#everyone was just meandering to the beach but for some reason my legs were really weak and i couldnt walk

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i napped the entire day away and my dreams included, but were not limited to: big earthquake that, as it was happening, i was like "oh this is a bad one" and my stepdad went "its not that bad" - our house slid down a ravine into water / very vivid evening apocalypse that - after the blast hit and i died - swirled into sleep paralysis that occurred While I Was Dreaming (and i do mean swirled. i got whipped around like an inflatable tube man) / rich people sitcom where everyone was unbearable but i had my dear cat Letti with me / sound-based monster shaped like my mom that i kept from killing me via a funny joke (i didnt even get to finish my microwaved macaroni smh)

[aceofspadegrass]

Imagine Dori going out to play a game,and after he plays the game..he wouldn't just go straight back to the beach,No!. He would steal the car from Niragi and just drives back to his house,going inside his house grabbing fanta and drives back to the beach with fanta,introducing fanta to hatter and we all know that hatter would accept him.

And then bring fanta back to his and Niragis room,breaking the door at the process to just go inside the room. Noragi utterly goes up to him,yelling at him..but when he sees fanta right next to Dori's leg..he's like" Aight,I'mma steal your dog" And just grabs fanta,and the next Niragi would force hatter to let fanta become a militant dog so that he could give fanta a rifle and a Fedora hat..which fanta will not like if the Fedora hat is given by Niragi-

How about dori giving fanta a Fedora hat?,fanta will love it and sleep with for the rest of his life. Niragi giving fanta a squeaky toy that is basically shaped like a rifle

Fanta is a Good Doggo

Characters: Niragi Suguru, Last Boss, Hatter, Dori Sakurada, Aguni, Cabot

Genre: Niragi get’s to meet Fanta! And maybe shoot a dude dead, but shush.

3k words

This was fun to write. Also, I only have a very vague idea of Fanta’s gender (Trust me, I still don’t know if I’m correct) so if I’m wrong, sorry about that. All I have figured out of Fanta’s gender is based on the underside of this very nice Fanta picture.

When games meant people were going to die in front of everyone lucky enough to stay, within the vicinity of where others shared the same space, not everyone dealt with them well. Some broke a little more each time, some powered through, some even enjoyed it. Either way, everyone earned their right to live in some aspect or another. They fought to keep breathing for another day or two, and came back to their base to eventually do it all over again.

And some, by the sheer power of something refusing to let them hit the dirt and breathe their final breath, just meanders through the games as if it were nothing more than a very realistic fiction.

That’s what was happening, at least in front of Niragi’s eyes. He readjusts the thick black bomber jacket that Sakurada gave him, stained with thick blood, hidden within the darkness. Said man that gave him the jacket was talking to another, who seemed oddly excited to see the man, even though his near carbon copy version was right there within view. Perhaps there was something less wanted in him that Sakurada had. A prettier smile, maybe. Or a nicer demeanour that people preferred to stick closer to. Too afraid to come closer to him.

They were correct to be afraid. Being afraid meant Niragi didn’t have to be seen as weak. But the few that weren’t, respected him. They held themselves at the same level, and Niragi at least gave them the respect if they deserved it.

Begrudgingly, it somewhat extended to his doppelgänger as well. Sakurada never exhibited a single hint of fear towards him, and even willingly attacked him with that darn water sprayer that he kept with him the entire time.

“ Oi! Are we leaving yet or not?” Niragi calls out to the man as he finally bids the other person adieu, Sakurada coming over to him with a kind smile.

“ Hey, can I ask you for a favour?” Sakurada asks, Niragi scowling a little. “ Hah? What for? Can’t you ask me later?” Sakurada smiles at him, and offers zero explanation, other than a simple request to head back himself, as he needed the car to do something. Which, granted, the Beach wasn’t that far from where the game arena was, maybe an extra fifteen minute walk on foot added on to the time it would’ve taken if they took the car, but Niragi still didn’t like how Sakurada thought he’d be okay with it.

But Sakurada was already in the car and driving away by the time Niragi noticed the bastard even left his side with that request, Niragi yelling after the retreating vehicle.

“ Hey!  Hey! You asshole, get back here!” Niragi chases the car for a couple more meters, but the car is much too quick for him to chase by foot, disappearing into the night. Niragi lets out a yell, eyes burning with fury and foot stomping against the ground. “ Fuck!” A presence next to him makes itself known, clearing their throat. “ Hey uh…. Did our ride just up and leave us?” 

Niragi whips around, blood still boiling, staring at a nobody Beach member, who looked far too innocent and naive to realize that Niragi was simply not in the mood for small talk. Next to them was a blank-faced Last Boss, who Niragi briefly forgot was even with them, the rest having perished within the game. That didn’t matter anyways, Niragi needed something to let his feelings out, and he whips his beloved gun from his shoulder and jabs it in the direction of the nobody, who yelps and backs up in fear. Delicious, raw fear, the person staring at Niragi with pleading in their eyes, even if it too dark to properly make out what they held. The wide eyes, the trembling bones, the bobbing Adam’s apple, that was enough.

“Oh, so you can see. Whoop de fucking do.” Niragi snarks, the person holding their hands up in the air, eyes flickering between the cold barrel against their chest and the burning eyes of Niragi. “ Yes our ride fucking up and left. I don’t know what he was thinking, but we’re gonna have to walk back.” “ H-How far is the Beach?” Came their shaky voice, and Niragi stares in the general direction of where they came from, muttering to himself as he forced his brain to work outside the blaze within his bone. 

“ Longer than what I should have to deal with.” Niragi answers, and takes the gun back as he starts walking back to where the Beach should be. The sound of feet against the ground follow him, and the idiot asked way too many questions for Niragi to care about comes too close to his side, staring at him nervously.

“ You seem mad. Was it because of the guy that took the car? I’m sure there was a perfectly good reason for that guy to take the car! Even if it was a little weird he forgot us. It’s a good night for a walk anyways! Lucky it wasn’t a Spades game, otherwise-“ “ Oh my goodness, do you never shut up!?” Niragi looks at them, and in a fit of impulsive irritation he swings his gun against their skull, a crack resounding in the cold empty night, their body hitting the ground with a thud. “ Asking question after question, do you not see I don’t wanna deal with another gosh darn annoyance?! You know what, I’m already pissed, I need to do something. Lucky you.” His lip pulled up into a sarcastic sneer, full of disgust. “ I need a good stress reliever.” He aims the rifle at the fallen body, the person screaming and scrambling backwards.

“ W-Wait!? No, wait, I’m sorry, please don’t-“ Their words were cut off as Niragi pulls the trigger, shots ringing in the air and blood painting the ground. Niragi doesn’t stop until he feels his tense energy get pulled into each and every bullet, when he finally becomes satisfied as the body is nothing more than bloody cheese.

Niragi scoffs, and spits on the body to rub it in, the final piece of the puzzle. He holds his rifle down by his side and stumbles into the night, the sound of footsteps decreased by two.

Three minutes later, and Niragi needed to rant, his mouth opening and spilling his slight  against Sakurada to his only audience. Last Boss says nothing in return, but Niragi didn’t need any words spoken back. He appreciated that, not needing any more of a reason to get annoyed. They return to the Beach within a fair amount of time, nobody truly questioning where the others were or where their car even was, other than a few talking amongst each other. One less  drinking buddy here, one less of a good time there. Niragi ignores it all and heads straight to Hatter’s, Last Boss behind him the entire time.

He opens the door, Hatter greeting them, Cabot sitting on his lap and wearing Hatter’s sunglasses, the cat comfortable. Niragi walks in and slaps the card on the table, huffing. “ There. Your stupid card.” “ Thank you Niragi!” Hatter chirps, and he looks over Niragi’s shoulder, likely at Last Boss. “ And you as well for letting me watch over your cat! She is such a wonderful buddy for a rousing conversation over the legalities of dolphins!” Niragi never hears a response, nor does he even stay long enough, already leaving the moment he was able to. He heads back to his room to sleep the rest of the night off, too mentally exhausted to really want to deal with anyone else at the moment.

Least of all Sakurada, when he would inevitably come back.

—————————————————————————————————

The sun had not risen yet when the door slams open, hitting the wall rather violently. Niragi is startled awake, and he rubs his eyes and turns to the source of the noise, Sakurada standing there with the hallway lights still on and illuminating him. Niragi’s mood sours the moment he lays eyes on him, and he gets out of bed and storms over to him, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt.” You little bitch! You left me there at the game and made us walk! What fucking gives!?” Sakurada holds his hands up, one gently tapping the grip that had his shirt. He smiles back, opening his mouth to explain. Niragi at least gave him that, one step away from going to grab his gun and give Sakurada a new hole to breathe out of.

“ It was super important that I took the car, since it was a little far and I needed to carry things! Besides, I didn’t want to disturb you guys and cause too much of a scene-“ “ Leaving us there caused enough of a scene, asswipe-“ Niragi shakes the man, Dori wiggling but maintaining his stance. “ Yes, but-“ Sakurada starts up again, and Niragi was near about to punch the pretty asshole when he felt something step on his foot, and the soft sound of sniffing made him look down, thinking it was Cabot for a second. Instead, a small fluffy dog stood there, brown in colour and very cute. Niragi lets go, the dog looking up at Niragi and barking at him. 

“ Is that a dog.” Niragi lets the sentence tumble from his lips, Sakurada eagerly nodding. He  kneels down, petting the pooch. The dog’s tail wags happily.

“ Yes! Niragi, meet Fanta! He’s my dog!” He announces, continuing to stroke the dog. Niragi nods as he too kneeled down, and he holds a hand out to Fanta, who sniffs at his fingers before giving them a greeting lick.

“… I love your dog. Fanta, you said?” Sakurada nods, smiling. “ Cool. I’m going to steal your dog now. Night bitch.” He scoops the dog up and carries Fanta to bed, crawling back underneath the covers and setting the dog on top, Fanta barking and investigating the sheets. Niragi’s gun was still tucked in bed with him, but Niragi wasn’t dumb enough to leave the safety off. He even made sure to put a little cap over the trigger to even prevent it being moved.

He wasn’t a Diamonds for nothing.

Sakurada say nothing, but Niragi does hear him laugh a little, and bid him a goodnight as well. Fanta barks in his ear, Niragi gently shutting the dog’s mouth shut.

“ Goodnight, dog. Go to sleep.” Niragi mutters, Fanta whining a little and wiggling out his touch. At the very least he settles down, Niragi huffing inaudibly and falling back asleep, a warm weight remaining nearby him.

Morning comes too soon, and Niragi wakes up to Fanta still besides him, sleeping peacefully. He smiles to himself, already getting an idea, and he picks up the dog, Fanta waking up with a confused yelp from being picked up so suddenly, Niragi carrying the dog right out of the room. He makes sure not to wake up Sakurada as he heads down to Hatter’s room, throwing open the door and slamming on the lights. “ Hey! You! Wake up you slutty flamingo!” Niragi shouts, waking up the leader of the entire Beach. His hair was a bit of a mess, Hatter grumbling and combing his hair with his fingers. “ Ah? Niragi?” Hatter blinks a few times, and comes over the moment he saw Fanta in Niragi’s arms. “ Oh my goodness you brought me a new friend! Hello you glorious being!” Hatter pets Fanta with the enthusiasm of an old man greeting a grandchild, Fanta barking and wagging his tail happily.

“ This is Fanta. Can I make him a militant dog.” “ Hm? Why?” Hatter asks offhandedly, attention fully on Fanta.

“ Because I want to make him a militant dog, and I want to give Fanta a miniature rifle. And a fedora, obviously. Because he deserves one. So do I.” Niragi tells him. Hatter waves him off, still petting Fanta like he was the greatest thing since rubber ducks.

“ I can get that arranged!” Niragi grins to himself, pleased, and Hatter finally looks up at Niragi. “ I’ll get Aguni to get that all arranged for you!” “ Aw fuck yeah.” Niragi mutters, and Hatter continues to pet Fanta for a couple more minutes before he finally had his fill. With a wave from Hatter, Niragi finally leaves. He sets Fanta down, done with carrying the rather large dog, and heads back to his room, Fanta marching alongside him. Niragi smiles down at the dog, internally vibrating with joy.

“ Oh, this’ll be great.”

—————————————————————————————————

Later that day, Aguni comes over to Niragi’s room, looking at the still opened door, which had a rather decent sized crack running through it. He doesn’t mention a word as he comes over to Niragi, setting a small dog sized rifle and two hats on the bed, one much smaller than the other.

“ There.” That was all he said, and after a brief petting of the fluffy dog, he leaves them alone, Niragi grinning excitedly and putting his new fedora back on. Fanta barks at him, tail wagging. Niragi picks up the smaller hat, and he attempts to lower it onto Fanta’s head.

This doesn’t go well, Fanta barking again and running off. Niragi gasps, offended, and gets up to chase him around the room. Fanta was a crafty little dog though, managing to evade Niragi in every turn. 

“ Get back here you ungrateful little-“ Niragi begins to shout at the dog, but he’s stopped when he feels cold, familiar mist on his face, Niragi stopping in his tracks. “ Ah! Sakurada, what the hell!”

“ Don’t be mean to Fanta! Also, where did you get that?” Sakurada plucks the fedora off of Niragi’s head, Niragi becoming offended again in the past ten minutes as Sakurada opens the window and yeets it out the window as well. Sakurada spots the tiny dog rifle on the bed, and he gasps as well, picking it up and turning around to look at Niragi like a disappointed mother.

“ Are you trying to turn my child into a murderer! Shame on you, Niragi, you should know better!”  Sakurada reprimands, crossing his arms. “ You’re not my mom!” Niragi retorts. “ And come on, Fanta deserves a gun! And a hat!” Sakurada sighs, and simply sets the rifle down on the bed and kneels down, calling his dog over, Fanta happily padding over to him. Sakurada pets Fanta with a smile, then looks to Niragi, the latter still clutching the smaller doggy hat. “ May I see that, please?” Sakurada holds his hand out, Niragi continuing to stare at him. He finally concedes, and he comes over, handing over the hat. “ Fanta didn’t want it though.” Niragi dejectedly mutters with a bit of irritation, but Sakurada only chuckles a little and looks down at Fanta, holding the hat up to the dog’s nose. Fanta sniffs at it a few times, tail wagging. Sakurada looks up at Niragi one more time, Niragi looking down at him in pure confusion, then sheer indignation as Sakurada easily slides the fedora on Fanta’s head. “ There! Easy as that!” “ But- Hey, that’s cheating, how’d you do that!” Sakurada merely shrugs, petting Fanta a little more and standing up. “ I guess Fanta didn’t want you putting it on? Fanta is a very smart dog after all!” Niragi only huffs, crossing his arms and shaking his head at Fanta, who happily lays down on the floor. “ You little prick…..”

Still, that doesn’t stop Niragi from bringing Fanta with him later on patrol, the dog eager for a walk. People cooed at the cute dog, Niragi glaring at a few too dared get too close for comfort. He had to keep up his persona after all, even with the addition of a rather cute dog by his side.

He meets up with Last Boss again by the end of it, Cabot meowing at Niragi the moment he arrives. Fanta barks upon seeing the feline, Cabot tucking herself away into Last Boss’ hood. Last Boss stares down at Fanta in silence, Niragi snorting. “ Your cat is a pussy.”

Last Boss looks at Niragi at that comment, slowly blinking. “ …. Yes? She’s a cat.”

“ Ugh, you made it boring. Never mind. But still! Say hello to Fanta! This is a new member to the militants!” Last Boss nods, and he looks down at Fanta, just staring at the dog. Fanta didn’t seem to mind, merely wagging that little tail.

“ Anyways, I’ll see you later! I need to go get something! If Aguni asks, I went to pamper the fuck out of Fanta. If Sakurada asks, tell him to fuck off. Okay bye!” He waves and walks away, Fanta obediently trailing along with him.

He hops into a car, Fanta in the passenger seat, and drives away, having only the vaguest of ideas where he was going.

Three hours later, he returns, Fanta happily squeaking a squeaky toy that very oddly resembles a small rifle. He opens the door, Fanta running over his lap and into the open area with the little gift in his little doggy mouth, Niragi following after. Once back into the building, it doesn’t take long before Niragi sees Sakurada coming towards him, a worried expression on his face. “ Oh, there you two are! I was worried when you suddenly disappeared, you know! Where did you go?” “ To get Fanta a gift, obviously! Look, isn’t he so happy!” He gestures down at Fanta, the dog squeaking the toy once more. Sakurada smiles, a certain concerned tightness at the edges.

“ Niragi, why did you give my dog a gun again.” “ Hey! A squeaky gun! Huge difference! Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Sakurada sighs, and he lightly shakes his head. “ Alright, but that’s it, okay?” 

“ Ugh, fiiiiiine. Fanta still goes on patrols with me though.” “ Yes, of course. Fanta deserves to go on walks.” Niragi fist pumps the air. “ Aw yeah. You’re the fucking best, you Dior mannequin. Come on Fanta, let’s go throw eggs at the bleached trash bin.” He runs off, Fanta barking and climbing Sakurada’s legs for a few pets from his owner before running off to join Niragi in his crime time.

Sakurada simply watches them go, with the slight hint of worry for his poor Fanta. The dog was a smart doggo though, so Sakurada trusted Fanta to hold his own against Niragi. Hopefully there wouldn’t be….. too much damage control he’d have to do later.

[dreamcatcherthinks]

Elastic

Hey everyone! This account has been extremely inactive for the longest time. Out of curiosity, I logged in today and found this fic in my drafts. So here, it is now, three years later :)

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

Annabeth Chase was ready to find her soulmate. Ever since a month ago when her best friend, Piper Mclean had met Jason Grace, the boy she was destined to be with, Annabeth had realised that she missed her soulmate. It was a crazy feeling to miss someone you had never met. But she couldn’t help it. She did miss him.

At least, she was pretty sure her soulmate was a ‘him’. She didn’t really care either way but the snippets of images she sensed and her own gut told her that her soulmate was a guy. 

And this bond between them, this stretch of what felt like an elastic rubber band that literally linked her heart to his was the reason why she was wandering around in the middle of the city this early in the morning.

She had woken up gasping as she suddenly felt their bond pull taut and instinctively knew he was closer to her than he had ever been. Making a spontaneous decision, she had gotten ready and ran out the door, wearing the most comfortable pair of sneakers she owned.

From then on began a game of tag. Annabeth blindly followed the pull of the bond, weaving in between the early morning traffic and meandering through empty alleys, growing more and more excited each time the bond stretched a little more, showing her that she was getting closer to him. She groaned a little, frowning as she stopped at a junction, wishing she had a built-in GPS system to find him instead. After a few moments of consideration, the bond deigned to tug her to the left, letting her know the direction she should take.

She set off to the left. Her feet echoed rhythmically on the pavement and her mind wandered. It seemed like he was searching for her too. The elastic connecting them growing looser as the distance between them reduced, as they drew closer to one another.

She looked at her empty wrists, like she had every day since the morning the cord had glimmered into shape in her mind. Usually, the first words a couple would speak to each other when they met would be etched on their skin, right above where their pulse could be felt. She had wondered if maybe her partner couldn’t speak but had decided against it the night she heard some indistinctive words spoken by a male voice echo in her dreams.

Their connection worked differently from others. It was almost as if something didn’t want her growing too close to her soulmate before she actually met him. They couldn’t communicate by writing messages on their skin and having it appear on the other’s body like Piper and Jason could. They couldn’t read each other’s minds like Silena and Beckendorf could and they didn’t even have the timer on their wrists ticking down to the day they would meet like Will did.

Instead she got random snippets of her soulmate, jumbled bits and pieces that flashed through her mind like a butterfly, gone as quickly as lightning, but imprinted in her memory just as strongly. A moodboard, an aesthetic of her soulmate that taunted and teased her curiosity.

When she thought about him, she swore she could faintly hear the sound of water. Sometimes, of water lapping gently across a pool, other times of waves crashing along rocks. Perhaps he was a swimmer…..She had also grown to associate blue with him, yet always sensed a hue, green like the sea when she tried to reach down the bond.

This form of communication suited her. Going to the beach calmed her down now and ever since the bond, in a rare flash of helpfulness, had showed her a large ‘Hi!’ scrawled along a tanned arm in blue ink, (she suspected he was trying to see if the message would reach her like it did with Jason and Piper) she could never look at a blue marker without remembering him, remembering the future that waited for her with him, the promise that her future would be a stable and certain one, albeit a future with a very clumsy boy.

She found his clumsiness, which she felt the effects of, every time he stubbed his toe or walked into a door, both vexing and endearing. Of course she would have the bond that would let her feel her soulmate’s physical pain and of course her soulmate was one who somehow always seemed to bruise his knees. Sometimes it felt like the soulmate system was designed to infuriate her and only her. Annabeth was a girl who liked to know everything. No surprises. No sudden revelations. No curveballs. But, even though it could be annoying at times, she had grown to enjoy being in the dark . The fact that she could feel his pain reassured her that he was a real person who breathed and existed and fell….hard. And often. But still.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and walked briskly onto the sidewalk. The roads were getting busier by the minute and the air was getting warmer. But the bond between them hung looser than ever, like a relaxed rubber band. She was closer to him than ever and she was not going home without finding him today.

She pushed away a few strands of her hair that had sneaked away from her ponytail, feeling anxiety spark up her fingers and ignored her craving for a coffee. Her stomach grumbled in protest and just as she had begun to battle with her hunger and aching legs, a dull thud reverberated down the side of her head. She stopped cold. A sharp pain followed it, driving her to the ground. Her knees barked at the impact, her body jerking as the pain struck her head in waves.

Annabeth buried her face in her hands, clenching her fists, letting her nails dig into her skin. A useless attempt at distracting herself from the searing, blinding agony that burned through her head, her heart.

It stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Annabeth breathed in deeply and raised her head. Some of the people passing by flashed her concerned looks but kept walking. There was a blur of commotion in front of her. A huddle of people surrounding something. An accident, perhaps. She hadn’t noticed anything else but the pain.

Annabeth wiped the tears from her eyes and noticed a flash of red on her skin. Was she crying…blood? No.

She looked down at her hands. There was no sting as the blood dripped down from a cut she couldn’t see and onto the pavement stones.

She stared at it. She felt empty. Empty and alone. Her chest stung, as if a rubber band had snapped against it. And it hit her. A revelation that she would have given anything to not know.

In the stretch of space that extended between her heart to his, there was nothing. Only a dark void to fill in the gap left by an elastic band that used to connect their souls together.

She understood then, why they didn’t have the first words they would say to each other inked on their skin. 

Annabeth raised her head, still on the ground, staring without seeing at the group that had begun to dissolve as people moved away, clearing a path for a vehicle with a siren. An ambulance. Her thoughts snapped to attention. What had happened here? She hadn’t heard or seen anything from the moment she had fallen.

Her eyebrows furrowed as her gaze latched on to the scene in front of her. There was someone sprawled on the ground, his hoodie splattered with blood, his dark hair, messy and rumpled, falling on his forehead. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, a vacant stare in a green that was achingly familiar. Voices pierced the white noise in her head - complaints of a speeding driver, sympathies for a strange boy who moments ago, had been rushing across the street, nervous and excited, and in a whisper, quieter than the rest, she heard the echoes of a future snatched away. 

Close. So, close. 

[nedfuckindiscretionchicanejr]

A Question of Terminology

Word count: 2673

AO3

Danny was in the lobby of Amnesty lodge, sitting cross-legged on a plush reclining chair and sketching a vase of flowers that sat on the coffee table in front of her. Jake sat across the room in another plush chair, his legs folded in front of him so that his knees could serve to hold the skateboarding magazine he was reading.

Jake and Danny both looked up when the front door opened to see Aubrey come in holding three heart-shaped boxes in one hand and a bag of, presumably, regular groceries in the other. 

“Yo,” she said with a grin, holding up the three boxes triumphantly, “guess who just got a discount on Valentine’s chocolate because Leo likes me?” 

Jake gave a nod of approval. “Nice.”��

“You really should be wearing a coat,” Danny said, because she always said some variation on this when she saw that Aubrey was outside in the cold wearing nothing but a long-sleeve shirt and a vest. Aubrey had long since stopped trying to answer. She toed off her boots and then went into the kitchen. Jake followed her with his eyes as she put away the groceries.

“So …” he began when it looked like Aubrey was about done. “Are all of those chocolates for Hollis, or were you planning to share some with us?” Aubrey froze, her hand on an open cupboard door. 

Danny tsked. “That’s not fair Jake; don’t try to guilt her into sharing.” 

Jake turned to look at Danny. “I wasn’t -” he said, but then he shook his head. He turned back to Aubrey, who still hadn’t moved. “I mean, sorry. You don’t have to share. I was just asking.” Aubrey shook her head and finished closing the cupboard. 

“No, it’s ok, I bought them to … Why would they be for Hollis? I mean, I guess they could have some if they wanted. There’s no reason they couldn’t. I mean, Hollis likes chocolate, right? I’m sure they do. Do you think I should bring some to Hollis? I could go over tomorrow …” Jake and Danny exchanged a look. “What?” 

“No, it’s nothing,” Danny said, looking at her sketchbook. Jake shrugged. 

“I just thought that people usually bought Valentine’s chocolate for their significant others,” he said. “But you don’t have to give them any; I’m not judging.” He grinned. “More chocolate for me.” Aubrey’s jaw had dropped while Jake was talking. She closed her mouth, opened it, and then closed it again. Then she shook her head slowly and said,

“I don’t … Are you implying that Hollis and I …?” Danny and Jake glanced at one another again. “Because we aren’t,” Aubrey said quickly. “I mean, they’re cool, sure, and attractive I guess, but we’re not, like, together.” Jake tilted his head.

“Huh.” Then, “Are you sure?” Danny and Aubrey both stared at him. Danny said,

“What is that supposed to mean? How could she not be sure?” 

“You’ve been living with her as long as I have. Don’t you think there’s something …” he gestured vaguely, “you know, different about her relationship with Hollis than her relationship with you or me?”

“‘You or I,’” Aubrey interjected. Danny shook her head, still staring at Jake.

“No, he’s right, it’s ‘you or me.’ I mean, yeah, I have noticed that she always smiles when she talks about them, and that she takes longer to get dressed when she’s going to see them, and that she obsesses over things that they say for days-”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do,” Jake and Danny both said at the same time. Aubrey’s eyes narrowed.

“But that doesn’t matter,” Danny continued, finally turning toward Aubrey. “If you say you two aren’t dating, then you aren’t dating. I’m sorry I assumed.” She looked significantly at Jake, who started playing with the zipper on his jacket.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I mean,” he said with a laugh, “obviously you couldn’t be dating someone and not realize it. That’d be wild.” 

“Yeah,” Aubrey said slowly. “Wild.” 

***

Hollis and Bevin had been working on their bikes for a while, moving between periods of silence and meandering conversations about sundry things. 

“I guess Valentine’s Day is pretty soon, huh?” Bevin said, apropos of nothing. “I need to figure out what I’m doing with Tim.” 

“You did romantic homemade dinner last year, right?”

Bevin mhm’d in agreement.

“Gotta up the stakes this year. Can’t let yourself get boring.” 

“Obviously. It’s like an anniversary, each one is more …” Bevin squinted. “I don’t know. It’s just more.” 

“Do you have any ideas?” Hollis asked.

“I don’t know. I’d love to take him somewhere nice, but I just don’t think that’s on the table, you know, financially.”

“Hmm. It’s a shame Valentine’s day is in the winter. It’s a lot easier to do romantic stuff for free in the summer. Picnics, long walks on the beach, starting fires, that sort of thing.” 

“Oh, absolutely. Whoever scheduled it like this was a fucking moron.”

“I think it was the Catholic church - I think they killed a guy and then made a holiday about it?”

“Yep, that makes about as much sense as I expect the Catholic church to make.” They both laughed. 

“On the other hand,” Hollis said slyly, “the cold weather does encourage staying inside and getting close, if you wanna go that route.” 

“Oh, you better believe we’re gonna follow that route all night long. I’m not planning on being able to walk on the 15th. I was just trying to think of how to lead up to that, you know?” Hollis nodded.

“A romantic day of foreplay.”

“Exactly.” 

After a moment, Bevin asked, “What are you doing with Aubrey?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean for Valentine’s Day. What are you two doing?” Hollis looked away from their bike for the first time to stare at Bevin. 

“Nothing.” 

Bevin also stopped what he was doing to meet their gaze. They just looked at each other for a while, foreheads wrinkled in confusion. Then Bevin’s face smoothed, and he said,

“Oh, is this a Wicca thing? I guess that would make sense, that she does different holidays.” Hollis shook their head.

“No, it’s not - well, maybe that’s a thing, I don’t know; Aubrey’s not Wiccan. Though I guess she does kind of celebrate different holidays. She was telling me about the Winter Solstice … I don’t know, maybe she celebrates Valentine’s Day, maybe she doesn’t. But I don’t see why she would be celebrating with me.” 

“Is that … are you fucking with me?” Hollis still looked confused. “Because you two are dating.” Hollis laughed. 

“If that’s true, this is the first I’m hearing about it.” 

“Are you actually being serious? You and Aubrey aren’t together?” Hollis held out their hands. 

“Yes? Why would you think that we were?” 

“I mean, I’ve known you a while. The way you act with her is not the way you act with your friends. Like, you laugh at all her jokes, even when they’re not funny-”

“Maybe she’s just funnier than you.” Bevin shrugged.

“Maybe. What about the fact that you text her about things you’re doing, or thinking about doing? Why do you feel the need to include her in your life decisions?” 

Hollis rolled their eyes and went back to working on their bike while they spoke.

“So I value her opinions about some stuff, what of it? We have a lot in common when you really get down to it, and I trust her. Doesn’t mean we’re dating.” 

“No,” Bevin said, also returning to his bike, “but it doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“Ok, wow, that’s a real solid argument there, Bevin. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I guess Aubrey and I must be dating, then.” 

“Alright, fine, you’ve made your point - there’s nothing going on between the two of you. But, I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe there should be.” Hollis scoffed.

“No, you don’t know, and it’s none of your business. Step down.” 

“Right,” Bevin said quickly. He shook his head. “You’re right. Sorry, boss.” 

They lapsed into silence, then. Bevin worked deliberately, focusing carefully on the task at hand. Hollis worked more slowly. More than once they drifted off, their hands stilling and their face going blank. Then they would shake themself slightly and return to their bike, eyes narrowed. 

***

Hollis and Aubrey were curled up on either side of Hollis’ couch, and they were both laughing, though Aubrey was laughing a lot harder. “Right?” Hollis said, “who says stuff like that?” They reached behind themself to grab their tea, took a few sips, and then put it back. Aubrey was still laughing. “Ok, I don’t know if it was that funny.” Aubrey shook her head.

“No, it’s-” She took a breath. “It’s not that. I’m just-” She started laughing again, and held up a hand with her index finger extended. She took a few more breaths, and her laughter subsided, though she was still grinning. 

“I’m laughing because I just had that exact same conversation with Jake.” Hollis raised both eyebrows. “Yeah,” Aubrey said, “I know. But he literally said the same thing, that apparently you and I act like a couple, and he and Danny both thought we were one.” 

“Damn, I didn’t realize there was a whole conspiracy. How deep does this thing go?” 

Aubrey assumed a serious expression and spoke with a gravelly voice. “‘Mr. President, please, I need to know. Are Hollis and Aubrey …’” Aubrey nodded, and then continued with a different voice, “‘Of course they are. Everyone knows that.’” Hollis was laughing, and Aubrey joined them. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Aubrey said suddenly. “Do you want some chocolate? I got a bunch because it was on sale - well, it wasn’t on sale, but Leo gave me twenty percent off because I’m a friend or family, and Jake thought I bought it for you, which I didn’t, I bought them to share with everyone, because sharing is caring and all that, and you are part of everyone, so I brought a box over. It’s in my bag.” Hollis smiled.

“I’d love some chocolate.” 

Aubrey pulled out the box and placed it on the empty couch cushion between her and Hollis, taking off the lid as she did so. “Oh, uh, the guide is on the bottom,” she said, one hand holding the lid and the other hovering over the box. 

“The most logical and convenient place for it to be.”

“Well, I guess it’s so you can see what you’re getting when you buy it, which was nice when I was buying it.” She started pointing with her free hand. “Ok, that one is caramel I think, unless it’s the strawberry crème. Uhm, that one is just milk chocolate I’m pretty sure. Uhh …” Hollis raised a hand to stop her.

“It’s fine, Aubrey. You know the great thing about a box of chocolates is that it’s like life - you never know what you’re going to get.” Aubrey pursed her lips. She finally put the lid to the side and then held up a hand, the index finger extended. 

“Ok, one, that quote doesn’t even make sense in the first place because that’s a shitty box of chocolates that doesn’t tell you what’s inside.”

“Maybe it’s a metaphor for a shitty life,” Hollis suggested with a shrug. Aubrey inclined her head slightly, then extended a second finger.

“Two,” she said, making eye contact with Hollis before looking toward the box. After a moment, she took one out, bit it in half, and then nodded. “Two,” she continued, the chocolate still in her mouth, “this one has orange in it, so maybe you should be grateful to me for saving your life instead of waxing philosophical about Forrest Gump quotes or whatever.” Hollis rolled their eyes. 

“Alright, granted. Thank you. But for the record, citrus doesn’t kill me; it just irritates my mouth.”

“You irritate my mouth,” Aubrey said immediately. She and Hollis looked at each other for a beat, and then they both burst out laughing. 

“That made no sense,” Hollis said through their laughter. 

Aubrey nodded once. “Yep.” She popped the other half of the orange chocolate into her mouth, and Hollis did the same with a non-orange chocolate from the box. When their mouth was empty again, they said

“You know, Bevin actually had the audacity to say that I laugh at your jokes even when they aren’t funny.” Aubrey gasped.

“Bullshit! All my jokes are funny.”

“That’s what I said!” Aubrey grabbed another chocolate.

“And that's why he thought we were dating?”

“Yeah, I guess. And because I text you more than I text him or whatever.” They waved a hand dismissively. 

“Hm,” Aubrey said, talking with her mouth full again. “Kinda sounds like he’s jealous.”

“Fuck, maybe. I mean, yeah, I’ve given a lot to the Hornets, and I love them, but I should be allowed to have a life outside of them, right?”

“Yeah, of course. If you wanna spend less time with them to hang out with other friends, that’s your prerogative.” Hollis turned around and had another sip of tea. When they put their cup back down they asked,

“So why did Jake and Danny think we were dating?” Aubrey’s hand, holding another piece of chocolate, froze an inch from her mouth. 

“Oh, uh …” She put the chocolate in her mouth and chewed slowly. Then she swallowed and said, “well, apparently I’m always smiling when I’m talking about you-”

“Aww.”

“Shut up. And I guess I take a while getting ready before I go out to see you, which, yeah. I just know that you have a good fashion sense and I want to look … good … for you. Okay, that sounded more romantic than I meant it.” Hollis shrugged.

“No, that doesn’t have to be romantic. I’ve got to say, though, I’m kind of surprised. I always got the impression that you dressed however you wanted, and fuck what other people thought.” 

“Well, I mean, I am going for a certain kind of look. And so are you, which is why you texted me the other day when you were trying to decide what hair dye to get.” Hollis shrugged and inclined their head. “We just have similar styles and we trust each other’s opinions. Not romantic.” 

“No, not romantic. Not necessarily.” Aubrey tilted her head to the side, and Hollis shrugged. “I mean, it could be. If it were other people. Like, two people who acted like we do could be dating. None of this is inherently unromantic.” Aubrey was just staring. “God, I don’t know, nevermind.” They looked away as they picked up a chocolate at random and threw it in their mouth. 

“No, no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t … I was just thinking. Relationships are pretty weird, huh? Like, we can hang out and eat Valentine’s chocolate together, and that’s maybe traditionally a pretty romantic activity, but it’s not weird because we’re just friends. I was just wondering about other things … like, would it be weird if we held hands? Or would it be fine because we’re just holding hands as friends?” 

“I don’t know,” Hollis said thoughtfully. Then they leaned forward and held out a hand. “Wanna try?” Their pulse had quickened a tiny bit. Aubrey smiled.

“Sure.” She leaned over to take Hollis’ hand, and they both took a moment to reposition themselves so they were sitting closer together. Their hands rested comfortably on the couch between them, just next to the heart-shaped box. Aubrey’s breath was a little shallower than it had been a minute ago. 

“... Good?” Hollis asked, an eyebrow raised. Aubrey nodded.

“Mm, yeah.” Then she smirked. “It’s good for me. Is it good for you?” They both chuckled. Hollis nodded.

“Yeah, this is nice.” Their pulse was visible in their throat. “And not necessarily romantic.” 

“No,” Aubrey said, looking down at their entwined fingers. “Not necessarily.”

[kaoruyogi]

How to Win Wars and Influence Nobles (Ch. 29)

Rating: E for Explicit/NSFW Content!

Check it out on AO3!

You’d think a video game lawyer could just drop into a pseudo-medieval universe filled with magic and demons and be totally okay with it, right?

Nah.

In the wake of her brother, Spencer’s, disappearance, Belle dropped into Thedas with luggage, but without a clue. After a brief but memorable panic attack, she resolved to be the best goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. Even if she was the only goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. And even if that obstinate asshole, Cullen, wouldn’t stop giving her the side-eye every time she walked into a room…Or every time he walked into a room with her in it…Or every time they walked into a room together…Or–Fuck it. You get it.

Chapter 29: Fucking Lying to Fucking Everyone

“Ooh. Ooooh Jesus fucking balls.” Belle reached up and hammered the roof of the carriage with the side of her fist to signal the driver to stop. “Ahhh.” She hissed in a breath.

“Is something the matter?” said Josephine from her seat opposite Belle. The ambassador had long since become accustomed to Belle’s persistently foul mouth, and she no longer got quite so scandalized when Belle issued a string of curses.

Belle hissed in another breath. “Ooh. Gotta pee.” She shut her eyes and tilted her head back. The carriage didn’t stop. It kept rocking away, sloshing the full capacity of her bladder from side to side. “Gotta pee, pee, pee.”

She banged on the ceiling again. “It’s a right fucking now sorta thing, dude!” she said from deep in her diaphragm.

Josie leaned her head out of the small window. “Please stop,” she said just once at a very reasonable volume.

The carriage stopped. Belle squinted her pained gratitude to her friend before flinging the door open. On this stupid carriage ride from Skyhold to Halamshiral, she had gone from thirty-seven weeks pregnant to thirty-eight weeks pregnant. As a result, she had to piss. Always. The only time she didn’t have to piss was the five second window after she had just finished taking a piss. Even then, there was a little tingle. And it was always urgent. There was no slow buildup to the moment her schoolteachers would have called “an emergency,” no ten or twenty minutes during which she could just hold it. There was only ever the terrifying sensation that her bladder would evacuate everywhere and on everything in ten, nine, eight…

She exited the carriage, half hopping and half sliding, like an elephant seal, and she waddled past several Inquisition soldiers toward a small ridge. They saluted her, because of course they did. Only men under Cullen’s instruction would salute a beached whale as it ran past to piss behind a bush.

Belle muttered to herself as she shuffled. “Oh God. OhGodohGodohGodohGod.” Her feet kicked up dirt because her hips and legs had shifted to make bending her knees a gargantuan effort. She ducked behind a shrub just large enough to cover her when she squatted. She was grateful she’d chosen only Antivan-tailored maternity wear to bring to the Winter Palace when she wasn’t in her expanded Inquisition uniform. It was easiest to pull up and down. Fereldan would have been better, but she didn’t want to piss any Orlesians off. Of the more neutral nations’ alternatives, Antiva’s puffed sleeves and empire waisted long gowns seemed the best option. Nevarrans cut their pregnant women’s clothes too tight, and they seemed to enjoy slapping little pieces of armor on everything. Tevinter, aside from being a non-option because it was Tevinter, belted their garb to the point of ridiculousness. Rivaini maternity gowns were essentially shifts, meant for an easy transition from pregnancy to nursing—Belle ordered several of them in bright colors for use at Skyhold. The Anderfells didn’t send a tailor.

When Belle finished, and her bladder twinge returned to a level that didn’t induce blind panic, she tottered back toward her carriage at the center of the caravan. Cullen stood beside his blue roan stallion, both having taken up a strategic position between her and the blissful discomfort of her seat. Her husband’s face was marked up with stress, pinched and crinkled in too many places.

“Are you alright?” he said when she was still a few feet away. “Did something happen?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Same thing that happened the last fifty billion hojillion times I stopped the caravan. I had to pee. She’s sitting on my fucking bladder.” She gave him a peck on the lips when she got close enough. “You gotta quit worrying.”

Some of the crinkles smoothed. “You can hardly blame me. She’s due in two weeks’ time. Rosalie was born two weeks before she was expected.”

“That may be true, but Rosalie was baby number four. First babies are pretty much always late. I bet Mia was late.”

“By nearly a week.”

“See? We’ll be in Halamshiral in a couple hours, and this Exalted Council thing should only last a few days. Then we’ll turn around and be home in Skyhold just in time to wait another week. So chill.”

Belle kissed him again, and he held her hand to help her back into the carriage before the caravan spurred on. With the rocking recommenced, she retreated into her thoughts for a while. If she was honest, she was as worried as Cullen about when their baby would decide to burst onto the scene. She believed what she’d said. Most first babies arrived late. But there was no certainty in those statistics. If anything, the fact that every first baby she’d ever met came late, herself included, meant she was bound to be the exception that proved the rule.

She was all too glad to be torn from her spiraling thoughts when Josie suggested they go over their strategy once more before they reached the edge of the city. Max would lead the negotiations as the figurehead of the organization, and he understood enough about nobility from his upbringing to do a fair job with some assistance. Belle and Josie were there to back him up and chime in as needed.

Belle’s extra duties included playing the roles of both the sympathetic pregnant woman and the pitbull attorney. She was happy enough to do the latter, should the opportunity arise, but the former annoyed her. She hated playing the pregnancy pity card when it came to matters of professionalism. In Washington, an opposing counsellor once told her to take a break—not asked, told—and she threatened to have him sanctioned for discrimination. It hadn’t mattered one iota that she really needed to piss at the time.

The towering white and gold heights of the Winter Palace came over the horizon first, and soon the low built slums of the rest of Halamshiral appeared. As the Inquisition retinue rolled through the city streets, Belle noted that not enough had changed since Max helped elevate Briala into power behind Celene and Gaspard. The elves living within the city looked to be as impoverished as ever. Children, thin even for their lithe builds and covered in filth, stared in awe of the soldiers and carriages as they passed. The whole situation nauseated Belle. It felt too familiar. She watched as Sera, who had been riding ahead near Max and Cassandra, stopped her horse to lean down and speak to two or three of the children and toss them a bag of coin for whatever information they’d passed along.

As the gates of the Winter Palace closed behind the last of the Inquisition soldiers, Belle couldn’t help but feel hypocritical. With all the power she’d been granted, she was there for a purpose other than freeing the impoverished from their Thedosian ghettos. In that moment, her duties felt selfish. The gates ensconced the guilty away from their atrocities and their neglect, and now she was locked in with the monsters, trapped and masquerading as one of them. It was no wonder Cullen hated the nobility with such fervor.

Josephine accompanied Max around the gardens to socialize with the nobles whose asses he was expected to kiss. The two had become much more open with their relationship while Belle was gone, and they allowed each other a number of adorable favors and little intimacies that made her smile from across the courtyard. It brought her some relief to see nobles from all over Thedas seem to be kind and accepting of the full-bloomed love between the Inquisitor and his ambassador.

Cullen helped Belle out of the carriage and saw to it she was hydrated. He fetched two dainty glasses of water, gave one to her, and held the other until she needed it. He asked after her welfare every few minutes. It was very sweet, but he was helicoptering. She couldn’t entirely blame him, though. She had been stabbed the last time they were there, after all. It made her feel safer to have him so close, especially knowing he wouldn’t be in the chamber for most of the Exalted Council’s proceedings. So she let him hover.

They found all their friends as they meandered and mingled. Varric had been waiting just inside the gates to waylay everyone for a little while with all his new stories of being Viscount. Belle told him she would have hugged him, but that she was pretty sure her belly would knock him flat on his ass. He said it wouldn’t have been the first time.

Thom Rainier had finally decided to go by his real name, and he gave Cullen a jolt of a handshake when they met again. He congratulated them on the pregnancy and caught them up on his dealings of the past two years. Belle was pleased to hear of all the good work he’d being doing with the surviving men from his battalion and with those imprisoned for crimes they did not commit. She offered her legal assistance should he ever find someone who might benefit from it, and he told her he would start a list form which she could take her pick. A scintilla of regret eked into the back of her mind at the thought of so much pro bono.

Vivienne had remained very much herself with the passage of time. She proffered her felicitations for the marriage and pregnancy, but she made an offhanded remark about Belle’s willingness to marry down. Belle reminded her Cullen was at least five inches taller, which meant she’d married quite a ways up. Vivienne offered to treat her to a proper spa day after the baby was born, and she gave Cullen a backhanded compliment about the inevitable but conciliatory handsomeness of the child. The couple moved on with a foul taste in their mouths and promises of free pampering. At least they had broken even with the woman.

Dorian and Iron Bull lingered near one another in the tavern, making eyes across the room while everyone caught up. “You’ve become rather rotund since the last time I saw you,” said Dorian with a jaunty lift of an eyebrow.

“And somehow you’ve become even shinier,” said Belle. She poked one of the dozen little silvery diamond plates on his chest.

He laughed and drew her into his arms. “I have missed you very much, you know. Things can get very dull without your sharp tongue around.”

“I doubt anything could be dull with his sharp tongue around.” She stuck out a thumb toward Bull.

“Ah.” Dorian cleared his throat. “Yes, well, never dull there.”

“I am glad you two found each other,” said Cullen, much to Belle’s grinning surprise. “It’s good to know you’ve found something close to the happiness I feel with Belle.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and groaned. “Maferath’s balls, Commander. Must you always be so sweet and endearing? It’s enough to make my teeth rot.”

“Oh shush, butthead,” said Belle as she let her head fall to rest on Cullen’s shoulder. “I like him sweet and endearing. Don’t ruin him.”

The newly appointed Magister laughed. “I’m not the one who ruined him. The Cullen I first met would have run away gagging if he heard someone talking like that. You, my dear, are the one who ruined him.”

“Fine. So don’t un-ruin him.”

“I’m still standing right here,” said Cullen.

“Cutting your usual dashing figure. I will miss you both when I return home at the end of all this. Bull and I can never seem to finish a game of chess.”

“Then stop playing strip chess you fucking fiend,” said Belle.

“Now let’s not be hasty.”

“How long will you be in Tevinter?” said Cullen.

“For the foreseeable future, I’m afraid. If I truly mean to change things, I need to do my part in the changing. You two could always visit. I go to the border of the Free Marches several times a month if you’re not inclined to fear for your life every moment in Minrathous.”

“For your chess games, huh?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Dorian peacocked a little.

“We’ll see what we can do after she gets here in a few weeks.” Belle rubbed a single circle over her belly. “Shit’s about to get weird.”

A doleful, longing expression passed over his face. “You know, I envy you that.”

“You guys could always adopt. I’m sure there are a zillion little orphan boys and girls who would kill for such rad dads. And you know you’d be able to protect them cause Bull’s a fucking murder machine. You’re no slouch in the death-dealing department, either, mind you.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps once I’ve managed to fix enough that Bull can actually live in Minrathous. But for now, I’ll settle for seeing your little bundle grow up on your very frequent visits.” He glanced in Bull’s direction, and Belle’s eyes followed. Bull tilted his head toward the door and stood. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m feeling a bit exhausted from my travels and am in rather desperate need of a long nap.”

Belle nodded with a licentious smile. “Oh I’ll bet. A real long nap. I bet you’ll feel so good after your real long nap. Looonn—”

“You are one of my dearest friends. With that in mind, do shut up.”

She giggled, and he headed for the exit. She called out after him. “Enjoy your long nap!” He swatted the air behind him before vanishing through the doorway. She took a sip of the second glass of water she’d finally removed from her husband’s hand.

“I suppose that’s one more chess game they won’t finish,” said Cullen.

Belle spat her water everywhere.

After she finished apologizing to the three people she’d moistened, and after sitting with Cole to listen to some of Maryden’s newest tunes, Belle and Cullen decided to peruse the wares of the merchants set up in the courtyard for the occasion. The goods were mostly useless. Baubles and vanity weapons meant to hang from walls instead of belts. When they were midway through the makeshift marketplace, a booming bark thundered from a stall behind them. Belle lurched, nearly spilling what remained of her water down the front of her dress. Cullen spun around, prepared to defend his wife with nothing but his balled fists.

She turned around to meet her would-be attacker. Instead, she saw a massive gray dog that looked exactly like a Cane Corso. Its pointed nub of a tail twitched back and forth, dragging its ass into an ecstatic wag. Its mouth hung open, pink tongue lolling out over too many teeth.

“Whose mabari is this?” said Cullen, loosening his fists so as not to scare the shopkeeper.

The masked man answered with a thick Orlesian accent that Belle almost didn’t mistake for French first. “As of this moment, Ser, he is no one’s.”

“No one’s?”

“Someone brought him to the palace, that much is certain. I saw him drinking from one of the fountains. Then he tried to catch one of the fish. Rather than letting the guards kill him, I took him to see if I might find his owner. No one has claimed him since yesterday.”

Belle and Cullen approached the dog, and Belle held out her hand like a paw. The mabari gave it a few short sniffs before licking all of her knuckles at once. She smiled and scratched behind his ear. Cullen took a knee in front of the dog.

“Another Fereldan stranded in Orlais,” he said, sounding somewhat faraway. He held up his fist like a SWAT team member signaling his partners to stop. The dog’s intelligent brown eyes snapped to Cullen’s hand, and he sat. Cullen laid his hand flat, palm down, and the dog laid down. Belle shot a quizzical glance at her husband.

“How much do you want for him?” said Cullen to the merchant.

“What?” said Belle. “Hey wait a second, this is a conversation. You can’t just unilaterally decide we’re getting a dog now.”

A stitch knit itself between his brows. “But you love dogs.”

“Yeah, and it’s a big decision to get one. One we have to make together. We’re in the middle of a goddamn upheaval. We don’t even know if we’ll be living in the same place next month.”

Cullen turned his attention to the mabari. “You don’t mind where you live, do you?”

The dog barked and licked her hand again.

Belle’s eyes widened. She shook her head and chided them both with her tongue against her teeth. “Don’t try to weaponize his cuteness. It’s beneath both of you.” The dog barked again. “Hey now,” she said to him. “Cullen, we’re already about to have another mouth we have to figure out how to feed. I want a dog too, but this is something we should talk about.”

“Aren’t we talking about it now?”

She felt the incredulity spreading over her face before she heard it in her voice. “Well, yeah, but—I mean—Cooler heads, right?”

Cullen stood, taking her hands in his and looking her in the eye. The glowing amber of his gaze still made her just a bit weak in the knees. “Mabari are very intelligent. He will be the perfect protector for our daughter. And in the unlikely event we need to hunt for our food, we would have a much better chance at catching something with his help. He’s a Fereldan. He cannot be left alone in Orlais. It’s a travesty.”

Belle stared at her husband for a long while. The stich in his brow rose and rose until it threatened to meet his hairline. She looked at the mabari panting beside her. “What are we going to call him?”

She watched her husband all but leap out of his skin. She had never seen him so giddy. It made her laugh despite herself.

“Charles,” he said.

“Charles? Like Charlie?”

“No. Charles.”

“That’s weird, though.”

“It’s not weird.” Cullen turned to the giant dog. “You like the name Charles, don’t you?”

Charles barked. His tongue flapped up against his nose.

Belle bit back a laugh. “Fine. Charles it is. But I reserve the right to call him Charles Barkley.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that the name of a person?”

“The world may never know.”

*****

The sister moons cast sibling shadows in every direction when they rose high over Thedas on the third night in Halamshiral. They propagated at dozens upon dozens of angles to create a complex mosaic of light and dark. Belle stared out the window of the immaculate room she shared with Cullen, tracing through the maze of varied darkness to find the blinding reflections that glinted off the nearby gold and silver towers. Her hair had gotten too long, she thought just then, though she couldn’t say why she thought it.

She made her way back toward the bed where Cullen and Charles slept. Her restlessness left the sheets on her side in tousled disarray, and she sat in the blank spot she’d abandoned when she gave up on sleep and stood however long ago. She watched her husband sleep while her mind ticked like a broken clock stuck in time. His lips moved a little, and he murmured something about a chicken, and she smiled. It almost always made her smile when he talked in his sleep.

But Belle knew she wouldn’t sleep for some time yet. Too many things rattled through her thoughts, not the least of which was the unshakable feeling that she was fucking lying to fucking everyone. She was lying to the Exalted Council, save for Divine Leliana Victoria, about the extent of the very real Qunari threat Max kept running off to handle. She and Josephine spun up an easily punctured tale of the Inquisitor’s valiant efforts to stop a spy or two, knowing full well a small army had plans to blow up the Winter Palace. All of it to save her client’s—the Inquisition’s—ass. The bar ethics committee would have had a field day. She would have become a cautionary tale spread through every professional responsibility class in every law school in every state where she was licensed. That there was no bar ethics committee in Thedas brought her little comfort. She had managed to maintain her oaths until now.

She was lying to Josephine about the extent of her concern over Max’s growing mark. Just after he followed the first dead Qunari’s trail through an eluvian, his mark began to glow more brightly than ever. And it was spreading. As Belle sat awake that third night in Halamshiral, Max’s mark had already crept like toxic vines up and up, pausing just below his elbow. It hurt him. She saw him grimacing as he clutched his cracked fist when he thought no one was looking. Josephine asked Belle if she thought it could kill him, and Belle said no. It was a lie intended to bring comfort, but it sat like acrimony in her gut.

She was lying to her husband about the extent of her fear of their baby being born on the road to Skyhold. She told him over and over that the baby was going to be late. First babies were always late. But she’d had her bloody show last night. It happened in the dark, and she told Cullen about it when he woke to her scrambling to clean up. He said they should leave for Skyhold at first light, and she told him it could still be weeks before the birth. That part wasn’t a lie. She put her hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead, and she told him not to worry because she wasn’t. That part was a lie.

Belle laid her too-long hair back on her pillow to try to sleep again. She counted tiles on the ceiling and stones in the walls, and she wondered when Arl Teagan had turned into such a tumbling dickweed. He’d been so friendly when they corresponded in the past. Now he’d spent two days ranting about the Inquisition’s invasion of Ferelden with Grey Wardens in its ranks and touting his country’s exile of the Wardens, like he hadn’t helped the Wardens a decade ago and been a key supporter of Fereleden’s Warden king and queen. Belle contemplated who could have shifted his perspective in such drastic fashion while she counted. She fell asleep before she got very far.

The third day of the Exalted Council proceeded exactly as the first two. Teagan was snarling his nonsense, Duke Cyril de Montfort was oozing praise and sprinkling less than subtle hints about the Inquisition marching under Orlais’s banners, and Divine Leliana Victoria was playing the skillful foil to help buy time. Max and his horrifying arm were off God knows where with Sera, Rainier, and Vivienne to try and put a stop to the Qunari demolition crew. All Belle could hope for at his point was that he would come back with some tale of triumph and bravery to save everyone’s asses by convincing the Exalted Council of the Inquisition’s continued utility and necessity. And for her wicked Braxton Hicks contractions to cut the shit already.

“Arl Teagan,” said Duke Cyril, “I fail to understand how the Inquisition’s continued presence at your Caer Bronach—” his pronunciation of the keep’s name seemed intentionally atrocious “—constitutes an invasion. It has been far from exclusive, from what I am told, and your country maintained no control over the place for decades.”

Teagan sneered past Divine Leliana Victoria at the Orlesian. “Of course you don’t understand. Your country has been trying to invade Ferelden for more than a hundred years. Far be it from you to claim to know the appearance of an invading force.”

“On the contrary, Arl. It is for that very reason that an Orlesian, above all others, would know precisely what an invading force looks like. We could produce one with little more than a flick of the quill.”

“And that’s exactly what you’re trying to do now, twisting the Inquisition into Orlais’s control.”

Belle couldn’t believe they were still on about this. Three days of the same thing. Circular arguments upon circular arguments. She hated circular arguments.

She cleared her throat, drawing the eyes of the dais. “As Ambassador Montilyet and I have mentioned,” several times, “the Inquisition has already substantially decreased its presence at Caer Bronach over the past two years, and we would be more than happy to release primary control of the keep to Fereleden on the conditions that we be allowed to maintain a small number of troops and scouts there, and that Ferelden would not allow the keep to fall prey to highwaymen or other dangerous influences. But you have refused to provide such assurances, Arl Teagan.”

“And I will continue to refuse.”

Belle glanced at Josephine before replying. The ambassador had dark circles under her eyes, and her posture listed here and there under her exhaustion. Tiny strands of frayed hair spoiled her usually perfect coiffure. Belle had never seen her friend in such ragged shape.

“Why is that?” said Belle, turning her attention back to Teagan.

“I will not promise to allow a foreign force to maintain even the slightest presence on in a fortress on Ferelden soil.”

“With respect, the Inquisition is far from foreign. Almost every person in Caer Bronach today is Ferelden. But what about the second condition? Why are you refusing to give us the assurance that Ferelden won’t let the keep fall into the wrong hands?”

“I do not rule Ferelden. I do not presume to assure you or anyone else of our willingness to maintain our own forces anywhere.”

“So, to clarify, you want the Inquisition to abandon a keep we took from murdering bandits to protect the citizens of Crestwood because you don’t want us there, but you can’t say you’re willing to garrison soldiers there to provide that same protection? I’m not certain the citizens of Crestwood would be so thrilled to hear how quickly you’re tossing away their safety for the sake of removing the Inquisition’s presence. Not to mention those who have started families with the Inquisition personnel stationed at the keep for the past three years.”

“I am not implying anything of the sort,” said Teagan, whose cheeks were turning pinker by the second. “I am simply not empowered to make any guarantees on behalf of King Alistair.”

Out of the corner of Belle’s eye, she saw a blonde elf scurrying up to Josephine. The young woman leaned in to whisper something in Josie’s ear. “Well, you may not be empowered to make guarantees, but I am,” said Belle, struggling to focus. “I can guarantee that if the Inquisition remains at Caer Bronach, no Ferelden property will be turned over to bandits or marauders, and the citizens of Crestwood and their families will be safe.”

Without warning, Josephine gasped and leapt up from her chair. She didn’t say a word to Belle or anyone else. She just ran out of the chamber, nearly clipping the elf’s heels with her toes. The audience to the hearing erupted into a riot of whispers. Belle winced as another phony contraction squeezed through her.

“This is highly irregular. Does Ambassador Montilyet have something better to do than argue the Inquisition’s case?” said Teagan, every seething syllable overenunciated.

“I apologize. Ambassador Montilyet has been called away on a minor emergency,” said Belle, lying again through her gritted teeth. This practice contraction hurt more than the last batch. “We can continue with your leave.”

And continue they did. After about fifteen minutes of back and forth between the Arl and the Duke, with Belle’s occasional interjection, she watched as another young messenger slid up behind Divine Leliana Victoria and whisper something into the side of her huge hat. A hand on Belle’s shoulder startled her, and she whipped her head around to see Cullen’s face very close to her own. He wore a familiar expression, unreadable to those who didn’t know him well, but painted over with unease to her. His autumnal eyes flicked about before locking with hers.

“Max has been seriously wounded,” he said quietly.

“Jesus.”

“He asked me to retrieve you for a few moments. He was very insistent.”

Belle was halfway to her feet when Divine Leliana Victoria said, “Duke Cyril, Arl Teagan, perhaps we should take a short recess. A matter has just come to my attention that I must see to.”

“Of course, Your Holiness,” said the Duke.

“Of course,” said the Arl.

“Excuse me,” said Belle, and she waddled out of the chamber with her husband.

Cullen held her hand as they started their trek across almost the full length of the palace to get to Max’s quarters. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “I’m not entirely certain. Rainier was carrying Max over his shoulder when they came back through the eluvian, and half of Max’s marked arm was missing.”

“What the fuck? Missing? Arms don’t go missing.”

“Rainier said Max cut it off himself. Max ran ahead after the Viddasala while the others stayed back to fight a number of Qunari she’d left behind. He came back screaming, holding his arm, and he took Rainier’s sword and cut it off.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Vivienne did what she could to stop the bleeding, and they brought him back. He’s been raving. Something about Solas.”

“Solas?”

“I don’t know why. But he told me to bring you to him at least five times before I agreed.”

“I don’t get why he was so insis—Gah!” Another fraudulent contraction wrapped Belle up in a tight torment, stopping her words and her feet. She hunched over with her eyes clamped shut. She squeezed Cullen’s hand so hard it stung.

“Belle! What’s happening?”

She blew out a long, slow breath with the ebb of the pain. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Braxton Hicks. Just more Braxton Hicks.”

“That was not like the others,” he said. He looked angry.

She smiled at him, though from the furrow in his brow it wasn’t terribly convincing. “Yeah it was. I’m fine. Just all this walking. Let’s go, come on.”

They managed to make it to make it to Max’s room without further incident, and Belle managed to persuade herself into believing her own words. The contractions weren’t real. They were practice for when the baby would come in two or three weeks. They hurt worse, but it was just because her idiot body needed a bit of a dress rehearsal.

The scene in Max’s quarters was the calmest version of a horror show Belle had ever seen. She reckoned that was because most of the horror happened before she got there. Divine Leliana Victoria was already there, holding the free hand of a weeping Josephine. The Antivan’s other hand carded through Max’s sweaty hairline in a soft rhythm. His pallor was somewhat gray, and half his arm was gone. White bandages smattered with dark red blood and yellowed plasma clung to what remained. Belle covered her mouth to keep from cursing.

“You’re here,” said Max upon catching his mildly delirious gaze on her. “Good.”

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to ask why he went berserk and hacked off his own arm. She wanted to ask if he was okay. She wanted to ask if he’d been listening to her all those times she’d told him to be safe. All those times she’d thanked God he came back in one piece. For the first time, he hadn’t done either.

“I’m here,” she said instead, and she walked to his bedside.

“I had to tell you,” he said, more than a little weak and more than a little frantic. “Now. Before you worry about it for another second.”

“Tell me what?” A thousand possibilities streamed through her mind. She stilled herself with her mantra. Predict, prepare, preempt.

“Solas. Solas wanted me to tell you he’s sorry.”

“Sorry? For leaving the Inquisition? I don’t—”

“Sorry for tearing you and Spencer from your lives.”

Belle’s stomach churned, and she thought for a second she might throw up where she stood. “What?”

“It was his fault. His hubris, he said. The very first time, with Spencer, he thought he could take advantage of the Breach to tear down the Veil.”

“Tear down the Veil?” said Divine Leliana Victoria.

“It’s his aim. Fen’Harel. Solas. He gave Corypheus the orb. Didn’t know he’d do so much wrong with it. He thought he’d just tear down the Veil. Then Solas—Fen’Harel could take everything back.”

Belle felt Cullen’s tense breaths splash across the back of her neck. His features were just as tight. “He caused all of this.”

“He thought he could do it,” said Max. “But all he did was pull Spencer through. He thinks it happened because of where Spencer was. I didn’t really understand any of that. But it latched onto your blood, Belle.”

“And he just…kept trying?” She fought her tears and her urge to vomit.

“After we sealed the Breach, he tried again. Then after Corypheus. Then again two months ago. The last two times, he really thought it would work. Hubris,” said Max again. “He won’t try again until he’s certain. He’s sorry it happened.”

It was Solas. Solas who she thought was nice. Solas who had always seemed just a touch off. He was the cause of her thrice ruined life. Belle’s entire body trembled. Her rage boiled. “He’s fucking sorry?”

“We have to stop him. It’ll kill everyone. Everyone. If he does it.”

Cullen’s large hands found her shoulders. “We will,” he said.

“I’ll fucking kill him myself, I swear to God.” A tear raced down her cheek.

Max lifted his partial arm as if to take her hand. He looked embarrassed when he realized what he’d done. Another tear loosed itself, and she reached down to take his other hand. He gave her a weak smile.

His eyes darted between Belle and Divine Leliana Victoria. “Can you two try to adjourn the Exalted Council for the day? Tell them I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” said Josephine, still weeping. “No, you must rest. Two days, at least. Please, my love.”

“It has to be tomorrow. I promise, it won’t take long.”

“I can do that,” said Belle.

“Of course,” said Divine Leliana Victoria.

“Thank you.”

Belle held her husband’s hand all the way back to the Exalted Council chamber, her rage bubbling and frothing in the space made by their pensive silence. Leliana parted from them several minutes before, wisely choosing to avoid the appearance of favoritism. She was already seated when they entered the room.

Belle stepped forward. Cullen hung back. She stood before the center of the dais to address the council.

“I apologize for the unusual nature of this request, but the Inquisitor has asked that the Exalted Council adjourn for the remainder of the day so that he might personally address all of your concerns tomorrow.”

“I see no problem with that,” said Duke Cyril.

“Nor do I,” said Divine Leliana Victoria.

“I do,” said Arl Teagan. Of course. “There is no point in delaying this process to wait for his defenses any longer. If he was able to request our adjournment, he is just as able to come here and speak for himself.”

“He’s not, actually,” said Belle. “He’s been wounded, and he needs to rest for the evening. He has assured me he will explain everything himselllll—”

Pain ripped through her body like a scythe. She curled in on herself for a moment, made blind and breathless by the purity of her agony, and she grunted against it. She tried to straighten her torso, to explain that it was just a dress rehearsal, but the excruciating Gehenna only continued to build. She held onto her round belly, and she screamed, and she was one hundred percent sure her asshole was about to fall out.

Strong arms, Cullen’s arms, lifted her and carried her away. He was shouting something to someone, but all she could hear was the cacophony made by her body’s attempts to rive itself in half. That idiot body had skipped dress rehearsal and jumped right to opening fucking night with a sold out crowd. And she was furious.

*****

[pontmercyingtil]

So, this Courfius week drabble turned into... a lot more. Rated PG, feels abound, enjoy!

Courfeyrac did not look up as Marius entered their apartment. He knew it was Marius, because his friend, and now roommate, was the only person who not only took off his shoes at the door, but also apologized.

Perhaps to the floor? Or to the shoes? Surely not to Courfeyrac himself, as he’d told the Linguistics major multiple times he didn’t give a damn if Marius wore shoes inside.

After all, his parents paid for the off-campus apartment, not him.

“All done apologizing to the thin air?” he teased, still looking at his phone.

“I just… sorry.” Marius mumbled, coming to sit on the other side of the couch, always seemingly trying to leave room for eight other people, which was ridiculous, because the Amis met at Combeferre’s house these days, as Joli had decided he was allergic to cats.

“Marius, you know, you can spread out on this couch. Oddly enough, our cat has decided she only likes sitting on it if you are already quite comfortably arranged, so don’t save space on her account.

Courfeyrac was perched on the arm of the old thing, which had once been a sort of mauve but now was rather grey with cat hair. Perhaps he should get a vacuum.

But then Joli would claim to have won the debate over the cleanliness of the apartment. No. better to leave it as is.

“Sorry,” Marius said again. He did not move.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Courfeyrac replied, his thumb swiping across the screen quickly. “No, no, definitely no, hmmm. No.” His commentary made Marius lean over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“I am sadly not doing anyone, hence my need for this app.” He slid the phone into his pocket, and laughed, because Marius’s face had turned a lovely shade of pink. “It’s called tinder, dearest roomie of mine.” “I’m your only roomie. Unless you count Madam Gris.”

“His name is Smaug.”

“You can’t name a kitten after a dragon, Courfeyrac.”

“Have you seen her fangs?” he replied. “She is vicious. I shall raise her to be my attack cat! She shall defend us from all who might wish to break into our fine abode and abscond with our property.”

“Your property,” Marius muttered, glumly.

Ah, damn. Just like that, Marius’s good humor vanished. In the weeks they’d lived together, Courfeyrac had tried multiple tactics to keep that goofy smile on the young man’s face, loved the way it light up his face and made his eyes sparkle.

But between heartbreak, homework, and complicated familial relationships, keeping a smile on Marius Pontmercy’s seemed a nearly impossible task. Luckily, Courfeyrac thrived on doing the impossible.

“Come now. Someone might want to steal that nice backpack of yours. You know, the one with your name appliqued on it.” he elbowed his friend, trying to get him to laugh. “I’ve heard the name Marius is very trendy now. Everyone would want to have an item that granted them that wonderful name.”

“Do you really think my name is wonderful?” Marius looked up at him with such hope in his eyes it practically glowed. It was as if he was a plant that someone had forgotten to water for weeks, and survived only on the tiniest bit of rainfall. Who had given this handsome young man so few compliments in his life?

“I think you’re wonderful,” Courfeyrac blurted out, and hastened to add “at being my roommate. You’re quite good at it. Most aren’t, I’ll have you know.”

“I can’t imagine why…” Marius said, but lightly, as he surveyed the disaster of an apartment. There were an assortment of abandoned coffee mugs on the table, wine bottles of dubious origin waiting for next week’s party in a row, a pile of dirty laundry Courfeyrac had meant to get to… yesterday.

It wasn’t that he meant to be messy, and in fact, he quite liked when his apartment was spotless. It was just… lately he’d been distracted. Unable to focus. He found himself staring aimlessly at the wall in class, or meandering down hallways he had no reason to go down, or worse yet, forgetting to go to the gym, and instead sitting home, watching Great British Bakeoff.

Courfeyrac, in short, was due for a romantic entanglement.

It was either that or run off to England to try and impress Mary Berry with his only functionally recipe: Rice Krispie Treats, but made with Lucky Charms, for extra marshmallow action.

No, surely, a rendezvous with an amorous person was a far better idea, and not just because he’d burned through the only mixing bowl they had when he’d tried to make pancakes for himself and Marius last sunday.

Which was why he’d skipped class to perch on the couch and swipe through candidates on Tinder. A task he should get back to.

A task he needed to get back to, instead of watching as Marius sang to the cat-with-the-disputed-name as he poured her a helping of kibble. The one thing more pathetic than him had been that bedraggled cat he’d brought home last week, tucked safe in his soaked-beyond-repair coat.

But the little scamp had blossomed into queen of the home, happy, healthy, and quite delighted to take up space anywhere she chose.

Maybe Marius could learn a thing or two from that cat.

The next day, Marius came back from class to find Courfeyrac sitting in one of his usual positions on the couch, legs up in the air, back against the place most people sat. He’d never quite figured out why the russet haired man preferred to sit in a thousand unusual ways, but he found it rather charming. But also, like so much about Courf, baffling.

And then, he sniffed the air.

“You cleaned!”

The apartment was now spotless. All coffee mugs had vanished, the carpet appeared a few shades lighter, and even Madame Gris, where she sat on the window, watching birds outside, looked rather cleaner.  Though, seeing as she washed her paws more than either of her roommates washed the dishes, that was probably her doing.

“Ah, yes. I did.” Courfeyrac said. “Does it look nice? And smell nice? There’s this new lavender spray I found.”

“It does.” Marius said. “What’s the occasion?”

“I’ve got a date. Or rather, I have five dates, and I just have to make up my mind which fine person I shall bring back here.”

“Five dates? In a day?” Marius found himself staggering backward. “How?”

“It’s called tinder!” Courfeyrac neatly tumbled off the couch, and bounced over to Marius. “Check it out. You see people’s faces, and you swipe them right if you like them?”

“Swipe. Them?” Marius stared down at the screen. A rather familiar young man stared up at him, his chiseled jaw seemingly made out of marble. “Oh, I’m in French 201 with him.”

“Ah, no! That won’t do.” Courfeyrac quickly swiped his thumb to the left on the screen. “I banish thee, friend of Marius! I shall never match with you as surely, we shall kiss, and you shall pine for me forever, ruining your friendship with dear Marius.”

“I don’t think he’s the pining type…” Marius started, but he felt a smile pulling at his face. Courf’s antics always had a way of making him forget his courseload, his own lack of love, and well, everything that made him, according to Grantaire, a bit of an Eeyore. (when, really, it was rather hypocritical for that scruffy six-year-senior to be calling out anyone else’s lovelorn moping around.) “and um, we’re not friends, I mean, if you did want to kiss him…”

“Nonsense. I shall not impinge upon your friendship with the golden haired Hercules of Corinth College.”

Madame Gris bounded over to Marius, mewing, and he picked up the young kitten, scratching her under her chin just like she liked. “So, this Tinder. You can use it to… meet people?”

“Well, yes, meeting is sometimes an end game. Me? I find it fun! It’s like... “ Courfeyrac threw out his hands. “It’s like making a collection! Of people! Who are attracted to me, and I to them! What could be better?”

Marius thought perhaps a long walk on the beach under a moonlight sky with just one person might be a little better.

He also thought Courfeyrac might not appreciate it. “Well, good luck, um, finding your soulmate.”

“Soul mate? Pffft.” Courfeyrac leaned in to pet Madame Gris’s back. Unlike most cats, she seemed to thrive on the attention, and started to purr.

“You don’t believe in soul mates?”

“I don’t believe they’re found on Tinder, that’s for sure.” Courfeyrac replied. “Isn’t that right, Smaug?”

“Madame Gris.”

“Smaug.”

Courfeyrac looked directly at Marius, challenging him to a staring contest. And Marius stared back, finding those green eyes unexpectedly deep, with little flecks of gold in them that sparkled like summer sun. Courfeyrac’s smile grew. “You’ve blinked a bunch, my dear monk-like roommate.”

“I… have?” he wet his lips, finding them suddenly dry. “Um. Teach me to use Tinder?”

Anything to distract from how those eyes made him feel.

Courfeyrac was delighted to share with his roommate, who usually asked so little of him, even though Courfeyrac had much to spare. In fact, Marius’s own phone was Courfeyrac’s own. He’d claimed that he was due for an upgrade, and no longer needed it, but that wasn’t… exactly true.

But it only had cost seventy dollars to break his contract, and Marius didn’t need to know that. It was more important that his friend had a way of being reached that wasn’t the ancient flip phone he’d bought with the last of his work study pay check. Marius’s work as a tutor was dependent on just how many students needed translating help, which seemed to rise and fall with the proximity to midterms and finals.

Other than that, Marius had nothing.

Courfeyrac had noticed cards marked “return to sender,” that were certainly that oblong rectangle shape of the weirdly-specific gift cards that older folks used to mail checks in. But whoever sent the money, Marius did not like.

And not dislike in the way Courfeyrac felt terribly embarrassed by his own fathers, who decided to “embrace the old country” by adding some obscure participle back onto their name. Courf was quite sure that the participle was utterly made up, and therefore utterly embarrassing. As embarrassing as those “google your own family crest” things, or socks with sandals or Hawaiian print shirts worn unironically… or any other fashion his fathers sported.

Two dads meant twice as many pairs of Dad Jeans in the house.

Which was why he rebelled with carefully selected outfits. Tailored trousers, perfectly fitting jackets, crisp shirts, and soft sweaters in just the right shade of green. Even his workout clothes were ensembles, with tees carefully selected to match various pairs of tennis shoes.

Marius had, as far as he could tell, three shirts, one pair of black jeans, and one pair of blue. Not that he’d cataloged what his roommate wore, of course.

Not that he’d notice how sharp Marius looked in that white tee that clung to surprisingly well-sculpted shoulders, before he’d pull on an ancient green sweater that Courfeyrac had insisted he take to not freeze in the November air.

“Have you taken a selfie yet? You know you can add more. It’s not supposed to be a work of art” Courfeyrac leaned over Marius’s shoulder, feeling his roommate's stubble brush against his own smooth cheek. He cleared his throat, unexpectedly “I mean. Unless you want it to be. You could be a work of art, you know.”

“Why? Because this sweater is old enough to be in a museum?”

“Hah. Hah.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, but blushed, glad Marius hadn’t heard the compliment that slipped out. “Right. So you’ve got your selfies, you've got--- goodness, Pontmercy, did you have to write a textbook for your bio?”

“I wanted to share my political beliefs.”

“It begins “Live, Laugh, Love.”

“Those are very political things! The pursuit of happiness!”

“Yes, sure.” He tousled Mariu’s hair, feeling the soft inky curls glid over his fingers. It was more an excuse to play with his hair than anything else. “Now, all you have to do is this: swipe left on the people you don’t like, and right on the people you do.”

“Then what?”

Then, he’d met some new love of his life, some shiny new soulmate, and never shut up about her, probably. Courfeyrac used the generic people, but he’d never heard of Marius being interested in anyone other than Cosette, who dumped him for his friend Eponine

Maybe this was a terrible idea.

Oh, why did he never think before he did things?

“Um, well, you can’t message them unless they’ve already swiped right on you too.”

“Ah. So we have to mutually like each other before we can speak.”

“Yup. have fun!” Courfeyrac said, and even to his own ears, he sounded false cheerful. He sprang up from the couch, scooped up Smaug, and headed to the other side of the room, intent on studying so he didn’t have to watch the roommate-he-was-certainly-not-crushing-on pursue a new soulmate.

PART TWO COMING SOON!

[survivinglifescurveballs]

Real lessons of motherhood

I say things I never thought I would

“Take the plastic bag off of your head,” I said to my seven-year-old son.

 “Why?”

 “Because you can suffocate and die. How many times have I told you not to put plastic bags over your head?”

 “A lot.”

 Are my kids the reason for these ridiculous warning labels? Heavy sigh.

 The weirdest things come out of their mouths too

Dominic-isms at ten-years-old 

“What is shampoo?”

 "Could you pass the Parmesan and ..." stops to read label "Roman cheese".

 “I am going to get my Valentine a box of cigarettes.” He was thinking chocolates, but looking at a stop-smoking billboard.

 Xander-isms at seven-years-old

"Three thousand, million, dillion dollars. That's how much money I want and I also want everything to be free...for our whole family. Then Papaw and Grandma Fran could get everything they want."

"I want a 16-hour delay, but I don't want to miss lunch".

"Cookies aren't protein?"

Grocery success depends on your entourage

When my children were small enough to be contained in the cart for our entire shopping trip I could read labels, compare pricing, succumb to my own impulse buys. But then as they grew they no longer stayed in the cart and grocery shopping turned into a sick game of “don’t touch that,” “please stop running and sliding on your knees down the aisles,” “watch behind you,” and “no, we are not getting chocolate peanut butter dip.”

Now, when I walk into the grocery store, I secretly think may the odds be forever in your favor to my fellow shoppers.

Self-checkout is the worst

If you have children old enough to be outside the cart, self-checkout becomes more of an intense game of simultaneously scanning groceries while keeping them away from the scale with a live audience of all the shoppers impatiently waiting behind you. Why yes, yes I am self-checking an entire cart of groceries because for whatever reason my grocery store has no cashier lanes open.

To add insult to injury, who is the sadistic jerk that thought advertising candy at children’s eye level in the self-checkout lane was smart? Newsflash, it’s not smart, it’s evil. Instead of succumbing to your marketing tactics I am leaving with a crying child and right temple that may very well explode at any moment.

Pick-up or delivered groceries are from heaven

Amazon pantry started it all for me with delivering shelf-stable pantry staples to my door, but then Kroger one-upped Amazon when they offered their click-list service. Now I can order everything I need online and pull up to the store where some wonderful human loads my car up for me. I don’t even need to get out to help or to pay. They bring the iPad to me to swipe and sign. Then I just drive away, can you believe it? It’s like something out of a fairytale. No more self-checkout, no more candy aisle, my kids stay strapped into their seatbelts and we accomplish what we set out to do easy breezy lemon squeezy.

Blissfully enjoy the baby bubble

When I brought Dominic, my first child, home from the hospital I collapsed into tears because I was terrified. The weight of the world, his world, was now on my shoulders and would remain there until he grew into an adult. The magnitude and depth of this responsibility were incredible and I did not think I was capable.

Coupled with the fear was also amazement. Each time I looked at his tiny bird-like legs, his soft blue eyes, his bald wrinkly head I felt pure awe. The movement of his breath was rhythmic, chest up, chest down. Here sat a being, a human that had grown within me, with a beating heart and blinking eyes. It was a miracle, he was (and still is) my miracle. How is this even possible? I would ask myself over and over.

Nothing mattered outside of Dominic. My world revolved around meeting his needs. Rocking him as the soft hairs from his head tickled my neck, breathing in his scent, filled with more love than I ever knew possible. This is the bubble, treasure these moments. You may have other children, but the baby bubble will never be the same.

Parties in the early afternoon suck

I am the oldest grandchild in my family and naturally, I was the first to purchase a house, get married, and to have a baby. My family came to all of these celebrations. As my cousins got older I was also invited to all of their celebrations and I wanted nothing more than to go. Every invitation I received was for one or two-o-clock in the afternoon.

This is right in the middle of nap time.

Naively I went to the first few parties, skipping my son’s nap. It was utter hell. He was whiny, mean, and wild throughout the entire party, but it did not stop there. His crap behavior carried over into the evening right up until bedtime.

That’s when I decided the price was too high. It was just not worth the horror of missing the nap. I was embarrassed and stressed, my hosts probably wondered what kind of demon I was raising and both of us wished I just would have stayed home. So know that I love you, am proud of you, and are with you in spirit.

If you hurt my child I will hunt you down

No one will ever love my child like I do. My love is deep, fierce, and unyielding. There is something incredibly special about a mother’s love for her child. This is impossible to understand until you become a mother.

This is not to dismiss the love of a father or future spouse. Those relationships are just as important however they are different.

William Congreve said, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” I say… nothing. Instead, I quietly stalk my prey like a mother tigress and pounce when the time is right because if you hurt my child you deserve no warning.

Facebook is full of lies

Helpful hint, no one has it all together, everyone has different struggles, some are just better at hiding it than others. We all see her, the beautiful mom who seems to have it all figured out. She posts pictures of outings with smiling, well dressed, clean children. We are happy for her, but begin to wonder if we are as good a mother.

STOP RIGHT THERE!

That photo took one second. ONE. SECOND!

Think back on today. Can you remember one second that was picture perfect? I know you can. The problem is not your mothering. The problem is the question, Am I as good as X?

Parenting is messy, full of self-doubt and we are all learning as we go. Some days I have it all together, but most days I don’t.

Dr.Seuss said it best.

Parent YOUR way, teach lessons to YOUR children that are important to YOU. We are all different, including each one of our children and our differences should be celebrated. It’s YOU your kids love, not that other mom. So go mom like only you can!

Pinterest is full of fairytales

Have you ever tried to recreate something you found on Pinterest? Yeah, did it turn out like the picture? No? Same for me, every time I try.

Comparing your first attempt to someone’s best is like comparing your karate moves to a black belt’s. Yours will probably not be as good, but with practice and patience, I’m willing to bet it could get better.

The moral of the story here is keep it all in perspective and maybe try that new Pinterest thing a few times before debuting it at your next holiday celebration.

Prevention is the key to toddlerhood survival

Put everything out of reach and be aware that everything is climbable. The world is basically a giant jungle gym playground and all things, literally, every single thing goes into their mouths.

Some of my mom friends were determined to teach their toddlers self-control.

Well, if my friends are doing it, maybe I should give it a go.

Every few minutes my toddler would grab something that posed a possible threat and shove it right into his mouth. Up, down, up down, like a little game every time I sat down he would get into something that I would need to take away.

I was way too tired for that.

Instead, I de-cluttered my house and got rid of anything that was not toddler-friendly. Basically, my house was decorated with baby gates, Disney themed plastic toys, and pictures of my kiddos hanging on the walls. All cleaners, self-care items, toxic or messy products were put on the top shelf of closets.

One time I left my shave gel out…

Another time I left the baby powder down…

Danger lurks everywhere

Before I had kids I thought I protected myself from danger pretty well, but now I see the possibility of death in just about every activity.

 “Mom, can I help dad mow the lawn?” Sure, go ahead and flip the mower on yourself and lose a limb.

“Mom, can we go to the zoo today?” Will today be the day one of the tigers gets loose or my kid wanders into a bear enclosure?

People learn through experience, yes I know that. I also appreciate the significance of learning from cause and effect. As long as there is no emergent danger (life or limb) I release the boys from my cocoon of safety so that they may gain the necessary experience.

I am also the mom frantically waving my children and husband closer when they have floated too far from the beach thinking of sharks, jellyfish, muscle cramps, undertow, etc. It’s all about balance, right? I balance irrational fear with measured risk taking like any good mom.

You are all your kids need

Overthinking is one of my best and worst character traits. I love to think about everything not in any kind of skilled way but just meander through my own messy mind. It’s interesting what floats around in there, the imagined possible outcomes to different scenarios (see above, danger lurks everywhere), the fascination of the simplest joys (enjoy the baby bubble), the ease at which self-doubt creeps in (facebook is full of lies). Do you know what I have learned from all that analyzing?

All my boys really want and need is my undivided attention. Still, at seven and ten-years-old they want to be near me, to hug me, to wrap up in a blanket with me in the evenings while we watch Animal Planet or Nat Geo.

Toys, trips, trinkets are all just fluff. It’s me they want. And that works out pretty great because they are all I have ever wanted. So let’s go mom the only way we know how, in our own special, unique way.

----------

Subscribe to have the newest stories emailed.  Support my mission at Patreon.

Connect with me on facebook, twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, LinkedIn, medium