thinking of me for this <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

I'm almost up there with Sapphose-- I've got 141, though I really need to finish tranferring my really old fics from my fanfiction.net account.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Those 141 fics give me a grand total of 969,127 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My biggest fandoms are The Penumbra Podcast, Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Welcome To Night Vale (that's an oldie, hot damn) and Les Miserables, with Les Mis being the most recent one I've been active in.

4. Top 5 Fics By Kudos

I'm honestly surprised that Haunting, but not haunted (Penumbra Podcast ghost AU) has overtaken The Issue of Omniscience (WTNV). Just Like an Angel (WTNV Wingfic) ranks just behind those two, then The Case Files of J. Steel (a very very large Penumbra Poscast one-shot collection). What surprised me was I Could Be Your Own Avenging Angel (DS9 alternate take on Empok Nor) making the top five-- apparently that one's gotten some recs lately, which pleases me immensely. The fact that all of these are fairly sexy is not a surprise to me.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I read them all, I squee in delight at them all, but a lot of times I'm just flummoxed about what to say in response. I know theoretically just a quick 'thank you' is appropriate, but it feels... I dunno, trite?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Listen, I'm an absolute sucker for angst, but I tend to go with bittersweet rather than outright angst in the ending.

Just a Little Wooden Boy (OFMD) is the most recent, and plays hard with the idea of deep hurt turning love into something cold that can't be fixed. (Like a Terrier (Sherlock) has a similar vibe.)

Stay With Me (Wolf 359) just plain tragedy. Eiffel succumbs to the Decima virus, the other humans are forced to flee the station, and so Hera is left to comfort him in his final hours. It's in the same vein as The Way Things End (Supernatural) and Off the Path (Bioshock Infinite) where they're very much about accepting death when it can't be fought anymore-- but in the other two, there's the hope of accompanying your loved one on the other side, where Hera is now just trapped alone with her grief and the body of her friend.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I genuinely don't know how you would even go about judging that.

Most of my multichapter fics end with the idea that there's still work to be done-- causes to fight for, mental illness to struggle against, relationship issues to work out. The thing is that they now have a framework for dealing with the problem at hand.

So given that-- Of the Rapture That Impels (Les Miserables) deals with sinking into grief and despair and ends with actually being able to see a light at the end, which is pretty much the epitome of a happy ending in my book.

Skin and Scales (Penumbra Podcast) has the most classically happy ending, I think.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thank all that is holy, I haven't gotten direct hate on fics since high school-- the fandoms I've been in have been lovely, and anyone who has unkind things to say about them has been polite enough to do it where I don't need to see it.

9. Do you write smut?

Yup.

10. Craziest crossover

I almost never do crossovers, actually. But years ago (so long ago that it hasn't actually been migrated to AO3 yet) I wrote a 9/Labyrinth crossover in which 7 was in fact Sarah, transfigured by the Goblin King in order to save her from the machine apocalypse.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think they might have been yanked over to wattpad or whatever once or twice. It happens, it gets reported, I move on.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't believe so-- or if it's happened, it was long enough ago that I've forgotten.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes. And let me tell you, I am very bad at being a co-writer. The more successful stuff looks less like co-writing and more like parallel play in the same sandbox.

14. All time favorite ship?

I'm with Sapphose here in that I don't have one favorite ship, so much as I have a favorite dynamic. I'm a sucker for damaged, self-loathing characters who are so determined to do right by the person they love that they wind up becoming better (stronger, happier) people for it.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Just one?

Probably A Dynasty of Liars (DS9). I love that story so much, but I genuinely have no idea where it would go next or how I would execute it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm told that my angst is pretty damn solid, and that I can get voices pretty well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Scene transitions, and particularly those detailed descriptions where we describe where we're at. It's one of the things I can get away with more in fanfic than in original writing, because a couple references will convey which setpiece we're in so I don't have to do the work. In anything remotely original, that's a much bigger problem.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I'm in camp 'translate if the POV character knows it', with the addendum that "and they continued to speak in[language]" tends to be much more effective than actually writing long stretches of that other language, particularly if it's one that the writer isn't fluent in. If the reader doesn't know the second language, it conveys about as much as a keysmash. If they do, then you're prone to embarrassing goofs where you translate something badly without knowing.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Lord of the Rings. A self-insert, Boromir-lives AU.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Pretty much any longfic that I've actually completed, I think. But lately, I'm partial to A Change of a Bizarre Kind (Les Miserables), because I did some stuff with the POV and structure that I'm really proud of.

Now that you've gotten to see me ramble, I'll go ahead and tag @ryosei-hime, @aftershocked, and @alecjmarsh

[raemoriendi]

I idly passed by a writer’s insta post about how agents are interested in genre novels having scenes that are at least in some part keeping with their genre’s thematic conventions (in b4 “not all genre books are the same!” that’s not the point, now hush)

and they got a rather frustrated comment in response that was like “well how am I supposed to know what scenes my genre needs?!”

and like. I’m genuinely not trying to sound like a snob this time, but it just left me kind of perplexed.

so long as I’ve been seriously wanting to be a writer (my early teens, so like, ages now), the advice was always to read widely and deeply in the genres you love. know what’s been done so you can make it new/your own/etc., know what you love and want to do your own version of, know what you dislike and want to avoid, the whole thing. it was just considered a basic part of being a writer.

I feel that knowing what kind of scenes your book’s genre uses as its vocabulary should be part and parcel of becoming a writer of a genre you love. it should ideally be unavoidable, right? it’s like learning a language. as someone who’s hyperfixation is the Horror genre, I also spend a lot of time researching its history and the social context of its subgenres, which I firmly believe helps me be more intentional in what I include and reference in my own work.

not to mention, with niche genre-and trope-based marketing being so huge now, you’d think that basic awareness of “this is how [X genre] books work” would be more widely spread. (but maybe niche genres are part of the problem, if they’re so niche they become removed contextually from any larger literary conversation…)

anyway. so the writer responds, eventually, but their response is more along the lines of “if you go to X site, they generally have some genre cheatsheets” and that just flummoxed me even more

on one hand I get it, in theory. we all only have so many hours in the day, we all have different amounts of spoons, we all have a million different things vying for our attention under terminal-stage capitalism, etc.

but then again…

if you love something enough to want to write about it. shouldn’t loving it enough to genuinely encounter that thing by reading/experiencing it firsthand be intrinsic to it?

I don’t know. I don’t know, idk, we all take different paths to be where we are, maybe I’m just being hella old fashioned.

but you’d think if you wanted to speak the language of the story you’re writing, to do justice by it and let it converse with the genre dialogue that’s been going on for literal centuries in some cases… you’d develop that awareness.

or want to, at least.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

I’m absolutely flummoxed. I’ve had a thing for Tauren men, however the empath streak in me sees beyond the obvious.

Anyway, I’ve a Foster son who hates me and wants me dead and he truly wishes that I was never in his life.

The sidewalk talks. Rumor? Innuendo? Falsehoods? Urban legends? Conspiracy theories? From what I’ve heard, someone is saying shit.

ALLEGEDLY and I mean ALLEGEDLY ever since he moved out West, he’s been an absolute mess. Exxon Valdez, Event Horizon, Ukraine and The Gaza Strip are just tragic comic events that Mitzi Shore may have produced at the legendary Comedy Store.

I am of the belief that it started to go down the shitter was when I had abandoned him in 1994 when I thought I had someone who would love me forever and put me on a pedestal. Child please. I was delusional. I was thinking that I was going to be able to live like the pages of a Barbara Cartland or Rosemary Rogers novel. You feel the Harlequin Romance novels? I was delusional.

I’m going to leave out some things and bring you up to date with the things that MAY have happened to him and ALLEGEDLY have been perpetrated against him. Since he was just a Victim of Circumstance. Like this story: Standing there in the rain in the middle of the night waiting for the last bus to arrive and take him across town as he was in a tee shirt and underwear. The next thing he knew 5-0 was putting him in the back of The Waddy Pagon. I mean he was just trying to get across town and shit went down. Hashtag Facts.

One story I had heard was that he was going to be evicted from his apartment and the storage unit he had was going to be auctioned off ALLEGEDLY due to either Late Payments or Non-Payment. Anyway, the shit hit the fan. Inside the Storage Unit was his mother’s ashes and now they’re gone ALLEGEDLY. These are just things that were told to me and I’ve got to take them with a grain of salt. Now as of recent, he ALLEGEDLY called a mutual and ALLEGEDLY said that he was in a bad situation. The mutual went to say that he was crying and he had a snub nosed .38 up against his head and he truly hated his life. When the mutual reached out to me and told me this story (not even Stephen King could have written this) and how he felt some kind of way about his life but being short of the ready, he couldn’t help him because that’s what he wanted.

After hearing this, I had to process this information and go through my mental Rolodex and see if I could find a card that was going to provide me with the right words. It took me about four days to find the right words. I wrote and the rewrote and edited my soliloquy. I then tossed it aside and then I wrote the following:

~>>>Yo. (Insert name here). Brother Dave reached out to me. We both wish we could help you out however we can't. We are not able to help you because you don't want to help yourself.

We took your advice and we are working on ourselves with meds and therapy.

Any 12 Step Program says: accept, acknowledge, affirm your actions and take ownership and responsibility and then make amends to those who you told to fuck off, eat shit and die.

Sadly I had a birthday yesterday and at 63 years old, I realized that both Brother Dave and myself had done nothing for you ever.

Scream, yell and have a temper tantrum.

Neither one of us can help you out here because you know two senior citizens who are losers.

We do actually care about you but we don't care about you because we are working on ourselves to be better people and you will not.

Sorry budd.

As always, your worst enemy,

(Insert name here)

I then waited for a few days before he clapped back with this and this where I was sitting in my car and laughing and crying at the same time. The absurdity of it all. I’ve read that text multiple times and still I truly believe that I’m in a coma. I’m completely brain dead. Now look here, I’ll safely admit that I’ve been in therapy since I was eight years old and at 63 years old, I’ve had brain surgery and I must admit that I’m the most ignorant person in the entire universe.

Here’s his response:

~>>>Idk why tf you text me. I don't need your help I'm an adult and good. Once again go fuck yourself. Your. Piece of shit, don't ever hit me up I'm blocking your ass. You need fucking help frfr

Excuse me ☝️ I thought I had heard that he has several outstanding warrants in the area he currently resides in and he also has some here on the East Coast ALLEGEDLY. From the very start, from in utero until now at his age of 37, he has been so fucking angry at me for abandoning him yet I did spend thousands of dollars on him in an attempt to make his life easier. As an example, he was playing football and I went without in order for him to have the necessary tools to play football yet he washed out and I apparently talked to his coach about how he should not have him playing football. Again, Excuse me ☝️!!

I know I have made the most obvious mistake by saying that he was my Foster Son. I know I’m a douche bag. I think back to when I last saw him in person. He was in jail and there was several inches of glass between us. I was on the phone with him and I told him how his Aunt and Mother had destroyed me. They concocted their own story about me and as I was doing the ugly cry, I could see him clearly clench his jaw and through his teeth he commanded me to stop crying and to stop talking to him about what happened. I know I had made another huge mistake and told him that I loved him as my son and he just cannot stand it anymore. I’ve always wanted to be a good parent and not just a friend on the periphery. Because I’ve been told by several people that I did the best I could and yet failed miserably and I live with the guilt.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Pet! Sorry to make you wait so long for a response (were you waiting? I hope so 👉🏽👈🏽) but first I got caught up with staring into space because of all the blue and yellow screenshots you included at the end there. Then I wasn't sure quite what to say...because you left me all flummoxed...and then I got busy all day planting out half of all the almost-100 small seedlings my dad gave me on Saturday. It shouldn't surprise me that life is coincidentally throwing yellow and purples at me at the moment...so these are for you too.

So anyway, The Untamed... Yes, that anon gave good advice. It will be confusing and you will need to re-watch eps 1 & 2 again but it is well worth it. Like a lot of these historical epics, there are a lot of characters and details which are hard to remember but I read the book alongside watching, which helped me, but I don't think it's necessary (well...you might want to find the epilogues afterwards for the non-censored excerpts if you know what I mean).

*fans herself* Where was I? Oh yes, if I had the time, I would join you and re-watch the whole show again...but I'm not sure that will happen.

But I wish you luck with LITA. There have been small aspects of some MAME shows I have liked (AePete my absolute beloved) but mostly I'm sad and annoyed that abuse, invasion of privacy, stalking, and other horrors are packaged as romantic in her shows. And LITA is no exception, especially in the PrapaiSky storyline (sorry to any LITA-lovers reading this). But I don't want to *ahem* colour your opinion of it before you even start, so I'll shut up now. I will be tuning in for Love Sea though, because I am nothing if not curious as to how that will make me dig my fingernails into my palms 🤭

*gently moves your fingers away from your necklace*

Hej Pet! How's life treating you? Well, I hope.

I saw you had mentioned the use of alternating background music in the gym scene of Wandee Goodday...which I think means you watched the show with sound (!!)...and I've also just seen that you will be watching The Untamed, so I thought I'd just message because with your proclivity for watching shows on mute (although maybe Wandee Goodday has changed that...?) I thought I'd mention that there is a particular plot point that sort of requires having sound on for The Untamed...or at least you should know that there is a sound-related plot point. I'm rambling 🤦🏽‍♀️ but I think you probably understand. Anyway, I wish you the best for your June month. It is the best month after all...not least because it's also my birthday month 😏💛

Did you just greet me with a Swedish "hello"?

Well, life is treating me a lot better since you popped into my (in)box with that little treat!

But so I don't raise my heart rate up again by getting too excited, let me actually focus on what you're saying and not that's it's you saying it even though you noticed the tiny detail that I'm watching Wandee Goodday with the sound on. No big deal. I'm being totally chill about that. My heart isn't beating faster or anything.

But anywho *deep breath* um, yeah, I'm watching both My Stand-In and Wandee Goodday unmuted and at normal speed, which I think is contributing to my elevated heart rate. It's a lot of stimulation to absorb, but at least I completely understood where Yak was coming from hearing Dee moaning, um, working out.

Which random sidenote, but Idol Factory does the best job of captioning sound, so I never get too overwhelmed watching its shows by hearing moaning since I can just read that a person is moaning.

I'm rambling. *plays with my necklace*

Sooooo yeah, um, what was I supposed to be responding to? Um . . . The Untamed! Yeah. That show! An anon in my inbox told me this:

What I'm getting from you two is that I will be confused at least for the first two episodes, I need to have the sound on for all FIFTY episodes, and I'm going to have to connect a lot of dots?

Awesome. Fantastic. Sounds like a plan! Thank goodness Inn and Great sold me on this by being unnecessarily beautiful at GMMTV's work retreat because I'm a bit more nervous now than I was before.

But I made a promise so I'm watching Love in the Air (and if that goes well, Love Sea), my old nemesis SOTUS, and this beast of a show!

With the sound on.

The entire time.

Cool.

Cool cool cool.

Thanks for warning me, Daddy, so I don't miss vital information, and because of that, let me be the first to give you a very early "Happy Birthday"!

My heart rate is completely normal, and I'm not at all thinking about how amazing you are. 💙💛

[beardedmrbean]

As New York City and Washington D.C. feud with the governors of Texas and Arizona over the border states’ busing of migrants to their cities, their own sanctuary city policies are the subject of a reignited debate -- as the Republican governors cite the liberal policies as justification for the buses.

Thousands of migrants have been sent from Texas and Arizona to the two Democratic-run cities, both of which have repeatedly proclaimed and reaffirmed their commitment to protecting illegal immigrants from deportation and making their states welcoming havens.

"Sanctuary" jurisdictions refer to cities or states that restrict local law enforcement from cooperating with federal immigration agencies. Such cities and states will often also move to abolish any distinction between legal and illegal immigration. 

After the 2016 election, D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser reaffirmed the city’s status, saying "we celebrate our diversity and respect all DC residents no matter their immigration status."

NYC NAMED ‘WORST’ SANCTUARY CITY AMID BATTLE WITH TEXAS ON MIGRANT BUSING

Adams said in 2019: "To anyone in the world fleeing hatred and oppression, the ultimate city of immigrants wants you to remember: you’re ALWAYS welcome here."

"‘We should protect our immigrants.’ Period," he tweeted in 2021 when campaigning. "Yes, New York City will remain a sanctuary city under an Adams administration."

But Texas and Arizona began sending buses of migrants to Washington D.C. this Spring, and Texas has recently started sending buses to New York City as well. A waiver form given to migrants says that New York City "has been designated as a sanctuary city by its City Council, and is providing shelter and food to migrants who have entered the country."

While the numbers being sent, just over 10,000 so far, are dwarfed by those encountered at the border, which number around 200,000 each month, the mayors have slammed the moves by the border states -- while calling for federal aid.

Bowser has repeatedly called for the deployment of the National Guard, while describing the migrant influx as a "humanitarian crisis."

"The number of people crossing the border seeking asylum, we expect only to go up, and we need to make sure there is a national response," Bowser said.

Adams has also called for federal help: "We just need help. We need help," he said earlier this month, while also taking aim at Abbott.

"He is an anti-American governor that is really going against everything we stand for. And I am going to do everything feasible to make sure the people of Texas realize how harmful he is to us globally," he said of Abbott.

But border officials have noted the sanctuary city status, with officials in Texas citing it -- along with other border policies -- to justify sending the migrants to the places where they are more welcome. 

MIGRANT ENCOUNTERS AT SOUTHERN BORDER SMASH NUMBERS SENT TO NYC, DC 

"It's just interesting to see some of these mayors who have invited and have created sanctuary cities to suddenly start complaining that they've got a few thousand immigrants when we're dealing with millions," Attorney General Ken Paxton said on "Fox and Friends."

"New York is a sanctuary city. Mayor Adams said they welcome in illegal immigrants, but now that they have to deal with the reality of it they’re suddenly flummoxed and cannot handle it," Abbott said in an interview with "The Faulkner Focus."

Neither the D.C. or New York City mayors’ offices responded to requests for comments from Fox News Digital about whether they are reconsidering their sanctuary policies given the migrant surge. But Adams in particular has touted what he sees as a more welcoming response from the City.

"Unlike the governor of Texas, who did what I believe is anti-American. I did the opposite and those asylum seekers were happy to hear that the mayor of the City of New York was standing there and stating, 'We're going to treat you with dignity.'" he said last week.

Former acting Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) Director Thomas Homan told Fox News Digital that he welcomed the pressure being placed on the two liberal cities, and said both cities vigorously opposed ICE’s efforts to get criminal illegal immigrants off the city when he was running the agency.

"We had a staff on Rikers Island [prison complex] for years, and they even kicked us out of Rikers Island," he said.

"Extremely uncooperative," he said of NYC. "D.C. was the same, meetings with them...we came out with nothing. They didn’t want to hear it," 

He also cited certain policies from New York City in addition to the sanctuary policies, including barring the term "illegal alien" and giving illegal immigrants drivers’ licenses and other assistance that he says already encourages migrants to go to the Big Apple.

"Who the hell wouldn’t go to New York?" Homan said. "I think New York ranks third in illegal alien population behind Los Angeles and Chicago --they're already going to New York."

He says that now he welcomes Abbott’s moves, saying it raised the issue of sanctuary cities in the mainstream media -- where such policies are again being talked about.

"I also think he's calling out politicians for claiming to be sanctuary cities because it's good for their political careers – but when you actually give them people, put people in their welcoming communities, they're pushing back against it," he said.

Homan added that he hopes it will add pressure to the White House on its border policies as well, which he and other former Trump officials have blamed for exacerbating the crisis at the border.

"I think Governor Abbott's taking a stab at raising the temperature and trying to get attention on the subject and hopefully pushing the White House to take some action," he said. "I think what he's doing is great."

[ethereal-and-vaguely-threatening]

DWC Day 1 Silver/Darkness

"Boss, we're ready for you." Mitharios sent word through the comm to Valathriell's private channel. "Of course they came with more bodies and armed, as expected."

"Shocking," Valanthriell responded, at this point, she had experience with this double-crossing way of life. "Make them wait, I am taking final steps to secure the package. Is payment visable?"

"Aye, five crates as agreed. Contents are questionable, no doubt they'll want to wait until you arrive to show them off. Should I move ahead to check payment?" Mitharios knew better than to move on something like this without her approval, the Boss was meticulous.

"No, I will be there in a moment. Move as planned." Short and to the point, rarely sweet.

"Heard." Mitharios relayed the information to the Sparrows, the Boss was incoming.

Within a minute the silence of the night was ripped open as a portal opened and Valanthriell Shadowfel stepped out in her splendor, street gear, and ready for a fight. "Mr. Evans." She greeted him, if not coldly.

"Ah the Lady deigns to appear on her own, I feel like I should bow or somethin'." The leader spoke with condescension on his lips.

"Save the chatter, you and I must have better things to be doing with our time. Is this my payment?" She gestured to the crates, ready to get this business dealt with.

"Of course, as we agreed, fifteen-thousand gold and the required goods." The man gestured for one of his men to open the crates, showing the contents before closing them up and moving them to the space on Valanthriell's right. "Now you've got the orb I assume, or do you plan on takin' all this for yourself against all of us?" Evans let out a smug chuckle, feeling confident he and his men could take a puffed-up noble.

"Ye of little faith," Valanthriell replied through a smirk producing the wrapped-up orb. "A wise man would make sure his ducks are in a row before using it, wouldn't want to catch yourself with your pants down."

"Aye, like the swanky woman who meets with shady sods like ourselves all on her lonesome?" With his words Evans' men took up arms against Valanthriell, ready to take the orb as well as their payment.

"Foolish, are we?" Valanthriell snickered as Mitharios appeared from the shadows, his blade on the throat of the most dangerous of Evans' lackeys as two shots were fired, the first disarming Evans and the second wounding the hidden marksman.

Evans let out a shaken chuckle. "Aye, seems we were. Stand down, not need in makin' this worse than it already is." The men followed the command, dropping their weapons in a huff. "How's about we finish this trade-off and call it good, yeah?"

Valanthriell paused, eyeing the man over with venom in her eyes, clicking her tongue in response. "Tisk tisk tisk, in all your years in this world Evans, you should really have a better grasp on your mark." At that moment five others came through the portal to gather the crates and take them to their intended locations. "Consider this a much-needed lesson on the size of your britches, yes?" Valanthriell returned the orb to her bag and turned her back on the group, leaving through the portal second before it closed and Mitharios returned to the shadows and the Sparrows exited their separate ways, leaving Evans and his men flummoxed.

"How many did they even have?" Evans questioned himself with a sigh. "Damn...we'll pay for that one."

{Continued from here}

Mentioned: @snapshots-inthe-shadowsdows

@daily-writing-challenge

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

The Devil and the Mermaid - Chapter Six (Lucifer x Mermaid!Reader)

Author’s Note: The inspiration here came from a dream of mine, also one of my favorite shows “The Legend of the Blue Sea” has some heavy inspiration here as well. Thank you so much for the support of the series! I will also create a tag list for this story since I saw people interested in that. Again I love reading your guys’ comments and if you want to be part of a tag list for this series please let me know :)

Warnings: hospital scenes, heavy makeout session, yelling

Taglist: @th3gl1tt3rgam3roff1c1al, @magnet-girl​ , @roxytheimmortal​, @danielle143​

Prev Chapter

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You woke up to a blinding light reaching your eyes and you felt like you were swimming in the ocean for a brief moment with how dizzy you felt. You tilted your head to the side and felt a jolt in your body as you processed what happened to you. Someone shot you, and it was aimed at Lucifer but you managed to save him, that reminder is what calms you down.

*I saved him, that’s all that matters,* you thought. 

When you have settled back into the hospital bed, that’s when you finally take in the surroundings of where you are. You were in a hospital with a hospital gown on and a needle stuck in you, when you realized that it had started to itch and you reached to pull it out of you.

“Hey don’t mess with that, darling, wouldn’t want to hurt yourself even more,” said an achingly familiar voice.

You looked up and saw his beautiful face looking at you as he entered the room with a Styrofoam cup in his hands.

“Lucifer,” you breathed out. You relaxed much more into the bed now releasing the tension that you hadn’t realized had been as strung up as it was. You felt even better when you saw him with you again.

“Oh, love, why did you have to go and get yourself hurt?” he asks you.

“You shouldn’t have gone and provoked the main suspect,” you teased.

He got flustered for a second while dramatically putting his hand to his chest in a fake offended motion.

“I’m glad you are doing better… To be quite honest with you I was terrified of losing you. I've become quite attached to you, my little mermaid,” he confesses to you.

You felt your get watery and your face heated up at his confession. ‘Maybe he really does love me, but I’m scared, what if he found out I didn’t tell him the whole truth?’

You saw his face scrunch up in thought but when he saw you look at him inquisitively he gave you a small smile.

“Now my dear, what’s inside that head of yours hmm? Your thoughts are getting too loud that I can hear them,” he says.

You get flummoxed at that and you sputter out, “but that’s impossible you can’t hear my thoughts! Can you? Or was that just a human expression?” 

He just smiled at you and said, “You gave me quite a scare, love, the doctor told us that you are surprisingly healthy even with you just being shot. Which we haven’t even started to discuss, but anyway you are already fit to leave by tomorrow.” “Wait really? How long have I been asleep for?”

“A week”

“A week!?”

“Yeah and you had me worried about you the whole time.”

That made you smile slightly because you at least know now that he was thinking about you during your time in the hospital, but the thought of your fate about what might happen to you if he died still haunts your thoughts. 

When you looked up at Lucifer he had a concerned expression on his face.

“Is there something that’s been on your mind the whole time?” Lucifer asked.

You shook your head no and he just hummed in response. The rest of the visit consisted of him filling you in on what happened after you were shot, how the case was closed and how Chloe and Dan were worried about you and how Lucifer was basically stuck by your side during your whole recovery. 

-----------------------------------------------

The next day came and you were released by a bewildered doctor on your fast recovery and found Lucifer waiting for you at the lobby and you eagerly hugged him tightly as you thanked him for meeting you here and taking you home.

He laughed and replied, “Of course, (Y/N), now let’s go home”

The cheerful exchange had ended at the hospital as when you left the hospital and Lucifer was driving, your mind was drifting back and forth on how you could possibly tell him about what might happen to you if you stayed on land. You noticed Lucifer’s hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel, and you started to get more nervous as you got closer to LUX. 

*What’s happening?* you thought as you followed close behind Lucifer.

Lucifer had escorted you up to his penthouse at LUX and had pulled you towards the balcony of his place. You stood across from him with a worried expression on your face as you hugged yourself waiting for him to talk.

“When are you going to tell me?” Lucifer asked.

You looked at him in surprise as you dropped your arms to your sides and said, “I don’t know what you mean?”

“You’ve been hiding something from me for a while now, I just don't know what it is. What is going to happen to you if I don’t love you the way that you need me to? What would happen if something happened to me? You never explained that part to me. Was there a reason for that?”

You just kept staring at Lucifer thinking of a way to tell him about your fate, and you decided to say it in your thoughts because he couldn’t hear them.

*If anything happens to you, I can’t live on land anymore. My heart only beats for you, that’s how I got to be on land was my love for you, so without you, I will die, that is how the transformation works. My heart has limited time on land, and so if you leave me or this world I will die unless I can return to the ocean. My heart will harden, cool, and stop. Without you, that is how I will end up.*

“Wait, wait, love, what was that? You’ll die?” Lucifer asked.

Your eyes widened in surprise, he wasn’t supposed to hear any of that. “What?” you said.

“Repeat all that you said, your heart will harden and you’ll die?” he tells you.

All you could do was take a step forward and ask him, “You could hear my voice?”

“Tell me, (Y/N). You said your heart will stop. Why?” 

“When did you start hearing my voice?”

“Why are you going to die?” He yelled at you with tears in his eyes. 

“You! When did you start hearing my voice? Tell me!” You yelled back. 

“Since the beginning! So please just tell me, if anything happens to me, if I die, you’ll die?” 

“If you can really hear my true voice then you already know the answer to that, Lucifer. I’ll die if you die, so I can’t make any promise to you that I will live happily with you gone. I can’t. Since I got my legs I was also given a new heart, a heart that beats on land, a heart that beats for you,” you told him.

He let out a sharp laugh at that and he turned his back to you and ruffled his hair as he turned back to you as tears fell down his face. 

“So then why did you get shot by me? I would’ve been fine! I can't be hurt by mundane weapons! I told you already I wasn’t human!”

“I couldn’t take the chance, I love you! You know this already, but I’m in love with you! I love you, Lucifer, and so I couldn’t take the chance to see you get hurt,” you explained to him as you stepped closer to him.

His eyes got wild and you saw a flash of red in his usual dark brown eyes as he then lowered his voice as he said, “And what made you think I could?”

You got taken aback by that as you dropped your gaze from him and just whispered, “What?”

“Oh my dear, (Y/N), what made you think I was able to see you broken like that? I was so scared, I was petrified, I didn’t know what to do, I even prayed to Dad! For hell’s sake, I am in love with you, my darling (Y/N), I had begun to realize that a while ago but I was too scared to put what I was feeling into words, but when I saw you collapse and hurt to protect me, I realized that I had nothing else to lose to put what I felt into words.”

You felt tears pool up in your eyes but you didn’t want him to see you like that, so stared at the floor still as you asked, “Really? Do you mean what you said?”

He puts his hands on either side of your face as he gently lifts your face up to meet his gaze. 

“My love, my darling (Y/N), I love you, I love you (Y/N),” he says with a tearful smile.

You let out a nervous smile as you felt the tears stream down your face but Lucifer wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. 

“Oh Lucifer, thank you, I love you too,” you say to him. 

“Can I kiss you now, my love?” he asks you. 

You nodded and you met in a sweet and loving kiss. You felt him everywhere on you as he closed the edistance and you felt so loved and safe in his arms. He moved his arms down to rest at your waist and your kiss became more intense as one of his hands came to caress and entangle his fingers in your hair scraping your scalp. With all these different sensations you let out a tiny moan escape your lips and you flushed in embarrassment with that. You parted from him and you tried to hide your embarrassment from him but he stopped you before you got too far. 

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? Where are you going?” Lucifer asked.

“I don’t know what that sound was,” you replied.

“Oh don’t worry love, that’s completely natural, now why don’t we go back to that kiss, hmm? Let me hear all those lovely, cute, sounds, too,” he answered.

He kissed you again, this time with a renewed sense of fervor and it almost winded you if your whole weight wasn’t being supported by him. His hands were all over you making you moan in his mouth again as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He tentatively bit your bottom lip making you gasp and letting him have his tongue enter your mouth, he was sucking and licking and making you moan like crazy. You had an inkling what this was doing to you, but you didn’t realize how intense he would be.

He then put his arms on your thighs, gripped them and lifted you in air, promptly carrying you back inside the apartment. You gasped at that which allowed him to thrust his tongue further into your mouth making you moan again and smile into the kiss. 

Lucifer threw you down on the bed making you bounce on it and he started to climb on top you which made you start to giggle and smile widely at him. In turn he just smiled lovingly at you as he patted your hair and then bumped your nose with his finger making your face scrunch up and going into another giggle fit. 

As you started to calm down, Lucifer was still on top of you with a goofy smile and a loving expression on his face. He leaned down and kissed you softly and kept repeating that making you feel like you were back in the ocean again, floating, free and protected.

 You are so in love with this Devil and you knew you would do anything you could in your powers to protect him. Hopefully that promise to yourself wouldn’t be met again for awhile.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

heeey! so back when @eirianerisdar posted chapter 12 of their fic the ransom of the house of fëanor - that’s the one where they finally let the brothers hellspawn and their idiot dad out of the void, but they have to throw elrond in, all very sad - i thought up my own somewhat fluffier vastly dumber au for the end of that chapter. in honour of the fic being finished, i’ve decided to write up the various scattershot ideas i’ve had for it, with the caveat that i’ll be working off my own slightly different background headcanons

the divergence point is roughly when elrond announces that he’s totally going into the void now, for realsies, the local ainur are nodding solemnly, and the fëanorians are running preliminary can-we-take-them calculations. except for maedhros, who’s very sad to hear that they must sacrifice his nephew to the eternal dark for their freedom, ‘tis truly a shame, they will honour his memory and GET THE BOAT, BOYS

or, the original elf mad scientist, his murderous blood-hungry spawn, a guy who’s extremely grouchy about not getting to do his dramatic self-sacrifice, and their somewhat-less-reluctant-than-he-should-be getaway driver go on the lam

how they got away from the valar:

námo: already knew this was going to happen, but it’s not like anyone ever listens to him, is it? in the moment, was a little more concerned with how morgoth had started belly-crawling towards the doors of night

manwë: never wanted to throw elrond into the void in the first place, and has been silently hoping elrond would call his bluff for the past week. the children are all safe and inside like they should be, and isn’t that what really matters?

eönwë: no it isn’t boss the fëanorians are a completely unpredictable wildcard we cannot afford to let them run around unsupervised!!! would probably have at least delayed the family hellspawn until backup could arrive, except

olórin: realised what maedhros was planning almost immediately and had to consciously force down a shit-eating grin. as soon as the brothers started moving, divetackled eönwë

-

[from a note attached to a harpoon lodged outside the highest window on the white tower of the isle of seabirds]

elwing - it went better than i expected, honestly. the sons of fëanor took about as much offense to elrond’s plan as everyone else has, except when words didn’t work they resorted to action. they dragged him onto vingilot and i followed them, and then we cast off together. we’ve set sail for as far away from the doors of night as we can get. i’m coming with them, of course, i’m not letting these lunatics crash my baby

i’m not entirely certain when we’ll be back? the fëanorians seem worried the valar might come after us, which wouldn’t surprise me, really. i’m taking us out towards middle-earth, we’ll see where we go after that. they’re all screaming at each other and running across the deck, i’m not convinced they have much of a plan. elrond is yelling too, he’s arguing with either caranthir or curufin, can’t tell which. the one i suspect is maglor has wrapped himself around his neck and refuses to let go. our son is alive and healthy and not in the eternal darkness, and for that, at least, i am grateful

the redhead who’s co-opted the harpoons says we’re coming up on your tower. no one’s done anything to threaten me or elrond, or even looked at the silmaril. there’s something nice about sailing with a crew again, no matter who it is. i love you, and i’ll be back as soon as i can - eärendil

[from a note attached to a harpoon found among the ruins of a house in the tirion stonecarvers’ district]

you were right, nerdanel. you were right about everything, and i was wrong. i’m sorry. the boys and i are going on another adventure right now, but we’ll come back to you someday, i promise

[from the same note, in much neater handwriting]

tell tyelpë i love him, and also that the coordinates are [rest torn off]

-

the first sign of this mess that reaches arda is the morning and evening star disappearing from the sky. gondorian astronomers, haradren scholars, avarin priests all stare flummoxed as the star of high hope simply fails to appear before the sun. no matter how unsuperstitous they are everyone agrees this is a really bad omen, and all across the globe the high halls of power tremble in fear over the new horror this must portend

the first sign of this mess that reaches the shire (except for that one took who’s really into astrology) is when eight-year-old elanor gardner rushes into bag end the next day, all ‘dad! dad! there are elves in the woods!’

sam is pretty chuffed to hear this. the fair folk don’t pass through the shire half as often as they used to, and it’s been some years since he heard their song. if they’re in the neighbourhood, why, it’d only be polite to say hello, wish them luck on their journey, hand them a letter. he packs up a nice tuck-box full of goodies to share, and then sam and elanor (and frodo, who’s going through a following-his-big-sister-around-and-copying-everything-she-does phase) set out to meet the elves

first they hear the shouting. then they see the smoke

at the end of the path his daughter leads him down, sam finds the wreckage of what looks like a crashed boat strewn across the forest, still faintly smouldering. at least a dozen elves are rushing between and up the trees, yelling at each other in the angriest quenya he’s ever heard. in the middle of the impact crater stands a blonde elf carrying a stone that shines like the phial of galadriel, wailing something sam knows just enough sindarin to recognise as ‘MY SHIIIIIIIIIP’

as sam’s gaze pans over the unfolding catastrophe, his eyes land on one of the last elves he’d expected to see, master elrond. elrond is rubbing his temple, groaning like someone who knows he’s the most responsible person around and really wishes he wasn’t. a vaguely familiar sketchy-as-fuck elf is clinging onto his shoulders, in a not-dissimilar way to how frodo-lad is currently riding on sam. elrond catches sam’s gaze

‘greetings, master samwise,’ says the wisest elf-lord of the west, ignoring the scuffle that’s breaking out behind him. ‘i must apologise for my relations’

(fëanor and elanor become fast friends, teaching each other their languages and exploring the shire together. absolutely no one else is okay with this)

-

fëanor, dragging an incredibly-put-upon elrond around the citadel of minas tirith: grandbabies!

fëanor, marvelling over the embroidery arwen is showing him: great-grandbabies!

fëanor, carrying a tiny giggling eldarion all the way up the tower of gondor: great-great-grandbabies!

fëanor, staring fixedly at an increasingly apprehensive aragorn: great-great-great...

celegorm, on dad-watching duty: actually if you lay the maths out it’s very likely every human in middle-earth is descended... from... elros... fuck

fëanor: has gone completely still

fëanor: massive grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling like the two trees brought back to life

fëanor: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[anigerrrr]

Girl’s Talk

Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Kamala is introduced to Yelena, and she’s also the biggest fan of her sister’s ship- CarolNat.

Warning: Fluff, Protective Yelena, Kamala ships CarolNat, Slight Thor/Loki(mentioned)

a/n: Just random pieces written after having my covid vaccine yesterday lol I’m not sure how will Marvel deal with Kamala’s superpower in the upcoming series so I only mention a bit of it. Enjoy!

/

“Ok, can anyone tell me why we always have a new kid in the compound?”

Yelena puffed as she entered the compound a bit later than usual, and she saw her sister, Carol and an unfamiliar teenager already standing there.

She came over to join them, gazing at the new girl with distrust.

“Yelena, did you just call yourself in the third person?” Carol teased, and she shrugged suggestively to the redhead who actually couldn’t hold her laugh back for this moment.

“Ha, is it some kind of 90’s joke?” Yelena retaliated. Apparently the younger blonde didn’t get enough sleep hours last night, it always resulted in her grumpy reactions to anybody. “If so, Captain, you really need to update your comedy list on Netflix.”

“Hey,” Natasha chuckled amusedly between the two blonde women as Carol protested, “just because I aged slowly, it didn’t mean I’m out of date.”

“In case you wanna know,” Natasha raised one brow and showed her support to the blonde Captain- “She actually likes to watch The Tonight Show during our dinner time.”

-by telling their sort-of secret aloud. It’s not gonna harm the redhead spy herself, though.

“What?” Kamala finally had a chance to let out her voice, “you can’t tell me the mighty Captain Marvel, my idol, watches late-night talk shows when having some spaghetti. It’s simply out of character.”

Carol frowned, “excuse me?”

“Ugh, ok.” Yelena opened her mouth with hesitation. “No, not ok, I don’t get it. Did you just call her- ” her head was pointing to the other blonde woman, “- your idol ?”

“Am I supposed to feel offended?” Carol mumbled nearby Natasha’s ear, lowering her voice to avoid any foreseeable conflict for now.

“Um, yeah.” Kamala rolled her eyes to the much taller woman standing right in front of her, and her voice sounded genuinely fearless. “Can’t you see that? She’s Carol Danvers!”

Natasha grinned back at the blonde woman, and only teased quietly, “see, someone really has a crush on you.”

Carol blushed in the tiniest way, opening her mouth slightly but had no idea what to argue. Our Captain couldn’t even tell if the redhead was seriously jealous. Fantastic.

“So you like the name or the glowing part?” Yelena hummed, and tried to hide the little noises from her stomach out of hunger.

“All of them, I guess?”

“Oh, I got it now.” The younger widow turned to her sister, and was not surprised that Natasha had been checking on her already. “We’re having a superhero fan tour here.”

Yelena wanted to get her breakfast as soon as possible, so she tried to be nice and not to get involved in this duty. “Enjoy your day then, just don’t touch any fluffy things around here. The cat can literally swallow people, and the raccoon will shoot you in the head.”

“What? No!” The brown haired girl shouted, “I’m not here for a tour.”

“Yelena, she’s a new member in the team- ” Agent Romanoff finally introduced, and took a quick glance at Carol with a playful smile. “- another one with super power, yes.”

“…wait, what?”

“Not that kind of power to control thunder like Thor or to trick like Loki- by the way, aren’t they a lovely couple?” Kamala explained a little bit, and suddenly changed the subject triggered by her interest.

“Ugh, it’s not officially announced.” Natasha was surprised to hear the little girl’s words, a status that not many people had learned about- even in the avengers’ team.

Impressed. Yelena stared at the kid and thought, still needed her breakfast, though.

“New kids.” Carol shrugged, “we’re actually talking about tomorrow’s mission.”

The redhead immediately started glaring at the blonde Captain.

“You’re leaving for days? Tomorrow?” And Yelena tiled her head to her older sister. She’d better not be the last person to know this.

Clearly someone had forgotten their domestic plan for tomorrow.

“Well, not ‘for days’,  I’ll be back before you know it. At least that was the plan.” Natasha looked a bit…nervous, but not speechless. By her side, the Captain who’s in charge of the mission seemed to be awkward for a minute, and they shared a look of silent communication.

“Yelena, you’re welcomed to- ”

“Uh- uh, no. I’m not interested in being the third wheel in your mission date. Besides, I’ve got my own thing to deal with as well. Just remember to pick me up at 8, and feed Fanny before you leave the house, it’s your turn.” Yelena shook her head quickly like nothing’s gonna convince her, and the other young superhero goggled upon hearing some keywords.

“Wait, you two are dating? ” Kamala asked in excitement, “oh my god, CarolNat is real.”

“Well, it’s- we’re…” the blonde Captain suddenly stuttered, “we’re close, yes. That’s true.”

Natasha rolled her eyes back to show her feedback towards Carol’s explanation, and refused to make any eye contact with her sister who just accidentally sold their privacy to the newest avenger.

“Oh, I thought that was your superpower.” Yelena shrugged to the two older women, kind of feeling sorry for the coming out declaration she made for them. “Like, telling the lovebirds in a group of people.”

Kamala gave her a ‘seriously?’ look, “nobody owns a superpower like that.”

“You never can tell.”

“Ok, things got a little tense here.” Carol tried to calm them both down before they made a wrong impression on each other. “It’s time for breakfast, how about I make you guys some really nice omelette?”

“Oh God.” Natasha sighed exaggeratedly, but she didn’t deny the purpose. When Carol turned, she just pushed her sister’s shoulder and forced the younger blonde to follow. “C’mon Yelena, you love eggs.”

“I never said that.”

“Wow, Captain Marvel is making me an omelette…am I dreaming?”

“Never had a nightmare before?”

“Yelena!”

*

“So…”

A half hour later, Yelena was staring at her plate and trying to figure out why it’s not like a normal ‘omelette’ she had seen on television. “In what universe an omelette looks like this?”

“Well, it’s not that bad.” Natasha took a bite of hers, perfectly ignoring the fact that it resembled more scrambled eggs rather than an omelette.

“Stop being rude- ”As they both saw Carol and Kamala on their way to the table, Natasha squeezed her sister’s hand and ordered softly, “and tomorrow I promise to buy you the expensive tweed coat you always stare at in the display window.”

“Huh, it’s exactly why I really can’t stand to undergo a mission with you two. Deal.” Yelena sounded mockingly but she didn’t mean to embarrass her anyway. “You turned weak, Natasha. You knew it, right?”

Natasha only hummed in russian as a response (something like ‘you’d know that when we spar’ ), and grinned when Carol sat next to her as usual. The blonde Captain was finally done with cooking everyone’s breakfast and Kamala had surprisingly finished hers, only sipping a glass of apple juice.

“So, how did you meet?” Said Kamala, aka the newest avenger with extraordinary attention to the secret pairs around the base, “how long have you been dating- I wanna know the whole story.”

“Here we go.” This was the best reaction for Yelena to ‘stop being rude’.

“Well, first of all, I won’t deny or admit any statement of it…” Natasha cleaned her throat and started, her sweet butter sandwich was left on the plate.

“We’re apparently colleagues.” Carol promptly interrupted with a shrug, which made the redhead widen her green eyes in disbelief.

“I met her after the snap, and during the five years, the feelings just kinda grew on us.” The blonde smiled gently as she took Natasha’s hand, “after the end of the war, we started hanging out once a month like normal people, later on it began to be once a week as my main works in space were separated to the new-trained protectors and the Guardians. That’s it.”

Kamala was literally speechless, looking like she just got the best Christmas gift for this year.

“If you kiss her like those cliched soap operas now, I’m gonna kill you both.” Yelena did like the eggs, but obviously she wouldn’t say it. Instead, she ate it up and mumbled her statement after hearing the shorter version of their romance.

“Yelena.” Natasha raised one of her brows, reminding her who’s in charge on this table. And their deals .

“Alright, just kidding.”

“Can I take a picture when you do that?” Kamala immediately stood up and asked Carol, it seemed no one actually cared about the debriefing of tomorrow’s mission anymore. “-when you kiss Black Widow.”

Her Captain was flushed, “w-what?”

To save her partner from the short circus situation, Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled Carol’s arm all in a sudden. All Kamala could do was open her mouth widely in amazement, and tried hard not to scream like a fan who was completely out of control.

Natasha left a rough kiss on the corner of Carol’s lips, her blood red lipstick stained slightly on it.

“Satisfied?” She said with an impeccable grin, leaving the flummoxed blonde behind her.

“This place is harmful for my heart.” - the newest superhero from Jersey City claimed.

“You’re gonna get used to it, kid.” - and the former widow from the red room finally agreed with her.

“I should have stopped leaking the key information.” - the blonde Captain knew it deeply that Natasha’s not gonna take it easy on her tonight.

[mtnkat3]

9.50am

This morning.. I don't know how to feel. I am confused.. feeling gut punched.. not knowing whys.. totally out of the loop.. hurting.. sad.. devastated.. not knowing what to do, if anything, or just keep working & be quiet. I feel like I've got flickering candles around me.. some barely there anymore.. others taking some of the slack.. not sure how to be called His warrior queen when I just feel like being curled in a ball.. hidden in a dark corner. Guess that's the kat sub side that's just needing to hide from the world & beg..what did I do wrong... yeah I feel.. gobsmacked. So all I can do right now is know that God knows what's happening .. I believe that my soul's mates do too. And that He is being careful with His glimpses & little by little because .. I am floored. Using my emdr skills but also.. what is my responsibility.. & not knowing.. it's having a devastating effect on my soul. Which is where I need to get back to reading. Because that's not what God wants me to feel. I gotta trust Him.Be encouraged by His glimpses. Not let myself spiral . And say thank You, because several favorites were under "writing" in gifs. Rather surprising. Little things. God is holding me in His arms & stroking my hair as the tears begin to fall.. thank You Lord for loving me. For Creating me exactly how You want me. A marshmallow soul that pays attention & is brought to tears when You reveal even the smallest of glimpses that things are gonna work out. That I must continue to be patient even when I am struggling to understand any of the whys.. losing.. I just.. flummoxed. Jaw dropped. I just.. peace.. Your Love & Encouragement. Please.. help me Lord??? To step righteously upon my life's path. Time to read..before I fall apart. I pray you .. do know.. just how much I love & miss you daily. That I have no expectations because the truest of love by ones soul's mates isn't easy nor is it about only making dreams come true. It's about making the dreams come true the way we want them to.. together. & wanting to be together until the God Given last breath is drawn. It's about wanting to see my loves .. happy.. inspite of me or my wants. I love you . And pray my Blessings are to be happy together. Chewing my lips. I will work whilst I await.Because I won't ever give up. ~True love never dies & true love always waits!.~ Your humble bowed crying cold sad scared devastated but calming to listening quietly closely carefully ..

Your complex quirky warrior queen daughter. ~Tijgeress kat Phoenix. ✝️🌺🐾🐯

☔⛈🌬💔😥😖😔🙊🙈🙉⚓🙏🙇‍♀️

🌂🔗⛓🧰📋📆🔐🏗🧱🏰⚙⚒🛠⚔⚖🗽🦅🕊

🥧🍁🧣🥾🍋🥤🥨🍳🥮🍯🍼☕🍫🍎🍑🍒

🐯🐾🐐🦉🐢🐛🦋🌱🌺🌹🌻🌷🌳🧶🧵

⌚💡⚡🌠🚀🗝🔱⚜💝🐻🦌🧩♠️♾🎯🕯🧭🎶

Su.11.20.2022 10.50am est.

[nxrthmizu]

| stay the night | Matsukawa Issei

»»——⍟——««

song | Toothbrush - DNCE

pairing | Matsukawa Issei x Reader 

warning(s) | Implied sexual intercourse

words | 1.6k 

author’s note | Hello its late but ayeeee also not beta/proof-read so it probably sucks but umm yes I’ll come back to edit this later its late and I’m tired 

»»——⍟——««

You were like quicksand. 

The more he struggled, the faster he sunk. But who said he didn’t want to succumb to you? 

“Going somewhere?” His drowsy drawl filled the air between the two of you, your movements freezing as if someone had pressed the pause button on you. You were in the middle of collecting your discarded clothes, tugging on your crumpled T-shirt that had seen better days. 

Your words caught in your throat, like water in a river when it crashed face-into-face with a concrete dam. “I...” 

The night was dark outside, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as it read 2am on his bedside clock. Even in the darkness, you could make out the sharp lines of his toned body, a result of his years of volleyball and continuos exercise. And even in the darkness, you could see the adorable sleepy smile he was wearing. (God, why did he have to be so good-looking???) 

“You know, baby you don’t have to rush.” He said smoothly, as if he didn’t just catch you hurrying away from a one-night stand. Well, it wasn’t exactly a one-night stand, the two of you had gotten... Intimate before. “You could leave a toothbrush at my place.” 

How could he resist from admiring you? The full moon outside highlighted the etherealness of your skin, painting you as a goddess whose beauty was unrivalled in all four corners of the world. The white sheet you clung around yourself only accented his image of you as a divine being, one that he had been blessed to meet. 

“I... Don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Your nervous laugh made him frown. Why were you so nervous anyway? Weren’t you so pliant and submissive to his touch only a couple hours ago? 

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” He interrupted, his sharp eyes catching on your numerous giveaways. Your hands were shaking, you avoided eye contact, and you stuttered. Yes, maybe he hadn’t really gotten to know you outside his bedroom, but he knew how to recognise the signs of someone concealing the whole truth from him. 

A sigh slid out from your lips. “Okay, look. My parents... Engaged me to someone, alright?” A breath of air escaped your mouth in a huff. “I don’t want to get married to him, but... My parents don’t want to die without seeing me in a wedding dress. Which is stupid, but they’re not getting any younger.” 

“What, are you sharing a bed with him, too?” He snorted, trying his best to hold back the splash of jealousy that sparked across his tone. 

You surveyed him carefully, your eyes trailing over his toned muscles. “... No, but it just... Feels wrong if I spend the night with someone else.” Reluctantly, you admitted why you’d never stay, confessing the guilt that plunged into your stomach like a heavy rock. 

“Hold on, let’s rewind this a little...” Shaking his head, he held his hand up to stop you from talking. “This... Guy that you’re marrying... Do you like him at all?” 

The lip bite was enough of an answer for him. 

“You don’t.” He concluded simply, watching you struggle for a response. 

“Well-! He’s... Nice, but a little of a pushover, and... Very reliant on his mother...” You noted with a wince. “Actually, screw that, I don’t see how its’ going to work out. His mom literally treats him like a five-year-old and he acts like he’s five-years-old.” 

A scoff rang in Issei’s bedroom, rumbling from the depths of his throat to the vibrations in your ear drum. “You deserve someone better than that.” 

“Are you volunteering?” 

“If I am, will you stay the night?” 

»»——⍟——««

Issei had never understood when Hanamaki explained that waking up next to someone you loved was the best feeling in the world. At least, he never understood until the morning sun trickled in through the slits of the curtains and he got a glimpse of your (hair colour) hair, swung over the pearl-coloured pillows. 

Oh, and you were a blanket hogger. 

Not that he minded. The nights were always too hot for him and he normally ended up kicking them off anyway. You, on the other hand, were wrapped up like a dumpling. 

He froze when you stirred, moving in your sleep until you cuddled up next to him, tucking your chin into his chest with a satisfied hum. He didn’t dare move. Everything in him stopped momentarily. What if his heart beat too loud and he woke you up? (If he could’ve stopped his heartbeat he would). 

It was in this way he gradually fell back asleep, your head tucked in his chest and his breathing eventually lining up with your steady ones. His phone rang once when his coworker texted to ask if he was okay, he responded with a quick ‘I’m sick’ and typed the shortest leave-requesting-email he had ever written in his entire life, trying to get the letters right without waking you up. 

By the time he woke up, it was past 9am, and the sun was mercilessly beating down on him at that point. A yawn coursed through his body before he realised something wrong.

You were missing. 

To your credit, you had stayed the night. Surely he couldn’t have expected you to stay in the morning, too? 

“You’re awake.” 

If he got a heart attack at that moment, Issei could die a happy man. As far as he could tell, you were dressed in only one of his t-shirts, the garment overflowing from your smaller shoulder width to your mid-thighs. He was also pretty sure his jaw dropped and he gaped at you for a decent amount of time, which would be embarrassing but really, could you blame him? 

“I could get used to seeing you like this every morning.” He commented once he had recovered from his state of partial shock. 

Your hair cascaded over your neck, and it was in that moment that Issei found out you were one of those people that could roll out of bed with your hair looking messy but in a perfect way. He would never change the position of a single strand, even if he was held at gunpoint. Why would anyone change perfection, anyway? 

“I took the liberty of using your kitchen.” You replied with a smile. “Wash up and come out to eat. I took the day off.” 

When Issei said he had never washed up that quickly in his entire life before, he truly meant it. He didn’t even run that fast when he missed his alarm and remembered there was a practice match that morning. 

“About what I said last night.” He begin speaking while washing up the dishes, the soap bubbles eavesdropping on your conversation rather blatantly. You were leaning against the wall, your eyes judgemental as you eyed the (lack of) content in his fridge. “About volunteering.” 

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll probably just divorce him after a year or something.” 

“No, it’s not fine. If you marry him I swear I will attend the wedding and I will raise my hand when the priest says ‘Speak now or forever hold your peace’.” He threatened, waving around the plate you put the fried eggs on. “I’ll marry you.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Issei shot you a weird look. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I’m sor- Did you say you’ll marry me?” Bewilderment painted your tone and your flummoxed expression, eyes as wide as the saucers Issei just finished washing. 

“Uh... Yeah? You don’t want to marry him, I don’t want you to marry him, so you can marry me instead.” He explained, as if it was as simple as 1 + 1. “Your parents get to see you in a wedding dress.” 

You blinked a couple times just to make sure you weren’t delusional. “How on Earth did you manage to come to that conclusion?” 

“I don’t want you to marry anyone but me!” He defended, putting down the plate before he broke something and got the two of you injured by the sharp edges that would no doubt result from a broken plate. “Consider this with me for a moment. I would never pressure you into doing anything, you’re free to go anywhere you want as long as you’re safe and I know where you are, and uh...” He fumbled around for the last reason. “And you can use the coupons for free massages that I get from my volleyball magazine subscription.” 

“Is that how you try and convince someone to marry you?” 

“Wait, I have more reasons!” 

“Such as?” 

“I... Can make really nice coffee?” He suggested hopefully. “Oh, uh, I like kids. And... I’ll definitely put a lot of effort into planning dates. Plus I’m not a pushover, and I’m not mama’s boy.” He paused for a moment before adding: “That’s not to say I’m not nice to my mom. I transfer checks to her every month, I call her every Monday night, and I visit her on every second week of the month.” 

You stared at him quietly. “... Then what do you suggest we do? I can’t just call my parents and go: ‘Hey, I was sleeping with this guy while you engaged me with this boy I didn’t even want to marry, can I marry the person I was sleeping with instead?’” 

“Or, I could call your parents.” 

“That sounds like a terrible idea.” 

“Do you have any better ideas?” 

“Seeing as I just agreed to marry you, I don’t think any ideas I have at the moment would be rational.” 

“I’m the one who just asked you to marry me, aren’t my ideas even more irrational?” 

»»——⍟——««

when Issei asks you to stay the night and you end up agreeing to marry him instead,,, on a separate note please don’t agree to marry a guy impulsively okay, look at what happened to Anna from Frozen 

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @drippinginhoneyandgold @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot

send an ask to be either @owlywrites or @cadenceh2o to be added to Cadowly’s Songfic December taglist!

Kageyama’s fic is supposed to come out tomorrow :’) I haven’t even started writing it 

[runningtwiceasfast]

I wrote a thing for the Harry and Ginny discord Incognito elf story exchange. I haven’t decided if I am going to publish it anywhere but thought I would post it here in the meantime. Thank you so much to @thedistantdusk for organizing. Hopefully someone enjoys! 

All the Difference

“If you are going to lay around here all day then you can at least make yourself useful.”

Harry looked up sharply, having been jarred rather unceremoniously from where he had been staring at the door to the shop, as if he could will his girlfriend into existence.

He gave a scowl at George, tapping his fingers idly on the counter. “Why did she have to call an emergency quidditch practice anyway right during the first Hogsmeade visit of the term?” He mumbled mostly to himself. He hadn’t seen his girlfriend in months and the one time they finally were both free something inevitably had come up.

Ginny was a prolific and entertaining correspondent and she had been able to sneak into various fires for rendezvous with her boyfriend but he longed to see her in the flesh. Some alone time wouldn’t hurt either.

Harry stared moodily once again at the door.

George came to stand by him and they both stared silently in their vigil. Eventually George grew tired of Harry’s nonsense and gave him a hearty whack on the shoulder.

“Alright no more of this sad mooning. You are the boy who lived! The man who defeated Voldemort! Witch Weekly’s most charming smile or whatever,” George gave him a sidelong glance. “Although how they even managed to catch you smiling is beyond me. Tell me, do you think those smiles will run out and you’ve been saving them all for darling Gin-gin?”

Harry gave George what he hoped was a menacing look. “Fine, if you don’t want me mooning about your store then I will just leave. I’m sure Ron and Hermione won’t mind me showing up to their date,” Harry said sarcastically remembering Ron’s warning to stay far away from him and Hermione for the next hour. While he was happy for his mates it was slightly annoying to be third wheel to their fights and subsequent makeups which now included way more tongue than they used to.

“I thought having you around might draw in more customers. You know like…’come shop where the boy who lived shops, come buy puking pastilles where Harry Potter does’ but honestly mate, you are now scaring off the customers.”

Glancing around, Harry did notice that the shop was rather empty for a Hogsmeade weekend. Feeling even worse than before, Harry hopped off the stool and shrugged on his robes. “I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled, resigning himself to heading back to his flat alone and maybe doing some paperwork.

“Not so fast Chosen One!” George called and Harry looked back around to where George was waving a finger at him. “Come back here.”

Not having anything else to do, Harry approached George cautiously, having seen too many first years turn into canaries to feel altogether secure in whatever shenanigans George had planned.

George produced a small vial from his pocket. The contents were a glittery pink and Harry frowned. “What is that? Something that will turn me into a turkey?”

Barking out a laugh George shook his head before turning thoughtful. “No, but now that you mention it that might be a good idea. We can call it, “Turkey Tonic.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What do you want? Have you found something that will summon Ginny here from quidditch practice?” Harry whined.

“No loverboy but I do have the next best thing. It is a new thing I invented based on the Patented Daydream Charm.” George shook the vial and then produced it again with a flourish. “Harry Potter, meet the Patented ‘What If’ Charm.”

Harry took the small capsule and looked at it critically, eyebrows furrowed. “What if charm?”

“It lets you go back to a time in your life where you made a different decision, took a different path. It lets you see what life would be like if one thing was different.” George made a motion like a butterfly flapping its wings. “You know, like the butterfly effect or whatever.”

“So like, what if my parents didn’t die? What if Voldemort picked Neville as the chosen one?” Harry asked wryly. George scoffed.

“As if Neville would have been the chosen one. No nothing that big. But…what if Fred and I hadn’t left school the way we did? What if I wore a red shirt today instead of this spiffing purple one.”

Harry looked again at the small vial in his hand. “Ok what do you want me to do with this?”

“Don’t be daft. I want you to take it and tell me what you think.”

“But what would I even say?” He felt rather flummoxed. So much of his life had been dictated by other people, set on a certain path. Was there a mundane thing that had happened in his life that could have made a difference?

“Ok, well, what is one thing that you wish had been different other than you know…that whole Voldemort business.”

Harry thought back. What was one thing he wished had been different? Then it hit him. “I wish I had gotten close to Ginny earlier.” He said, remembering back to their conversation at Dumbledore’s funeral. How they could have had so much more time if he hadn’t been such a plonker.

George made a slight gagging noise. “Alright, well that is incredibly gross and all but I appreciate the sentiment. What about… if you had gotten your head out of your arse and taken Ginny to the Yule Ball?”

Harry scowled at the memory, of asking Cho, of taking Parvati. Of the disaster of a Yule Ball. “Alright fine, I would have had a better time at least.”

George clapped his hands together. “There you go! Now hurry up and take the charm and I’ll see you on the other side.”

Harry uncorked the vial, but before he raised it to his lips he sent George another look. “Wait a minute, who else has tested this? Should I be worried?”

“Young Harry I am offended. How could you think so little of me?” George placed a hand over his heart and gave him a wounded look that did nothing to make Harry feel assured.

“Alright well if anything happens to me I’m sending Ginny to beat you up,” he said before raising the vial at George. “Cheers.”

The liquid burned slightly going down Harry’s throat but the taste was pleasing. A hint of cherry. And then as sudden as he was in George’s shop he was in Hogwarts. He was much shorter, much skinner and he was feeling sad for some reason.

Oh yeah…Cho…Yule ball…tournament…

Completely forgetting about dinner, he walked slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower. Cho’s voice echoing in his ears with every step he took. “Cedric — Cedric Diggory.”

So consumed in his misery, he almost tripped over a windswept looking Ginny Weasley.

“Watch where you’re going Potter,” she laughed until she got a good look at him, the smile dying on her face. She gave him a frown, head cocked to the side. “Did something happen?”

Harry shook his head, knowing she was assuming it was something Voldemort related and not some typical teenage boy angst. “Nothing like that. I just asked Cho to the ball but she’s going with someone else.” He gave an awkward shrug, unsure of why he was even telling her this. Perhaps it was too raw and he needed to share it with a friendly face.

Ginny’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry Harry. I’m sure any other girl would be happy to go with you,” she said, blushing red and they both got quiet.

“Where are you coming from?” He asked her, taking in her appearance for the first time and noticing that she wasn’t in robes but instead in some sort of athletic wear.

She blushed again, placing a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “I just went for a quick fly. Trying to sneak back into the common room now.”

Harry momentarily forgot his ball induced depression. “You fly?” He asked her incredulously. She had never participated in the Weasley family quidditch over the summer. Harry tried to think if he had ever seen her in the air.

She only smiled in response, something mischievous and proud in her eyes. “I’ve been stealing the twins’ brooms at night and teaching myself to fly for years.” Harry looked at her again as if for the first time. It shouldn’t be such a shock to him that she had grown. They all were older and changing and Ginny Weasley wasn’t an exception. She was still short, barely coming up to his shoulders. Her red hair came all the way down her back in waves and she was beginning to fill out and look more like…well, more like a girl.

“Are you going to the ball with anyone?” He blurted out. Her eyes widened in response and she was silent for awhile.

“I-I…no I’m not. I’m a third year so I can’t go unless someone older invites me,” she explained, her face now so red he could barely make out her freckles.

Harry let out a breath, well aware that if she turned him down he would have likely broken some world record of rejections in the shortest amount of time.

“Would you go with me? To the ball?” He cringed at the clarification. Ginny was speechless for a moment before opening and closing her mouth a couple times. Eventually she nodded.

“Yes Harry, that sounds nice,” she said hoarsely. Harry gave her a small smile before both their attentions were drawn to a loud commotion down the hall. Ginny seemed to notice the source of it immediately.

“Ron? Ron!” Ginny called out jarring Harry into action as well as they caught up with a dazed looking Ron.

Ron was pale, his freckles standing out like pocks on his blood drained skin. Harry was instantly alarmed. “What happened?” He asked, immediately thinking the worst. Ron just groaned in response and Ginny sent Harry a frantic look. The two of them shrugged off all the snickering onlookers and dragged him to the common room where they plopped him unceremoniously on a couch in a distant corner.

Ron kept shaking his head and moaning and it was a full three minutes before they were able to understand what happened.

“Oh Ron,” Ginny was clearly struggling to keep the smile off her face. “You didn’t.”

Ron had his face in his hands and continued to mutter “Why did I do it,” over and over again, the words muffled through his hands.

As Harry comforted his best mate he exchanged looks with Ginny and gave a sigh in relief. At least he had gotten a date to the ball. He watched as Ginny pushed an errant strand of hair away from her face as she patted her brother’s arm sympathetically. Perhaps he might even have a good time.

_____________________

Harry saw Ginny very little in the days leading up to the ball. The professors piled on the homework for the fourth years and Harry was determined to take advantage of the excitement leading up to Christmas. In between impromptu snowball fights and letters from Sirius he had almost forgotten about the egg and the fact that he would be dancing in front of not only the entire school but two other schools as well.

Professor McGonagall gave him this unhappy reminder at the end of the last transfiguration class of the year where she insisted on corralling the Gryffindor students that would be attending the ball into an empty classroom.

“You will be representing the great house of Godric Gryffindor as well as your school and I feel I must do my duty to make sure none of you embarrass me,” she sniffed, her eyes glancing over to the Weasley twins before landing on Harry. He swallowed roughly, the image of him falling rather spectacularly on his bum in front of everyone while in his dress robes flashing across his eyes.

McGonagall began to play some music, grabbing Ron in the process and forcing him to lead her about the room. Harry was thankful he wasn’t so caught up in his misery that he was unable to enjoy the spectacle.

“They make a rather fine couple don’t they?” A cheerful voice said behind him and he couldn’t resist smiling back at Ginny as her beaming face came into view.

“He isn’t completely embarrassing himself is he?” Harry mused, looking back to the makeshift dance floor where Ron and the professor were now moving in time with the music, Fred and George looking on and throwing conjured rose petals on them and clapping loudly.

“No more than he did when mum tried to teach him to dance,” Ginny said under her breath and Harry snorted, picturing young Ron waltzing with his mother in the Burrow. The laughter died in his throat as the scene in his mind turned quickly from Ron and his mum to Harry and his own mother, his father laughing as they spun each other in circles.

Perhaps sensing his change of mood, Ginny stayed close but said no more as they watched Ron take a turn about the room with their professor.

Christmas arrived rather suddenly and Harry, despite consistently receiving Christmas gifts since he had come to Hogwarts, was still rather surprised to find gifts at the foot of his bed. After dealing with Dobby and finishing opening up the rest of his gifts, it was suddenly time to get ready for the dance.

Ron, who was still trying in vain to find out who Hermione was going with, had tried to enlist Ginny who had vehemently refused.

“Ron if you ask me one more time who Hermione is going with I am going to hex you so bad you can’t use the toilet for a month,” Ginny had finally threatened and Ron had mostly ceased his fruitless task. Still, though, he grumbled when Hermione had left them three hours before the dance to get ready. Harry saw Ginny follow shortly and figured it was time for him to start getting ready as well.

Harry and Ron, who was taking Parvati, had agreed to meet their dates in the common room and eventually Harry was able to drag a very reluctant Ron to leave the dormitory. Harry had reassured him multiple times that his robes were fine and definitely did not look like a dress but he feared he hadn’t been very convincing.

Harry saw Parvati first in her robes of shocking pink. He watched her glance over at Ron, her eyes running over the frayed edges of his robes before taking the arm offered. It was then that Harry noticed Ginny.

She was standing a little behind them, staring at him a little shyly. Her robes were white and floated prettily around her and Harry thought rather irrationally of an angel. Her red hair was down, having been pinned half up with a golden barrette that Harry realized upon further notice was a little snitch. She had done something with her eyes to make them slightly bigger and Harry took a dry swallow.

He had thought by going with Ginny he wouldn’t have to have been nervous. They would have had a good time and enjoyed a laugh. But it must not have registered to him that Ginny was a girl and a pretty one at that.

Offering up his arm like he was supposed to, he felt her grip him lightly. Again he looked over at her as they followed Ron and Parvati out of the common room. It was then that he realized that he had yet to actually say anything to her. Cursing his stupidity he cleared his throat rather unsuccessfully.

“You—er—look nice,” he said awkwardly.

Ginny blushed. “Thank you Harry. You clean up rather nice as well.” She smiled at him and he felt himself inexplicably relax.

“Wait until you see Hermione,” Ginny whispered in his ear and Harry caught a whiff of something lovely and flowery and he wondered if it was possible a smell could make you drunk.

Shaking the thought out of his head he looked over at her curiously but she mimed zipping her lips with her free hand, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

The entrance hall was packed and they mindlessly followed Ron who was being led by Parvati to where her sister was standing with another Ravenclaw boy Harry didn’t know.

“Where is Hermione?” Ron asked, eyes darting over to Ginny as if she was going to attack him.

Ginny smoothed her dress and smiled. “Really Ron why are you so concerned?” Harry stifled a laugh in his own shoulder. They watched their fellow students milling around with some interest before Professor McGonagall called the Champions over. Harry sighed and reached again for Ginny.

“Good luck, mate,” he said before taking Ginny forward, letting the crowd part for them. They joined Fleur in her pretty silver robes and Roger Davies who Harry thought was perhaps looking a little dazed. Harry avoided looking at Cho and Cedric a little too well that he missed Ginny jabbing him in the ribs as he looked up at the girl who was with Krum. His jaw dropped.

It was Hermione.

Once Harry was over the shock of a Hermione who didn’t look like Hermione at all he felt tugged along by Ginny as she pulled him over to Hermione, chattering to her in fast paced squeals.

“Hi Harry!” Hermione finally greeted him and Professor McGonagall came over and told them all to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They then walked into the Great Hall to applause. Harry felt his face burn at the attention. A small squeeze on his arm centered him and he looked gratefully at Ginny who was gliding confidently next to him. She gave him a wink and he relaxed, able to make it to the head table without tripping over his feet.

“Ron looks like someone took his prize niffler,” Ginny whispered to Harry, drawing his attention more fully to her and not the gaping occupants of the Great Hall. Harry looked over to where his friend was staring at Hermione with narrowed eyes.

As they approached the table Harry felt Ginny tense and he realized that she wouldn’t be the only Weasley at the table. Instead of Mr. Crouch the fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy who made it very clear to Harry that he had to sit next to him.

Percy’s smug face was replaced by a look of astonishment as he noticed who Harry’s date was.

“Ginny, what are you doing here?” He asked as they all sat down. Ginny frowned and Harry had to bite his tongue in order to not answer for her. She could handle her own brother. Still, Harry didn’t like the look Percy had on his face.

“Harry asked me,” she said simply. “What are you doing here?” She asked and Harry nodded, aware that this was the much better question.

The two of them endured Percy’s sycophantic monologue about Mr. Crouch and how he had been promoted. Harry barely resisted snorting into his water goblet when Ginny asked with a straight face whether Crouch had stopped calling him “Weatherby” yet.

They both tucked into their dinner eagerly, eavesdropping on the conversations of the other occupants of the table. Harry found that his sides were hurting from laughter mostly from Ginny’s impersonations of Roger Davies dazed look on his face as he listened to Fleur complain about the decorations.

“At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we would never sit in chairs! We would be carried to eat on clouds made of silk and serenaded as we ate,” Ginny whispered in Harry’s ear, effecting Fleur’s accent in an exaggerated way that had him pushing away his plate of goulash.

Eventually they finished dinner and the Weird Sisters began playing. Ginny nudged Harry. “I think we are supposed to dance now,” she said somewhat shyly. Ginny stood up gracefully, holding out her hand for him. He managed to stand up without completely tripping over his robes, taking her smaller hand within his.

He followed her to the dance floor, eyes locked on her form, shutting out everything else. All of his senses felt dulled, the music a faint hum in the background, the spotlighting centering him blocking out everything else except Ginny. Seamlessly Ginny placed one of his hands on her waist, holding out his other hand in an approximation of what the other couple’s were doing.

Her hand was light in his but also strong. He worried for a second that his hand would be sweaty but Ginny didn’t seem to indicate there was anything particularly off with his hands. Instead, she gave him a reassuring smile as she steered him in a circle on the dance floor.

As they turned to the music Harry avoided catching anyone’s smirking eyes by staring at Ginny. He wasn’t sure he had ever really looked at her. She had a faint dusting of freckles on her face and full red lips that shimmered slightly. Her robes felt slippery in the hand on her waist and he gripped more thoroughly causing her to squeak slightly.

“You are a good dancer,” he told her, and even though they were in the middle of a giant crowd he had the fanciful thought that it was just them alone. She blushed.

“Thank you. Mum taught us at an early age.”

They were quiet the rest of the dance, Harry noticing that they were thankfully no longer the center of attention, the rest of the couples having joined them on the dance floor.

The song ended and they both let go of each other, standing in the dance floor staring at each other as another, faster song was struck up.

“Come on,” Ginny pulled at his arm to where Ron and Parvati were sitting, Ron shooting daggers at Krum with his eyes. Ginny took one look at her brother and grabbed his arms, pulling him up.

“Oy! Ginny what are you doing?” Ron asked, shoving off Ginny’s hands.

“You are looking entirely too much like a prat Ron! You have a lovely date, you’ve eaten a good meal. Let’s go out there and have fun! Look at Harry’s socks Ron. Those are socks that are meant for dancing.”

Harry laughed and watched as Ron reluctantly followed his younger sister to the dance floor. Harry offered his arm to Parvati and the four of them made their way over to where Fred and Angelina were dancing exuberantly in the center of the dance floor.

A few moments later Hermione and Viktor joined them, Ron avoiding Hermione but reluctantly letting Ginny pull hm along.

Eventually they stopped to get butterbeers. Parvati had been asked to dance by one of the boys from Beauxbatons and Hermione was still dancing with Viktor so it was just Ginny, Ron and Harry. They grabbed drinks, escaping outside to the warming charmed air. Ron was still put out and kept grumbling under his breath, the words “Hermione” and “Vicky” alternating coherency. The three of them sidestepped an angry looking Snape who seemed to be discussing something rather nasty with Karkaroff who looked anxious.

They reached a fountain, Harry now greatly entertained by the story Ginny was recounting that seemed to center on the twins having turned all of Ron’s Martin Miggs comics into more suggestive materials. Ron seemed more like himself at that point and they were all surprised to encounter Hagrid and Madame Maxime having a quiet conversation.

“It was my mother,” said Hagrid quietly. “She was one o’ the las’ ones in Britain….” Hagrid’s voice trailed off as Harry’s attention was drawn to Ginny who was swatting at a rather large beetle that had fallen on her arm.

“Yuck!” She hissed, swatting at it and giving it a little kick. “Creepy bugger.” She shuddered slightly and Harry had an irrational thought that he should offer her his cloak before realizing that he wasn’t wearing one.

They returned to the dance floor just as the Weird Sister’s began playing one of their more popular dancing songs. Ginny’s face lit up and Harry followed her to the center of the room, shrugging apologetically at Ron who had resumed his grouchy mumblings.

“I love this song!” Ginny called to him and he watched as she closed her eyes, moving her body to the beat, long since having abandoned her shoes. Her enthusiasm was contagious and he did his best to approximate her movements finding himself smiling widely wondering if this was fun, if this was what having fun felt like.

The song ended, a slower tempo one taking its place. Ginny made a motion to leave the dance floor but Harry pulled her to him.

“This was fun. Thank you for coming with me Ginny,” he told her sincerely. She gave him a wide smile.

“It was fun! Thank you for inviting me. It isn’t every day a girl gets invited to the biggest event of the season and with a champion no less,” she teased him.

The last song ended to a loud round of applause and everyone began heading back to the entrance hall. Ginny let out a sigh. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this night to end but I’m also exhausted. I’m hoping Colin was able to get some ice cream from the kitchens. He told me the first through third years were allowed to have some late snacks to make up for not being invited to the ball,” Ginny explained as they made their way out.

“What’s your favorite ice cream?” Harry asked, suddenly realizing that he didn’t know that much about the youngest Weasley. She gave him another one of her wide smiles, eyes flashing conspiratorially.

“Mint chip!” She told him happily. A part of his brain registered that for later. As if he knew there would be a moment when he would need to know what kind of ice cream Ginny liked. What her favorite color was, what she liked to do when she was bored and whether she preferred that first rain of spring or the first snow of winter.

Harry felt himself getting dizzy, a tug behind his navel making him slightly nauseous. The edges of his vision grew hazy and Ginny flashed in and out of view.

“Harry?” Ginny was asking….”Harry?”

“Harry!”

Harry jerked awake, the splash of cold water in his face an unwelcome jolt of icy reality. It took him a moment to realize he was not in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Instead he was in George’s shop. He was no longer fourteen, no longer stumbling awkwardly behind his date, ready for Cedric to tell him about the egg…Ron’s fight with Hermione.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, reality seeping in.

“Sorry mate, you only get half an hour no matter how good the fake memory,” George gave him a hearty thump on the back and the visions of Ginny looking lovely on his arm, of laughing with her, taking the mickey on Ron were gradually replaced by those of Parvati sitting miserably next to him, Ron not talking to anyone…reality settling in.

“That’s some powerful magic, George,” Harry said finally. The ‘what if’ charm had indeed let him experience what life had been like when he was shy, awkward, Cho obsessed and completely unworthy of what life with Ginny would be. It had been nice to experience a Hogwarts with her but he smiled realizing that, while he may have messed it up before, he had gotten a second…well third really, chance.

Both George and Harry looked up as the bell to the store jingled and a windswept Ginny entered the store. For a moment Harry thought he was still under the influence of the charm and hallucinating.

“You shouldn’t be here…you told me you wouldn’t be here,” he said finally, stumbling over the words. Ginny gave a laugh, reaching out to give him a hug.

“I snuck away. Don’t tell the Head Girl,” she whispered into his ear and Harry was overwhelmed by the comforting smell of flowers.

“Seeing as she likely has her tongue down Ron’s throat I doubt she will care,” Harry said, pulling back so he could look at her fully.

The Ginny before him was no blushing third year. Still in Hogwarts robes but much more filled out and beautiful, looking at him with love and trust in his eyes. He felt that familiar warmth collect inside him as he gazed at her.

“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream,” he told her, waving goodbye to George and pulling her into his side.

“Ohhh you know I love ice cream,” she said brightly, snuggling into him.

“Mint chip?” He asked.

“Mint chip.”

[poetdreamerfool]

2021 Freestyle series #26 | fresh in tha lab 🧪👨🏿‍🔬🔬

I think it's because my skin Looks like mud mixed with clay Half of the people I meet feel like they can come at me with a hammer and chisel for the other half its just a hammer. usually my response is to open up a can of whoop ass on a beat on a beat or stanza and I always make sure to add a verse for Karen and Amanda so they can be critical of my race and pretend like its a theory that the only black person they know is nick fury I plan like an agent of the shield when I'm in the field thinking like a lion Prowling, defiant honing my craft like a swordsman that got their art down to a science this is poetic katana instruction with a touch of self destruction and deduction in a vacuum with that the suction that slippery slope is so slippery because evil is like seduction am I flummoxed? not at all I'll jump into a perfect storm while yelling cannonball paradoxically I'm standing tall got my head all up in the clouds but I'm still above it all this massive chip on my shoulder ain't ever coming off just cause someone's head is hard don't mean their ass is soft it ain't really about the lines its about the ones they cross got bars like sing sing game like ESPN ocho and roots deeper than black and white photos blowed like toto but the tree is just so so that pendulum is more like a yo-yo for the black man benefit of the doubt? fat chance like a pair of hand cuffs around blood stained white hands another brother lost to the court date rain dance as the debt that changed hands changed hands

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 134

SYNOPSIS: Everyone who worked in Med Lab was under suspicion of being the mole including Dr Foster and Bóinne Rivière.  Murtagh asks his friend Fergus to help him with information about the Med Lab nurse from her profile but when he checks he discovers that she has been earmarked for cancellation. In trying to find any Intel that will help her, Fergus comes across an encrypted file.  A feeling of déjà vu overcomes him and his suspicions are roused by the only one person who was capable of making such a code … a nemesis from the past.

I really am very grateful to all the readers of Covert Operations and I am truly appreciative.  THANK YOU muchly.

Chapter 133 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations.   This story is not on Ao3.

   CHAPTER 134

 It had been a couple of days since Jamie and Claire had left Section, and Fergus Claudel had been collaborating all the data he could on those that Madeline had requested to see if he could find anything on a mole in Section One.  So far, he had come up empty and he was still investigating all avenues to try and clear up suspicion on his friend’s fiancée.

Tonight, as usual, Section was deserted except for Comm. It was peaceful and quiet and Fergus had the perfect time alone to do his searching task on Bóinne Rivière and others in Med Lab without being disturbed by anyone. It was just how he liked it especially when he was faced with the problem of doing something without anyone looking over his shoulder. However, just as he was about to pull up the Med Lab nurse’s profile, Murtagh and she appeared in Comm., so he shut down the link before his friend came any closer and could see what he was accessing and changed to another innocuous file. The last time he had seen the two of them together had been after their happy announcement but now they were dressed for the outside, obviously heading out on a date to celebrate their engagement and pending marriage.  As they were making their way over towards Fergus, Bóinne suddenly stopped and spoke to Murtagh. “Oh … I’ve forgotten my jacket … I’ll be right back.” “Okay honey … I’ll just wait over with Fergus,” he replied good naturedly. She gave him an indulgent smile then left to go back to her quarters to pick up her coat. In the meantime, Murtagh walked over to where Fergus was sitting at his station. Noticing that he was working on something on his computers as usual, he stood next to him totally absorbed in his own agenda and asked in an eager voice.

“Did you get my stuff yet?”  Fergus kept on working but he still answered his friend. “What stuff?” “The stuff I sent.” However, the computer whiz didn’t have a clue what Murtagh Fitzgibbons was taking about. “No?” he replied somewhat baffled at his statement. In Murtagh’s frame of mind it was as if the whole world revolved around him and Bóinne and he couldn’t quite understand why Fergus knew nothing about the message he’d sent to him just a little while ago. “You must know!” he strongly clarified; shocked that his best friend hadn’t read this important memo from him, so he elaborated for his obvious oversight, “Bóinne! ... Why, Bóinne, of course!” Fergus looked at his pal conveying in his glance that he’d had more important things on his mind lately than correspondence from him. “I've been a little busy, Murtagh. I haven’t even told you what happened to me in the White Room.” However, the munitions’ expert brushed off his comment, “No need ... you survived … that’s all I need to know.” He was too wrapped up in his own feelings to ask any further questions and before Fergus could reply Murtagh continued, “Hey, it’s Bóinne’s birthday tomorrow. I need to get her something that she really likes.” “Why don't you ask her?” was Fergus’ pragmatic response as it seemed that most logical thing to do. At his buddy’s reply, Murtagh came to stand in front of the computer and looked at his young friend with an incredulous look on his face. “You ..., ah ..., don't know women very well, do you?” Fergus looked up at his friend and met his gaze, before breaking into a grin then a laugh at the twinkle he saw in the older operative’s eyes. “Right now?” “Yeah ... right now,” he grinned in reply knowing that his young buddy would help him with the information he needed to know about his fiancée. “Before she gets back.” It was so glaringly obvious that Murtagh Fitzgibbons was in love. His friend had never looked happier and Fergus was very pleased for him. Having never seen him this way before, he took pity on his lovesick pal. He pulled up Bóinne Rivière’s profile knowing that he would have to do it at some stage to see if she was linked to the passing of Intel to Colum from Med Lab. He was a little hesitant that something might pop up that his pal shouldn’t see, but once her data appeared on screen, he only read out the pertinent information to him.  Sitting back in his chair he began to read aloud the nurse’s profile. “Let's see what we've got. She plays the piano ...” Murtagh accessed this piece of unknown information about his beloved. “Nice,” he replied eager for more titbits of her accomplishments. “... is fluent in French, Swahili and Russian.” The admiration for his fiancée was heart-warming but Murtagh could only manage a suppressed “Mmmm” when Fergus relayed this piece of information. He continued reading some more facts, “... broke her leg when she was twelve ... got thrown from a horse.”

A sudden image of Bóinne as a child flashed through Murtagh’s head of her riding her pony. “Really ..., huh ..., it’s great stuff Fergus.” Breaking from his reverie, he asked, “What else?” “She had two black cats as a child which she doted on.”

All of a sudden something else unexpectedly appeared on screen from her file as Fergus was reading, that gave him pause.   He frowned as he silently read the information to himself.  Unfortunately, the older operative noticed the change in expression on the young techie’s face and asked a little anxiously.

“What is it?” He was a little discombobulated at his friend’s change in demeanour and leaning closer, Murtagh tried to view her profile, but Fergus quickly darkened the screen before he noticed anything.

“Nothing …That was it,” he replied hoping that his buddy would be satisfied with the information about Bóinne he had relayed and forget about his hesitancy in sharing more before his quick closing down of her profile. “Well ... that's enough. Ponies and black cats, right?”

“Yes … that’s right.”

“Hmm? … cats!” He repeated as an idea suddenly formed in his mind for a present.  He gave Fergus a happy nod knowing that their collusion had paid dividends, but he was quick to curb his enthusiasm as he looked up and saw Bóinne approach them after collecting her jacket from her quarters. Smiling she came and stood beside her fiancé comfortably linking her arm through his and asked, “You ready to go?” Murtagh Fitzgibbons was a man in love and because he was enamoured with this woman he couldn’t contain his joy in seeing her again especially after his buddy had managed to sow the seed of an idea for a special birthday present for her.

“I guess you know I've missed you …” he replied holding her gaze. She merely just smiled coyly, before turning her attention to the computer expert. “Would you like to join us Fergus?” she asked in a gentle tone wanting to include Murtagh’s best friend in their happiness.  “To help us celebrate?”  Under the circumstances Fergus knew that they would want to be alone. “You don’t need me there to celebrate. Thanks … but no.” Three was a crowd and he would only be the third wheel, nevertheless he was touched that he’d been invited. “Have a great night.” “We will.” The couple didn’t take much persuading and Murtagh Fitzgibbons quickly hustled his lady love off, impatient to be out of Section where they could have some privacy. “Okay … Let's get out of here ... quick before this young whippersnapper changes his mind.” They’d both smiled and happily left him alone at his station.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ However as soon as they were out of sight, Fergus pulled up Bóinne Rivière’s file once more, to reread her profile. As he read her details and scrolled down her data, he was suddenly gob smacked at what appeared on the monitor … it was the flashing last line that held his attention.  STATUS: EVALUATION UNSATISFACTORY TRANSFER TO ABEYANCE TERMINATION RANKING: 2 This Intel shocked him to the core, especially knowing that Murtagh had finally found some happiness in this hellhole, even though it looked like it may be fleeting. But now he was faced with a dilemma.

Should he tell Murtagh about Bóinne's new status or let him enjoy the time they had together? This news would be devastating for his friend.

There must be some mistake that her evaluation was unsatisfactory, he thought. How could that be and why had she been scheduled for cancellation? He was flummoxed as to how she had come to get such a rating. Her skills in medical seemed to be above board and she appeared very dedicated to her patients. However, everyone in Med Lab was under suspicion, but he couldn’t see how they would have the means to set up hidden surveillance or the motive to do so. Given Madeline’s directive, he’d always been worried that he would have to do this check on Murtagh’s fiancée, and those in Medical including Dr Foster, but he never thought he would find anything.  On the other hand, this was not a surprising outcome as everyone in Section was expendable. No one was immune to the life that was Section One. Things could change in the blink on an eye. Nobody ever knew how long they were for this world especially in the line of work people did, and it wouldn’t take much to put an operative into abeyance if it was decreed by the powers that be that they were unsatisfactory, as like what had happened to Bóinne. But this just didn’t make sense. Operations and Madeline already knew that she had failed her evaluation. Why did they want him to do a cross check on her? Were they just trying to join the dots and link her to Colum too, to warrant the cancellation? This was getting more complicated by the minute. He hoped to god that he could find something that may change their minds. It became more urgent now, knowing that he didn’t want to see Murtagh’s happiness shattered before it had begun. His buddy deserved to be happy and he would do everything in his power to find some anomaly in this decision … for his best friend’s sake. Fergus decided that he would do a thorough check of all Med Lab staff first before concentrating on who he thought was a prime suspect … a nemesis from the past … Frank Wolverton-Randall. Hopefully he would find something that would incriminate him and perhaps at the same time find some Intel that would get rid of the unsatisfactory tag and cancellation notice on the medical nurse. Fergus knew that he was now racing against the clock to find something ... anything … to exonerate her from suspicion and ultimately cancellation. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It was late. Madeline had given him time to come up with something and so far, there was nothing of interest that they didn’t already know. Dr Foster and Bóinne Rivière appeared to have taken no part in transferring Intel to Colum Mackenzie, so that left him with his gut feeling that Frank Wolverton-Randall was somehow involved. He just needed a bit of luck to find a connection.  Tiredly Fergus removed his glasses and sat staring at his monitor hoping that the new parameters he’d just typed in would reveal something. What seemed like ages really didn’t take that long, for in no time a wall of numbers began scrolling up the screen in a never-ending progression. He studied the numerals and mentally tried a number of ways to go about deciphering them but couldn’t put his finger on what would be the best way to go about it. The monitor mounted above his head showed the same image but he numbly stared at the screen unable to get a handle on the code. Frustrated, Fergus got up to stretch his legs but he was restless and rubbed his hand over his head. He’d attempted several tried and true methods but nothing had worked so far. He was getting nowhere fast for everything he’d tried came up a dead end. He started to pace back and forth as one idea after another popped into his head that he could try to solve the puzzle. This code was obviously hiding something or someone, and must have been deeply encrypted, but he would find the way in. At least it was a glimmer of hope and something he could take to Operations and Madeline when next they met.  Fergus took a deep breath. It just didn’t make sense. This code was layered and multifaceted.

There was only one name that came to mind capable of inventing such a thing … his arch-rival and his prime suspect … Frank Wolverton-Randall. If anyone was able to produce such an encrypted code it was his nemesis. He was the only one that Fergus could think of that had the means to design something buried so deep that it would be too difficult for a layman technician to find. His suspicions were heightened once he found that code. He was having difficulty decoding it and only Frank had the expertise to invent such a thing like he’d done once before. His reservations grew all the more that he was indeed a mole for Colum. But he needed to solve this code first or else all his theories were just guessing about him, so Fergus typed in a different cypher to access the operative’s file, which after a while hit a stumbling block. It was then that the penny dropped that Wolverton-Randall could very well be implicated and had buried important files from detection.

If it took all night Section’s computer genius vowed that he would get to the bottom of whatever it was that Frank was trying to hide. 

Operations and Madeline would need proof and concrete evidence that he was Colum’s mole and that he was the one who was relaying intel to him at Oversight. So far, all Fergus had was supposition about an operative and one he didn’t like that much. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Frank Wolverton-Randall’s supercilious face kept making a vivid image in Fergus’ mind and he found that the man was doing his head in all over again just like he’d done when he’d first arrived at Section One those years ago.

He’d been having difficulty in solving an extremely problematic encryption and had been unable to decipher it much to his chagrin. So, he’d put forward a pretty select group of three people to his superiors who could possibly help. However, bringing anyone into Section clandestinely would always be challenging and Jamie and Claire had been given the task to bring in the one person Operations thought would be the best fit to help him … Frank Wolverton-Randall. He’d been blindfolded and brought into Section and would be released as soon as he had completed deciphering the code. But Fergus had reservations about his superiors’ choice of Frank from the very start because of constraints about him.

These recollections made Fergus Claudel remember his words vividly.  

He had pulled up the holograph profile and read the information noted to Operations and Madeline at the time they were considering him for this job. 

“The third candidate could be tricky sir.  He’s young. ... His name is Frank Wolverton-Randall. Graduated high school at eleven; college at thirteen. Received his Ph.D. after six months. Wrote his thesis on non-linear principal components. Because he's the youngest tenured Professor in the history of the University, he's highly visible.”  “What makes you think he can do this?” Madeline had asked.  “He's written several papers on statistical L-trees. Exactly the kind of approach that's needed.” Although Frank’s resume was exemplary, nevertheless he’d been a little peeved at the fact that the young man had been brought into Section because of something he’d been unable to solve. His resentment must have reflected in his tone of voice when Madeline had replied. “Fergus ..., remember, this is not about who's smarter than whom. He'll challenge you. Stay above it. We have an objective and a deadline.”  There was truth in Madeline’s words but it still stuck in his craw and made him have some doubts about Frank’s ability, but nonetheless he nodded his acknowledgement of her statement. At the time they’d needed his expertise. Their plan was to get Wolverton-Randall to decode the challenging program without him seeing or knowing about Section One so that they could release him when he was done … however, it had backfired on them.  Although Frank had quickly figured out the code, he was bored and got curious about where he was and had wandered outside his room against strict instructions not to. Operations and Madeline found out that he had seen Section, so they decided that he had to stay … the only other alternative was cancellation.  He was then left with a recalcitrant and pretentious operative working with him who was forever to be a thorn in his side. It was the attitude of the teenager that really riled him. His scornful jocularity was still a very vivid memory when he’d gone to his room and found Frank working on the computer. He’d ignored his juvenile obnoxiousness, and put the laptop down and started keying in commands to bring up the code that needed deciphering.  “Good. You know what? I wish you guys would let me in deeper, because there's really not too much more I can fix here,” Frank announced cockily. He remembered looking up at him startled by his statement. Every time the boy spoke it was a personal affront to his own capabilities and he didn’t like it.

“Fix?!” he remarked, the inflection in his voice one of disdain for the upstart who was superciliously questioning his ability. “Yeah, you had some bad modification dates in your ... ah … master symbol table. Don't worry. I fixed 'em.”  Frank Wolverton-Randall was reprehensible, but he’d managed to shrug off the slight and got back to the job at hand, but he couldn’t help the sarcastic words that left his mouth in a rhetorical taunt of his own.

“Let's just get to work, okay? Then you can go back home to your Mummy...”  “Sure Frenchie ... So ... you're the guy who couldn't break the code,” was his backhanded retort. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Frank was a vengeful, loose cannon, when he came into Section One calling everyone names and treating the whole thing like a game. At the time Section’s IT prodigy had thought how could someone so smart be so stupid? Although he was very young, that was no excuse for his behaviour. There was also a rivalry and a jealously between the two computer geniuses and Fergus didn’t trust him one iota. Frank was very underhand and had been a thorn in his side on more than one occasion.  Fergus could still hear his hollow words when Operations had praised him for his achievement in cracking the code.

We're going to make a great team Claudel … but there was an openly blatant, ulterior motive in his statement to him about his aspirations in the pecking order at Comm. 

“Yeah, well, you're the boss, for now ...” Trying to flippantly pass it off as a joke did not cut the mustard with him.  If he could implicate others and hack into his computer, Frank was one to watch very carefully.  There had been occasions too, where the upstart had humiliated him with his self-importance and on one occasion his narcissism had nearly cost him his life. When transmission went haywire during a mission while they were at Comm., and he couldn’t get it back up, Section’s leader had stood him down and placed the newcomer Wolverton-Randall in charge.  Frank succeeded but he thought that Frank had planned this from the very start to make him look bad.

The new operative had been placed in charge of his post by Operations while he’d been sent out on a mission for the very first time.  He had wanted out but, Section’s leader told him that he was keeping him inside the terrorist organization to gather more intel.  If he hadn’t thought of a way to get out himself, Dougal Mackenzie would have left him there indefinitely … leaving Wolverton-Randall in charge of Communications, and thus fulfilling his promise to be the boss himself one day. He would have been replaced by the very person who had manipulated his way into his position by skulduggery and deceitful tactics.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Those incidents were all very telling reminders about Frank’s motives and aspirations and were certainly a major factor to Fergus’ doubts in the situation that had now arisen with the Rising Dragons’ mission and breach of Section protocol.  At the same time, all of these memories were raw and it was little wonder that he was suspicious that Frank Wolverton-Randall was the one supplying Intel to Colum Mackenzie.  He had an axe to grind about a lot of people at Section One and payback was a bitch.  If he could do something underhand to destabilise the Rising Dragons’ mission, then Fergus knew that Frank would have no compunction but to do so.  Hence it was imperative that he was able to solve this code and he wouldn’t let it defeat him … not like the last time.  Suddenly, Fergus’ eyes lit up. Déjà vu. It all began to make sense and came flooding back to him as he thought of a different way to attack the code and decipher the Intel it contained.  Memories of that night had given him the clue he needed.  Fergus rushed back over to his station and once there gathered his thoughts, put his glasses back on and then started typing in a new set of parameters of a function that wasn't in the program. As he worked, the young techie’s face changed from angst at not being able to resolve a problem to one of immense satisfaction knowing that he was about to solve a complex puzzle.  He realised that this cypher had an outer shell ... but that was a big decoy. He then typed in another command and waited for it to cycle through the multi-threaded inner workings of his computer. Once he’d finished typing in the commands, he looked up at the monitor above him. It showed a percentage scale as the new program loaded and started deciphering the complex code.  The monitor showed a two-dimensional grid in which the encryption appeared as a series of spikes, like a mountain range. Fergus watched as the algorithms darted all over the screen until the new program finished decoding and the scale at the top read "DECRYPTION COMPLETE." The grid now showed structures shaped like rectangular towers slowly surrounding the spikes. From this grid he could now convert the grid table to words and read the messages contained in the code.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Flushed with a sense of triumph at cracking the complex code, Fergus Claudel leapt up from his seat, pumped his hands in the air yelling, “YEAH!!!” He was a computer genius and he knew it. He looked around the deserted Comm. with a sense of accomplishment and excitement, now wanting to share his sense of victory with others, but there was not a soul around to share in his delight. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His hypothesis was correct. At last he’d found some incriminating Intel about his nemesis Frank Wolverton-Randall being the mole and with his involvement with Colum Mackenzie. He’d been instrumental in Intel tampering and now Section’s resident mainframe mastermind had the proof he needed.  Fergus began uploading the data about Frank to his computer. “Come on, come on, come on.” He whispered impatiently to himself as the files downloaded.  This is what he had wanted to find and it just may be what would facilitate Operations and Madeline to reassess Murtagh’s fiancée, Bóinne Rivière’s evaluation status. He sat back in his chair and waited until all the data was downloaded. Once it had done so, he saved the information to a disk ready for his next meeting with Section’s leaders.

Finally, with exhausted release and immense satisfaction at what he’d found, Fergus Claudel breathed a sigh of relief which echoed in his all-conquering acclamation that echoed throughout Comm. when he’d finished the download.  “YES!!!!”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued next Friday 31st July