#but others also commented on my posture in the past which might apply to walking too

[museenkuss]

Met my prof earlier as I was walking to class and he said “oh I immediately recognised you by your walk!“ - something new to obsessively think about for the time being I suppose.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[chrysalispen]

i: absolution

i hope none of you thought i was starting with the cart scene ;;

AO3 link HERE, fic chapter below the cut.

====

The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes

Till beauty shines in all that we can see.

War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,

And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.

---Siegfried Sassoon, 1886-1967

-----o-----

Old Gridania, 14th Sun, Fourth Astral Moon, Year 5 of the Seventh Umbral Era

It was a hot midsummer morning and the forest belonged to the cicadas. The dry and hollow whickering buzzed between the leaves, cutting through the oppressive wet weight of the air as if to assert the insects’ supremacy. From her perch upon the rough-hewn bench near the entrance to the Archers’ Guild, Aurelia Laskaris found that even remaining perfectly still was no respite. Not from the heat nor the weather, and certainly not the clouds of midges that seemed to swarm over everything and everyone. More than once, she had watched an Adder or a Wailer stroll past their cramped bench in the hastily repurposed waiting area while muttering curses and swatting at the clouds of insects so thick the air looked gray in places.

With a heavy and somewhat disconsolate sigh, she turned her attention back to the threadbare rug that lay upon the wooden planks a scant few ilms below her sandaled feet. Across the room, near the lectern by the door, she espied a strangely shaped brownish stain of unknowable origin- something that had at some point sunk deep into the fibers. The longer she sat with naught else to occupy her, the more it usurped her attention, until all she could do was stare at it and nibble on the end of the forelock she had twisted around her index finger.

“Are you really that nervous?” her minder’s voice murmured at her shoulder.

Keveh’to looked as bored and miserable as she felt. Dressed in his bright yellow Grand Company overcoat and matching uniform, the man who had been her minder and friend for nigh on five summers now watched her with a knowing light in his grey eyes. Like her, his face was dewy with a thin sheen of sweat, and his ears flickered every time one of the insects attempted to make a landing upon them.

“I’m only about to discover whether or not the Hearers deem me sufficiently reformed.” Aurelia’s gaze lingered upon the outline of that stain. Her brow itched with collected sweat, most maddeningly so about her third eye, but she didn’t dare lift the kerchief she wore. Not even to scratch. “My former enemies hold my very life in their hands. Naught about that could be nerve-wracking, surely.”

Was it blood? Wine? The Garlean couldn’t take her eyes off it. It was inexplicably vexing.

“You aren’t too nervous to be cheeky,” he said dryly, blocking the elbow she sent his way with a nimble swat of his palm. “Watch it! This coat is new.”

“What? One little jab to the ribs isn’t going to muss your uniform, Sergeant-”

“Lieutenant.”

“Right, Lieutenant Epocan now. My mistake.” He scoffed, but her attention was already back upon the stained rug. “...What if they change their minds?”

“About what?”

“You’ve got a perfectly good set of working ears, Keveh’to. Sentiment is turning strongly against-” The soft fall of golden waves upon her shoulders shifted side to side with the swivel of her chin as she tilted it towards one of the nearby guardsmen. “...against people like me.”

“I don’t take your meaning.”

“The hells you don’t.” Her voice dropped to a murmur, though her words were no less vehement for her discretion. “I’m sorry to sound so cross, but you know very well why I worry. What should become of me should they decide to send me packing back to the gaol?”

“They won’t,” he said, but she thought she detected enough uncertainty in the man’s voice that the butterflies in the pit of her belly began to flutter once more. “...Well, they’d be fools if they did.”

“That isn’t a comfort, you know.”

“And if you're that worried about appearances," he reached for the hand that hovered at her chin and tapped the back of her wrist, "walking into an arbitration chamber with a mouthful of your own hair isn't exactly what I would call a solid first impression.”

Scowling at the rebuke, she let out a soft and petulant huff but tugged the end of her forelock out from between her lips and settled her fidgeting hands back into her lap.

She wasn’t convinced, of course. Judges were as fallible as any other soul upon the star in her experience, and no less swayed by popular sentiment or personal grudge- although, she conceded in silence, it wasn’t as if she could control the outcome.

Logic wasn’t enough to assuage her concerns. Four years ago, when she had helped to save a small outlying settlement and dismantle an imperial cohort that had threatened it- that should have been the end of them. In truth, she and Keveh’to had both been lauded as heroes at the time. But four summers was more than enough time to forget, reports or not, and from the rumors Keveh’to had heard, the XIVth Imperial Legion looked to be steadily applying pressure against the still-fragile and rebuilding city-state.

It wasn’t just that. She’d overheard anxious whispers of her own in Hyrstmill. An ominous gloom settling back into Larkscall, the eastern edge of the Shroud that bordered Ala Mhigo. Machina and steel-clad imperial patrols spotted in an ailing and slow to recover Twelveswood. Wailers and adventurers alike, gone missing.

She cast another sidewise glance at the man by the door, but other than a vaguely disinterested nod in her direction he made no comment or gesture.

Hells, this interminable waiting. I’m going to go mad if I have to sit here for another-

“Conjurer Aurelia Laskaris and Lieutenant Keveh’to Epocan,” the bland voice from the desk startled her enough that she felt an unpleasant twist in her stomach. She sat suddenly ramrod straight, eyes wide. “The adjudicators will see you now.”

“It’s about bleeding time,” the Miqo’te muttered, tail smacking against the flat of the bench. He gave his charge a curious glance. “Are you alright?”

“Just a touch of nerves.” Posture ramrod straight, expression displaying a calm she most certainly did not feel, she set her pattened feet upon the rug and stood. “Do I look presentable?”

“...You look soaked in sweat and uncomfortable.”

“Reassuring,” Aurelia said testily, “thank you.”

Keveh’to shrugged. “Just like everyone else here.” He swept one arm towards the closed door, a grandiose gesture that fell somewhat flat. “Ladies first.”

For a moment she felt as unsteady on her feet as she had been that fateful day five years past, bedraggled and dirty and ill, limping alone into a rain-dampened keep for a tribunal to decide what should become of her. She exhaled, quickly wiping her sweaty palms against the hempen weave, and righted her posture once more. Keveh’to was correct, of course; surely this was naught save a formality. They’d either extend her sentence on the work program or they would shorten the leash, and she had only to find out which they had chosen.

And at least this time she wouldn’t be alone.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way through the door and past the open training area, up a brief staircase, and into the short hallway. The two masked men bracing the door stared at the approaching duo, their lips set in a bland and unreadable line. Other than a curt nod in the Keeper’s direction, the guards seemed to pay neither of them any particular mind. Keveh’to paused, shrugged, then lifted a fist to rap on the oak panels.

“Enter,” called a mild baritone voice.

The heavy doors swung open with a ponderous creak upon brass hinges, and the Keeper and his imperial charge crossed the threshold into a room that to Aurelia’s critical eye was clearly a repurposed private office. Three people sat at a long desk: one Hyuran woman in the ash half-mask of a Wood Wailer, two men, one of whom she recognized. His gaze caught hers, and he acknowledged her with a polite inclination of his angular chin.

“Mistress Laskaris,” Vorsaile Heuloix said, and if the man’s voice was not precisely warm, it lacked the painstaking effort at civility she remembered from her first journey to Gridania five years ago.

Aurelia allowed herself a small smile. “Commander Heuloix.”

“It has been some time. I trust you are well.”

Somewhere behind her she heard the door click shut. “As well as one might expect.”

“Excellent.” His lips quirked, and with that twitch of his mouth his sharp features softened somewhat. “Let it be known that the Grand Company appreciates your timely response to this summons. I surmise we also have the Lieutenant to thank for that.”

“She was in Hyrstmill on behalf of the Conjurers’ Guild,” Keveh’to spoke up at her side, smiling wryly, “so it took a fair bit of time, but yes.”

“Well, we’re all present now.” Vorsaile gestured to the two masked strangers. "Swethyna Brookstone and Lewin Hunte. The commanders of the Wood Wailers and the Gods’ Quiver, two divisions of Gridania’s defense force, whom I have asked to be present today.”

Aurelia nodded to each in their turn, but her brow remained furrowed. “If I might beg your pardon, Commander, I admit to some curiosity as to why there is not a representative of the Council of Hearers present. Will they not also be needed to preside over this hearing? I was given to understand that theirs is the final say.”

Behind the table, the three exchanged meaningful glances. Vorsaile shook his head.

“I’m afraid that either you or Lieutenant Epocan have misunderstood,” he said. “This is not a hearing. The Council and the Elder Seedseer have already made a decision regarding your case- or rather, the Elder Seedseer has exercised her authority to do so.”

Her heart took a sudden and sickening drop into her stomach. Keveh’to seemed to sense her distress; his hand pressed into the center of her spine, whether to keep her upright or keep her from bolting out of the room it was unclear. She found herself feeling suddenly quite appreciative of his presence in either case.

“Well,” she swallowed with difficulty past the tight sensation in her throat, “one hopes that you would not keep a lady in suspense. Go on.”

The commander of the Yellow Serpents did not frown or glare or smile, only inclined his chin gravely. “I quite agree,” he said. “Swethyna, may I have the papers, please?”

Papers?

Lips still set in that neutral line, the masked woman flipped through a sheaf of documents on the table’s varnished surface until she found what she sought, plucked them from the stack, and passed them to the Elezen. He reached for the inkpot at his left elbow with one hand, collected the papers with the other, and placed them on the far side facing Aurelia and her minder.

“Mistress Laskaris,” Vorsaile Heuloix said, “after careful review of the particulars - including your actions while a novice of the Conjurers’ Guild assigned to the village of Willowsbend - it is the consensus that you have proven yourself a friend and ally to the people of the Twelveswood. Furthermore, you have comported yourself in a manner befitting the realm’s most stalwart defenders. It is remarkable enough to witness such conduct from any one individual, let alone a woman who once served under the White Raven's banner. You have the thanks of the Grand Company and the Council of Hearers alike, and of course Kan-E-Senna herself.”

“I… thank you.” It felt utterly inadequate but it was all the response she could manage, unsure as she was what this speech presaged. “I did only what anyone else would have done.”

“I beg to differ- but that is beside the point.” Vorsaile cleared his throat and reached for a small box that sat on the lip of the table. “The Elder Seedseer wished to offer you a place in the ranks of her honor guard, but the Council of Hearers made it clear they would not countenance your appointment to such a sensitive position.”

That did not surprise her. Gridanians were a hidebound people, more so even than her own countrymen, and she had seen over the years how people like Keveh’to were shoved to the fringes of their society. If they wouldn’t trust a Keeper of the Moon even when he wore the colors of their Grand Company, she knew there was precious little chance they would extend that trust to her.

“However,” he continued, “there are conditions to which they have agreed- which brings us to the reason for your summons today. In light of your valorous and compassionate actions in defense of the realm and its people, the Eorzean Alliance and its Grand Companies have decided to grant you a full pardon, and consider your time served.”

Aurelia faltered, staring at the assembled commanders in open astonishment. She was… she wasn’t going to a gaol? Or being reassigned?

“As such,” the small wooden box opened with a click; within it lay a small, plain brass signet ring engraved with a pair of serpents twined about a staff, “it is hereby decreed that you are to be created a citizen of the city-state of Gridania, with all rights and privileges included therein.”

She couldn’t speak. Her eyes stung. It’s sweat, she told herself. Bloody stifling in here.

“Aurelia,” Keveh’to had drawn alongside her while she stood frozen in place. The Keeper’s tail wrapped carefully around her leg, twitching with a slow and soothing rhythm against her knee. “You’re looking unwell. Are you all right?”

“I’m… no. No, I’m- I’m fine. Better than fine, in fact.” Her lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful; it’s simply that this wasn’t what I had expected to hear today. It’s a bit of a shock, I suppose.”

“A good shock, one would hope.”

The commander of the Grand Company interrupted their hushed conversation with a soft hum to clear his throat, then gestured to the inkpot with polite emphasis. “For our city’s records,” Vorsaile said, “we must ask that you append your signature to your citizenship papers. If you would, please…”

“Oh,” she said. “Yes, of course.”

She took the quill in hand, musing as she skimmed the text, the tip hovering at the edge of the inkpot. Five years ago she had been in just such a position- only then it was to formally cast aside her title, defecting from the Garlean Empire under terms of unconditional surrender as a prisoner of the Eorzean Alliance. She would never again be Aurelia jen Laskaris, VIIth Imperial Legion medicus. The vagaries of time and circumstance had forever placed her past beyond any tangible reach.

She was Aurelia Laskaris now, initiate of the Conjurers' Guild and - as of today - a citizen of Gridania. An Eorzean.

Forcing herself back to some semblance of composure, she bent over the documents. The quill scratch and the crispness of turning pages were the only sounds in the room other than the ticking of the wall chronometer. Her vision was so blurred she could barely see the writing on the paper, the loops and arcane curves of her own Eorzean script, but in moments it was done and she was setting the quill neatly back in its pot.

Vorsaile scattered salt across the wet ink, tapped them onto a small groove in his desk, then folded the paper and pressed a nub of half-melted wax against the seam. All of this, followed with the press of a heavy-looking brass seal, and the deed was done.

Aurelia was free.

“Thank you, Mistress Laskaris. That will be all.” Vorsaile held out the ring box. Aurelia took it and stared at its contents for a long moment, feeling strangely numb. “If you have any questions…”

“I have one,” Keveh’to said wryly. “What’s with the ring?”

“Hm? Ah… well. That signet ring is one normally granted to Serpentbearers upon their initiation into the guard - a small act of defiance on the Elder Seedseer's part, one suspects. In any case, it is a tangible reminder that your service has been recognized.”

She traced the engraving on the ring’s surface with one fingertip. Its brass curve gleamed in the late morning sunlight slanting through the nearby window.

“She asked me to inform you that this bauble is not entirely ceremonial. There is a small enchantment upon it which enhances the wearer’s focus in combat- should such a boon be needful.” Vorsaile paused for a beat; at that moment, his polite smile became something closer to a sly grin. “...That said, this is not to be considered tacit permission for you to go about picking fights with imperial soldiers. Even if you do catch them starting forest fires.”

“I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior, Commander Heuloix. You have my word,” a small laugh escaped her lips. The sound of it brought back a semblance of equilibrium; she felt her nerves begin to calm. “Please give the Elder Seedseer my regards. I owe her a great deal.”

“She would no doubt return the sentiment.” Vorsaile reached forth a hand. “Allow me to offer my congratulations, Mistress Laskaris.”

She took it in bemused silence, unaware of Keveh’to’s eyes upon her.

~*~

“You don’t seem well pleased,” he said. It was the first either of them had spoken on the short walk back to the Canopy. Aurelia kept fidgeting with the writ she had signed, opening the broken wax seal on the parchment and reading its contents with a deep frown knitting her brow, as if she still couldn’t quite believe what had transpired.

“I am,” she insisted, somewhat weakly. “Very much so.”

“Most people in your position would be overjoyed. A full pardon- and citizenship? There are people who have been here twice as long that haven’t enjoyed such favor.”

“Some would think it ill-deserved.”

“Does it matter what other people think?”

“It might, if they feel preferential treatment is being shown to an imperial-”

“Former imperial.”

“It all seems rather too simple.”

“Mayhap. But sometimes matters really are that simple.” The Miqo’te shrugged. A small throng of giggling children sprinted past them on their way to the amphitheater, shouting at each other. Engrossed in some manner of diversion they had spun between themselves, no doubt. Perhaps it was also a sign of the changing times that they paid the Keeper of the Moon and his companion no notice whatsoever. “Seems to me you’re overthinking things. As usual.”

Aurelia dabbed her sleeve against her damp face and said nothing. Keveh’to didn’t understand what she was getting at, and she didn’t feel the wherewithal for another argument-- but his gaze upon her was equal parts sympathetic and concerned.

“All right, spit it out,” he said. “What’s really bothering you? It isn’t actually what happened in there, is it?”

“What? No, it’s-”

“Well, what then?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if this is really where I want to stay,” she said. “And citizenship makes me feel… I don’t know. Bound to the land, somehow.”

“What? Why? People come and go from Gridania all the time.”

She offered no reply save a helpless shrug.

They were passing the rebuilt aetheryte plaza. In the space of those five short years after the disaster which Eorzeans now called the Calamity, it had become a bustling and lively place. The throng milling about the glowing crystal included townspeople and merchants as well as the much rougher-looking adventurers in their motley collection of gear. Just as with the children, few even glanced at Aurelia as she and Keveh’to crossed the shallow bridge in the direction of the Carline Canopy. It had been a long time since she had felt like a local curiosity, for which she was silently grateful.

She paused upon the slope and its moss and stone path leading to the inn’s entrance, looking out over the placid and glassy surface of the river. The great waterwheel creaked in its slow and unhurried way upon each turn, and on the far bank, the warm wind rustled the leaves of young saplings.

“I don’t understand why you think leaving the Empire means all your plans have to change.” Keveh’to shrugged. “You can still be a chirurgeon in Eorzea, you know.”

“I know.”

“If anything, there’s more of a need for people with healing skills now than before. ‘Sides, you’ve got that kit of yours, don’t you? The big one with all the tools and such?”

“Many of the medicines in it cannot be replenished. I would need tools and reagents that simply don’t exist outside the Empire.” At his grimace, she added, “I think given time and closer study I could duplicate certain of them, but Eorzean methods of alchemy are quite different from ours. I suspect that in order to do what needs must, I would need to become quite proficient indeed, and I’ve not the first inkling where to start.”

“It can’t be that different.”

“You’d be surprised. I would explain it but we’d be here the rest of the day.”

“And I’d not understand the first bleeding thing about it even if you did.” His lips split into a wide grin. “Nor care, I’m afraid.”

Aurelia scoffed. “At least you’re honest.”

“Just saving you the trouble. Anyroad, you don’t have to make a decision now, do you?” He began to descend the gentle slope of the hill towards the Canopy, ears forward and tail twitching. “Sleep on it. Take some of Miounne's jobs while you give it some thought.”

The conversation ended as they reached the stone-laden path and passed through the ornately carved doors to the Carline Canopy’s main entrance. Aurelia paused mid-step to linger upon the threshold, her gaze sweeping across the restored common room. The stairwell entrance to the recently rebuilt airship dock was now open, and nearly every table in the establishment seated bustling throngs of adventurers, merchants, and other assorted travelers. The buzz of their conversation filled the room with a low hum, broken with the occasional shout or guffaw from one party or another.

"Assuming Miounne has any work available," she chuckled. Some few of the hopeful newcomers had formed a queue that appeared to be growing by the moment. Even from this short distance, she could see the bright flash of leve cards clasped in gloved and gauntleted hands. “I haven’t seen the Adventurers’ Guild this busy in ages.”

“Aye, not since the Twin Adder opened recruitment five years ago. Mostly new faces too; look at that. She must have her hands full.”

He was right, she realized, upon closer inspection. Most of the would-be adventurers were clearly new to the business, fresh-faced and quite young. There were a few hard-bitten veterans among the lot, but not as many as one might expect. “I wager that trend shall only continue. What with all the displacement from-- oh, she’s seen us,” Aurelia pointed at the hand waving from the desk. “Come with me and say hello?”

“Might as well,” he sighed with mock resignation. “She’s already seen me. There’s no escaping her.”

“Don’t be cheeky. Come on.”

She began to weave her way through the crowd with Keveh’to close behind. A handful of the adventurers watching from the queue glowered at the pair, clearly assuming they intended to jump the line, but Aurelia ignored the hostile stares and kept pushing her way past until the pair had reached the desk. Miounne’s smile was radiant at the sight of them, if rather fatigued.

“Aurelia! And Sergeant Epocan-”

“Lieutenant.”

“Yes, yes, of course! I remember now, Lieutenant. So sorry. My mind is in half a dozen places at the minute.” The Canopy’s proprietress made a vague motion with one hand. “I hate to be so abrupt, Aurelia, but I’ve been looking for you. E-Sumi-Yan asked me to send you on to the Fane - your ‘earliest convenience,’ he said.”

“Why? Is aught amiss?”

Miounne shook her head. “He didn’t elaborate. Shall I ring him and let him know you’ll be along?”

“Oh, no, please don’t trouble yourself,” she glanced at the growing line of visibly impatient adventurers, “Lieutenant Epocan can call him.”

The Miqo’te protested, “Wait, why am I - hey!”

She all but dragged him away from the counter and towards the concierge, out of earshot of most of the crowd. The man at the desk offered a polite and noncommittal smile as they passed and made for the staircase leading up to her room. Keveh’to was still bristling, his tail lashing the air.

“I’ll not be a moment,” she said. “We can go our separate ways at the plaza.”

“I’m not even your minder anymore, let alone your personal secretary,” he grumbled, even though he was already reaching for the small device clipped to his ear. “...Right, well. Just remember you owe me one.”

Aurelia flashed him a quick grin before she opened the door and slipped inside.

The small room was as austere as it had been when Miounne had first let it to her five years ago. She had not acquired much in the way of personal possessions since; there had hardly seemed a point while serving a sentence, after all. There was the field kit she had been allowed to keep along with its contents - what little remained now - and her own small traveling pack with its botany log and change of clothes and her mother’s locket. Next to this sat the small wand she had been gifted by the guild before setting off to Willowsbend. All that she truly owned in the world sat in this one small corner.

She reached into the pouch on her plain leather belt and drew forth the ring box and the neatly folded parchment: both symbols of the changes to come, for weal or woe. In the meantime, she thought, official proof of her new legal status was not something she felt it would be wise to risk losing. The papers she tucked securely into her botany book before replacing it, pulling the drawstring of her bag taut, and buckling the clasp again.

Once that was finished she opened the ring box and after a moment’s hesitation removed its contents. The brass winked at her from the center of her half-open palm. It was not the sort of thing she would have normally worn, and it was a touch too wide for her ring finger. She removed it to slip onto her index finger instead, and there it remained secure.

Satisfied with the fit, she set the box on the side table, grabbed her wand to hook onto her belt, and made for the door. The ring was warm and weighted on its perch. A reminder of the new start she had been granted.

A rap on the door: “Aurelia?”

“One moment!”

Her feelings were no less mixed than they had been before she had quit the Archer’s Guild an hour past, but they were also not something she had time to consider right now. After she had returned from the Fane, perhaps.

She made her way to the door. E-Sumi-Yan would be waiting.

[unicornbitchface]

Raat ki Rani

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Background: A story set in the colonial past of India.

Beta’d by my lovely friend @madbaddic7ed​​ !

Warnings: harsh languange

...............................................................................................

Chapter 3

The hall looked magnificent as if the ghosts of the past had brought them back to the days of glory. The chandelier was lit up, its jewels reflecting light upon every nook and corner.

The musicians played with vigor, expecting a heavy reward for their best efforts and the sweet-scented welcome of every guest added to the pomp.

Every high born around the state was to be present in the feast, and there they were, happy to make the acquaintance of the new British resident. The only glitch was that the said officer was nowhere to be seen, making the Maharaja jittery and a little annoyed.

Soon everyone would start asking questions, for how long was he supposed to distract guests with starters? With this thought, Ganga nodded at Kulwant, asking him to get an update.

*******

Late again! But the blame was on the delay with the dress they insisted to be worn. What was wrong with the old ones? Nothing when I see them!

Who in their right minds would wear these? UGH. I will have to talk to the culprits after this goddamn feast for that buffoon!

As Damini walked through the seemingly deserted halls of the palace, fixing her stubborn hair, adding a gajra and cursing the dressmaker, she did not realise that she took a wrong turn.

Distressed by her woes of fashion and etiquette that mandated her presence in that debauchery, she walked in a jiffy towards her dear friend, Ashwanth.

The gajra, long forgotten, embraced the side of the marble tile near a very special room. Only the melody of her heavy gold trinkets echoed in the air paired with a certain gift, attracting the attention of a handsome blue-eyed devil who was switching to his suits after giving the Indian kurta a chance.

The sound made him curious like the first night, and his feet dragged him to the halls. Only half dressed, shirt unbuttoned, he looked around and tried to trace the echo. All that he could concur, was a moving shadow with the curves of silk, the bells moving in sync with those voluptuous hips. Coming back to his allotted room, the only remnant of that siren laid across the floor.

The gift.

That smell.

His hand snatched the bunched flowers, as if the grounds would swallow them if he wasn’t quick enough. One whiff and he knew he needed it in his life more than the opium his friends favoured.

So, it belonged to a person after all, and by the accompanying silhouette, a woman.

His woman.

A sudden realization had his pupil dilated, as he went back to the room. She might be at the feast.

If he heard them right, everyone significant would be present in that hall, and she was the most significant.

He chuckled at his poetry, what is wrong with me, he thought. He moved around the room with swiftness but also a renewed interest, humming tunes while he applied a dash of cologne and adjusted his jacket to perfection.

He passed the mirror one last time, stopping to fix his hair. He had to look perfect for his sweet maiden. His brows furrowed, a troubling thought flashing his mind. What if she was spoken for? What if she was claimed already, her heart in someone else’s hands?

Blue eyes turned colder than a foot of ice.

Hands on the desk,

He looked at himself,

A crooked smile gracing, 

Then what?

Then,

A war like no other.

A war that would put Trojan and Mahabharata to shame.

A knock at the door tamed the raging storm in his eyes. Lord Cavill looked up, frowning at the distasteful intrusion upon his whims and fancies.

Ah, the big bad boulder.

“Come in, General! I assume you are here to escort me to the venue?”

“Khamba Ghani Cavill Saab. I heard that the British people are always on time, and yet here I find you, barely dressed for the occasion.”

A smirk laced the British resident’s face as he retorted, “Well you’re not wrong, but I happen to be the guest of honour and I may arrive whenever I may please. In fact, just for that comment, I would like to take a few more minutes before I leave.” And he turned towards his desk and picked up a recent correspondence from the Crown. 

Kulwant couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a movement instantly caught by the blue-eyed man. 

“Keep going! I will take an extra minute for each time you roll your eyes, kind sir.”

It was beyond the General’s comprehension that a man as petulant as this entitled bleached monkey, could even hold the post of a hawaldar in court, let alone be a Lord of some sort. Nevertheless, he was a guest, and of honour at that.

Thus, the loyal servant of the court stood tall and quiet while the firang made his point, albeit unnecessarily.

Once he was done having fun at the General’s expense, Cavill agreed to be escorted to the event. He reached the hall, and couldn’t believe his eyes for a minute. 

The hall looked straight out of a fairytale, and the worth of the mere jewels studded on the walls could help him buy a couple of kingdoms.

He reigns in his musings, and walks toward Maharaja Ganga Singh. 

************

“We don’t have time! Baba will decorate his court with my head! Let’s go!”

“Damu! Come on, wait! You don’t even have flowers in your hair.”

“You think I care, Ashwanth!? I can barely move in this outfit! It’s so heavy and so unnecessary! All for that invader and his honour! What can be more honourable than stealing lands you have no business with, right?”

“Damu, don’t be silly! You’re a princess, and you cannot just march into the hall like a maid! Here, let me put these roses and..Can you just.. oho! THERE.”

“That’s right! I am a princess and this is my palace! Watch me..”

The two friends kept bickering along the way. Anyone who had seen these two would mistake them for longtime lovers, and yet things remained strictly platonic, at least from Damini’s end. 

For someone with an expertise in strategising, warcraft and literature, the princess often missed the veiled looks Prince Ashwanth threw at her. How he always brought gifts, only in exchange for her ruthless company and how he bowed down to all her incessant demands, all for her pleasure.

To Ashwanth, she was the key to his future and beyond. To Damu, he was the ever constant confidant, seemingly balanced and loyal to a fault.

As they moved towards the hall, she made eye contact with her father and naturally started walking to him, just like she has been trained to, her seat to his left calling out to its rightful master. What she didn’t realise was a figure moving in the same direction.

Lost in conversation and the pull of the decorum, she collided with a commoner, which only fueled her frustration.

“Dekh ke nahi chala jata kya? Humare raste aane ki himmat kaise hui?” (Can't you see where you're going? How dare you get in my way?)

“What did you just say?! How dare you use that tone with me?

“Poore mahal mein yeh gorey deemak ke bhaanti badhte hi ja rahe hain! Ek din ka bhi chain nahi hai!”(These white people are everywhere, like pests! Give me a break)

“Damu yeh..”(Damu this is….)

“Honge apne desh mein nawab, yahaan pe inki aukaat humaare naakhoon baraabar bhi na hain! Aur aise kya ghoor rahe hain yeh, laaj lajja kuch hai inko?” (He might be a Lord in his country, but here he isn't worth my toenail! And why are you staring at me like that? Have you any shame?)

Lord Cavill fumed at this disgrace of a woman, one who dared to look him in the eye and dared to speak while addressing him directly. Although he could not understand her words, her tone and posture were enough to get her backhanded, had they not been in the presence of company.  

This unruly child must be taught a lesson.

If anyone asked Lord Cavill, a woman’s tongue is only good for two things, sewing her mouth shut and on his cock whenever he pleased. If he didn’t expect the siren of his dreams to be in attendance, he would have put her in her place. Even if he could not punish this puny, dusky troll, he still had a reputation to defend.

“You listen to me carefully woman! You are messing with the wrong man, and spewing gibberish in some primitive language is not going to save you! Do you even know who I am? You are in MY bloody court and if I please, I can rip that serpentine tongue out of that pretty little hole! So you better apologise!”

“Cavill Saab.. please.. that’s my..”

“APOLOGISE? For what? Standing on my own soil? Or comparing you to a termite? None of which are false in my eyes. So get out of my way and know your place or you know what, go cry to your incompetent Lord!”

A storm raged in their eyes, wrath of all oceans combined in his and a black blizzard stirred concurrently in hers.

“Eyes down now, foreigner. ” The Tigress growled in warning.

The entire hall was suddenly quiet at the outburst. The musicians had stopped playing, and by the look of amusement on their faces, this was not the first time Damini Bai Sa had been the centre of attention.

Ashwanth tried pulling her back, her father was shooting daggers at her, while her siblings stood with aggravated expressions, exasperated by this wild child. It was Ganga Singh, who walked towards the ruckus and roared, which broke the deadly silence that had thickly draped the occasion.

“DAMINI! Are you out of your mind?! Do you even know WHO that is? Forgive me my Lord! This is my youngest child, Rajkumari Damini Bai, and I do not know what got into her, she is nothing like this!”

Renu and Revati Bai snickered at this comment and tried to hide their glee when they could see their father’s plan failing. No way will Lord Cavill bed this wild boar! They were preparing themselves for saving the kingdom, all the while reaping the seeds of pleasure from it.

“Damu, this is Lord Cavill himself. What is wrong with you, my child? Apologise, right now!”

“I would rather do Jauhar..” (light a pyre)

“DAMI..”

“It’s alright, Mr. Singh! I cannot expect common courtesy from uncultured brats like her. It just saddens me that you bear this burden on your shoulders! She certainly must have brought tremendous shame to the title of a Princess!”

Damini was about to give him a piece of her mind when Ashwanth pulled her back and gave her a solid glare.

Lord Cavill continued, “ Forgive me, but Maan Singh and your daughters seem like true blue-blooded beings. Has she been adopted from the streets?” His condescending tone should have had all the swords in the realm drawn up, but the language barrier and a father’s resolution to shove his daughter at him, saved the British neck.

Damini could not tolerate the insult and charged at him, “ Oh this is it! You goddamn plague sore! I will..” but was blocked by Ashwanth who was done watching her embarrass the Rajputana pride like a common whore.

“THAT IS ENOUGH DAMINI! Go take a seat!” The Maharaja ordered. But when she moved to her designated seat, her father grabbed her by the arm and lashed out with gritted teeth, “Sit with the guests. That seat belongs to your Master now. And don’t you dare embarrass me further. You are to serve him, and make sure he is left wanting for nothing. Nothing.”

Tears threatened to fall as the Tigress straightened her back, the princess coming to the fore, taking her position in the room, finding her place in the oppressive hierarchy.

Cavill watched her change her stance, a subtle nod to whatever her father threatened her with and for a second, he was impressed by the precise mutation. That is when he noticed the princess for the first time. Not so bad for a desert kingdom, blooming in all the right places. 

Back home, feisty women were his speciality, and he would often tame the likes of this woman, ploughing through their virgin lands.

His eyes wandered to her navel, as she walked to the guy who took her away earlier. Must be fucking her, and not enough at that! If she were in the right bed, she would be blissed out and her tongue tired. He could see her under him, screaming for an entirely different reason.

As the lust awoke, the mere thought of breaking this ballsy female had blood rushing to his groin, steeling his resolve as well as his cock. He had never bedded a princess, and was primed to claim her body for one night.

If that man could have her, she was fair game to all.

He strode towards the prize, steps decisive and eyes frigid. That is when he heard her voice, lowered but not discouraged by any means.

“Ashwanth, they let him take my seat, MY seat! And how could he say that about my lineage!? It was my seat!”

Ashwanth patiently replied, “ Don’t create a scene Damu, a chair does not define your position in the house, neither does some outsider! And can you please stop talking in English? You know how our people feel about it!”

Damini was feeling suffocated and needed to take a breath, but her luck soured the moment she felt thick fingers grabbing her arm, and felt his breath at the nape of her neck.

“You don’t need to get so riled up, princess. You know you can always sit on my lap like the little bitch you are.”

Damini looked at him with such fire in her eyes that it would have put Hestia to shame.

"Take. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

Taken aback, Cavill's grip loosened and she jerked out of his grasp with a rippling force. Much to the astonishment of the onlookers, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

The pride of her tears matched with the stride of the Tigress, refusing to fall before anyone.

***********************

Hindi Terms:

Khamba Ghani: Rajasthani salutation and a way to say hello. 

Firang: A derogatory term used for Europeans/ Colonisers, loosely translating to outsider.

Saab: Sir

Maharaja: King

Gajra: A traditional weave of scented flowers used as hair accessory by women.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@madbaddic7ed @henrythickcavill @toomanyfandomsshreya @inana999 @maximumninjavoid @mistress-of-ward

[oikaw-ugh]

ok i just saw justine requested for 1 already so imma go ahead and request for 3 LOLOLOL

HALLO SOPH, HAHAHAH SHDBHADB THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING INTERESTED WITH MY OCs I love them so much, too!

Tagging Pilar and Dilag as well! @ineedselfcontrol-helpme ​ and @applepienation ​ (insert sparkle emoji since I’m at the PC)

Also! I posted my other fanart of them and a couple of canons I made before hehehhe (at the very bottom)

Full name

Fujiwara Maria (Breath of Nature)

Preferred name/nickname

Maria

Generally referred to as

The mother who has Daddy issues HAHAHAHAHHA

Appearance

Sex: Female

Height: 5'4"

Weight: Somewhere around 60-80 kilos hehe

Build: Voluptuous? Did i spell that right?

Hair: Her hair is curly and it used to reach up to her elbows but now it’s up to her jaw.

Skin: Fair complexion. Fujita did say her face is smooth but her arms are rough. (Notice how Fujita does all the commenting? She’s a bitch)

Eyes: Her eyes are inspired by Muzan’s! They are green in color but the slits are very demon-like which scares other slayers sometimes.

Mouth: Not too thin but not too full.

Hands: Small! She hates it because anyone can literally wrap their fingers on her hands and wrist.

Feet: Small.

Scars: None.

Other features: 

Noteable features: a helix piercing.

Voice

Accent: Very motherly-like? It reminds you of a mother.

Verbal Ticks: Has difficulty with pronouncing ‘r’

Language: Let’s assume they speak Nihonggo.

Articulation: 

Laughter: She usually sounds like a choking chicken.

Grump: She mutters under hear breath when she’s mad. Like, Fujita is convinced Maria is into witchcraft when she mumbles.

Breathing: She does the ‘OWWWWW’ Amida does.

Mannerism

Face: She’s not frowning but she’s not smirking either. It’s like (o_o) but not as creepy as Junko’s.

Hands: Knuckle cracks.

Legs/Feet: She likes to Indian(?) sit

Habits: She chews her nails.

Posture: Kind of slouching. 

Walking posture: She kinds of slouch when walking.

Sitting posture: She slouches, too.

Personal space: She likes receiving hugs from Fujita, Amida, and Junko (which happens rarely since the whole lot is not that expressive smh)

Personal

Spacial awareness: She usually can’t tell HAHAHHAHA

Sleep: She sleeps late. She’s very productive at night.

Excercise: Being a slayer.

Activity: She does the chores unconsciously. She just hates getting dirty so she does the chores first since she can’t really rely on Fujita. Amida and Junko helps though but they are not that good (at least for her)

Cleanliness: She likes to keep things clean.

Odour: She smells like nature!

Medical drugs: None

Narcotics: None

Addictions: Coffee

Illness: None

Injuries: None

Parasites: None

Other:

Introvert/Extrovert: An introvert. 

Diet: She eats anything edible. HAHAHAHAHAHHA survival to the fittest

Optimist/Pessimist: In between? 

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Romantic: She’s never tried to be in love so I can’t tell. She does get jealous of partners being affectionate to one another (not her getting jealous when she went for Fujita and Amida's wedding but is also too tired for commitment. I mean, being a demon slayer is already a big commitment-)

Memory: Poor. HAHAHAHAH.

Planning: THE BRAIN OF THE GROUP. BE IT AT THE FIELD OR JUST AT A NORMAL BASIS. EVERYONE THINKS SHE IS RIGHT AND SHE IS MOST OF THE TIME THOUGH.

Pensive: Her famous line: “Ah, shit. I shouldn’t have done that, right?”

Intuition: She’s good at it! She’s the brain.

Goals: To protect her friends in honor with her senpais.

Insecurities: Her scars from the demon who tried to kill her.

Achievements: She became one of the most highly-regarded demon slayer.

Anxiety: Deadlines. And the sound of her speaking crow.

Overwhelmed: When she sees too much blood. She can handle it but...not too much.

Self-help: She sucks surprisingly! She’s good at giving advice but she can’t apply them on her own. But Junko, Amida, and Maria has her back dw.

Comforts: Her friends.

Philosophy: To do things in honor for her deceased fathers and her demon slayer senpais who saved her from that hellhole

Triggers: Demons.

The Past

Parents/Guardians: She lives with her father. At their village, rumors spread that there’s actually a demon living at the mountain near their village. Men of their village decided to raid the mountain in the hopes of killing this demon.

With this, she was forced to live on a different household, working as their maid for the mean time while her father is away. But surprisingly...the village never heard about the men for months after they left. A survivor managed to return though, only to say that the people shouldn't expect for the rest, including Maria's father.

School: Her father thought her the essential skills for her to survive (cleaning, cooking, even hunting)

Adolescence: She gained more weight and she grew taller.

Leaving home: Didn’t mean much to her. It was leaving her father’s memories behind that pains her.

Further education:

Life events: She grew hysterical when a survivor from the group of men who raided the demon’s den was able to come back to the village. No one believed him when he told them that he’s the only one who survived.

Maria refused to believe his bullshit and so, she went to the mountain herself, only to be knocked out unconscious by the demon the moment she went in the abandoned house.

Worst day of their life: When she raided the demon’s lair alone. She was mad, yes, but she was terrified as well.

Lessons: Things just don’t go according to your way sometimes.

The Relationships

Family: She grew with her father but he unfortunately died. When she was knocked out by the demon, she had to be surrounded by corps for months and that developed her slight trauma for blood. Waiting for her end, she was miraculously rescued by these 'demon slayers' who would become her senpais.

Her senpais are both members of the demon slayer corps who were tasked to kill this demon. Maria was the only one alive amidst the sea of corpses so they took her in.

Because of this, Maria was inspired to become a demon slayer, not only as a sign of gratitude but also as a way to avenge her father.

Notice how her clothing has onion-print on them and she has her tips dyed pink? Because her other senpai loved onions and they also had onion-print on ther uniform while the other had their hair dyed pink. She did these to honor her senpais. I mean, okay Maria you are grateful but that's just plain weird.

She then meets Junko, Fujita, and Amida who became her friends and her family.

Friendships: Junko, Fujita and, Amida.

Friends in need: She will not hesitate to HELP you.

Annoyance: She grumbles a lot! She wouldn’t speak her thoughts but you’d hear her mumbling underneath her breath. Again, witchcraft according to Fujita.

Romance: Heard of it but never tried it. In the future, she knows it, she wants to try it, but is too lazy.

Marital problems: bich?

Adversaries: -

Enemies: Demons, dirt, and insects.

Strangers: She’s very approachable even though she is an introvert.

Fun stuff: She loves to eat onions! (raw, caramelized, or what)

Dating: None

Best friend: Amida, Junko, and Fujita

Love: Her father, her senpais, her friends.

Respect: Her father for risking his life and her senpais for saving her. Fujita for accepting her despite of being a 'commoner' (we all know Fujita is joking but Maria took it personally. Not offended though). Junko for letting her in her life despite her trauma and Amida for accepting her even if she couldn't replace his senpai.

Interactions

Mingling: She’s very timid at first but she’d warm up eventually.

Comfort levels: Comfortable talking to people who are older than her. She thinks younger people are as stubborn as Fujita.

Physical: She likes to give cuddles occasionally. Well, shed love to all the time only if her gang is into physical touch.

Group: She looks fine but she’s very anxious deep inside when talking to a group of people.

Jealous: Of those who still have their father.

Temper: SHORT. Like an asian mom’s.

Empathy: She feels for her friends. They all had it rough in different ways.

Affectionate: MOTHERLY-LIKE.

Distaste: When she hates someone, she tries to be kind to them. Fujita tells her to just straight ass tell them she dislikes them but Maria is too kind for that.

Responsibility: To eliminate every demon she sees.

Self-esteem: Normal. 

Honesty: I wouldn’t say honest but secretive? Like, if you didn’t ask, she wouldn’t say.

Leader or follower: A LEADER. Though she’s confused why but she is.

Praise: She likes them!

Criticism: She accepts them!

Insults: She disregards them. She knows better anyway.

Embarrassment: Hmmmm when they see her eat raw onions? Because that’s disgusting for some?

Flirting: Haven’t tried.

Attention span: OOMF! Poor when not on a mission. But when she is on a mission, she becomes very attentive.

This is my last post of being a dork so might as well pour out all of my nerdiness >=]]]]]

MARIA

•Maria is the eldest of the 4 and is the first one to join DSC.

•Maria has her hair pink and her clothes designed with onion patters to honor her seniors who saved her from the demon near her village. (Emphasized on her back story)

•Maria was attacked by the demon residing at the mountains near her village. Hitting her head with shards of glass, specifically her eyes. This is then the reason why she wears glasses. (Emphasized on her back story).

•Maria is the mother figure of the 3. 

•Maria has separation anxiety because of her daddy issues. (Emphasized on her back story).

•With her sepanx, Maria would insist on having the group in tack in missions even if the situation demands the 4 to split 

•Maria, being treated like Cinderella from the household who sheltered her, is used to chores.

•Maria fights the cleanest.

JUNKO

•Junko joined DSC next after being influenced by Maria.

•Junko came from a wealthy family.

•Junko hates her father and his principles in life.

•Junko always had her hair tied up because she hated the fact that men loved her straight and silky hair.

•She also always had her hair cut raggedly (?) because men adored her straight hair.

•Junko hates talking about beauty. She thinks that everything and everyone is beautiful and must not be questioned.

•Junko hates arrogant, ignorant, and disrespectful men (emphasis on men).

•Junko, surprisingly, can tolerate Amida and he is so far, the only man who can touch her with ease.

•Growing from a rich family, Junko is accustomed with poetries, books, and paintings. These are the things Junko and Fujita get along well.

FUJITA

•Fujita came from a wealthy family.

•Fujita has brother complex hehe.

•Fujita, after hearing her brother's death, disappeared from her household for months. Eventually, she came back with dirty clothes, bloody wound, and with Maria, Junko, and Amida. At this point, she has already joined the DSC.

•Maria and Junko found Fujita fighting with the drunkards the night Maria and Junko indirectly adopted Fujita. Fearing for her life, they had no choice but to fight back against the drunkards.

•Fujita emphasizes on how Maria, Junko, and her should eventually retire and settle down with someone wealthy. (Maria and Junko hates this discussion)

•Growing from a wealthy family, she is used of things going according to her way so she is used on bossing everyone around.

•She likes Amida??? SIKE THEY'RE MARRIED

AMIDA

•Amida, after running away, was homeless for months. With no food, no shelter, and no money. (Emphasized on his back story).

•Amida loved his senpai so much up to this day, he dreams of meeting with him once again.

•Amida's biggest fear is to know that his senpai has turned in to a demon.

•Fujita found Amida on the streets. He had no choice but to go with Fujita because of starvation, homelessness, and dehydration.

•Amida seems like the only person who couldn't tolerate Fujita's banters and orders.

•Amida sympathizes with Maria. As much as possible, he helps with the responsibilities.

•Amida is a fast runner. Very much useful when fighting.

•Amida grew in the streets with senpai and is used to fights. Fighting against demons is not new to him.

•Amida considers himself bisexual. Aside from Senpai, the only person he admired is Fujita (romantically or platonically, it will be unanswered). He admires how she, with no doubt, brought him along with her when he had nothing.  THEY'RE MARRIED THO SO JOKE'S ON U

Amida

Junko

Fujita

[flipomatic]

Couples Therapist Hikawa Sayo

Summary: Why would couples therapist Hikawa Sayo want to take a baking class? It’s a long story.

Author Note: This was written because when I joked about this au, a couple friends of mine liked the idea so much they wanted to see it done. It’s good to challenge myself… I did research for this. See the end note for my works cited.

Word Count: 4500

Sayo squinted against the glare of the bright computer screen. She had been searching the web for almost an hour now, trying to find the right class. No matter how she tilted the laptop monitor it strained her eyes just the same.

Around her, Sayo’s apartment was sparsely decorated. With only one bedroom and the living space attached to the kitchen, there wasn’t much room even if she wanted to do more. She had a couch, a bed, and a kitchen; that was enough. A guitar hung on the wall above the couch, a relic of times long past. The other walls were bare.

Her quest on the internet was to find a single session baking class, ideally within walking distance of her apartment. It shouldn’t’ve have been too difficult, considering the size of the city she lived in, but was turning out to be surprisingly so.

Many bakeries offered classes over long periods of time, but that wouldn’t work for Sayo. She only needed to make one thing, not many. It also needed to be simple, since the last time Sayo baked sweets was as a child. She could cook with a recipe, but couldn’t manage baked goods very well.

Ironically enough, Sayo ate carry out pad thai as she searched the web. She had started out looking at a map search of bakeries, but soon gave up on that approach. Then she went to the search bar and looked for ‘baking classes near me’. This turned up mostly long-term courses.

After Sayo finished her dinner and threw the box away, she was about ready to give up. She would look at a few more, but if she didn’t find anything then she might just get a recipe and figure it out on her own.

That was when she found an article on the Hazawa café. Intrigued by the listed location, which was only about half a mile from where she lived, Sayo clicked on the link. A picture of a small corner bakery popped up, with a brown-haired woman standing in front of it. She was smiling way too big for the camera, but it didn’t ruin the shot.

Below the picture, the text explained that the Hazawa café had been closed for a number of years. It was recently reopened by the daughter of the previous owner and would soon be hosting a series of single day baking classes. The dates of the classes were listed, as well as what would be baked at each one. Sayo’s eyes stopped on the very first one, which just happened to be cookies; this would be perfect.

As Sayo wrote down the café’s phone number to call the next day, she thought back to why she wanted to take a baking class in the first place.

To answer that question, Sayo had to think all the way back to college. She stayed in state for the lower tuition costs, but still was hours away from her family. Really, the only person she wanted to be away from was Hina. Her twin wanted to enroll with Sayo, but ended up at a bachelors program closer to home. If Sayo had gone to a different school, she likely never would’ve wanted to go to a baking class.

When Sayo applied she was told to pick a major in order for her application to be more competitive. She chose psychology. She’d always been good at observing others, at reading them from a distance. If this field didn’t work out, she could always switch before her junior year since that was when the core classes started.

As it turned out, choosing this major set Sayo down the road of her career. She stuck with it all throughout her bachelors’ program.

Sayo made a few acquaintances to study with during her undergrad, but stopped speaking with them after the class they had together ended. What did she need them for after that? The answer was nothing.

She graduated in four years through dedicated study and knew she wanted immediately to go into a master’s program. One topic that interested Sayo greatly was the study of relationships between people. They way their relationships built and collapsed was fascinating to watch and analyze. She was never good at relationships for herself, but greatly enjoyed observing the ones of other people.

Thus, after talking to a school advisor, Sayo started her master’s in marriage counseling. It was much harder than her undergrad and required significantly more studying and clinic time, but she still finished it in four years. She made one friend in that time, a young woman in the same program.

After graduating, Sayo started getting more clinical experience at a clinic associated with her college. She grew distant from her friend. After two whole years of additional clinic time, Sayo was finally ready to get her license.

Sayo passed the licensing exam on the first try, as she always did, and found a job in a therapist’s practice. She moved to the big city and got settled a working adult.

It through this job that she met Yukina and Lisa, which somehow led to wanting to take a baking class.

As a couples therapist, Sayo worked with couples that were having trouble in their relationships. Sometimes they were fighting incessantly, other times they were already living apart and desperate to fix things, and even other times they were physically violent with each other. Sayo’s job was to help them, if she could, and safely separate them, if she couldn’t.

One day, she had a couple named Yukina and Lisa in her office. Like the apartment, her office had mostly empty walls. Only her license hung in the space behind her desk. When a couple came in, they sat across the desk from her in two separate chairs. For the first meeting Sayo usually met with a couple together, so both were there on the first day.

Both women looked distinctly, yet differently, unhappy to be there. On Sayo’s left sat Yukina, a woman with striking silver hair and gold eyes. She had both hands pulled together in her lap and was wringing them, eyes focused dead ahead. To Sayo’s right, Lisa appeared cheerier at first glance. She was smiling, if only slightly, but there was a clear strain in her jaw. At first glance, the light brown-haired woman already seemed like someone who hid how they really felt about things. Every once in a while, her eyes would dart to her partner, checking on her. It was unusual to have a lesbian couple in her office, but Sayo was prepared for any challenge.

They had written a paragraph each about why they were coming to couples therapy, but it didn’t provide enough information for Sayo fully understand them. “My name is Sayo Hikawa.” She said, standing up to shake the hands of both of them. “I will be your therapist for this process. If I may ask, how long have you two been together?” As Sayo spoke, she looked between her two patients. She fully expected Lisa to respond first.

“We’ve known each other since high school.” Sayo was correct. Lisa’s smile slipped slightly as she spoke. “We started dating after graduating and have been married for five years now. It sounds like a long time, when I put it like that.” Lisa chuckled, a forced sound, as her partner turned to look at her. Sayo made a mental note that they’d had a long engagement.

“It’ll be six in a few months.” Yukina added, her voice lower and much less energetic than Lisa’s.

“That’s a long time.” Sayo commented, gauging their reactions as she did. “What brings you to couples therapy?”

Again, Lisa responded first. “We’ve kind of been…” She trailed off for a moment, moving her eyes to a spot past Sayo’s head. “Fighting a lot.”

“What about?” Sayo asked for more detail and watched how Yukina’s posture stiffened as Lisa started to recount their struggles.

As the meeting went on, a few things became clear to Sayo. In this relationship, Lisa was more assertive while Yukina was more passive. They started fighting about six months prior to this, but neither was quite sure why. They bickered about many different topics without much correlation. They both felt like they were losing grip on the relationship and wanted to save it, but didn’t know how.

Lisa was still holding something back in this meeting, evident in how she would go to say something, but then look at Yukina and stop. It only happened once, but that was enough. As it was, Lisa talked about 75 percent of the time between the two of them, with Yukina only taking 25 percent.

At the end of their time, Sayo gave each of them a questionnaire to fill out and return. They were going to schedule individual meetings with her to discuss their relationship, and then at the fourth meeting the three of them would all come back together.

The pair agreed and left to schedule the next two appointments with the practice’s secretary.

Sayo started a file for them, adding in their initial papers and the notes she took during the meeting. They would be an interesting pair for sure.

Later that day she checked to see when they would be coming back and was pleased to see that they would both be in again next week.

On the day of the baking class, which was luckily on a Saturday, Sayo dressed casually. She walked from her apartment to the bakery, an easy stroll in the warm spring weather.

When Sayo reached the corner where the bakery was located, it was easy to spot. It looked just like it had in the photo, a quaint storefront with pastries on display in the window. A poster was up as well, displaying the dates of the baking classes. The words “Hazawa Café” were displayed over the top in bright red letters.

Sayo could see the woman from the picture inside, wearing an apron and talking animatedly to a customer.

It wasn’t too late to give up on this, Sayo thought in a moment of trepidation. Sure, she had put an hour into searching and had walked all the way here, but it would only take a little bit of time to walk home and the internet could certainly provide a close to satisfactory alternative.

No, Sayo squashed that thought. Taking a real class would produce a much better product than looking online. Even if she embarrassed herself here, the odds of seeing anyone she met here today again was slim to none.

This was important to do.

When Yukina and Lisa each came for their meetings, each was more open with Sayo.

Yukina was first. She completed her survey with the bare minimum of words for each entry, writing barely a sentence where a paragraph would’ve been better. Since she was without Lisa at the meeting, she couldn’t get away with doing only a quarter of the talking.

The primary issue for Yukina, what she said was causing the problems, was that Lisa was far too clingy. When Yukina tried to talk to her about it, Lisa didn’t listen and it only led to arguments, so Yukina stopped trying.

Yukina felt like Lisa was growing farther and farther away, with nothing she tried to do helping to fix it. The longer Sayo and Yukina talked the quieter Yukina became, making less eye contact as the meeting went on.

A few days later Lisa came for her appointment. Her survey was filled out far more than her partner’s had been, with long paragraphs for each question.

For Lisa’s concerns, she said that Yukina didn’t tell her about things. She just did things without talking with Lisa first or communicating effectively. Lisa went out of her way to try and talk more with Yukina about this, but that only led to arguments.

Nothing she did seemed to help.

Lisa started crying midway through the meeting, her frustration clear.

After the meeting, Sayo requested for them to schedule a follow up for their fourth appointment. Until then, she had a chance to gather her thoughts on the pair.

The common thread that tied both of them together was their fear that the relationship would collapse and their immense desire to save it. They expressed this in different ways, but both were committed to trying to fix their relationship.

This was a good start, since Sayo thought she would be able to help them. She suspected that their relationship was suffering from ‘fusion’, which sometimes occurred in lesbian couples and displayed itself as overdependence. Before making plans, she needed to meet with them for the fourth time.

Luckily, the pair scheduled their next meeting for only one week later. They sat in the same seats in Sayo’s office as they had the first time, mirroring their posture as well. This meeting would be a feedback session, where Sayo would tell them about her observations and how they could benefit from couples therapy.

Yukina’s expression was blank as Sayo talked to them, while Lisa looked even more nervous than she had at previous sessions.

“From what we’ve discussed, I think the two of you could greatly benefit from this program.” Sayo told them honestly. “Here is what the two of you told me.”

She read off her notes what she recorded about each of them, as well as her conclusions about their relationship. Yukina nodded along as Sayo recounted what she had said, almost imperceptibly. Lisa looked like she would cry again but wiped away the tears.

When Sayo got to Lisa’s part, she pulled herself together. Yukina’s frown only deepened, her eyebrows knitting together as she listened.

After laying out what she learned from them, Sayo explained the plan. “For the two of you, this will be a two-pronged approach. The first part is to work on developing a more firm identity outside of your relationship, to separate you from the couple so to speak. This will help you see each other more clearly. The second is to work on understanding and accepting each others flaws.” They had both relaxed slightly during this part of the conversation. “If you choose to continue with therapy, we will meet once a week for twenty weeks. Each week we will work towards understanding both yourselves and each other. Please take time to discuss it and schedule the next appointment if you are going to continue.” Sayo dismissed the pair from her office, optimistic that they would call and schedule the next meeting.

They proved her right by scheduling an appointment for the next twenty weeks on that very same day.

For the first full appointment, they talked about the most recent argument the pair had. They had argued about where to put the napkins on the kitchen counter.

Yukina thought they should go where they always did, while Lisa wanted to move them farther from the sink. The contents of the argument were arbitrary compared to the feelings and emotions involved.

Sayo worked with them to unpack those emotions, to communicate them to each other, and to understand where their partner was coming from.

For the third appointment, they discussed their lives separate from one another. Yukina was in a band, as the lead singer. Sayo shared with them that she used to play the guitar, which made a good talking point. Lisa enjoyed knitting as well as following fashion trends. For both of them, Sayo tried to help them put their partner out of their mind during their hobbies.

In the tenth appointment, the band started to cause tension. Yukina had forgotten to tell Lisa when rehearsal was, and thus was not home when she said she’d be. Again, Sayo helped them work through their emotions and on conflict resolution strategies.

After that, things steadily improved. Each meeting had more positive stories than negative, with Yukina and Lisa implementing the techniques Sayo taught them. They talked more about personal things, finding similarities with Sayo outside of just having once been in a band.

By the time their twentieth session came around, Yukina and Lisa were ready to fend for themselves.

As Sayo walked into the bakery, a bell tinkled overhead. The brown-haired woman, who Sayo assumed was the owner, looked over at the sound. “Welcome!” She greeted Sayo warmly.

“Hello.” Sayo said politely, closing the door behind her.

“Are you here for the baking class?” The woman walked over, and Sayo could see at this distance that her eye color matched her hair.

Sayo nodded. “I am, I called last week to sign up. Should be under Sayo.” She had to tilt her head slightly down to make consistent eye contact.

“Oh! Yeah I remember your voice from the phone.” The woman gestured further into the shop, where some other customers milled around some tables. “You can head on back, we’ll be starting in about ten minutes.” It was a little odd that she’d remembered her voice, but Sayo wasn’t going to let it bother her.

“Thank you.”

The door bell dinged again, so the woman went to greet the newcomer as Sayo walked back to the tables. She claimed a decent sized spot, hopefully large enough for baking cookies. Ingredients were already laid out on each table.

Sayo had ten minutes to think again about how she ended up here.

It was week twenty. Yukina and Lisa sat in Sayo’s office in the same chairs as they always did.

It was the end of their time in couples therapy and they would soon be off to face the world without Sayo to help them.

“We were thinking.” Lisa spoke for the pair, her fingers intertwined with Yukina’s. “You’ve been such a huge help to us, we’d love to take you out to dinner.”

That was a surprise; it hadn’t ever happened before. Usually at the end of therapy, couples would just leave. If these two had remained her patients after this, then Sayo would’ve had to turn them down. However, they were done and today was their last meeting with her. She wasn’t one to turn down a free meal.

“That is very kind of you, I accept.” Sayo responded in her usual tone. Lisa’s smile grew, while Yukina displayed only a small one.

They exchanged cell phone numbers to make the plans later. Sayo had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

One dinner became two, and then five, and then ten.

They only bought Sayo the first meal, but she still kept meeting them after that. They were good company and it was nice to see them; it felt like she had done a good job helping their relationship. They were fun to talk to as well. It was nice having some friends.

However, after they continued inviting her out, Sayo wondered what they still saw in her. She wasn’t doing anything for them anymore or helping them with their relationship; they didn’t need her.

What could she do to provide something meaningful to the relationship?

That was how she ended up looking for a baking class. Everybody loved baked goods. If Sayo could make some decent cookies, then she could give them to Yukina and Lisa as an effort to strengthen their friendship.

This was what she told herself when she sat down in front of her laptop to search for a baking course.

“We’re going to get started, everyone please wash your hands before we begin!” The shop owner called from the front of the café, instigating movement from the customers. Including Sayo, there were about fifteen people there to participate. While she waited earlier, Sayo had paid for the class. A few customers went to wash their hands; Sayo didn’t move since she already took care that as well.

Once everyone returned to their tables, the woman spoke again. “Thank you all for coming. My name is Tsugumi and I will be your instructor today.” So that was her name. Sayo turned it over in her mind, and then filed it away.

Tsugumi called out the first instructions, which Sayo followed carefully. She managed to crack an egg without getting shells in the bowl by following Tsugumi’s directions, which was a strain but manageable. She then added each ingredient that Tsugumi specified, carefully measuring the correct amount.

The next phase was stirring, which Sayo felt competent at. Tsugumi walked around during this part, checking in with each participant.

“Yours looks good.” She complemented Sayo’s gooey mixture, pushing a flush of warmth to Sayo’s face.

“Thank you.” Sayo continued stirring. She was surprised when Tsugumi didn’t immediately move on to the next person. This girl was hard to read.

“What brings you to baking class?” Tsugumi asked cheerfully. The question rang in Sayo’s ears, eerily familiar to one she asked patients.

The answer was fairly simple. “I’d like to bake cookies for my friends to provide something of value to them.” As a therapist Sayo should’ve known better than to overshare, but something about Tsugumi’s demeanor drew her in. Perhaps she was just trying to get a reaction out of her.

For her part, the woman’s expression barely changed. “That’s interesting.” Tsugumi’s smile tightened only slightly. “I know we just met, but I think your presence alone provides something of value.” Sayo’s hand stopped mid stir. What? What was that?

For once Sayo found herself without words, without a response. Her presence alone provided something of value? What a notion that was, an anomaly from her normal state of being. This girl sure was something.

Tsugumi must’ve noticed her deer in headlight expression, because she said she needed to check on the others and vanished to the next table. Sayo watched her go, unable to formulate a response in time.

A few minutes later, they started adding the dry ingredients to the mix. Again, Sayo measure everything carefully. She wanted the cookies to be just right. When it was time to mix again, she did so firmly. Sayo made sure her dough was as close to perfect as it could be.

Once the dough was mixed, it was time to put it on the tray. These were simple chocolate chip cookies, so the dough just needed to be balled and placed far enough apart.

Sayo was measuring the distance between two of her dough balls when Tsugumi appeared next to her. “It’s okay if it’s not exact.” Tsugumi placed one hand gently on Sayo’s arm as she spoke, likely in an attempt not to surprise her. “They just need to be far enough apart so that they don’t meld together in the oven.” Tsugumi’s hand pulled back as soon as she finished speaking.

“Okay, thank you.” Sayo nodded and moved the balls slightly closer together. She continued to roll and place them as Tsugumi scooted along to the next person.

Once that was done, they went in the oven. Sayo set her oven timer for ten minutes as instructed, and then had to wait. She cleaned her station in that time, putting away the bowl and utensils she used. When she made it back, there were still five minutes until the cookies would be ready.

“How are they coming along?” Again, Tsugumi appeared by Sayo’s side as she was checking on the cookies.

“They look good.” At least, Sayo thought they did. She didn’t know enough about baking to say for sure.

“I’m glad.” Tsugumi peered in as well. “I was worried about today’s class, since it’s the very first one I’ve taught.” She stepped back as Sayo closed the oven and turned towards her. “So, thank you for coming!” She smiled earnestly, eagerly.

“You did a great job.” Sayo couldn’t help but smile back. “If you hadn’t helped me, I still would be putting the dough on the tray.” This earned a laugh, which sent a trill down Sayo’s spine.

Tsugumi soon moved to the next person, leaving Sayo to wait the last couple minutes. After waiting the time out, Sayo put on oven mitts and retrieved her bounty from the oven.

The cookies were perhaps a little lighter in color than they should’ve been, but when the timer was up it was time to go. Sayo placed the hot tray on the stove top to cool. A few minutes later she was able to pick her cookies up off the hot surface.

Sayo had to try one, just to make sure they were ok. It was good, way better than she��d expected it to be. The café had some bags available for the cookies, so Sayo grabbed on and put her batch inside. She felt satisfied as she tied it shut, certain it would a great meaningful gift for her friends.

With that done, she washed the tray she baked on and started getting ready to leave.

Sayo didn’t usually hesitate when leaving somewhere, but today she did. She wanted to say goodbye to Tsugumi, the delightful woman who helped her bake these delicious treats. She was milling about, helping some of the customers take their cookies out of the oven.

When Tsugumi looked like she had a free moment, Sayo approached her.

“Getting ready to go?” Tsugumi asked, glancing at the bag clutched in Sayo’s hand. “It was great having you here!” Normally, when someone at a business said that, it rang with insincerity. Not in this instance, however. Sayo remembered what Tsugumi said earlier, that her presence provided value. She gathered her courage.

“I’m glad I came.” Sayo replied simply. She told herself this was easy, that she helped in relationships all the time so stop being a coward and do it. “I would love to take another class; would you like to exchange numbers to discuss it?” She had the store’s number, of course but that wasn’t what she wanted. The question had come out wordy, but Tsugumi seemed to understand.

“Sure!” She pulled a slip of paper out of her apron along with a pencil, scribbling something down on it. “I don’t have my phone right now, but here’s my number.” She handed it to Sayo, who accepted it gingerly.

“Thank you.” Sayo thanked her for what felt like the fifth time that day. “I look forward to speaking with you.”

“Have a good day!” Tsugumi waved as Sayo turned to leave, the bell ringing again overhead as she exited the bakery.

Sayo almost turned the wrong way after walking out the door, having to remind herself which way her apartment was. She held the cookies in one hand and the slip of paper in the other. Carefully, she unfolded the paper to take a look inside.

The number was different from the store’s number.

As she walked home, Sayo’s heart felt warmer than it had in years.

End Note: I had to do research for this, so here are my citations. I’m sorry if it’s not perfect MLA format.

“About IBCT” integrative behavioral couple therapy, accessed 01/04/2019, http://ibct.psych.ucla.edu/about.html

“Be a Marriage Counselor: Education and Career Roadmap” Study.com, accessed 01/04/2019, https://study.com/be_a_marriage_counselor.html

Spitalnick, Josh & Mcnair, Lily. “Couples Therapy with Gay and Lesbian Clients: An Analysis of Important Clinical Issues.” Journal of sex & marital therapy. 31. (2005): 43-56.

[ravenvsfox]

i know you probably have SO MANY prompts to do because theyre absolutely phenomenal...but when you get the chance could you write your prompt for #46 from Andrew's POV? i think you could do it so well and i would die.

(god... ‘phenomenal’ ur such a sweetheart! I don’t usually like to write the same scene twice so I rlly tried to make it as different as possible outside of dialogue hope it works 4 u xoxo)

Andrew wheels around in the search-light sweep of laser projectors, suddenly aware of his place in the thicket of heat-pressed bodies. He turns his back on Roland and Aaron talking over the bar, Kevin knocking back shots with a regularity that makes him look like he’s on some sort of mechanism.

Neil’s heat is gone from his side. If he’s the buoy that saves Neil from drowning, he’s lost him to the swallowing water again.

He’d had his hand knotted around Neil’s wrist as a security measure, but he’d slipped it. Escape artist, Andrew thinks. Runner.

It would be okay if Roland hadn’t been pouring him free shots for 2 hours, if Andrew hadn’t been indifferently nodding Neil on, privately curious to see what the alcohol might do.

Turns out it mostly flushed his fair cheeks and loosened his hands, made his eyes look curiously like the pupils had detached from the irises. And now he’s wandered off like an untrained dog.

The crowd is a dangerous, forgetful place, and Neil is bad at pretending not to be drunk.

Andrew leaves the bar with a sideways look at Roland. He’s always uneasy when his responsibilities are split like this: Aaron trying to keep up with Kevin’s alcoholic appetite, Nicky long since disappeared onto the dance floor, Neil holding his liquor like a newborn.

He sidesteps a drunken bachelorette conga line, sweeping the room in uneven loops. Drunk people are unpredictable people, and Neil’s slippery on a good day. He can’t spot his familiar auburn head in the throng, and the lights warp and dull his colouring anyway.

He rounds back to Aaron and Kevin, watching them droop and laugh, and then he makes for the bathroom.

He’s just in time to watch Nicky and Neil topple into the bathroom counter, his cousin’s hands displaced from Neil’s narrow waist.

“Why do bad things always happen to me?” Neil says, the hand holding his weight up moving absently over the wall. He’d laugh, if he laughed, at Neil’s dramatic intonation, his body bobbing as if on water, his shoulders unselfconsciously back.

“You’ve got a mouth that gets you into trouble,” he says. Neil almost slips in his haste to turn around, his whole face twisting up even as Nicky has to re-steady him, huffing. Andrew’s chest throbs. “And you can’t hold your liquor.” He wedges his hands under Nicky’s and pops them off of Neil’s body.

Nicky knows better by now than to overstep with neil, and Andrew steps forward to remind him — but Neil stumbles suddenly, Andrew has to sidestep to catch him.

“Were you looking for me?” Neil asks, crowding into Andrew’s space with his breath moist and boozy on his face. He slips his hand up to cup Andrew’s neck, thumbing his pulse like a habit. Andrew watches Nicky so he won’t watch Neil; if the feel of him is too much, the sight of him is always worse. He has to get out of this bathroom.

He waves Nicky out of his way, a noisy obstacle in a maze made more difficult by Neil necklaced around him.

“You’re so strong,” Neil says. “Nothing can move you.” Andrew stomachs that for a minute, and Nicky laughs obnoxiously behind them. Andrew’s hand flexes on Neil’s hip as he rounds on Nicky. He says his name once, warning, and Nicky raises his hands in surrender.

“Hey, hey, wait, I don’t want to get in the way of all that raw, masculine strength—“ he mocks, dancing backwards and out the door when Andrew swings at him with an open hand. He has to tell each finger individually to fold back into his fist. He’s so tense along the line of his back that you could probably chop wood with his shoulder blades.

Neil’s still pawing at him, saying, “wait, that wasn’t a joke. You’re—“ he looks into and past Andrew’s eyes. “Hey remember when the Ravens took 150 shots on goal and you embarrassed them?” He remembers, because he always remembers, and he also knows it was a lost game for the foxes. It only mattered to Andrew, for a moment, because it mattered to Neil.

Neil makes grabbing Andrew for balance look like a calculated, intimate move, and he’s breathing Andrew’s breath when he says: “watching you… I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Andrew puts as much space between them as he can while still holding Neil upright. He wants to prop Neil on the bathroom counter and walk away. He wants to funnel the alcohol directly from his veins so he can kiss his mouth.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m right,” Neil says instantly. Andrew suspects those words are always on the cusp of being said, with Neil. “I’m always right.” Andrew gives him a scathing look, an eye roll too lazy to do any actual rolling.

“You always think you are.” He tries to wrangle Neil’s limbs into some kind of order, and Neil keeps undoing his progress.

“You won’t kiss me in front of them.”

“I won’t kiss you at all,” Andrew says. Neil’s mouth is messy and half open like he’s seconds from arguing or leaning in. It’s a frustratingly unselfconscious look on Neil, who is always applying his facial expressions as disguises. “I will leave you on the floor in a club bathroom.” He probably won’t. But if he did it would solve the host of problems constantly hanging over his head like tempting, bruised fruit.

They finally come out of the doorway of the bathroom and into the humid body of the club. Neil’s supporting his own weight, but with the backward tilt of someone whose internal compass is two degrees off.

“Andrew,” he says, and Andrew stops tugging him along. He hates that he’ll do whatever Neil says, whatever he doesn’t even have to say. “I don’t want to be drunk anymore.”

He falls, cut at the knees like he’s been hit. Andrew lunges for him and gets a fistful of shirt and hair just before impact. He lowers him the last two inches to the floor, hands clenching all over Neil. He takes them away and there’s blood, suddenly, a sticky bridge between his hand and Neil’s scalp.

He looks down at him, seething, walking hands over the rest of him in search of injury. He finds a smashed fist he can’t believe he didn’t notice, and a bruise trying to eat his hip.

“I hit my head, earlier,” Neil says, explaining absolutely nothing. He laughs and grins and hooks his own fingers in the smile to get rid of it. Andrew pulls it all apart — hand from smile, smile from mouth, holding Neil’s face by the jaw until it relaxes in his palm.

“You’re a mess,” Andrew tells him, still holding him together.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Neil says, sounding curiously sober as he loops himself around Andrew and stands.

“It always applies.”

“And yet, here you are. Cleaning me up,” he says, too close to look at directly again.

“I preferred you when you refused to drink.” He remembers pouring shots for Neil and watching him for a nod or a yes that never came. He remembers Neil’s strange complex about drugs and alcohol, his old off-centre way of choosing which crimes were excusable.

He pushes Neil up against the nearest wall, watching the way the alcohol plays with his mouth and eyes, not really liking it.

“When I was more secrets than person?” Neil whispers.

“When you were quiet,” Andrew snaps, splaying a hand over Neil’s chest and stepping back, watching the bar slosh, looking out for familiar blond or towering muscle.

“Never happened,” Neil’s saying, laughing a little, and Andrew digs his fingers into Neil’s chest, a little bit warning, a little agreeing. He feels Neil go soft under his hand, reaching up to twist his fingers in Andrew’s.

“Hey. I trust you.”

Andrew’s still looking into the crowd, but Neil’s voice is torn open, and it feels like Andrew’s touching his cracked chest, blood and ribs at his fingertips. “You’re still drunk. And a poor judge of character.”

“If it makes you feel better.”

He looks back at Neil, wanting to feed him a percentage or cut him off with an insult, wanting to stop this particular bud before it can grow. But then Aaron walks up, and Andrew’s eyes go to him instead.

“We’re leaving. Nicky got into a fight with some guy and Roland had to sneak him out the back.”

Andrew’s world shifts, and it’s only then that he realizes it had been facing towards Neil. Anger pinches his veins. He isn’t covering enough ground lately — he’s spread too thin because he’s giving 80% of himself to Neil. You’re negligent, he thinks. You’re as unbalanced as everyone’s always said.

“Nicky got in a fight?” Neil asks as Roland and Kevin come up, glancing at each other with a fresh camaraderie that Andrew doesn’t like at all.

Roland must catch Andrew’s expression because he raises a placating hand. “Some homophobe in a snapback. It’s fine.” He reaches for Andrew and Andrew bodily steps out of his grip, his ears ringing at the thought of skin to skin contact. “He’s long gone, Drew,” Roland says, trying to help like aiming a bow at a target and hitting the ground right in front of him instead. “We got him. Focus on your boy.”

Andrew knows without looking how Neil is reacting to that comment, because it’s strange and frequent how Neil’s outsides match Andrew’s insides.

“I’m fine.”

“I bet. Can’t fool the guy pouring your drinks for you.” He ruffles Neil’s hair. Andrew wrestles with frustration so deep and unspoken that it’s lapping at the back of his throat.

“We should go,” Kevin says, and something skewed and impatient lances through Andrew at the suggestion. 

He spent too much time talking Neil down in the bathroom. Neil is a dirty move in a fight Andrew’s been in for as long as he can remember — a flashy distraction that knocked Andrew back.

They pile out of the club through the back, walking back to the car at Andrew’s pace. Kevin’s dragging Neil or vice versa, and Aaron’s walking apart from them, posture too high up in his shoulders to be convincingly sober.

They find Nicky in the car looking grim for trying so hard not to. Andrew grabs him by the shoulders and pats him down, and Nicky looks touched enough that he doesn’t crack any jokes.

Andrew spends the drive home strategizing, telling himself furiously that Neil shouldn’t get a tier of his own. He needs to hold him at arms length before he loses sight of things that have mattered for longer.

They reach the house and three fifths of the car find their sloppy way inside. Andrew watches them to make sure the door gets closed, ignoring Neil’s eyes flitting to and away from him.

His eyes finally slide over to Neil’s reflection. The usual firm set of his mouth is back, but his eyes are still overly wide, like he’s surprised to see himself. He catches Andrew’s gaze and smiles, and Andrew’s already finished with whatever Neil’s about to say, he’s already planning tomorrow morning, something viable, doable. Everything under one roof. Him and Neil in one shower. Hot chocolate in the kitchen.

“You’re a terrible drunk,” Andrew says, because it’s the thing that’s been backing him into corners all night.

“I haven’t had much practice.”

Andrew’s eyes wander from the reflection to Neil’s actual face. His burns are caught in the moonlight like something glossy, cling wrap stretched over cheekbone. “There’s a reason for that. You’ve got a big mouth.”

Neil smiles. “You seem to have a fixation on my mouth.” He leans in, and Andrew wants it, stupidly. He shoves Neil back to his side of the car with a hand over the burns he’d been ogling.

“You seem to be under some delusions.”

“It’s just that I’m a neck man, myself,” Neil says, voice topped up with laughter. Andrew gets out of the car without hesitation, slamming it so he can avoid whatever Neil says next.

He still hears it though, raised to reach him halfway to the door. “I know it’s been a tense night, Drew,” Neil says, and catches up to sidestep in front of Andrew, sober enough now to walk backwards all the way to the porch. “But I’m still waiting to be kissed.”

Andrew feels a full body flash of irritation that he can’t be. He shrugs Neil off and walks through the front door. “Sober up.”

Inside, he walks the length of the house twice, restlessly. He opens doors to find Kevin asleep with his shirt halfway off his arms, Aaron having a stare-off with his reflection, Nicky lit up by the glow of his phone, speaking softly in german.

He strips Eden’s Twilight off and takes a 5 AM shower with his mouth parted against the spray. There’s an itch in his lungs that might be for a cigarette or might be for something else entirely.

He goes through the motions of pulling on sweats and armbands almost spitefully slow, tucking his cigarettes into his sleeve and padding out into the hallway. The moon panels the carpet with ghostly swatches, the wall clock counts his steps.

He watches Neil outside the screen door, tracking his hands folding around his knees, his feet scuffing the pavement. He looks for signs that he’s still drunk and gets distracted by the unmarred line of his neck.

He goes out to sit on the stoop with him and lets himself pretend to smoke for long enough that Neil is morning warm when he leans in to kiss him.

(He lets himself acknowledge that Neil isn’t a distraction — he’s a debilitating move. He’s the strike that knocks Andrew to the ground.)

[thomashull1993]

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[doctor-who-hears-a-horton]

To Live a Better Life (Ten x Rose)

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter: 2/?

Chapter 1

Summary: Rose Tyler has been the secretary to the CEO of Gallifrey Inc. for nine years, and she’s ready to move on with her life. But when Mr. Smith proposes something less than practical in lieu of her resignation, what will she say?

Read it on AO3 here!

Author’s note from AO3: Can I just say how happy and filled with warm fuzzies i was to see all the reads and comments on this? Thank you so, so much for reading the first chapter of this. I hope you all continue to read and comment, it inspires and motivates me so much!!!!  Also to those who reblogged on tumblr with sweet tags, I never know how to reply, but thank you from the bottom of my very exhausted, college student heart<3

Rose woke up, wishing she had actually been drunk.  Unfortunately, her good work ethic made her feel far too guilty to actually drink until she got drunk.  She blew out her cheeks and rolled out of bed, remembering the night before and Mr. Smith’s idiotic request.  How could he suggest they get married?  They’d known each other for years, yes, but there had never been anything there.  Had there?

She grumbled to herself, beginning to get ready for the day.  He was confusing her for no reason, making her think that he might like her, when she knew that it was simply because he wanted to keep her on as a secretary.  She shook herself and finished applying her makeup and tying her hair up in a professional style.  

When she reached the office, everybody was staring at her.  She walked past the cluster of desks where the others at Gallifrey Inc. worked and looked between them and the path to her own desk, outside of Mr. Smith’s office.  

“Are you all alright?” Rose asked them, leaning against the doorway to their office space.

“We just heard something went on between you and Mr. Smith last night.  He was pretty upset when he came in this morning.”  Martha, one of the marketing team, said.  “We were kinda wondering if you had a fight.”

“Ah, well, I guess you all should know that I’m turning in my resignation today.  I think it’s time I moved on a little bit from the company.”

“You’ve been at Mr. Smith’s absolute beck and call for the past nine years,” Donna Noble said, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I think it’s about time that you went off and did something else.  Congratulations.”

Rose nodded to them and the others, smiling. “Thanks.  I’d better get to him now though, I’m still his secretary for now.”  She walked to her desk, then, before anyone could say anything else about her resignation.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it.  She set her briefcase down and pulled out the resignation letter she’d written up.  Well, it was now or never.  If she didn’t give it to him now he’d never believe that she was actually quitting.

With a deep breathe, she knocked on his office door, which was a heavy, wooden thing, that opened into a huge office that had a sitting space off to one side. She heard the call from him to come in and she pushed the door open, smiling pleasantly.

“Ah, Miss Tyler!  A pleasure to see you, as usual,” he said.  “As I’m sure it is your pleasure to see me.”

Rose blinked.  This was exactly how she began most conversations with him.  “Well, Mr. Smith, good morning to you.”  She walked to his desk and extended the paper to him.  “Here’s my resignation letter, as I said I’d be giving to you yesterday.”

His smile fell. “What?”

“We spoke about this.”  She said, not letting her smile slip.

“Well, yes, but I thought you’d at least consider my proposal, quite literally.  You won’t find a more eligible bachelor than me, I can assure you of that.”  He adjusted his tie and looked proudly up at her.  “I’m sure what you actually mean is you’ve come here to accept.”

“No,” Rose said firmly, setting the letter down on his desk with finality.  “As I said last night, I will help you find another secretary, but I won’t be staying once he or she is trained.  Now, you have a lunch appointment with Mr. Rasilon at twelve and a board meeting at three.  Should you need me before then, I’ll be at my desk.”

She nodded to him and started to leave, hearing him set down his pen as her back turned on him  She thought he might call out to her, but to her surprise, he didn’t.  Blowing out a sigh of relief, she exited Mr. Smith’s office and let the door snick shut behind her.  Brushing off the anxiety that having a chat with him had brought up, she sat back at her desk and looked to all the files she had to go through before leaving.  There were plenty of things that she’d already sorted once she’d gotten them, since she’d really wanted to be the most organized and professional secretary she could be.  She had to thank her past self for her practices.  She went to taking Mr. Smith’s phone calls and fell into her work day without another thought.

What felt like hours later, Martha slid into the extra chair Rose had next to her desk and put her phone in front of her face.  Rose blinked in surprise and saw that it was a picture of a young business man.  She looked between Martha’s expectant face and the photo.

“Who’s this?” Rose asked patiently.

“His name’s Adam, he’s a business associate to Master Enterprises.  And he’s willing to go on a blind date.” She raised her eyebrows for emphasis.

Rose rolled her eyes.  “Oh, Martha, come on, now, I can’t be dating.  I don’t date, I don’t have time!”

“But you will now!” Martha protested. “You know, since you won’t have to deal with his royal highness in there anymore.  Come on, you should consider it at least.  For me?”  Martha shook her phone a little bit and Rose blew out her cheeks, studying the photo.

She wrinkled her nose.  “Well, I guess he’s cute,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if I’d want to date him, do we have anything in common?”

“That’s what the date is for!” Martha exclaimed.  “To see if you’re compatible.  And it would only be blind to him, so you wouldn’t have to be nervous about that part.  Just promise me you’ll think about it?  Tell me at lunch?”

Rose had to admit that the idea of actually going on a date was very appealing.  “Alright,” She said slowly, “I’ll let you know at lunch.  I’ve got to think about this.”

Martha left just as Mr. Smith left his office and strode up to her desk, shaking Rose from even being able to begin thinking about the blind date.  He had his hands in his pockets and was looking down at her, his brows drawn together.

“What time did you say my lunch appointment was?” He asked, looking frazzled.

Rose cocked her head to the side.  “Twelve.  Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine, just fine, I’m-”

“Your tie is all crooked.”

His hands fluttered by his neck for a minute before dropping.  Rose, however, couldn’t take it and got to her feet, going around the desk to fix his tie herself. She’d done it for him most mornings, and wasn’t sure who had done it today.  Probably him, since it was done so poorly.

She felt his breath catch as she adjusted his tie and wondered if she’d made a mistake. She’d done this so many times, but he’d never proposed to her before.  Was he thinking about it too?  What was he thinking about?  Her heart started beating a little faster and she cursed herself internally, finishing up with his tie and smoothing her hand down it.

“There.”

“You’ll have to do it from now on, as you have been,” Mr. Smith said once she stepped back from him.

Rose smiled pleasantly and nodded, clasping her hands together in front of her body.  “Okay,” she said.  “If that’s what you want, I’m sorry that I didn’t do it this morning.”

“Yes,” Mr. Smith nodded.  “I think it’s better that you continue on with your duties until you…” He stopped, but she knew what he was going to say.

Rose took a deep breath, gathering up the courage to ask her next question.  “Mr. Smith, would it be alright if I put up notifications for the job opening in the company?”

“What job opening?”

She dropped her posture. “Mr. Smith.”

He frowned. “Fine.  I guess you really are serious about this. Go on, then, list it.  I’ll see whoever you want me to see.”  He turned and walked back into his office, brushing a hand over his tie one last time. Rose sighed and turned back to her desk to make the listing.  His guilt tripping wasn’t going to make her stay.  It wasn’t.  She wouldn’t let him do that to her.

She remembered all the time she’d spent here, the times he’d guilted her into learning a new language, going somewhere she didn’t want to go, the list just went on and on.  He made her pick him up when he’d been drinking, and he was a pleasant drunk, but she was a sour designated driver.  She’d be free of Mr. John Smith soon enough.

*******************

“Have you thought about it?”  Martha asked the second Rose sat down next to her for lunch.

She hadn’t, but she had to say something.  Anything.  And honestly, what harm would it do to go on a blind date with what looked to be a very handsome man?  She nodded.  “Alright, I’ll go.”

“Oh, good, cause I already texted him and he wants to meet up tonight.”  Martha grinned.  “At the little cafe on Northeast.  Sound fun?”

Rose had to laugh.  “Sure, Martha.  That sounds great.”

The others from the office sat around the table as well, chattering about their own days and Rose realized that she was going to miss this. She was going to miss the bustle off the office, the cheerful camaraderie that surrounded their department.  She’d developed such a bond with these people, and she hoped it wouldn’t slip away from her when she left.  

          ******************

That night, she stood outside Cafe 5, a name she never understood for a cafe that had very excellent food and coffee.  She had the advantage of knowing who she was looking for, but she had to pretend like she wasn’t.  

The man from Martha’s picture walked up to her, a beaming smile on his face.  “Are you Rose?”  

“Yeah, I am.  You must be Adam.” Adam shook her hand, rather aggressively, and nodded.  “Yeah, Adam Mitchell, that’s me.  Martha’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, she has?”  Rose laughed.  “Well, let’s go inside and we can talk all about that.”

As it turned out, there was one topic that Adam liked a lot, and that was himself.  He was very successful and wanted her to know it, cluing her in on the awards his office had won and how many of them had been on his behalf.  

Rose knew she was thinking too far ahead, but she couldn’t see herself dating or marrying someone like this. He barely let her get in a word.  As soon as it was polite, she said that she had to get going and apologized if she was inconveniencing him.

“Not at all, I have a busy day tomorrow anyway.  But the coffee and conversation was lovely.”  He smiled at her and she politely returned it.

Her eyes zoned in on his tie, which had somehow become crooked.  “Oh, your tie-” On an instinct, she moved to fix it.

“Miss Tyler!” She heard a very familiar, bellowing voice call out to her.  She felt her eyes widen and she let go of Adam’s tie, knowing that if she didn't’ she’d probably accidentally choke him out.  Mr. Smith was striding towards them, his eyes alight with fury.

“What are you doing out here? I called you twice.”  He seemed to not be able to see Adam at all, his eyes locked onto hers.

Rose looked down at her phone.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith, is it really that urgent?”

“I should go,” Adam interjected.  “Rose, I’ll call you.”

Rose nodded politely and smiled.  “Alright.  Enjoy the rest of your night, Adam.”  She took her time during back to Mr. Smith.  “And what can I do for you?”

“What was that?”

“I don’t have to explain anyth-” “Why were you fixing his tie?”

Rose blinked.  He was upset over her… Fixing Adam’s tie?  “It’s a work habit, Mr. Smith.  Why did you call?”

“A work habit?  You, touching that man’s neck, is a work habit?”

“Why are you so upset?  You don’t have any claim over what I do, especially not now.” She wasn’t sure where the snap had come from, but it seemed to upset him. His cheek twitched and he turned away from her.  “I’ve brought my car.  I’ve been invited to a wine night at the Prime Minister’s and I need you to accompany me.”

Rose knew perfectly well that the Prime MInister and Mr. Smith were friends, and he really didn’t need her to go with him.  He was using it as an excuse.  For what, she wasn’t sure, but she was definitely annoyed and needed to bite her tongue, lest she say anything else that was on the edge of whatever line she was walking at the moment.

“Fine,” She spit out.  “I don’t see why you need me, but I will accompany you to Downing Street.  Are any other secretaries going tonight?”

“No.  Just you.”

Rose balled her hands up in fists at her sides.  He had to be kidding, absolutely kidding.  He truly was the strangest man she’d ever known.

[dailyaudiobible]

09/11/2018 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 8:1-9:21, 2 Corinthians 12:1-10, Psalms 55:1-23 , Proverbs 23:4-5

Today is the 11th day of September. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It's a pleasure, it's an honor and it's a joy to be here with you today as we take the next step forward in our journey through the Scriptures this year. And we have, you know, long ago crossed the halfway point. So, our steps are definitely taking us through the back half of the Scriptures. And this week we're reading from the New International Version. We'll pick up where we left off yesterday in the book of Isaiah. Today Isaiah chapter 8 and 9.

Commentary:

Okay. So, Paul says something that's often quoted and very famous. Something that we would recognize immediately. When I am weak, then I am strong. We hear it all the time. We probably even say it often. When we're going through a difficult patch, when hardship has descended upon us for some reason. When we are weak, we are strong. What's interesting is that sometimes we begin to apply this to any weakness at all. We could have eaten ourselves into diabetes and be walking down the grocery store aisle putting a box of twinkies into our cart saying, when I am weak, He is strong. But sometimes the truth is when we are weak, we are weak and we are blocking His strength from making us strong because we will not surrender whatever it is that's making us weak. That's not the posture that Paul is talking about or exhibiting. And so for the last couple of days, Paul's been boasting, if you want to call it that. He felt like he had to defend himself because of the things that were being said by other people about him that weren't true. And so it was like a game of playing credentials and he didn't like it. But at the end of all the boasting, he said, because of the things that I've been through and the things that I've seen and the things that I've heard, I've had to deal with personal issues and I've asked God to take them away. He described it as a thorn in the flesh. I've asked God three times to take some of this away and God said, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Okay, what Paul had just boasted and has been boasting about things that we wouldn't normally wanna brag about. It's like who has had the worst time of things? Who has endured the most? And yet, Paul finds this is a glorious thing to surrender to come what may. And put his hope only in God alone for survival at all. This is the boasting and this is the weakness that is being boasted in. And this is the weakness that is made perfect in God's strength. Very different than not being able to resist the twinkies. And very different than enduring things that we have created ourselves. When we are weak, we are strong only happens when we embrace our weakness and realize at the end of our greatest strength, we are still weak. And when we know this, we can embrace a strength that is way beyond us, allowing us to endure anything as the heroes of the faith have all demonstrated for us, including the Apostle Paul. God's strength becomes apparent when we realize that our strength is weakness by comparison and we surrender our own strength, we come to the end of ourselves.

Prayer:

And so, Father, we invite You into that cause it's a constant struggle on one front or another. Because there's all kinds of issues going on all of the time. And so often we're trying to figure out how to get Your strength to be an additive to our strength so that we can then navigate and overcome when we're invited to surrender, understanding that our strength will only ever be weakness compared to Your strength. And Your strength can give us the power to endure anything. Come Holy Spirit, we pray. In Jesus name we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for here is tomorrow. 

Community Prayer and Praise: 

Hey everybody. Oh…welcome home. It was so great to see everybody this last weekend. Hey, when I came back, my new partner, I’ll just say JS, JS is my…is my new partner and he is a former military man. He had been terribly, terribly injured when he was across the pond in a Humvee accident that flipped many, many times from an IED and he has extensive injuries but he’s making it, right? So,, he’s not given up and I really admire him but he has confided in me in the last couple of days. He’s like, I’m under attack, I’m under spiritual attack. I believe in God and I study but there are some demons in my past I just can’t get around. And I think that it has a lot to do with that situation, in fact. But, would you guys pray for my friend? He’s having a really hard time because, you know, I just fell like I’m sinking and I’m drowning. So,, I said, look brother, you’re…you’re okay, you’re fighting and as long as you’re still flailing and you’re still breathing your still in the fight, right? So,, pay for my friend JS, alright? I love you guys and pray for me that I can have the right words to help and point him in the right direction. and Lanna Jones, Lanna Jones, my lovely sister, I gave him your book and he’s really, really loving it. So,, you’re not helping me, you’re helping others as well. I love you guys. Have a great day. Bye-bye.

Hi Daily Audio Bible, this is Russ from central Iowa. I just listened to the September 5th prayer line and wanted to lift up Stanley in Maryland dealing with addiction. I offer from Isaiah 42:3 as a encouragement. It says that a bruised reed shall not break and a smoldering wick you will not quench. Brother, again, with addiction, I just offer that in prayer for you, that when you feel bruised or broken or as a smoldering wick you’re not gonna be broken or snuffed out. God is with you. And today, September 6th, we heard in the Psalm that, call me in the day of trouble and I will answer you, Psalm 50. So,, I just offer that prayer as well, that in those moments of addiction that you can call on the Lord and that you’re not alone. My prayers are with you, family, and those dealing with addiction and we’re not bearing each other’s burdens alone but in community here. And, so, I offer that prayer for you and for all those dealing with addiction. And I just lift you up and pray for strength in the Lord. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hey family this is Dave from Colorado. Today is September 6th,which is a special day for me. Five years ago today is when I gave my life to God and also five years ago today is when my chains of addiction to alcohol and drugs were broken. Before that I pretty much just had a dreary existence, quite honestly and it’s pretty much everything except for my wife, which I was kind of hoping I would lose that to. I just really didn’t have the nerve to take it myself but ever since that day life has just…it gets better every day. It’s almost like every day is Thanksgiving. I praise God every day. And, you know, I still hear calls with people struggling. My suggestion would be…well in my case…my prayers actually weren’t working for me. I wasn’t able to get clean and sober until I got on my knees and gave myself to God, heart, mind, and soul, everything. So,, as soon as I gave everything to God that Holy Spirit came on me and I just knew it was going to work this time. But another…another reason I wanted to call is, for my mother-in-law Rita, she’s been having a lot of medical issues lately. It seems like she’s in the emergency room about once a week. She just really, it’s just like she’s just quit eating and drinking. She’s down to like 70 pounds. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. It’s almost as if she’s lost the will to live…to go on…

Hi Daily Audio Bible Family. This is Nathan from London England. It’s my first time calling. I’ve been listening to Daily Audio Bible for a few years now. So,, first off I just wanted to encourage, I believe the first name was Prosperous from the San Francisco Bay area. I didn’t catch the full name, but just listened to what you said about thinking ahead and I can really identify with that. And something that helps me and might really help you is just find time in your schedule even if it has to be right at the start of your day just be quiet and still. But do it actively. So,, pray in tongues to begin with if you have that gift. And also just invite the Holy Spirit just to kind of fill the room, fill your heart and just make time to be still like it says in Psalm 46, be still and know that I am God. Just, it will really help you stay in the room and raise your hand and obviously the Holy Spirit just wants to affirm you and love on you. I have a prayer request myself. I have a very important appointment next Wednesday the 12th at the US Embassy in London. I’m applying for a US visitor visa. Now there’s a bit of a story behind this but I currently do not have permission to travel to the US. It’s down to some travel I did over 10 years ago where, unfortunately, I was denied entry. They found out that I’ve been doing some cash work when I was on a visa waiver, which is not committed. I was foolish and naïve but unfortunately they may be permanently inadmissible. Fast forward 11 years, I really want to be able to travel to the US. My family lived there. My dad’s going to be 70. So,, just pray for me for favor. Thank you guys.

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Dedicated Message Administrators - While IT has total access to SnapComms

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 Business Communication

 Case Studies

CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Do you believe that communication skills are an important part of your relationships and that good relationships are significant for a happy life? However, you’re not sure where to start to improve your communication? Improvement of communication skill is

necessary for better relationships at home and work It can be so frustrating when you struggle to get what you want to say across to someone important. And equally distressing when you know you battle to be in your best state to listen and be open to hear what they have to say. This series of courses will take you on a journey to put the building blocks in place for a strong foundation for effective communication, and develop your skills that are needed for relating to others to build relationships. For the past ten years I – and my clients – have been applying this communication model and enjoying more freedom to express ourselves, and noticed how our empathy and compassion have grown as we become more understanding, more understood and able to handle the complexities of interpersonal communication. Imagine being able to pick up where the mis-communication is happening, make the necessary adjustments that are within your control, and get your message across more often while also understanding others more easily. Would that be useful? Would that improve your relationships? By unpacking the complexity of communication we can simplify it, and then you’ll know how to develop your communication skills.

 Answer the following question.

 Q1. Why training on communication skills is necessary? Explain in detail.

 Q2. Give your views on the case.

 CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Some experts believe that over 90% of communication is non-verbal. It’s important because very few people can consciously manipulate their non-verbal cues. We’ve all had that feeling that something isn’t all it seems to be when interviewing someone or chatting with colleagues. That’s because non verbal cues either support or contradict spoken messages. Even the pace or style of speech contributes to the non-verbal equation. It’s more than just body language. More than voice or even words, nonverbal communication cues you in to what is on another person’s mind. Nonverbal communication ranges from facial expression to body language. Gestures, signs, use of space and pace or information delivery. Here are several tips for improving your reading of nonverbal information. No matter your position at work, improving your skill in interpreting nonverbal communication will add to your ability to share meaning with another person. Correct interpretation of nonverbal communication will add depth to your ability to communicate. •Recognize that people communicate on many levels. Watch their facial expressions, eye contact, posture, hand and feet movements, body movement and placement, and appearance and passage as they walk toward you. Every gesture is communicating something if you listen with your eyes. Become accustomed to watching nonverbal communication and your ability to read nonverbal communication will grow with practice. •If a person’s words say one thing and their nonverbal communication says another, you should listen to the nonverbal communication – and that is usually the correct decision. •Assess job candidates based on their nonverbal communication. You can read volumes from how the applicant sits in the lobby. The nonverbal communication during an interview should also elucidate the candidate’s skills, strengths, weaknesses, and concerns for you. •Probe nonverbal communication during an investigation or other situation in which you need facts and believable statements. Again, the nonverbal may reveal more than the person’s spoken words. •When leading a meeting or speaking to a group, recognize that nonverbal cues can tell you: –when you’ve talked long enough, –when someone else wants to speak,

 Answer the following question.

 Q1. “Nonverbal communication is the single most powerful form of communication” Justify your answer.

 Q2. Discuss the tips for Understanding Nonverbal Communication

 CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Dedicated Message Administrators - While IT has total access to SnapComms and can communicate with staff in both hospitals and issue emergency or back-up communications, they have also set up different administrators with varying levels of authority that can create and send desktop messages for PCs located in their own department or hospital. Message targeting based on Active Directory settings - The QHN team have created groups in the SnapComms database using Active Directory in order to expedite the communication of emergency events and administrative updates. Technical Services’ approach has been to empower the different administration and clinical areas of the hospital and provide them with training, reports and templates and give them access to use SnapComms as they saw fit. Ghasemi explains, “We provide a tool for them and how they use it and what they use it for is based on their need.” SnapComms messages now preferred over e-mail - SnapComms messages are preferred by Queens Health Network staff over emails. Ghasemi says that, “Especially the administration thinks it is an effective way of communicating with the rest of the population.” No surprises - Ghasemi is pragmatic when considering the benefits of using SnapComms in an Hospital environment. He says, “It hasn’t surprised us in a bad way. I expected this tool to be very effective and it is.” Speed and targeting of hospital communications- The ability to target messages to certain groups of staff or clinical applications has had significant advantages and when a system goes down unexpectedly time is of the essence. “One of the major benefits of this system is real-time.” Ghasemi says that, “You have a lot of control over when, who and how to send these messages to.

 Answer the following question.

 Q1. What are the Key Features of SnapComms that Benefit QHN? Discuss.

 Q2. . Give an overview of the case.

 CASE STUDY (20 Marks)

Several years ago, Brittany Brown completed a major undertaking. As a young, ambitious public-affairs professional, she took it upon herself in 2008 to learn how to develop a strategic communications plan for her employer, the Norfolk, Va., district of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. “It was all on-the-job training, ” says Brown, now 29. “I was learning as I was going.” Though happy with the results, Brown knew she needed further instruction to take her business writing skills to the next level. So she enrolled in a strategic communications class in 2010 at Georgetown University’s Center for Continuing and Professional Education (202-687- 7000). “That course really solidified some of the things I had learned and helped to strengthen my skills, ” she says. “And it impacted my career in a positive manner for sure.” She now works on the marketing, branding and communications team at NPR, and she’s back at Georgetown teaching writing for social media. In today’s era of hash tag-heavy tweets, abbreviation-filled texts and quickly dashed-off emails, you might not think it matters if your written communications have lots of typos and no punctuation. But in the business world, good writing still counts. The way you come across on paper or on the computer screen can impact everything from landing a job to securing a promotion. “We all make assumptions, ” says Anna Mauldin, product manager in the leadership and development division at Management Concepts (888-545-8577), which offers courses on business writing, grammar and other topics at its downtown D.C. and Tysons Corner locations. “Poor writing could lead people to believe that you don’t have attention to detail or to question your competence or ability to do a job.” It can also hold you back in your career. “You can make it to a certain level without having great communication skills, ” says David Lipscomb, interim director of Georgetown’s Writing Center and assistant professor of teaching at Georgetown, who taught the course Brown took. “But you certainly cannot make it to top management without being a good communicator.” If you get tripped up by things like using the passive voice or organizing your ideas, there are lots of writing courses out there that can help. They range from daylong sessions to longer certificate programs offered via open enrollment. You can also find custom classes for specific workplaces. (See sidebar for some examples.) In them, students might cover how to use a comma, how to structure a report or how to write concisely.

 Answer the following question.

 Q1. How the Business communication, report writing skills can be enhanced? Give your comments.

 Q2. Give an overview of the case.

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