#forest officer appointments

[townpostin]

Azad Samaj Party and Bhim Army Protest SC Reservation Elimination in Jharkhand

Statewide protest against elimination of SC reservation in chowkidar recruitment and minimal representation in forest officer appointments. Azad Samaj Party and Bhim Army staged a statewide protest against the Jharkhand government’s decision to eliminate SC reservation in chowkidar recruitment and appoint only one SC candidate among 170 forest officers. JAMSHEDPUR – Azad Samaj Party and Bhim Army…

[sturnslutz]

the beginning of nothing.

including: the intro of murderhouse!matt and sardonic!reader, cursing, tension, use of y/n. reader's nickname is 'bug' and last name is 'harmon' to correlate last names in the show. 1.5k words.

you didn't want to move. you didn't want to move to this fuckass town in the middle of los angeles. this place didn't even pop up on your gps, it just looked like a forest.

but, what you did like was that it was a mansion. something by the name of "The Rosenheim Mansion" whatever the fuck that meant. your dad, ben, was the most excited for this move and called it a "step into a new world" or so he says to escape his past.

your room looked somewhat nice, actually. the stained windows and gothic furniture was right down your alley, and your own decorations made it even better.

your dad was a therapist. or more so, child behaviorist? he had told you he had a client coming in today and to stay in your room, because apparently this kid was "dangerous."

your dad knew that you honestly didn't care about his clients, but for some reason told you multiple times more than usual not to come down.

you ignored him and said what you knew he liked to hear. "yeah, of course, dad. i won't go downstairs. i'll have a nap though, so try to keep the kid down."

when you woke up 2 hours after their appointment had started, you honestly did think it ended, especially because it was quiet. you stepped downstairs, on your phone and blasting some music in your headphones.

you looked up while you were walking and paused your music as you heard voices. you took your headphone out of your ear, and glanced down to your dad's office, which for some reason was open.

you stepped one step lower to actually see properly, and what you saw was not what you expected. what, or actually who you saw, was the most beautiful man you have ever seen. he had the fluffiest brown hair that fell perfectly right above his eyes.

he must've felt you staring, and his eyes locked onto yours. it felt like almost no time has passed before he smirked to you, then looking away back to your father who was sitting in front of him.

your breath hitched in your throat. this was the reason your dad didn't give any details about him. because he knew you would fall for him.

you could hear their soft conversation while you continued walking to the kitchen, where your mom was. "oh, hey bug. sleep well?" her soft tone was always what you loved about her, and she always felt the need to check up on you. "yeah, thanks mom. hey, do you know what the kid's name is, that dad is talking to?"

she had brought you a drink from a cafe near by, handing it to you as you spoke, to which you're drinking from now, waiting for her answer. "i think, matthew is what his name is, i'm not quite sure. he's cute though. think that's why dad didn't want you seeing him." she teased to you.

you nodded, laughing a bit. "me too. how long has their meeting gone on for? they had just started when i fell asleep, and they're still going."

"honestly, i don't even know. he told me matt is a handful with a bunch of trauma or something. but apparently he's also a good conversator." she says as she quiets down a bit, hearing footsteps come out of the room.

your dad pops around the corner, first looking at your mom, and then you. "oh, hey. didn't know you woke up, bug. i gotta pick up the phone, and matt's staying a bit longer. just watch him so he doesn't leave my office." his voice lowers to only you 3 could hear when he talks about matt.

you smile a bit, nodding before he walks to the living room. you walk away from your mom, and make eye contact with matt again, who's just sitting in the room, phone in hand, but looking straight ahead- right where you were.

you smiled at him a bit, to which he returned it, and you gestured your head up the stairs, and began walking up to your room. you sat on the ground, leaving the door open a bit once you heard, quiet footsteps coming up the steps.

matt peaked his head around your door, smirking. "hey." he walks in, closing the door. "hi, you're matt right?" he sits down across from you as he nods. "yup. you're y/n, or bug as i heard, huh?" you chuckle a bit, nodding just like he did. "yeah. it's a nickname everyone calls me, and you can too." he smirks, nodding as he looks around your room, his eyes landing on a certain record player.

"holy shit, this is nice. can i go see?" he looks back at you, his eyes practically begging. "yeah, of course." he smiles, standing up and walking to the player. he examines it before looking back at you. "you like kurt cobain? he's like my favorite artist ever."

you stand up, walking right next to him as you look at the set of tracks you have next to the player. "of course i do, his music is legendary. i got shit on at my last school for liking him, but i didn't really care."

he looks down at you, his voice lowering a bit as he scoffs. "fuck them. they're assholes who don't know real music. me and my brothers are crazy fans of him. you know any unreleased by him?"

you look up at him, shrugging. "you askin' about nirvana or actual kurt cobain?" "both, but for sake of time, nirvana." "do you love me, and pay to play are my favorites." he nods, his smirk coming over his face again. "you got good ass taste. never seen that from a girl. i like you."

a blush comes over your cheeks as you laugh, closing your record player before walking over and sitting down in your previous spot, to which he follows. "yeah, you're pretty cool too, i guess." he shakes his head, laughing, his spot being much closer than before as his knees hit yours.

"your dad warned you about me, huh? told you not to talk to me, and here you are, bug." his voice lowered, teasing you. "i don't really listen to him much. he's kinda an asshole." "oh yeah? that's why he moved you to this big, scary mansion right?" he shot back, his tone almost being serious, but you know he isn't.

"he moved us because he got fired from his last job for hooking up with one of his clients. she was the same age as me." your tone now serious, as his jaw clenched a bit. "that's fucked up. i'm sorry about that."

"nah, it's all good. my mom still hasn't divorced him and i don't know when or if she ever will. she's still super upset about it. besides that, tell me about you."

his face changes a bit, something you haven't seen from talking to him yet. "there's not much about me. i'm a triplet to 2 dumbasses named chris and nick. i think you'll like them, and i live right next door. hence to why i'm here longer than most clients and another reason to your dad not wanting me to see you. speaking of him, i hear him coming upstairs right now."

your face dropped when he said that, him almost calling it as your dad opens your door roughly. he looks down to you and matt, sighing. "matthew, i'm not comfortable with you seeing my daughter and being in my house like this. you both disobeyed my one ask. i'm sorry matt, but you need to leave."

you open your mouth to say something back to him, but matt quickly cuts you off. "it's all good, bug. i'll leave. sorry mr. harmon. i'll see you later." matt whispers quickly the last sentence to you, before standing up and sliding past your dad out of your room.

once he left, your dad closes the bedroom door before you stand up. "what the hell dad?" you snap. "like i said, you disobeyed my one rule. i knew you two would get along, but i'm telling you, bug. this kid is not someone you want to be around. i know his family, and they're not okay. i only took his offer to be seen because they're rich, and i wanted to see if i could fix at least one of them."

"don't talk about them like that, you don't know them," he quickly cuts you off. "and you do? you've talked to him for what, 10 minutes? and you're acting like you've known him for your whole life. i've known the sturniolos' for god knows how long. you cannot be around those triplets, or their parents. you understand me?"

his tone is something you haven't heard from in a while, and for a second your wall to him diminishes. "yeah. got it." you quietly say before you walk over to your record player once again, making sure everything is still intact, or to distract yourself from the awkward environment you both are in.

he leaves without a word, slamming your door in the process. you sigh as you look to the door, rolling your eyes.

they couldn't be that bad. right?

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @ilovedanielcaesar @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm @stvrnioloslvt @sturn777 @priscillaog @allylovescody @sturniolo101 @mattssslutbby @mattybsgroupie @mattysketchup @m11rx @slut4brunettes @trevorsgodmother @chrislova @slut4christopherr @sturns-mermaid @conspiracy-ash @p1mpactivities @sweeetbabysblog @brooklyncameron @chrisgetsmewetter @h3arts4harry @jetaimevous @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @raesturns @sturnsrecord @matteatmeout @luvvs4chriss comment to be added or removed.

[hanasnx]

❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered. 

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar. 

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list. 

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company. 

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession. 

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment. 

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken. 

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening. 

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?” 

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips. 

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?” 

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away. 

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys. 

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap. 

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears. 

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for. 

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with. 

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?” 

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact. 

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared. 

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck. 

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it. 

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were. 

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup. 

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?” 

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him. 

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.” 

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.” 

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral. 

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance. 

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well. 

He never expected that it’d turn out like this. 

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office. 

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text. 

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.” 

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.” 

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him. 

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself. 

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt. 

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it. 

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–” 

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit. 

[city-of-ladies]

"Embet Ilen (c. 1801-1851), was a woman of high birth who played a distinguished political role during the Zamana Mesafent (Era of the Judges, 1769-1855) in the region now recognized as Eritrea. Her fame is underlined in nineteenth-century sources by the unusual reference to Ras Woldemichael as the “son of Ilen” without any connotation of disparagement. The society's norm otherwise required one to be called after the father. She was no doubt the most emancipated woman in Marab-Millash (highland Eritrea) in the nineteenth century. 

Very little is known about her upbringing, education, and family history. Even the name of her father is not given with certainty. Killion calls him “Aite Hagos, Kantibai of Zagher” and the informants of Kolmodin refer to him as “Ayte Fisseha, the son of Ayte Seltan” (p. 142), while Yesehaq Yosef uses both names alternately. However, all sources agree that she was extraordinarily intelligent, a persuasive speaker, an astute politician, and a valorous leader. She is said to have personally commanded men in combat and fought herself like one of them, but she was never taken captive in the field. 

Ilen entered politics, not by choice but by the exigencies of the time. She was given in marriage to Ayte Selomon, who was the eldest son of Kantiba Zar’ay of Hazzega, who ruled the greater part of Hamasen—the highlands around Asmara—for over forty years. They had a daughter, Temertsa, and two sons, Woldemichael and Mar’ed. After her husband’s death, she had two more children from political liaisons. Her husband apparently suffered from poor health and was not popular within the family or powerful in the political arena. His own father, Kantiba Zar’ay, was said to have preferred Gabray Habtetsayon, a grandson, to be his heir; but tradition required that he name his son. He did, however, bequeath much of his wealth, including slaves, to Gabray, while Selomon received the hereditary office.

These circumstances developed into a bitter rivalry within the ruling family. Ilen was forced to deal with incessant intrigues during her husband’s lifetime and after his death around 1837 in order to preserve her sons’ right to ascend to the ruling seat. Sometime after his accession to the office in the mid-1820s, Selomon attacked the neighboring district and rival center of Tse’azzega for an unknown reason. His men were quickly routed by the defenders, and he fled to Gura’e, Akkale-Guzay, his mother’s home region. The unprovoked attack revived an old conflict between the two centers of Tse’azzega and Hazzega, which continued unabated until the Italians arrived in the region in 1889.

Ilen mobilized the remaining men of Hazzega and her relations in Karneshim and attempted twice to avenge the defeat of her husband but in vain. Fighting two fronts—Tse’azzega, on the one hand, and Gabray (who split her base), on the other—was too much for her. She then looked beyond the Marab for help. She allied with the ruler of Tigray, Shum-Agame Subagadis, who, having subdued Marab-Millash, appointed Ilen governor of the whole of Hamasen. After the death of Subagadis in 1831, the old rivalries of Marab-Millash broke out anew and Ilen had to look to other quarters for support. She succeeded in winning Dejjazmatch Wubé (also Webe) Hayla Maryam, ruler of all the northern provinces from 1831 to 1855, to her side and was confirmed in her office. She tended to treat her enemies harshly. Consequently, Gabray refused to submit to her rule and lived as a rebel in the heavily forested Ansaba region for many years, a situation which made her all the more uneasy and vigilant. She was generally regarded as excessively revengeful, an attribute which not only terrorized opponents but also brought about her untimely death.

In the late 1840s, she felt it was time for her to give up her regency in favor of her elder son, Woldemichael, who was then in his mid-twenties. Probably she was also tired of the ceaseless conflicts. She retired to the St. Mary Church of Hazzega as a nun. It was here, incidentally, that Kantiba Woldegaber, head of Dimbezan, visited her on his way back home. She received him cordially, in spite of the fact that they had been enemies for a dozen years.

Selomon had allegedly entrusted to him 40 rifles on behalf of his young children, but Woldegaber gave them away to Wubé as a present. When Woldemichael and Mar’ed requested him to hand them over some years later, Woldegaber denied having received any rifles from their deceased father. Besides, he had mistreated and dismissed his wife, the daughter of Ilen. Hence, Ilen had fought and defeated him in a battle some years before this unexpected visit. Woldegaber was murdered after his departure from Ilen’s friendly reception, a tragedy which the people of Dimbezan attributed to a sinister scheme of Ilen. As a consequence, Woldegaber’s relations surprised Hazzega; Ilen escaped and took refuge in a neighboring subdistrict. But her protectors feared an attack by her enemies and extradited her together with two of her small grandchildren, who were eventually tortured to death. This event became one of the underlying causes for Woldemichael’s contemptuous and rancorous attitude toward Hamasen for the next 30 years. "

Bairu Tafla, "Ilen, Embet", In: Kwaku Akyeampong Emmanuel; Gates Henry Louis (eds.). Dictionary of African Biography

[birbleh]

7 ways to write Reigen in-character/Reigen-centric

1. Make him ugly

Yes, he is extremely sexy man and he is extremely sexy ugly man. You wanna write he has delicate porcelain wrists and his waist is snatched?? Sure, but he also picks his nose in private.

2. Encourage him to be a repeat offender

Don’t limit him to con artistry, any petty thing that helps him save a little cash is even better. Taking 30+ napkins from the front of the food franchise store???? He’s running a small business, officer.

3. Reigen is always trying to strike a deal. Even with your readers

And you can get an additional discount if you continue reading, sign these terms and purchase the following bulk items… Don’t resist. Let the luminous allure of capitalism flow through you.

4. Reigen is also trying to cheat your readers

Reigen admitting he has no powers?? Pffffffff what series did you read/watch?? Mop Sycho???? (At this point it’s fine cuz everyone knows he’s obviously lying (aka obvious unreliable narration)). And yes, when it matters he’s honest about it.

5. Add a sprinkle of self-loathing

Does Reigen hate himself?? :DDDDDD Of course he does! But make it subtle. Can’t have any employees feeling guilty cuz they turned down his dinner offer (and he instead spent that night downing lemon sours and not enjoying it).

6. Remember Reigen’s love for Mob is boundless

Of course shishou would reschedule all his appointments, drive into uncharted forest and hold back a stranger in a chokehold so Mob can have free milk or a frog sticker.

7. Make Reigen struggle to be emotionally vulnerable

My man’s a feminist alas the societal norms of emotional suppression grip him still. If you’re writing him pre or during canon he’s not gonna cry so easily. Post-canon tho???? Yassssssssss let those snotty tears drown his eyes and airwayss we love that. And if sharing smth personal means his nuggets of wisdom will sound a little more meaningful to the people he cares about, then he will.

Obviously there are many ways to write this stinky lingerie-wearing man, but assume you followed these steps…

The result?? I wrote a reigen-centric fic here :)) Let me know what you think

[newdreamlove95]

What Remains - Chapter 4

Masterlist link

Please read below the cut or AO3 - enjoy!

Beta-reader: @writingsoftarnishedsilver 💜

The waiting room smelled like lavender. It was clearly designed to soothe the people who sit here, stuck in endless loops cluttering their minds. Yet it left Sebastian feeling like he was suffocating. He sat stiffly on a wooden bench with soft cushions, his knee bouncing fast enough to make the floorboards creak beneath him. He was alone in this room. For him, the silence was oppressive. No ticking clock, no faint murmurs from behind closed doors. Just the frantic pounding of his own heart. 

He could still leave.

It had taken him a whole week to even reply to the appointment confirmation which came with a mind-numbing questionnaire. Bee and Ominis had both been subtly, but not so subtly, checking in with him. Worried he would bail. Their delicate badgering worked though.

Which is why he found himself the night before the questionnaire was due, after having downed two glasses of firewhiskey, filling it out in a single sitting.

First, a list of tick box questions asking about different symptoms he might be feeling, assessing the intensity of them. They were direct and clinical. He ticked them quickly, only halting when his stomach dropped at one of them.

“Feeling bad about yourself – or that you are a failure or have let yourself or your family down.”

His hand shakily filled out the bubble marking ‘Nearly every day’ even though it didn’t seem to cut it.

Then the open-ended questions.

"What brings you to therapy?"

Parents died when I was eight. Uncle was a real bastard. Twin sister was cursed when I was fifteen, lost everything trying to fix it, ended up worse than when I started. Do you want the long version? A copy of my court hearing is attached.

"What do you want to work on?"

Take your pick.

And then he sent it off. He had no idea what to expect from there. He hadn’t foreseen a response, but he received one. A simple, handwritten note:

Thank you for sharing this with me. I look forward to meeting you, Sebastian.

Cecile Hepthorne.

Now, here he was, on the verge of walking out before his very first session, gripping the bench until his chuckles became white. 

Just as he was about to bolt, the door creaked open.

“Sebastian?”

He tensed, looking up towards the door.

The woman at the doorway wasn’t what he imagined. To be honest, he didn’t know what he pictured. Some rigid, stern-looking therapist with a clipboard? A bit like Scriber? But, Cecile looked… normal. 

Her wavy, greying brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, the sleeves of her knitted, beige jumper were rolled up around her elbows, and tucked loosely into her navy trousers. She had kind, brown eyes and offered him a warm smile, with laugh lines on her cheeks. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come in,” she remarked. 

Sebastian scoffed, shifting against the bench. “That makes two of us.”

Cecile’s lips twitched. “Well, you’re here now. Shall we?”

For a brief moment, he hesitated. But then he thought about everything that led to him sitting on his bench in the first place. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. He was tired.

So, instead of running away, he stood and slowly followed her. 

He took in the sight of her office. The office wasn’t clinical at all. He’d been in clinical places before. The hospital wing at Hogwarts, St. Mungo’s, the interrogation rooms in the Auror office. 

But this space felt cosy – lived-in.

Bookshelves crowded the walls, filled with thick, leather-bound texts, some in perfect condition and some with cracked spines and faded titles. A beige rug softened the wooden floor in the sitting area. There was a comfortable-looking, forest green couch and two burgundy, velvety armchairs, and a small table in between with a pot of tea already steaming, close to a box of tissues.

His eyes spanned the other side of the room. There was a desk in the corner and a window overlooked a small, walled garden, granting a sense of privacy which can be hard to find in London. There were a few potted plants that sat on the window sill, one of them nearly withered. 

Noticing his quick glance at the struggling plant, Cecile teased as she sat on one of the armchairs, “I’m much better at helping people than I am at keeping plants alive, I can assure you.”

Sebastian huffed out a quiet laugh as he stood rigidly by the doorway.

“Please, sit wherever you’d like. Would you like a cup of tea, Sebastian?”

He stalled, then chose the armchair across from her and nodded. Sitting on the couch felt like too much.

She flicked her wand and the teapot levitated, filling up their cups on the table, and then floated towards each of them.

Cecile crossed one leg over the other, relaxed but observant. He took a sip of his tea, and she followed by taking a sip of hers.

“Before we start,” she said, “I just want to say that I’m happy you made the decision to come. It is a big step.”

“Yeah well, my friends probably would have dragged me here if I didn’t.” He deflected, looking at a serene oil painting of the sea hung on the wall behind her.

“You still came. You have some very caring friends – Bee and Ominis, was it?”

Sebastian’s eyes found hers again. “Yeah, Bee and Ominis…” His jaw tensed. “You get a lot of 'concerned friend referrals’?”

“You’d be surprised.” Her voice was calm.

He took another sip. “And? What’d they say? Bee and Ominis.”

She tilted her head. “Enough to give me some idea of what was going on, but that’s not the same as hearing it from you. It was helpful to read what you submitted. Thank you for sending that over again.”

Sebastian nodded and then exhaled. She let the pause settle before asking, “I’d like to ask – what do you hope to get from these sessions?”

Sebastian blinked. “What do I –?” He furrowed his brows in confusion and a hint of annoyance. “Dunno. Isn’t that your job to figure out?”

Cecile didn’t react the way he anticipated. No frown, no sigh of disappointment. Just a small, thoughtful tilt of her head.

"I could figure out what I think might help," she mused, "but it’s always better if we start with what you want – what feels right to you."

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, then looked down at his tea, turning the cup in his hands. What did he want?

He didn’t know how to ‘fix’ himself. Didn’t even know what fixing himself looked like. But he knew he couldn’t keep doing this.

"I guess…” He exhaled, staring at the surface of his tea and the steam rising from it. “I just don’t want to keep feeling like this.”

Cecile’s voice stayed even. "What do you mean by ‘this’?"

He let out something that might have been a laugh, but it was void of real humour. "Just…" His hand gestured vaguely as if that could fill in the words he didn’t know how to say. "Being tired. Feeling like I keep ruining things—even now. Like I can’t fix anything, no matter how much I try."

The words came easier than he thought. 

"There are moments," he muttered, "where it feels like I’m fine. And then—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Something happens. Something big or small reminds me of,” he swallowed, “my f-family. And then it’s like I’m right back there again – that’s what happened at the mission that Bee probably told you about – And I… I react before I even know what I’m doing. I do stupid shit. I feel like – like I can’t stop it."

His grip on the cup tightened, and he kept his eyes firmly on it, avoiding hers.

"And then Bee and Ominis have to deal with it. Again. Have to deal with me. And I wonder if today is the day they realise they don’t have to stay. And then I’ll lose them. And I’ll be –"

His throat closed around the words before he could finish. He hadn’t meant to say that.

The silence stretched for a moment, but Cecile didn’t rush to fill it. She just nodded, as if everything he said made perfect sense.

"That’s already a great place to start," she said simply.

Sebastian arched a brow. "Yeah? I don’t even know exactly what I want. Or if it’s even possible."

"That’s alright," Cecile said. "We don’t have to know exactly where we’re going just yet. We’ll figure it out as we go. But knowing you don’t want to keep feeling this way? That’s already a great step."

Sebastian watched her for a moment, as if weighing her sincerity. Then, he looked away, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a slow sip of tea. Setting it back on the low table in front of him, he crossed his arms and met her gaze.

"Right," he muttered. "This is the part where I bare my soul, yeah?"

Cecile didn’t laugh at the sarcasm. Didn’t bristle, either. 

"Only if you want to," she said. "But we can take it at whatever pace works for you. How about we start off simple?"

Sebastian blinked, not expecting that, and nodded again.

She didn’t push him too much. She asked about his work, and he offered only the essentials. She asked how he liked London, and he gave her some generic answers. When she asked if he slept well, he quickly fibbed, “Yeah, fine.”

Raising an eyebrow, she commented, “That was a quick answer.”

He smirked. “What, you want me to say I have nightmares?”

Her expression didn’t change. “Do you?”

His jaw tightened, but instead of probing further, she let the silence linger for a moment before moving on to ask about his home life, his friendships, and what he liked to do in his free time. Understanding who he was. Easing him in.

After a while, Cecile asked, “So, what made you decide to stay?”

Sebastian tapped his fingers on the armrest as he thought of the answer. “I figured I might as well see if this lives up to all the hype.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “And? What’s the verdict?”

He huffed, leaning back. “The jury’s still out.”

Glancing at the time, she said, “That’s it for today, Sebastian. You’ve done really well. I will keep your slot open for the same time next week, but do let me know if you’d like me to cancel it.”

He exhaled, though relief eluded him, and said thank you as he stood to leave. He got to the door, but her voice gently stopped him.

“Oh and Sebastian?”

He looked back, bracing himself.

“This isn’t about erasing or changing the past,” she explained softly, “It’s about helping you live with it.”

Her words tightened his chest before he closed the door behind him.

–

Sebastian trudged up the steps to their front door. His mind was a mishmash of half-formed thoughts and feelings as he reflected on today. It wasn’t too bad, but he still felt shaken. When he reached the door, he wordlessly unlocked it and paused, taking a moment to compose himself, and then stepped into the comfort of their home.

He sluggishly slipped off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door, moving on to kicking his trainers off. He walked quietly through the corridor towards the living room, where he found Bee curled up on their L-shaped couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a book balanced on her knees. A mug of coffee sat on their coffee table beside her, forgotten as she lost herself in whatever she was reading.

She looked up as he entered, her eyes finding his across the room. A small smile curved her lips, but she didn't speak, didn't rush to fill the silence immediately.

"Hey," she said softly, marking her place in the book with a finger, closing it.

"Hey," he replied, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears, crossing the room. He sank down onto the couch beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Ominis home?”

"Nope," she said, accentuating the 'p' while a smile spread across her face. He gave her a puzzled look. "He's apparently on a date."

His eyes widened, "What? With who?"

"He wouldn't say, the bastard. Maybe you can coax it out of him."

“I can try,” he chuckled softly. 

There was a short moment of silence between them, until Bee finally asked, "So, how was it?" her voice was gentle, giving him space to answer however he needed to.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the soft cushions. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Not as terrible as I expected." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "She didn't make me lie on a couch like in the muggle films you showed me."

Bee chuckled softly, warming him. "No soul-baring confessions? No dramatic breakthroughs?"

"Not yet," Sebastian quipped, surprising himself. He hadn't consciously decided to go back, but it slipped out anyway. She didn’t miss it either, as he caught quick, subdued awe in her eyes.

His eyes drifted to the book resting on Bee's knees, her hand partly covering it.

There were two silhouetted figures across the cover – one in a sharp suit and an umbrella, the other in a flowing, ballroom gown, connected by a curling red ribbon that wove between them.

"What's that you're reading?" he asked, nodding toward the book.

Bee glanced down, her fingers caressing the edge of the page. "Oh, this? It's called 'The Night Circus.' Muggle novel.”

"What's it about?" Sebastian shifted, turning to face – curious, but looking to change the topic.

"Well," Bee began, her green eyes lit up the way they always did when she talked about something that captivated her, "it's about this circus that only appears at night. It arrives and leaves without warning. And it's the venue for this competition between two magicians who've been trained since they were kids for a game they don't fully understand…” 

She glanced at him with a small smile, “I just started it. It's quite beautiful so far. I think you’d like it."

Sebastian nodded, finding himself drawn to the idea. Stories had always been a refuge for him. There was something soothing about losing himself in a world that wasn't his, with problems that belonged to someone else. Plus, he was curious to see muggles’ take on magic.

"Would you..." he hesitated. "Would you read some of it to me?"

Bee's eyes softened and nodded, shifting slightly on the couch to make more room. "Here," she said, patting her lap. "You look exhausted."

Sebastian wavered for just a second, biting the inside of his lip, before giving in. He stretched out on the couch, crossing his ankles, and lowered his head onto her lap. He felt the warmth from her thighs beneath his head.

Bee opened the book, flicking back a few pages to the start. 

"The circus arrives without warning," Bee began, her voice melodic as she read. "No announcements precede it, no paper notices on downtown posts and billboards, no mentions or advertisements in local newspapers. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not."

As he listened, her free hand moved almost absently to his hair, fingers gently weaving through the dark strands and massaging his scalp. Sebastian's eyes drifted closed at the touch, a sigh escaping him. As she continued reading, describing the tents that appeared as if by magic, Sebastian found himself spellbound – not just by the story, but by Bee.

With half-lidded eyes, he traced the way the afternoon light highlighted her dark auburn hair, turning the edges and ends to copper. The way a slight furrow appeared between her brows when she reached a mysterious passage. The way her voice dipped lower for certain characters, rose higher for others. The way her plump lips moved around certain words or when she smiled at the enchanted imagery.

His breathing slowed, deepened, as her fingers continued to play with his hair, sometimes brushing against his temple and ear. The tension he'd carried home from Cecile's office melted away beneath her touch. It was replaced by a warm ache in his chest as he listened, hanging on her every word while unable to look away – something both painful and sweet. 

He couldn’t name it. It somehow frightened him too much to examine it more closely.

Instead, he allowed himself to unthinkingly sink into the moment.

–

A week later, he found himself back in that same cosy room. Only this time, his knee wasn’t bouncing quite as much, but his fingers held his tea tightly. He shrugged off questions about his week, claiming work had been busy and mentioning the book he and Bee had been reading together.

At some point, she redirected the conversation to their previous session, seeking any lingering reflections. Sebastian remained elusive, using a long sip of tea as a shield against deeper inquiry. He had definitely thought about it – more than he wanted to admit. About the things he said too easily, the things he almost said. But also about how it hadn’t been as painful as he thought it was going to be, but still left him feeling… exposed. But he was here again, wasn’t he? That had to mean something.

"How did you sleep this week?"

A quick, reflexive answer rose to his lips, the same "fine" he'd offered last time, but he caught himself.

"Some nights are better than others," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the desk in the corner of the room. A stack of parchment sat neatly organised next to a quill.

Cecile nodded slightly. “Why are some nights better than others?”

Sebastian exhaled. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t push. She just waited.

The quiet stretched and maybe that was why he kept going.

“Some nights, I manage to sleep fine,” he said, voice slow, like he was choosing his words carefully as he spoke them. “It helps when I’m physically exhausted after work.”

Cecile hummed. “Makes sense… And the nights that aren’t better?”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. “The usual. Nightmares. Wake up at three. Can’t get back to sleep without–” 

Shame rose in his gut and he averted his eyes to the newly revitalised plant from last week.

Cecile cocked her head slightly to the side, “What was that?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press. Instead, wordlessly, she reached for the teapot and poured him another cup after he nodded yes.

The sound of tea filling the mug was the only sound in the room aside from the faint chirping of birds outside the window.

Sebastian knew what she was doing. She wasn’t pushing, but she wasn’t moving on just yet either. He could sit here in silence if he wanted to. Wait for her to move on. But he didn’t.

“Bee helps me,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.

Cecile’s voice remained neutral but still warm. “That’s nice of her. How does she do that?”

Sebastian swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly against the armrests. “She…” He stopped, then exhaled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

His face flushed, which only irritated him further.

“She holds me,” he muttered. “When I wake up like that. She comes over and holds me for the rest of the night – because of a nightmare. Like I’m a child.”

His voice broke ever so slightly and was laced with irritation, but it wasn’t directed at Bee – Cecile could hear that. It was directed at himself.

She nodded slightly, taking a sip of her tea before saying, “It sounds like she cares about you a lot.”

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

Cecile raised an eyebrow. “It’s a problem that she cares?”

He exhaled exasperatedly, “It’s a problem that I need it.”

Cecile set her cup down. She studied him for a moment, then asked, “What does it mean to you to need comfort?”

His jaw clenched again.

“That I’m weak,” he said finally.

She hummed, “And what about Bee? Does she ever need comfort?”

“Yeah…” he murmured, running his fingers on the velvet of the armrest.

“And do you think she’s weak?” 

His dark eyes flashed to hers, “No, of course not!” 

Cecile nodded as if she predicted the answer. “Everyone needs comfort sometimes, Sebastian. Where do you think you learned that? That you’re weak for needing it?”

Sebastian's throat felt tight. His pulse kicked up slightly like his body was already trying to outrun the question.

He swallowed, shifting in his seat, his grip tightening on the warm ceramic of his mug. A sudden pressure built in his chest, something that made the room feel a little smaller than before. His shoulders were tense, nearing his neck and ears. His heart drummed too fast, his breaths growing shallower. His fingers tightened against the cup almost painfully, and clenched into a fist against his shaky knee, as though he could shake off the feeling like lacewing flies were fluttering on his skin.

“Sebastian.”

His head snapped up. Her voice was steady, grounding. Not urgent, not concerned–just there.

“Take a double breath for me.”

Sebastian blinked. “A what?”

“A double breath,” Cecile repeated, her voice calm. “In through the nose, once. Then hold. Then again before you exhale very slowly.”

He frowned, “I’m breathing fine.”

She tilted her head, “Please try it. In through your nose. One breath–then another before you let it out.”

Sebastian rubbed a hand down his face and noticed that his pulse hadn’t settled.

So he did what she asked.

Inhale–once.

Then again, a second sip of air before exhaling slowly.

It felt… strange. Forced. But the second breath stretched something tight inside of him, loosened it just slightly.

He tried again.

And again.

And he could feel it–his chest opening up, his hands unclenching, his body releasing some tension and stilling, his pulse slowing from a frantic beat to something more manageable.

Cecile waited, watching him carefully, not speaking until he was ready.

When he finally exhaled again, she said, “That’s it.”

Sebastian mumbled, “That was weird.”

Cecile’s lips twitched into a gentle smile. “It helps, though, doesn’t it?”

He swallowed. “...Yeah.”

She let a brief silence pass before asking, “Did you notice anything just now?”

Sebastian frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gestured lightly toward him. “About your mind, your body–anything that changed as you got anxious.”

He hated this part. He considered brushing it off, but… something about the way she asked made him want to at least try.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I don’t know.”

“Take your time,” Cecile said softly.

Sebastian exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “My… hands. They were really tight. My skin was tingling.” He flexed his fingers as if realising it for the first time. “My chest felt… tight too. Like it wasn’t getting enough air. My shoulders kind of hurt. And my head–it felt like everything was moving too fast to catch a thought properly.”

She nodded approvingly. “That’s good, Sebastian.”

He grimaced. “Good?”

“It means you noticed.”

Sebastian scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Right. Noticing things...”

She smiled. “Noticing means you can do something about it next time. Double breaths help because when anxiety rises, your body thinks it’s in danger. That second inhale tells your nervous system that you’re safe.”

He absorbed that for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he believed all of it, but he had to admit that it worked.

Cecile studied him for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to continue with what we were talking about?”

He gulped and shook his head, “Not today.”

She didn’t press. She simply nodded. “That’s alright.”

And then, with the kind of fluidity that made it seem like this was always where the conversation was going, she said, “You mentioned earlier you were reading The Night Circus with Bee.”

Sebastian's shoulders eased a little more, “Yeah.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How’s it going?”

He told her all about it. The corner of his mouth lifted unconsciously as he described their reading sessions. The tight lines around his eyes relaxed, his posture easing back into the armchair rather than perching on its edge. His hands now rested comfortably on the armchair. He shared how sometimes Ominis joins them, relaxed on their armchair, listening with closed eyes but never falling asleep. He didn't realise that for several minutes, he'd been speaking openly and not carefully.

Cecile observed the transformation with quiet attentiveness, noting how his voice softened when he mentioned Bee's name, a knowing, but subtle smile growing on her face.

She eyed the small clock mounted on the wall behind Sebastian. "We're almost out of time," she remarked.

"Yeah?" Sebastian replied, unsure whether he felt relieved or annoyed at how quickly the time had slipped by. He grabbed his mug, finishing off the last sip of tea.

She gave a brief nod. "But before you leave, I have some homework for you."

His face twisted into a scowl, though it lacked any real bite.

She chuckled lightly. "I promise, it’s nothing too strenuous."

He exhaled sharply as he adjusted his hold on his now-empty mug. "Alright, what kind of misery are you about to serve me?"

Ignoring his dramatics, she continued, "I want you to be aware of when you slip back into that state."

His mouth pressed into a firm line. "What state?"

He knew what she was talking about. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

She continued, gesturing subtly toward him. “Like earlier, when your chest tightened, when your hands clenched. When your mind started racing.”

He nodded, “And?” 

“That’s it. Just notice it.”

His frown deepened. “That’s all the homework?”

“That’s part of it,” she corrected. “And when you do notice it, I would like you to find a way to comfort yourself, like using the double breath.”

Sebastian nodded once, slow and measured. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea, but it wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve asked him to do.

Cecile then added, “There’s one more thing.”

Sebastian groaned dramatically with a hint of a smirk, tilting his head back against the chair. “Merlin’s sake, there’s more?”

“I want you to notice when you avoid something,” she said calmly.

At that, he stiffened; his fingers, which had been loosely wrapped around his cup, curled around it tightly. 

“And what, I’m supposed to just sit there, basking in my self-awareness?” he muttered, unable to hide the edge in his voice.

“No. I just want you to write it down.”

“Write it down?” Sebastian asked with an annoyed tone.

She nodded. “Not to confront it. Not to act on it. Just… record it. When it happens. What you were avoiding. Nothing more.”

Sebastian did not like the sound of that.

“Not sure I see the point,” he said carefully, watching her reaction.

Cecile shrugged. “There doesn’t have to be a point. Not yet. But humour me.”

After a long moment, he sighed. “Fine.”

–

The room was surrounded by a hazy twilight, its air perfumed with the intoxicating scent of violets. 

Soft, muted sounds filled the space–staggered breaths mingling with almost inaudible moans, all synchronising with the echoed meeting of skin. His body moved of its own accord, driven by a raw, aching need, his bare hips meeting soft inner thighs.

He groaned against the blurred nape of her neck, his lips brushing over smooth, glistening skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. Doing whatever he could to keep her whimpering around him. 

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, anchoring him and meeting his thrusts. His chest pressed against hers, the softness of her skin and her firm, pebbled nipples. 

He was so close, so completely enveloped in her, sensing her need for him as much as his for her.

He heard his name escape her lips – a husky, muffled moan that lingered in the air. Something tugged at the edges of his consciousness, a hint of familiarity that he couldn't quite grasp.

His movements faltered slightly, a brief hesitation as his hips continued to grind against hers, pulling almost completely out before slowly sinking back in – making her gasp and clench around him. His hands, once interlocked with hers and pinned by her head, wandered down her hips, gripping her as he thrust more languidly and let his head dip from her neck, against her collarbone.

Her hands found his ribs, skimming upward and curling at the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair in a way that felt achingly right and recognisable. She wasn’t grasping onto him in mindless, fevered lust. 

She was holding him.

She pulled him closer, her touch soft yet insistent, guiding his kisses up her neck to her ear. One of his hands moved from her hip, gliding over her curves, ribs, and up her side, until his fingers tangled in her hair. He tugged gently, evoking a hoarse cry as her body began to tremble with release beneath him.

Everything was blurred. The feeling of soft skin, the quiet, breathy sounds filling the space between them. He couldn’t see her, not really. But as he was kissing and nipping at the lobe of her ear, he noticed that his fingers were entwined in dark auburn strands — snapping her into focus.

His chest tightened and before he could fully comprehend, she breathed, her voice soft and pleading,

"Look at me, Seb."

Those same fingers in his hair led him from her neck, drawing him upwards until their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, breath mingling, as she pulled him closer with her legs and he sunk into her, to the hilt.

Blissed-out green eyes met his in an unbreakable gaze.

And then, the scene cracked down around him.

Sebastian woke up with a sharp, startled inhale. His heart pounded, his skin was damp, and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was. But he knew that the smell of violets followed him here. 

The remnants of his dream clung to him, like her legs wrapped around him, the faint sounds of her breathless moans, the heat of her skin, the way she had held him so tenderly, so completely– 

Then, reality settled in and he felt her – not a dream, but in the flesh. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck as he held her, her arm draped over his waist, while her leg rested on one of his. 

The rise and fall of her breathing was soft and steady.

Sebastian swallowed thickly in between heavy breaths, shutting his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to ground himself. But his mind was suddenly confronted by another reality: the unmistakable, insistent pressure between his legs. His entire body flushed as he shifted slightly, trying in vain to will it away before she woke up and–

“Mmph,” she murmured, causing him to freeze. She stirred with a sleepy inhale, shifting slightly against him.

“Seb?” Her voice was thick with sleep, her breath warm against his skin.

He silently cursed under his breath. Clenching his jaw, he tried desperately to calm himself before she noticed. Quietly, he pressed his palm against his growing arousal under the covers, in an attempt to hide it, biting back a groan to avoid drawing her attention.

Bee lifted her head slightly, her hand tightening against his stomach for just a second before she lifted up enough to see him. 

“You okay?” she murmured, voice still groggy but with a touch of concern.

Sebastian swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… woke up too fast.”

She furrowed her brows, fingers grazing against his chest absentmindedly.

“Bad dream?” she probed.

Sebastian exhaled through his nose. He couldn’t exactly tell her. Couldn’t explain how his subconscious had dragged him through something so intimate, something so raw – something he had no right to want from her.

So instead, he just murmured, “Something like that.” 

He shifted onto his side, turning away from her, and she followed suit, her arm still wrapped around him, her warmth pressed against his back. He could feel her watching him intently.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked, voice quiet, gentle.

Merlin, no. 

There was no reality in which he would ever speak this into existence.

But out loud, all he said was, “No. It’s okay.”

He sensed her nod against his back. With a slow exhale, she relaxed, her body moulding easily against his once again.

Silence settled between them, but Sebastian’s mind was far from still.

He was at war with himself.

Desire still lingered in him, searing him with that dream. The one he couldn't afford to think about. The one he was trying so hard to shove back into the recesses of his mind. His body still traitorously ached from it. Her dreamlike touch still burned against his skin, even though she hadn't touched him like that.

Because that wasn’t what this was.

She wasn’t his to dream about. She wasn’t here for that.

She was here because he had woken up shaking again, the second time that week. Because she had heard him. Because she had come to him like she always did. And here she was, curled against him, grounding him, comforting him. Holding him together. And what had his mind done in return? Twisted her kindness into something–

He clenched his jaw, shame pressing in his ribs.

He told himself it was just a dream – dreams weren’t real, he couldn’t control them. They weren’t his fault. But that was a weak excuse, and he knew it. Just like that time in the shower not too long ago.

Some part of him had wanted it, had conjured it from his own mind. And worse, some part of him still wanted it, even now, even as she lay beside him.

The guilt gnawed at him.

He should pull away. He should put distance between them, roll onto his back, shake her off, something.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he lay there, rigid and restless, while her arm remained draped over him, fingers curled slightly into his shirt as if even in sleep, she refused to let him slip away.

His throat tightened.

Why?

He wasn’t easy to care about. He wasn’t good at being cared for. He fucks up. He drives people away. He’d made a mess of everything ten years ago. And yet, she was still there.

Hasn’t she had enough of his shit by now?

“…Why do you do this?” he found himself asking, voice quieter than he meant.

Bee let out a small, sleepy hum. “Do what?”

“This.” The word felt too small for what he meant. He swallowed hard, trying to force the rest out. “Holding me. When I…” He couldn’t finish it. When I wake up shaking? When I don’t deserve it? When I wish I didn’t need it but I do?

There was a pause. Then, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, Bee murmured, “Because I care about you, you idiot.”

Sebastian didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt like if he moved, he might shatter into pieces. 

She fell back asleep not long after, her breathing even and steady against the back of his neck.

His own body, mercifully, had calmed down enough that he didn’t have to worry about humiliating himself further.

So – very slowly and carefully, he turned to face her.

He found himself holding his breath. Her arm still lay draped over his waist, her body warm against his. Her hair had been mussed into a mess in a way that he adored. He travelled from her sleep-tousled fringe down to her slightly parted lips as she breathed deeply. His eyes lingered there, then continued their path. 

The blanket had slipped enough to reveal a few freckles were scattered across her shoulders and the sight of them stirred the quiet urge to trace them with his fingertips. His eyes drifted lower before he could stop himself – down to the soft rise of her chest, the way her top clung to her as she lay on her side. His breath hitched and he tore his eyes away, jaw tightening.

Get a grip.

But something inside him ached.

His fingers twitched where they rested against the sheets as if caught between restraint and surrender.

Carefully, tentatively, he moved closer. As if sensing him in her sleep, Bee shifted, closing the space between them. Only then did he gently reach out and pull her against his chest, wrapping his arm around her. Her nose grazed against his collarbone, her fingers lightly clutching onto the material of his shirt.

She sighed softly, instinctively tucking herself against him, as if she knew, on some unconscious level, that he needed it. It almost felt like she needed it too. 

Sebastian shut his eyes, his throat tight, his heart pounding.

He wasn’t ready for whatever this was. 

He didn’t even fully understand what this was.

But for just a little while, he let himself pretend everything was fine. 

Previous chapter

[inky-writing]

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Read Book I here!

Warnings: hospital, sickness

Word count: 2,811

Book II - Chapter 1: Whispering Nightmares

The first week of september arrived with the soft chill of autumn, the morning dew clinging to the grass as the sun rose over the small city of Forks. Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her room, adjusting the strap of her shoulderbag. She smoothed her long black skirt, already feeling a touch of nervousness creep into her chest.

“First day back,” she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath.

Downstairs, the smell of Charlie’s coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint sounds of the radio playing in the kitchen. The familiar rhythm of the Swan household was comforting, a welcome distraction from the day ahead.

Bella was already at the table when Y/N came down, nursing a mug of tea and still looking half-asleep.

“Ready?” Y/N asked as she grabbed an apple from the counter.

Bella shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I don’t expect senior year to be much better than last year.”

Y/N chuckled softly, biting into the apple as Charlie walked in, his police uniform neatly pressed. He gave them both an encouraging smile and a thumb up.

“You girls will do fine,” he said, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Dad,” Bella muttered.

As they stepped outside, Y/N glanced at her forest-green Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway. It still felt surreal, driving the car her uncle and late father had worked on together. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the engine and waited for Bella to climb in beside her.

The drive to Forks High School was quiet, the familiar roads lined with towering trees. Bella stared out the window, lost in thought, while Y/N focused on the road ahead.

The high school parking lot was already buzzing with activity when they arrived. Y/N parked the Jeep near the edge of the lot, and the two girls stepped out, greeted by a breeze.

“Here we go again,” Bella said with a sigh.

Y/N spotted Angela and Jessica near the entrance and gave them a small wave. Angela smiled warmly and waved back, while Jessica was already too engrossed in telling her about the last gossips to notice.

The day passed in a blur of new schedules, and the low hum of gossip that filled the halls. Y/N tried to focus on her classes, but her mind kept wandering. She again couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though every time she turned around, no one was there.

During lunch, she sat with Bella, Angela, Eric and Mike, the latter was overly enthusiastic about recounting his summer adventures. Y/N half-listened, her attention occasionally drifting to the Cullen table, though only Alice and Edward were present. She hadn’t seen Carlisle since the end of summer, and the thought of their conversations during those warm months brought a small smile to her face.

Later that day, Y/N had an appointment with the school counselor, Mrs. Hollis. The small office smelled faintly of lavender, a diffuser humming softly on the corner desk. Mrs. Hollis was a kind woman in her early fifties, her short, blond hair framing a face that always seemed to radiant empathy.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Hollis began, folding her hands on the desk, “it’s your senior year. Have you given much thought to what comes next?”

Y/N hesitated, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “I have, sort of. I’ve been thinking about medical school.”

Mrs. Hollis raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “That’s a big decision. Any particular reason?”

“I guess I’ve always been interested in helping people,” Y/N said. “And after everything that’s happened… I feel like I want to do something meaningful.”

Mrs. Hollis nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a noble path, but also a challenging one. Have you thought about where you’d like to apply?”

“I’m not sure yet. Carlis…, uh, Dr. Cullen. He’s been helping me look into some options. He’s been really helpful.”

“Well, it sounds like you have a solid start.”

The conversation continued for another twenty minutes, with Mrs. Hollis offering advice on college applications and scholarships. By the time Y/N left the office, she felt a little more grounded.

Evening

Y/N joined Bella and Charlie at the diner, a cozy spot they frequented for its simple yet comforting meals. The chatter of other diners filled the air as the three of them settled into their usual booth.

Charlie was in a good mood, recounting a humorous story from his day at the station. Bella listened with a faint smile, while Y/N picked at her fries, her mind still lingering on her conversation with Mrs. Hollis.

As they ate, Y/N glanced around the diner and caught sight of Carlisle walking in, his coat neatly folded over his arm. He exchanged a few polite nods with the staff before approaching the counter to place an order.

He looked over his shoulder and met Y/N’s gaze, offering her a warm smile. She felt her cheeks flush slightly as she returned the gesture.

As Carlisle left the diner, coffee in hand, Y/N found herself wondering if their paths would cross again soon. Something about him always made her feel… steadier, like a lighthouse while she was lost at sea.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, but as Y/N lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this year would be different.

That same night

The clock on Y/N’s nightstand read 3:07 a.m. when her eyes flew open, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat in her ears. Sweat clung to her skin as her gaze darted around the dimly lit room, her body trembling from the aftershocks of a nightmare that felt too vivid, too real.

She had been standing in a forest shrouded in mist, the trees towering above her like sentinels. A low growl reverberated through the air, and when she turned, she saw glowing red eyes staring at her from the darkness. Shadows twisted and contorted, forming shapes that lunged at her with outstretched claws. She tried to run, but her legs felt attached to the ground.

And then, suddenly, the scene shifted. The forest melted away, and she found herself in a circular stone chamber, cold and oppressive. Figures in dark cloaks surrounded her, their faces obscured, save for one man with piercing, almost hypnotic eyes. He reached out, whispering words she couldn’t understand, and as his hand touched her forehead, a searing pain shot through her skull, white-hot and unbearable.

That was when she woke up.

Her body jerked upright, but the disorientation only grew worse. The room was in chaos, her desk chair was overturned, books scattered across the floor, and the curtains billowed inward as a cold breeze swept through the open window.

The pain in her head was excruciating, a sharp, stabbing sensation that felt like it was splitting her skull in two. She cried out, clutching her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Stop, please… stop,” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

The noise must have startled Charlie and Bella awake. Moments later, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs, followed by a frantic knock on her door.

“Y/N?!” Charlie’s voice called out, laced with panic. “What’s going on? Open up!”

Y/N couldn’t answer. The pain was too much, her body curling in on itself as she buried her face in her hands.

The door swung open, and Charlie rushed in, with Bella close behind him. His face paled when he saw her on the floor, trembling and sobbing.

“Oh, God, Y/N,” Charlie breathed, dropping to his knees beside her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Bella stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the overturned furniture and the eerie chill in the room. “I—I’ll get her some water,” she stammered, disappearing down the hall.

Charlie gently placed a hand on Y/N’s head, but she flinched at the touch. “Kiddo, it’s me,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’re gonna fix this.”

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sob.

Bella returned with a glass of water, but Charlie shook his head. “This isn’t normal. We need to get her to the clinic.”

Carefully, he lifted Y/N into his arms, cradling her like a child as she continued to clutch her head. She felt fragile, as if the slightest jostle would shatter her entirely.

The drive to the clinic was a blur. Charlie’s police cruiser sped through the empty streets of Forks, its sirens cutting through the silence of the early morning. Bella sat in the backseat with Y/N, the later’s head on her knes, though she wasn’t sure if Y/N even noticed.

When they arrived, Charlie carried Y/N inside, calling out for help. Dr. Carlisle Cullen appeared almost immediately, his expression shifting from calm professionalism to genuine concern when he saw Y/N’s state.

“What happened?” Carlisle asked, motioning for Charlie to place Y/N on a gurney.

“She woke up screaming,” Charlie explained, his voice tight with worry. “She’s been complaining about headaches for a while, but this… this is something else.”

Carlisle nodded, his sharp eyes scanning Y/N as he gently checked her vitals. She was barely conscious now, her body limp except for the occasional twitch of her fingers.

“I’ll run some tests,” Carlisle said. “She’ll need to stay here for observation.”

Charlie hesitated, glancing at Bella. “You stay with her,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I need to call her school and let them know she won’t be there for a few days. And… I’ll call Harry and Sue. They should know about this.”

Bella nodded, her throat tight as she watched Carlisle wheel Y/N away.

A few hours later

Y/N woke hours later, the sterile white walls of the clinic room slowly coming into focus. Her head still throbbed, though the pain was duller now, like an ache settling in her bones.

“Y/N?” Bella’s voice was soft, pulling her from the fog.

She turned her head slowly, her gaze meeting Bella’s. For a moment, Bella froze, her heart skipping a beat. Y/N’s eyes were a deep, unnatural purple, almost black, their color shimmering faintly in the dim light.

Y/N blinked, confusion etched across her face. “Bella?”

Bella forced a smile, pushing aside her panic. “Yeah, I’m here. How are you feeling?”

“I… I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice hoarse. “What happened?”

“You had a really bad headache,” Bella said, carefully avoiding any mention of her eyes. “Carlisle said you’ll be okay, but he wants to keep you here overnight to make sure.”

Y/N nodded weakly, her head sinking back into the pillow. “Thanks for staying.”

“Of course, anything,” Bella said softly.

As Y/N drifted back to sleep, Bella sat beside her, her mind racing. She didn’t know what was happening to her cousin, but one thing was clear—this was far beyond anything they could explain away.

Two days later

The morning sunlight felt almost too bright as Y/N stepped out of the clinic. She leaned heavily on Charlie’s arm for support, her legs still shaky after two days of rest and medications. Each step felt like a monumental effort, but the cool breeze on her face was a welcome reprieve after the atmosphere of the clinic.

Behind her, Carlisle stood at the doorway, watching her leave with an unreadable expression. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his white coat, but they were shaking, and his mind was anything but calm.

He had felt her pain. Not just seen it in her expression or read it in her medical vitals, he had felt it deep within himself. The memory of that connection gnawed at him, even though it had been fleeting, disappearing almost as soon as he’d acknowledged it.

Carlisle’s jaw clenched as he tried to make sense of the sensation. It was unnatural, inexplicable. Yet the moment he had begun to dwell on it, the feeling had vanished, slipping through his mind like water through his fingers. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the clinic’s empty hallway, and a wave of unease washed over him.

When they arrived home, Charlie opened the front door, leading Y/N inside as if she were made of glass. She offered him a weak smile, trying to assure him that she wasn’t as fragile as she seemed, but even she wasn’t convinced.

“Go straight to bed,” Charlie instructed, his tone kind. “I stocked your room for now, stacked everything up so it’s out of the way. You can organize it later. I didn’t know where you wanted everything.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating the effort despite the exhaustion clouding her mind.

“I’ll go grab dinner,” Charlie added, already reaching for his car keys. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading out the door. Y/N climbed the stairs slowly, gripping the banister for support. When she reached her bedroom, she was relieved to see it had been tidied to the best of Charlie’s ability. The furniture was back in place, and the scattered books and objects had been piled neatly against the walls.

She sank onto her bed, letting out a long breath as she laid back against the pillows. For a moment, she let her eyes close, hoping the rest would quiet the faint ache still pulsing in her temples.

And that’s when she heard it.

A whisper.

At first, she thought it was her imagination, a remnant of her nightmare or a side effect of the medication. But the sound persisted, faint but distinct. It was a language she didn’t understand, the words smooth and rhythmic, like a chant.

Y/N opened her eyes, sitting up slowly as her heart began to race.

“Hello?” she called out hesitantly, her voice shaky.

No response.

The whispers faded, only to return seconds later, more insistent this time. She clutched her head, wondering if it was just another trick of her mind. But the sound wasn’t coming from inside her head, it was coming from somewhere in the room.

Pushing herself off the bed, Y/N scanned the space, her eyes darting from corner to corner. The whispers grew louder, almost guiding her movements as she checked under her bed, behind the desk.

Finally, her attention landed on her wardrobe. The large piece of furniture stood against the far wall. Kneeling down, Y/N hesitated before reaching underneath it, her fingers brushing against something cool and metallic.

She pulled it out carefully, holding it up to the light.

It was a necklace, unlike anything she had ever seen before. The chain was thin but sturdy, crafted from what looked like tarnished silver. At the center hung a pendant with an intricate design, its edges adorned with tiny, delicate engravings that looked almost like runes. The centerpiece was a purple stone, an amethyst, that glinted softly in the light.

Y/N stared at it, her breath catching in her throat. It didn’t look like Bella’s birthday gift; this was much older, almost ancient. Her fingertips brushed the amethyst, and for a brief moment, a strange warmth spread through her chest. The whispers stopped, leaving a deafening silence in their wake.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the necklace, but the sound of the front door opening jolted her back to reality.

“Y/N?” Bella’s voice called from downstairs.

Panicking, Y/N stuffed the necklace into the pocket of her hoodie and quickly climbed back onto her bed, pulling the covers over herself just as Bella knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Y/N said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Bella peeked her head in, her brow furrowing. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Y/N lied, her fingers brushing against the hidden necklace in her pocket.

“Charlie’s got dinner downstairs,” Bella said, stepping further into the room. “You want me to bring you a plate?”

“No, I’ll come down,” Y/N said quickly. “I just need a minute.”

Bella nodded, though she still looked concerned. “Okay. But don’t push yourself, okay? You’ve been through a lot.”

Y/N managed a small smile as Bella left the room. Once she was alone again, she pulled the necklace out of her pocket, staring at it with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Where had it come from? And why did she felt like it belonged to her?

Book II - Chapter 2 >>>

Tag list: @inky-bonnie

[fatehbaz]

when the Empire's researchers realized that the cause of the ecological devastation was the Empire:

much to consider.

on the motives and origins of some forms of imperial "environmentalism".

---

Since the material resources of colonies were vital to the metropolitan centers of empire, some of the earliest conservation practices were established outside of Europe [but established for the purpose of protecting the natural resources desired by metropolitan Europe]. [...] [T]ropical island colonies were crucial laboratories of empire, as garden incubators for the transplantation of peoples [slaves, laborers] and plants [cash crops] and for generating the European revival of Edenic discourse. Eighteenth-century environmentalism derived from colonial island contexts in which limited space and an ideological model of utopia contributed to new models of conservation [...]. [T]ropical island colonies were at the vanguard of establishing forest reserves and environmental legislation [...]. These forest reserves, like those established in New England and South Africa, did not necessarily represent "an atavistic interest in preserving the 'natural' [...]" but rather a "more manipulative and power-conscious interest in constructing a new landscape by planting trees [in monoculture or otherwise modified plantations] [...]."

Text by: Elizabeth DeLoughrey and George B. Handley. "Introduction: Toward an Aesthetics of the Earth". Postcolonial Ecologies: Literatures of the Environment, edited by DeLoughrey and Handley. 2011. [Text within brackets added by me for clarity and context.]

---

British colonial forestry was arguably one of the most extensive imperial frameworks of scientific natural resource management anywhere [...]. [T]he roots of conservation [...] lay in the role played by scientific communities in the colonial periphery [...]. In India, [...] in 1805 [...] the court of directors of the East India Company sent a dispatch enquiring [...] [about] the Royal Navy [and its potential use of wood from Malabar's forests] [...]. This enquiry led to the appointment of a forest committee which reported that extensive deforestation had taken place and recommended the protection of the Malabar forests on grounds that they were valuable property. [...] [T]o step up the extraction of teak to augment the strength of the Royal Navy [...] [b]etween 1806 and 1823, the forests of Malabar were protected by means of this monopoly [...]. The history of British colonial forestry, however, took a decisive turn in the post-1860 period [...]. Following the revolt of 1857, the government of India sought to pursue active interventionist policies [...]. Experts were deployed as 'scientific soldiers' and new agencies established. [...] The paradigm [...] was articulated explicitly in the first conference [Empire Forestry Conference] by R.S. Troup, a former Indian forest service officer and then the professor of forestry at Oxford. Troup began by sketching a linear model of the development of human relationship with forests, arguing that the human-forest interaction in civilized societies usually went through three distinct phases - destruction, conservation, and economic management. Conservation was a ‘wise and necessary measure’ but it was ‘only a stage towards the problem of how best to utilise the forest resources of the empire’. The ultimate ideal was economic management, [...] to exploit 'to the full [...]' and provide regular supplies [...] to industry.

Text by: Ravi Rajan. "Modernizing Nature: Tropical Forestry and the Contested Legacy of British Colonial Eco-Development, 1800-2000". Oxford Historical Monographs series, Oxford University Press. January 2006.

---

It is no accident that the earliest writers to comment specifically on rapid environmental change in the context of empires were scientists who were themselves often actors in the process of colonially stimulated environmental change. [...] [N]atural philosophers [...] in Bermuda, [...] in Barbados and [...] on St Helena [all British colonies] were all already well aware of characteristically high rates of soil erosion and deforestation in the colonial tropics [...]. On St Helena and Bermuda this early conservationism led, by 1715, to the gazetting of the first colonial forest reserves and forest protection laws. On French colonial Mauritius [...], Poivre and Philibert Commerson framed pioneering forest conservation [...] in the 1760s. In India William Roxburgh [and] Edward Balfour [...] ([...] Scottish medical scientists) wrote alarmist narratives relating [to] deforestation [...]. East India Company scientists [...] [including] Roxburgh [...] went on to further observe the incidence of global drought events [...]. The writings of Edward Balfour and Hugh Cleghorn in the late 1840s in particular illustrate the extent of the permeation of a global environmental consciousness [...]. [T]he 1860s [were] a period [...] which embodies a convergence of thinking about ecological change on a world scale [...]. It was in the particular circumstances of environmental change at the colonial periphery that what we would now term "environmentalism" first made itself felt [...]. Victorian texts such as [...] Ribbentrop's Forestry in the British Empire, Brown's Hydrology of South Africa, Cleghorn's Forests and Gardens of South India [...] were [...] vital to the onset of environmentalism [...]. This fear grew steadily in the wake of colonial expansion [...] particularly [...] after the great Indian famines of 1876 [...].

Text by: Richard Grove and Vinita Damodaran. "Imperialism, Intellectual Networks, and Environmental Change: Origins and Evolution of Global Environmental History, 1676-2000: Part I". Economic and Political Weekly Vol. 41, No. 41. 14 October 2006

---

The “planetary consciousness” produced by this systemizing of nature [in eighteenth-century European science] […] increased the mobility of paradise discourse [...]. As European colonial expansion accelerated, the homogenizing transformation of people, economy and nature which it catalyzed also gave rise to a myth of lost paradise, which served as a register […] for obliterated cultures, peoples, and environments [devastated by that same European colonization], and as a measure of the rapid ecological changes, frequently deforestation and desiccation, generated by colonizing capital. On one hand, this myth served to suppress dissent by submerging it in melancholy, but on the other, it promoted the emergence of an imperialist environmental critique which would motivate the later establishment of colonial botanical gardens, potential Edens in which nature could be re-made. However, the subversive potential of the “green” critique voiced through the myth of endangered paradise was defused by the extent to which growing environmental sensibilities enabled imperialism to function more efficiently by appropriating botanical knowledge and indigenous conservation methods, thus continuing to serve the purposes of European capital.

Text by: Sharae Deckard. Paradise Discourse, Imperialism, and Globalization: Exploiting Eden. 2010.

[vettelsdarling]

Hey Lissie! Another Hamilton 5+1 for you because I love the format, hehe. Straight to the point, here it is:

5 times Y/N woke up without Lewis and one time they woke up together.

I can definitely see a potential for angst and a bit of misunderstanding or yearning?! Lewis can either be a f1 driver or have it as an AU with another job! The prompt needs a good reason of “why” for the absence and I am more than certain your mind will come up with a brilliant answer. I am thrilled and again, have fun!

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Lissie note… I love this prompt so much ugh!!! I changed it a slight bit to falling asleep rather than waking up (just for dramatic effect). Thank you for the prompt, love<3

Things to note

Reader is a paralegal

Lewis is frequently gone for races

They’ve been dating for 4~5 years and live together

There is a tiny age gap but it isn’t that bad

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x gf!reader

Warnings: Slight angst???

Word Count: 5.3k+

Playlist recommendations: 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗

Taglist: @allwaysalleyway, @drugged-kitkat, @darleneslane, @littlesatanicassholebitch

His arms were warm. They were comforting to lie in and snuggle into. He trailed his fingers gently through your hair, as you slowly dozed off.

That was a dream.

The cruel reality of the real world, in the form of an obnoxious iPhone alarm, woke you up. It was already 6 AM, and your routine consisted of a hefty amount of self-care. This meant that you had about 10 minutes for a shower, 50 for hair care, and 30 for skin and makeup. Breakfast was out of the question. So much for self-care.

Before you left, you made sure to feed Roscoe and give him his well-deserved cuddles. Things had been hard ever since Coco passed, but Roscoe was still a happy spirit.

You went to the garage, noticing your boyfriend’s all too famous purple Mercedes. Your heart stung for a second, but you brushed it off. It was important to support his endeavours, instead of sulking about him.

You decided to go with your vintage beetle. Driving around in it was what kept you grounded. You’d gotten it for your 18th birthday from your parents. Not from your lover.

The fact that you didn’t quit your 9-5 paralegal job was also rationalizing, you didn’t stay home and leech off of your rich man. He was more than just a wallet. He was your partner. Besides, the media had already started to suspect that he wasn’t single anymore. Though he hadn’t been for years. The two of you had met coincidentally over a cup of tea with your boss. Lewis was his client and you were the first to oversee the situation before handing him off. That was about 6 years ago. For four, the two of you had been together. You had only given him your number regarding his case, but he’d taken the opportunity to ask you out.

Now, the two of you lived together in a mansion overseeing a large forest. It was quite far from your workplace, but you didn’t really mind. Having to wake up early was a small price to pay for the tranquillity of the surroundings. Although it would’ve been more tranquil, had you had more time with your lover.

Alas, there was nothing you could do about it.

1 |  Shades Of Cool

You sat there on your dreary chair in your dreary office. The white walls hypnotized you into thinking time was going much slower than it actually was. You stared away at it for a while, before someone knocked on your door.

“Hey, can you please do these briefs? I need to clock out for a dentist’s appointment in a few minutes. I promise I’ll owe you.” You accepted the pile and started going at it. Work usually made you forget the empty feeling of not seeing him often. Sometimes you even thought of staying all night. However, for Roscoe’s sake, you never stayed past dinner time. He couldn’t be alone for too long. It wasn’t fair to the poor boy.

It took hours and hours to get through the pile. You clocked out well past midnight and stopped by a pub to pick up some food before driving home. You knew a huge “sorry” was in order for your dog. He hadn’t seen you for several hours, definitely missing you.

You had 12 missed calls from him. Even though he was on an entirely different continent, he somehow found the time to call you. 12 times no less. You decided to call him back after finishing your dinner and making yourself comfortable next to Roscoe on your sofa.

“Hello, love.” You heard from the other end of the line, as he turned his camera on. There he was. His exhausted, but beautiful face. His hair wasn’t tied up. It was relaxed and so was he.

“Hey, Lewis,” you said and turned on your camera, showing yourself next to his beloved dog,

“Roscoe’s here too.” He let out a huff, which stirred a chuckle out of your boyfriend.

“How’s work? How are you doing?” He asked, knowing that you dreaded most of your coworkers if not all. Additionally, he knew that every day was the same at the office. You handled briefs and got files in piles by your superiors. It sucked.

“It’s okay… same old same old. How’s Spain?” You were so used to staying in the UK, you’d forgotten what it was like to travel. As a paralegal, you didn’t have the luxury to do so that often.

“It’s great. Did you see the videos I sent you? This car is incredible, darling.” You hadn’t seen them for one very specific reason; your heart would clench. It would simply give out at the sight of your boyfriend. Missing him was always a big problem, but with races being back-to-back… it hurt that much more.

“I haven’t had the chance to yet, no, but I’ll check them out later.” The hesitation in your voice must’ve been apparent, as he decided to ask into it,

“Something wrong?” You didn’t want to worry him, so you told a little white lie. You were simply just tired. That was it. That was all. Knowing him, he’d worry too much to focus on driving, which was the exact opposite of what you wanted for him. Besides, it’d be selfish of you to make his work all about yourself. Gosh, you really couldn’t stand your obsessive thoughts.

“Well, I promised Valterri I’d meet him at the gym. Sleep well, darling.” You blew him a kiss goodbye before shutting off the feed and turning over. Roscoe huffed and curled up beside you. It was dead silent except for the few wind rustles you heard from the open window next to the TV. It didn’t feel tranquil. No, you were lamenting the thought of being alone for so long. You hated it. It wasn’t an issue during the day. You had chores and you had work to do, but in the evenings when everything always gets quieter— your mind gets louder.

Roscoe was sleeping soundly next to you. Your hand stroked him gently whilst you scrolled through your Instagram feed. Naturally, you ended up on Lewis’ page. He was highly selective of who he was following. You, however, were amongst the few that he did. A smile spread across your face like room-temperature butter would be spread on a piece of bread. You didn’t appear much on his feed, as you liked being private. Though the posts you did appear in, all had captions with romantic undertones. You really were in love with that man.

I can’t break through your world, ‘cause you live in shades of cool…

2 | Sad Girl

The sun had already come to greet you. It was an early Saturday morning, which would’ve been peaceful— had you not forgotten about the LSATs. You woke up on the sofa that you’d passed out on the night before. Dried drool decorated the corner of your lip. What time was it? You checked your phone, only to realize that your battery was low and the test was in an hour. The sudden sound of your phone ringing sent you scrambling to answer it.

“Hey, are you on your way? I studied all night… Hopefully, we can do this.” Your friend, who usually sat in the cubicle opposite you, whined. She wasn’t a strong test taker, based on the fact that it was her 5th time taking the LSATs. 7 and she’d be all done. No more chances. In comparison to her, you were going in for the first time. You’d studied, but you had no idea how the whole thing would turn out. The tests only got harder and harder every year.

“I am, I am. The traffic is just insane at the moment. I’ll see you there.” You hung up and swiftly ran around the house to get ready. Roscoe was reasonably confused at the rush you were in. You kissed his wrinkly forehead before shutting the door behind you.

For nostalgic reasons, you decided to take Lewis’ purple Mercedes. It was the only one of its kind, so it’d make sense if some people recognized it. You didn’t care. It felt like Lewis was still with you, even if he was in an entirely different country. Speak of the devil, your phone buzzed. One message from him… “Good luck with the LSATs, darling”. Your heart clenched. You missed him so.

Traffic turned out to be light and breezy. Luckily, you made it in time for the test. Being a paralegal had its benefits, but it was and would always be a step below the real deal. You weren’t a real lawyer until you took the LSATs. Then, there was the deal with the bar exam as well. That was another story.

“Did you do good? I croaked. I’m toast. I’ll have to take it again…” said your defeated friend and munched down on her lunch that she brought.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t really care at this point…” Of course, you did, but your mind was too occupied by the absence of your lover to hold an actual conversation. He expected you to tune in on his races whenever you had time to do so, but the fact of the matter was— you never could. It made your heart ache with longing. A painful longing for him to come back home. Especially on weeks when the race weekends were happening back-to-back. 

“I guess you don’t need to worry. You’ve got your boyfriend’s money to take care of you.” Although you barely listen to all of her blabbering about the test, that particular thing got through to you.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You’re literally dating a celebrity. You’re set,” she chuckled.

“Do you actually think you’re being funny right now?” She likely didn’t mean any harm, but with your pent-up agony and rage, it was hard not to let loose on her.

“Calm down, I was only kidding…” You’d made a scene. You were uncomfortable, things were awkward, and the only place your mind wandered to was Lewis.

“You know what, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired after the test. How about we catch up soon? I need to head home.” Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest as you put the keys in the ignition. It almost felt as if you were an irrational teenager again. His absence did a number on you. It wasn’t always like that though. Throughout the previous season, he would always do whatever he could to see you in person. Whether it was bringing you with him, or flying back home. As the following season started, the two of you realized how unethical and harmful the solutions were to the environment. Coupled with the fact that you were trying to become a lawyer, there was no way to see him. No way to be held by him. No way to fall asleep in his arms.

That night, you stared into the ceiling for what felt like hours. The spot next to you was empty. Completely untouched. The sound of the gentle wind rustling the trees outside helped your brain work its wild imagination. Vivid pictures of Lewis played over and over and you couldn’t help but feel as though the two of you weren’t meant to be. You had conflicting schedules and you couldn’t just take a weekend off every week to go with him to his races. He couldn’t stay for your sake either. He had a job to do. A job that millions of people depended on for their entertainment. Were you an obstacle? All these thoughts drove into your heart like a stake. You wept. It was inevitable. You’d tried to not do so because you knew he wouldn’t want that… but it was hard. Too hard. Your vision was blurry and the sounds of the nature surrounding you were dimming slowly. You were falling asleep.

You haven’t seen my man…

3 | Off To The Races

Sunday morning was brutal. You woke up with a pounding headache due to having cried yourself to sleep. The sun made your situation much worse, blinding you as you tried to get out of bed. Upon checking your phone, you saw a slew of unread messages from your beau. All of them were minutes apart, making it clear that he’d been trying to reach you throughout the evening.

21:30- Hey, you’re not answering your phone, so I just wanted to text you instead. How are you?

21:55- Are you there? You’re usually not asleep at this hour…

22:45- I suppose you may be busy or asleep. In that case, sleep well baby❤️

22:46- Call me whenever you wake up

“Fuck,” you sighed and went to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror seemed unfamiliar. You didn’t look like yourself at all. No, that wasn’t you. The face looking back at you had swollen eyes and redness coating the corners. Its mascara had been running and dried, giving the face a crustier look. It felt as if you were some little kid who couldn’t stand to be alone for the day, whilst their mother went out to buy groceries. It was embarrassing.

After feeding yourself and Roscoe, cleaning yourself up, and doing chores around the house— you decided that you’d turn on the TV to watch your boyfriend. You were too late for lights out, as they were on their 10th already. It didn’t matter though, for Lewis was in the lead. He had mentioned how good his car was, but you didn’t imagine a 20-second gap. It was pure insanity. 

Finishing on top, he ran to embrace the team with a smile. The cameraman followed his every move, and as he did so; Lewis came up to him and stared directly into the lens.

“I love you,” he said. Your heart keeled over and you felt your tear ducts get to work again. It was impossible to watch the rest of the celebration. You shut it off and went to calm yourself down. Breathing heavily in front of the bathroom mirror made you feel like a fool. Love made you weak, but it was a good kind of weak whenever your darling was around.

After a hearty nap, you woke up to your phone buzzing itself off your nightstand.

“Hello?” Your voice was jagged and rough from just having woken up.

“Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?” His voice was breathy and exhausted. Physically, he was obviously worse off than you.

“Hey, no-yeah, I’m okay. I saw you out there today. You did so great, Lew.” His nickname was one that he adored. The way it rolled off your tongue made his heart flutter with joy.

“I’m glad you saw it. Did you… see the celebration?” He was obviously referring to the message he left for the camera. Your heart pumped faster and faster with adrenaline.

“I-uh… I did…”

“So?”

“I love you too. You know I do.” So much so that it hurt that he wasn’t next to you with his arm around your neck. You wanted to lean against his shoulder as he read you stories that his mother used to read to him. Fuck, it hurt.

“When are you coming back?”

“We still have a few things to do here. Thursday? I’ll be home for two weekends after that.” It was better than nothing, though hearing him say it felt like a long time. 

“I understand… I just hope you maybe miss me as much as I miss you?” Yeah, you stooped to that level. Your desperation was starting to reveal itself. Layer by layer.

“Are you insane? Not a second goes by without my thoughts being consumed by you. All I’ve ever thought of this weekend has been you. Staying safe for you, training hard for you, winning… for you.” For a moment, he almost sounded frustrated. But it was just a mask for how deeply he felt for you. The two of you sat in the same boat, rocking through the crashing tides of longing together. Each move was careful to not let the other drown.

“Are you crying?” He asked, careful not to step on any thorns.

“No…” you replied with a slight sniffle, signalling that you obviously were.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ll be back home before you know it.” You wanted to hug him. You needed it so badly.

I’m your little scarlet, starlet, singin’ in the garden. Kiss me on my open mouth…

4 | Video Games

It was Monday, which meant that you could be distracted by your otherwise unforgiving job. Being a paralegal, your duties often consisted of briefs upon briefs which took up most of your 8 hours. You were crammed into a small cubicle with little to no space for any of your personal possessions. You’d hung a few pictures of Lewis and yourself and that was about it.

You stared into the dull computer screen, feeling the existential dread looming over you for every number you typed in. Your eyes were basically goo and the bags dragging them down were more apparent than ever. It would’ve been a pitiful sight for your coworkers if you weren’t surrounded by walls. 

“Hey you, wanna grab lunch together? Same place as always. It’s on me this time… since I owe you.” Even an invite to free food wasn’t enough to fully pull you out of your trance. You slowly forced your sluggish head to turn and meet your friend’s. The look of horror etched onto her face was enough to let you know you needed to get outside. 

“Sure… I guess.” You dragged your feet along the floor as you followed her to the elevator and outside.

“Is it Lewis again or shitty briefs?” She put in her sunglasses and led the way, locking her arm with yours to not look like she was dragging you against your will.

“Honestly? Both. I don’t get why I keep missing him this much, and I don’t get why some briefs suck that bad.” Lewis was one thing and briefs were more of a frustration. Nothing to cry over, really. You generally enjoyed what you did, so there was rarely anything to complain about. The job was cushy and allowed a lot of free time after hours. Team building exercises were scarce, but not to the point where conflicts arose every day. It was fine.

“We’ll have our usuals,” she said to the waitress.

“Look, you can’t control every aspect of your life. It’s meant to be unpredictable. Briefs suck sometimes, you’re going to feel bad about your boyfriend being gone— c’est la vie.” You knew she pulled that straight out of a podcast. At least the general gist of it.

“Whatever. I guess you’re right, that’s life.” You were just about to jump into a different topic when you heard Lewis’ ringtone from your purse.

“Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” You scurried off to the restroom to take the call.

“Lewis? Why are you calling?” A bit harsh with his lack of context.

“Am I not allowed to call my girlfriend who, by the way, is very missed?” Just hearing his voice brought back the life that all those briefs drained you of.

“Of course you are… I’m just out for lunch right now.” You felt like a schoolgirl sneaking off to the bathroom to call your beau.

“Sorry, I forgot you usually do that. I was just checking in to say hi before I go in for a meeting.” His voice was so happy-go-lucky, it made you wonder if he missed you as much as you did him.

“… when are you coming back?” You heard a sigh on the other end,

“They’re keeping me here until Wednesday. I’m really sorry, babe.”  Of course. It was as if they didn’t want him to go home. Whilst you supported his job and did whatever you could do to show it— you wanted nothing more than for him to stop everything and be with you.

“It’s okay, we can wait. You should focus on your stuff, okay? Good luck with the meeting, Lew.” Luckily, he wasn’t able to see your face. It didn’t match your uppity voice.

“Thanks. See you soon.”

“Bye.”

You left the bathroom and went back to the table where your friend had begun eating. You followed suit and got back to the office after you finished.

After hours, you stopped by a deli to grab a sandwich to eat for dinner. Roscoe greeted you at the door with a huff and followed you to the dining room. The entire house felt empty without your other part to fill it with joy.

That night was another filled with tears and running mascara.

Pull up in your fast car. Whistling my name…

5 | Go Go Dancer

Your depressive slump had faded after the realization that you only had to survive one more night without him. You decided to call in sick and cash in on a few hours for yourself. It was going to be a personal day. You needed to pamper yourself. 

Your eyes were still bloodshot from all the crying, but your soul was cleansed of any negativity. Your favorite playlist was on and you began your day of treating yourself like royalty. All of your skincare was out on your vanity and Roscoe sat in the bed behind you. A warm bath was the first thing you did. Whilst flicking on a rom-com, you sat and soaked in the lavender-infused water. Thereafter, you retreated back to your bedroom. Your hair was up in rollers and your bathrobe clung tightly to your damp body.

Today was a day with no briefs, no worries, no salty bosses or annoying clients. You had all the time in the world for yourself. You ordered brunch and whilst you were waiting for it to arrive, you finished your skincare and makeup. After finding something to wear, you picked up the food from the awestruck delivery guy. He complimented your garden and your house. If there was one thing you enjoyed, it was gardening with Lewis. The two of you had worked tirelessly to make the front yard look perfect.

You ate quickly, drying your hair and styling it afterwards. Roscoe was fed and you were already through most of the day. 

You pulled out your nail kit from your stash of beauty products and laid out a protective layer on your bed. The playlist kept shuffling through some of your favourites. A gorgeous purple colour appeared before you under the tons of polishes you had. It was perfect and you knew Lewis would love it too. Not that you did it for him. You brushed layer after layer until you were satisfied with the result. It was glossy and simple. Just purple. Sophisticated, but not boring. The process was repeated on your toes as well.

After that, you decided it was time for some movies and popcorn. Lewis never really enjoyed things like popcorn, only ever allowing himself some dark chocolate with his espresso out on the veranda. So, you had to go out to get some. Since you lived quite remotely, you had to drive for a bit before the nearest store appeared. It was worth it though because you spent most of that night with comfortable blankets, popcorn, and bad rom-coms.

Roscoe was beside you all throughout the night, keeping you company with his huffs here and there. Pure tranquillity was what it was, and you couldn’t wait to do the same with Lewis the next evening.

The current movie had to be paused though, as you heard your phone ringing. It was your coworker.

“Hey? What’s up?” You asked, trying to sound hoarse.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay. Heard you were sick.” It sounded like she wasn’t fully sober and on public transport as well.

“Are you drunk?”

“No- yes- you tell me. We just went out for a drink after work today.” She was very clearly slurring her words beyond sensibility.

“We have work tomorrow, why would you ever do that?” Nobody had the guts to do something like that when your job consisted of aiding clients in stressful financial or legal situations.

“We don’t, actually. All of us were just fired on the spot today. He fired us all,” she chuckled and let out a hiccup.

“What?! What’s that supposed to mean?” Your heart sank. Your job… it was just gone.

“Yeah… I don’t know. I think he was in debt or something. Couldn’t keep it going so he decided to sink us all down with him.” You always pictured the CEO as someone with gravitas and money, but apparently, it was all a front.

“What do we do? Can’t we report it to HR somehow? Sue him for wrongful termination?” Admittedly, as calm and collected you usually kept yourself with work-related issues— you were panicking.

“There’s nothing we can do at this point. The entire company has gone to shit. Wouldn’t want to go back there if I was given a raise.” It sounded like she got off the bus, as you heard the doors open.

“You’re lucky you have Lewis. He can take care of you, right?” There was that dreaded guilt of leeching off of your boyfriend. It was a fear that kept gnawing at your ankles, eventually making it to your throat, knowing you had just lost your job.

“I… I don’t know what to say right now. I’ll call you later when I’ve thought about all of this. See you.” There was nothing more to say. It stung that you were in a position where Lewis had to take you under his wing. It felt wrong. It felt criminal.

You really couldn’t catch a break no matter how hard you tried. Something always prevented you from enjoying life as it came.

… and that night you didn’t sleep at all. You stayed up all night contemplating what to do, whether to sue, whether to leave Lewis and tell him to live a good life?! You were going insane. Embarrassment consumed every fibre of your being. The thought that you would depend on him for your survival…

I'm the girl next door, let me come in. I know I go-go dance but I do it for kicks. I never have to work ‘cause my daddy is rich…

+1 | Once Upon a Dream

You’d fallen asleep in the late afternoon after working on a lawsuit against your former boss. It didn’t matter if you’d get it thrown out of court. You just wanted to fight as much as you could. Your great lawyer friend agreed to help you out, representing both himself and you in the case.

Lewis tried to call you several times with no answer. He wasn’t one to worry about you, since he trusted you and knew you wouldn’t do anything stupid. He disregarded it and tried to enjoy his flight home. He was exhausted and just wanted to come home to his little family.

You usually called him before he’d take off, assuring him that you’d be waiting for him at the airport. However, this time was different. You didn’t call and you didn’t answer. His options were limited, forcing him to take public transport. He didn’t want to call a taxi, as they’d be able to note his address and could potentially put you in danger.

People took pictures and some asked him for signs. He didn’t mind it, though he was falling in and out of sleep. When he got off his stop, he decided to walk the rest of the way. The weather was fair and didn’t look like it would change for a while.

On his way, he stopped by a florist to buy you a bouquet of your favourite flowers. He knew you loved having them on the dining table to show any guests.

He wasn’t far away and could see the garden of your house from afar. Meanwhile, you were still buried under your blankets with the lawsuit on your laptop on the coffee table in front of you.

The sound of the front door clicking and closing could be heard, but you were too far gone in your sleep to notice. He called out your name with no response. You weren’t in the bedroom. You weren’t in the kitchen. No, there you were. Your face was buried in the arm on the sofa and the TV was still playing a movie he remembered watching with you some time ago. He saw your laptop, reading some of the contents that were visible on the screen. It didn’t quite make too much sense, but he didn’t want to pry in case it was private.

“Hey… I’m home.” He shook you gently and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Being something of a light sleeper, it woke you up almost instantly.

“Lewis?” Your eyes fluttered open, as you had to adjust to the light. You saw the face of your lover and embraced him in an instant,

“Oh, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, darling.” He stroked the back of your head as it rested on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come get you, I was caught up with work and I fell asleep.” It wasn’t a lie per se. It worked… sort of.

“It’s fine. It’s completely fine. You seem distressed, are you alright?” There was nothing you could hide from him. One way or another he’d find out anyway.

“I lost my job. We were all fired.” He was almost as shocked as you were the night before,

“Are you serious? Why?”

“My best guess? The company was sinking.” You sighed and picked up your laptop. The document already contained 3 sections and 15 pages. You were, however, far from done.

“My friend and I are trying to sue. I’m not sure if it’ll hold up in court though.” Your face looked droopy and sad, something Lewis hated.

“You know what? It’s going to be okay. I know it seems rough, and it is. But look on the bright side. We can find you a better job. Better pay, better equity. Plus, for the time being— you could come along to my races. We wouldn’t need to be separated all the time.” He was right. Your job was cushy, but it had its faults regarding exactly the issues he pointed out. The feeling of missing him constantly didn’t bode well with you either. It was a win-win, really. You weren’t actually depending on him, because it didn’t hurt to ask for help every now and then. Especially when the two of you were so in love.

“Yeah… that’d be nice, actually. I do need to file this lawsuit though. I need it.” Lewis nodded in agreement and smiled,

“Of course, love. You do what you need to do. I’ll be here to help.” You closed the laptop and smiled back at him,

“I think we should cook some dinner. What do you have in mind?”

“Anything. It tastes amazing as long as you make it anyway.” The flattery never stopped. As cheesy as it was— you loved the sentiment.

“Right. I’ll see if we have some rotten eggs and spoiled milk in the fridge,” you joked and he chuckled,

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, Lew.”

That night, you fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest. You could hear how his heartbeat synced with yours. This was complete tranquillity, and you couldn’t believe that this would be your reality for a long time now.

I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once. The way you did once upon a dream…

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻…

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.) (Please note that just liking the taglist will not put you on it!)

[pit-and-the-pen]

Dirty Little Secret

Day 3 of @erisweekofficial: healing/betrayal

Summary: You were one of Beron’s top spies, your assignment, Eris. Little did you know how complicated that was going to get…

Warnings: Beron being awful, burning, violence + injury

WC:2.7k

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

You woke up to find the other side of the bed already empty. This has become the new normal for you. The past few months you would go to bed wrapped around Eris and come morning he would be gone. It was really for the best.

Even if he was doing it to protect your image. something he didn’t need to worry about in the slightest. Eris believed you were nothing more than a newly appointed lady, and didn't question your sudden arrival into the court. The very opposite in fact, he had approached you first. Took you riding less than a week after first introducing himself. You never expected to enjoy his company so much, never intended on sneaking off into hidden corners of the palace to press his lips against yours.

It had all happened so quickly that you were still struggling to wrap your mind around it. Every time the guilt threatened to eat you alive. But as you rolled over and barrier your face into a pillow that still smelt of cloves and pine, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put a stop to it. 

A knock on the door had you quickly tugging your discarded dress over your head. It cracked open to reveal one of Berons men. 

“You’re needed.” Was all he said, voice clipped and annoyed. You fought the urge to roll yours eyes 

-------

Beron’s office was one of your least favorite places to be, second only to the tunnels of dungeons he has hidden under the forest palace. At Least those places didn’t hide what they were used for. Didn’t try to go through all the pomp and posturing that had no one fooled. Berons office was covered in dark mahogany wood, lush and dark velvets. If it was anyone else in the room it would be homey. But with Beron’s anger like a pulsing heartbeat in the room, it felt like walking into a tomb. 

“Report.” He barely looked up from the papers in front of him. 

”There’s nothing to report.” You told Beron as you stood across from his desk. 

“I’m not paying you to sleep with my son. I’m paying you to find out what he’s up to.” 

You didn’t back down, didn’t break his stare. “You told me to do whatever it took to get him to talk, to trust me. And I’m telling you, he hasn’t told me anything.”

”Then keep looking.” He waved his hand in a clear dismissal. You gave a curt nod of your head and exited the room without looking back. 

You traveled down the hidden passages of the palace, wanting to avoid contact with anyone that would be more than happy to sell the information of you leaving Beron’s office. The paths were designed for servants to travel without being seen, which was more than fine with you. After all, you were no different than a servant for Beron. YOu mind was spinning, replaying the conversation. Keep looking. It was such a ridiculous notion. You spent every minute you could with Eris but Beron refused to believe that he simply wasn’t up to anything at all. Convinced that his son was plotting something he just didn’t know what or who with. 

Nevermind that you had noticed that Eris was going somewhere, but it wasn’t worth drawing attention to until you had more details. You found a small part of you that didn't want those answers. Didn’t want to pry information out of the sweet redhead that was slowly starting to consume your thoughts. 

The passageway opened up right next to the door to the garden and you decided a walk would be the perfect way to clear your head. The crisp autumn air always helps you relax. The slight bite that reminded you of each breath. 

Soon enough, the perfectly manicured lawns gave way to winding pathways and thick forest. You could hear the sounds of birds flying in the high branches, animals crunching on the fallen leaves. A pair of hands at your waist had you spinning quicker than you could process, your arm braced against their throat as you backed them against a nearby tree. Warm amber eyes were open wide in shock. 

“Oh my gods.” You scrambled and stepped away from a rather surprised Eris.

He rubbed his neck lightly with a hand, “Remind me to never sneak up on you again.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

He wrapped a hand around your front, pulling you tight against him. 

“I think I can maybe forgive you. If…” He trailed off. YOu rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off your face. 

“If?” You raised an eyebrow at him, head slightly inclined up to look at him as he pressed himself closer. 

“I’ll think about forgiving you if you kiss me.”

“I’d kiss you even if you didn’t.” You rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. When you tried to pull away he placed his free hand on the back of your mouth, pushing him even closer against him. You smiled into the kiss, lips tugging up as he pulled away, starting a slow trail along your jaw.

“I love you” He whispered against the skin of your neck. You felt your whole body tense at the words, his hands freezing their path along your waist. no.no.no.no

“Eris. You can’t mean that.” Your voice was desperate. Begging him to take it back. 

“Why can’t I? I'll be high lord someday. We won't have to hide from my father then.” 

“You only just met me.”

”And in all of my long life I have never felt this way about anyone.”

The mother had to be playing some kind joke. In any different lifetime, in any different world this would be the greatest thing you’ve ever heard. In a different life you would have shouted the words back, wrapped your arms around his neck and loved him without abandon. But this was not another world and the mother had always been cruel. You pulled away despite every nerve telling you to pull him closer. 

“ You can’t because I don’t love you. Eris,” The words felt so wrong, you focused on anything but the way his face dropped. “How could I ever love you? I would be stuck in this awful court forever.” You tried to make the words sound sincere, prayed he wouldn’ pry and push because you couldn’t say them again. Your heart couldn’t take it.

”I’ll change it. I would change it all for you. Please. You can’t mean this.” Tears lined his gorgeous eyes, cheeks already reddening. You could only shake your head. You pried yourself out of his grip, putting distance between the two of you. 

“I thought I could do this. But I..I can’t. I’m so sorry.” 

The cold air that had just been refreshing seemed to be tormenting you as it bit at the skin of your cheeks,stinging the wet skin. You pushed into the palace and didn’t pause as you opened the hidden door, slinking in the dark hallway until you were at the entrance right outside of your room before collapsing into your bed. 

-------

“Find someone else.” You slammed your palms down onto the wood of Beron’s desk. The glass figure on his desk wombling slightly at the force. 

“I don’t think I remember asking for your opinion.” He rose from his chair, his guards hands went to rest on the swords by their sides. 

“He isn’t going to tell me anything anymore.”

“And how, pray tell, did you manage to mess up that badly.” He snarled out at you. 

“He said he loved me. I, of course, said I didn’t. No way in hell he tells me anything anymore. So find someone else if you want information that badly.”

“I gave the job to you.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want it.”

“You believe you have a choice in all of this. Do I need to remind you that I own you, you wokr for me. And you certainly do not get to tell me what you will and won’t do. So I will remind you of my request from when you started. Do what you have to.” 

Metallic blood filled your mouth as you bite your tongue to hold back the curses you wanted to spew  at the High Lord in front of you. Scream at the world for putting you into this position in the first place. But instead, you merely gave Beron a deep mocking bow and turned to walk out of his office. 

You had the plan hatched before you had even arrived back to your room. It was simple. Something Eris had joked about in passing. Beron was never going to let you go, so you would have to leave. Before you did, you would need to see eris one last time. Explain to him what had really been going on the whole time. And hope it would only take a kiss this time for him to forgive you. 

The door to his room was slightly open which was unusual for him. It was closed whether he was in it or not. Dread filled your stomach as you pushed open the door. The smell of burnt fabric quickly filled your nose, the rug on the floor burnt and melted at the edges. There had been a struggle. The perfectly organized table besides Eris’ bed had been overturned, books strewn across the floor. The glass rose you had given him lay shattered beside them. 

Picking up the edges of your skirt, you sprinted down the hallways, running so fast your lungs hurt with each stride but you had to get to him. 

You barreled through the doors of the throne room and were greeted with Beron casual sprawled out on the blood red chair. 

“Ah you decided to join us. Clever little fox.” Beron’s slow claps filled the air as you walked closer. 

Kneeling on the ground with guards surrounding him, was Eris. He struggled against the guards, heavy blue tinted manacles hung from his wrists. 

Eris opened his mouth to speak as his father raised a hand to him.

“I would consider your next moves very carefully.” Beron’s voice was like ice. the words crept over your skin, horror rising in you as he raised a hand to you. 

“Maybe you don’t have enough motivation.” Every single step you took echoed around the throne room. “I believe the two of you have met before. But allow me to do the proper introductions. (Y/n) is one of my newest spies.”

Eris struggled against the chains on his wrists. Eyes flickering up to you, honing in on the possessive hand his father had laid on your shoulder. 

“You’re lying.” He spit out at his father. 

Beron’s cruel laughter rang through the room. “Why don’t you ask her? But it's a shame, really, she won’t tell me anything… I wonder if she just needs some motivation.”  

That was when you saw it, one of Beron’s guard standing, a wreath of flames around his hand. “No. Please.” You felt a slap land on your face. 

“Then talk.”

“He didn’t tell me anything. I swear.”

“Such a shame.” Beron nodded at his guard. The man didn’t hesitate to rip the back of Eris’ shirt. 

“Stop.” But your screams of protest were blocked out by the sound of flesh sizzling. Eris ‘ body went tense, the muscles in his face contorting. He didn’t release a single sound as the guard repeated the action. You went to move but someone was already there, pinning your arms to your side. You were forced to watch him place his hand over and over again onto eris’ back. 

“Please. It’s me that failed, don’t punish him fo-”

“You think I’m doing this because of you?” Beron shouted down at you, rising from his throne. “My son is hiding things from me, that’s why I’m doing this. I could give a shit about your or his attraction.” 

Beron took a step, grabbing your chin with his hand. A motion that had you baring your teeth at him. 

“I think it goes without saying that you no longer have a position in my court. I’ll grant you the courtesy of an hour's head start.” He turned to his men, who were already looking at you with feral grins, “Then the hunting begins.” He shoved your face away from him, his guards releasing their hold on your arms. They screamed in pain but as you looked at eris, panting and half conscious on the ground, you didn’t feel the pain. Only the rippling anger as you looked at the male you had grown to love in a very short amount of time. 

Beron and his men filed out of the throne room, not sparing another glance at you or Eris. Leaving the heir of autumn to struggle to remove the chains himself. You moved with ease, catching him right when his feet slipped out from under him. He recoiled from your touch like it had burned worse than the guard.

You caught a glimpse at his back and tried to fight back the burning tears. You managed to unlatch the cuffs, letting them fall to the ground with an echoing clatter. You pushed them away with your feet, keeping your eyes trained on Eris’ back. The skin red and leaking, you could feel the heat coming off in waves as you tried to lift him to his feet. When you couldn’t you helped him onto his front, cradling his head, running your fingers through his hair. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to love me, and I wasn’t supposed to love you.” You spoke into his hair, bent down with your face pressed against the side of his neck.

“How could I not?” His voice was hoarse and quiet. You let out a soft laugh, tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“I’ll kill him for this.” You said, pulling Eris’ head into your lap. Leaning down, you placed a kiss on Eris' forehead and started planning how you were going to make Beron pay for what he did to Eris. 

Your mind was racing with ideas of how to make him pay for every shred of pain that he had made his sons feel, for the terror he reigned on his court. And found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you thought of how much you would enjoy it.

[cursedreverie1945]

It's a two-fer Friday

Gerhard Engel joined the army in 1925, and served in the armed forces of the Weimar Republic and then of Nazi Germany. In 1938, he was appointed adjutant to the Commander-in-Chief of the Army. In 1941, he was promoted to major, and appointed an army adjutant to Hitler.

He wrote a secret diary which was published after the war as "At the Heart of the Reich". In 1943, Engel was transferred to the Western Front. He fought in the Battle of Aachen, the Battle of Hürtgen Forest, the Battle of the Bulge, and the Battle of Halbe.

From 13 April 1945 until the end of World War II, Engel commanded the Infantry Division Ulrich von Hutten. He was taken prisoner by the U.S. Army in May 1945, and released in December 1947. After his release, Engel was manager of a sugar factory in Nörvenich, and then of a machine factory in Düsseldorf. From April 1958 to December 1976, he worked as State Commissioner of the Society for Military Customer in North Rhine-Westphalia. Engel died in 1976.

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

Rudolf Schmundt was a German officer and adjutant to Adolf Hitler. Between 1942 and 1944, he was chief of the German Army Personnel Office. Schmundt was injured during the 20 July 1944 assassination attempt on Hitler and died a few months later from his wounds.

[townpostin]

Shaba Alam Ansari Takes Charge As New Jamshedpur DFO

Former Officer Returns To Role, Pledging Continued Forest Conservation Efforts Outgoing DFO Mamta Priyadarshi Highlights Achievements In Forest Protection JAMSHEDPUR – On Friday, Shaba Alam Ansari officially started his role as the Divisional Forest Officer (DFO) for Jamshedpur. He was appointed by the state government. "I am dedicated to carrying on our work in conserving forests and wildlife,"…

[romancecroc]

Circles (part 1) - Jason x MC

(Ao3 version) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8)

You need to stop doing this.

Jason’s word echoed in Ysaline's mind. The radio silence between them gave her a lot to think about it.

It’s been a week now since he found her in the woods. The ankle had healed fine already, but she never got a chance to thank him.

And to apologize.

How ironic that a near-death experience made her realise he has been sincere all along. Never a question about her work place. Her coworkers.

Maybe he really did just enjoy her company. Or rather have a good laugh at her expense.

In any case, the realization that this man actually wasn’t a bad man hit her hard. And made her feel very guilty too.

“Are you going to order something? Or…” Tasha asked, nudging Ysaline's elbow.

Ah.

“ One hot chocolate and one coffee please. To go.” Ysaline's quickly answered, realizing it was her turn at the coffee shop.

The nerves were getting to her. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea?

“You know, I found your nervousness funny at the beginning. But now I am getting worried, sis.” Tasha continued, leading Ysaline to the pickup counter.

“Well, I am about to destroy my pride. Telling somebody they were right all along and that my behavior was… well, childish.” Ysaline explained with a sigh.

Her order was ready. No more stalling.

“If you say so. Well, I will be waiting here. Emotional support for when you are back” Tasha said with a little smirk.

Ysaline poked her on the side before grabbing the cups. Tasha stuck out her tongue but Ysaline exited the café before she could respond back.

Alright.

Time to finish this.

Her feet led her to Goldreamz. Her hands were clutching the cups almost possessively.

Does he even like coffee? She couldn´t recall anything that hinted at it. The memories of his kitchen were a blur.

He will make fun of her. Absolutely. Maybe even make a unnecessary comment about her appearance.

You need to stop doing this.

Yes. She will stop.

She will thank him for everything and promise to stop calling him.

Maybe a tad dramatic. He didn´t even say she was a burden.

But he didn’t deny it either.

And it is really time to get her own shit together.

A voice was calling out to her, snapping her mind back to reality. She was very much already inside the company’s lobby.

It was Danica walking towards her.

“Ysaline! I heard about the horror orientation event… How is your foot?” she asked with a gasp.

“Not only did they make you run… but getting lost??? Terrible organization”

The last comment made them both chuckle.

“I think nobody is setting foot in that forest again. Luckily, I just twisted my ankle so nothing serious.” Ysaline said, smiling back.

Danica was being polite. But it was also very obvious that she absolutely wanted to know why Ysaline was here.

She probably knows about Jason’s part in it all as well.

How did he describe it?

Leaving work right away. Driving an hour. Running in the rain and then carrying me back to his car.

It really was almost like a Disney movie.

“Speaking of the event… Is Jason in his office? I need to talk to him.” Ysaline finally said. Every word feeling like a confession.

Something lit up in Danica’s eyes. Was she holding back a giggle?

“He’s up there. Next appointment is 2 hours away. And between you and me….” She started whispering, coming a little closer.

“I am pretty positive he already saw you walking in from his glass window.” She finished, ending the sentence with a wink.

Ysaline nodded slowly, trying to maintain composure. And most importantly, her face.

After whispering a quiet thank you, she finally made her way up the stairs. The cups barely felt hot anymore, thanks to the rising nervousness building up in her body.

She walked past various employees until she saw his office.

The door was wide open.

It somehow felt like she wasn´t walking anymore. More like floating across.

“Good afternoon…” she said, though it sounded more like a whisper.

She found Jason in the corner of his office, holding a heavy binder filled with documents.

He turned. Visibly surprised but shrugged it off immediately.

“You’re here.” He said, placing the binder back in a shelf.

“Please, sit.”

Ysaline placed the coffee cup while he closed the door behind her.

By the time he sat down in his office chair, she was still standing.

“Are you waiting for me to pull out a chair or-“

“No no, I won’t be long. And I’d prefer to stand.”

Now he was leaning forward, confused.

“First of all, that coffee is for you. I… wanted to thank you. For saving me in the forest.” Ysaline said, pointing at the cup.

He was about to say something, but Ysaline help up her hand.

“And… I also wanted to thank you for all the times you have helped me for. Not that you were always great at it, like the time you played a terrible fiancé…”

“I thought you were here to thank me.”

“I am. In my own way.” She chuckled, crossing her arms.

He had opened the cup’s lid and took a sip. The bitterness threw him off a little.

“I also have hot chocolate. You can have it instead, it’s the one on the right.”

“I am not about to steal a lady’s hot chocolate…”

That one made her laugh. But it didn’t change what she was about to do.

“That being said… I also want to apologize. It’s a bit shameful to realize you’re not a bad man after all. I have… misjudged you.” She confessed, slowing down near the end.

His eyes were focused now. Eyebrows narrowing.

“Is this a confession?”

“It is a goodbye.”

The word made him choke on his coffee. Coughs that were quickly followed by a few glasses of water. And some paper towels.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, standing up from his chair.

“And leave Devenementiel defenseless? Not on my watch.”

He rolled his eyes but still walked towards her regardless.

 “I am simply… going to let you be. No more calls. No more requests for help. Your life can return to what it was.” She explained quickly, feeling a different emotion building inside of her.

Their last conversation seemed to replay in his head. A part of here was hoping he would also remember the question… and give her an answer.

But she knew that was not going to happen.

“…I see.” He responded quietly.

His eyes were meeting hers. As if they were looking for something.

“I will greet you at work events, of course. It’s the least I can do. God knows how many favors I owe you at this point” She continued, smiling.

He didn´t respond.

He just kept starting at her.

It was time to go.

With a step back towards the door, she gave him a final smile and slowly pulled the door open.

“Take care of yourself, Jason. I’m sure we’ll cross ways during the next competition.”

And with that, the door closed behind her.

She was pretty sure she left the hot chocolate behind too. Perhaps something sweet to leave him with.

It only took her few blinks to find herself outside again. Her sister saw her walking out from the cyfe and approached her.

She was saying something, but Ysaline couldn´t comprehend it. Everything felt so… slow. And heavy.

She kept on walking, Tasha keeping pace.

“Okay, now you are freaking me out. What happened??” Tasha asked confused.

They kept walking until Ysaline was sure Jason could not see them anymore from his office. Then she finally stopped and let out a big sigh.

“Sorry about that.” She said to Tasha, giving her a hug.

“Everything is fine. Now…” Ysaline continued, grabbing her phone.

“I have a viewing to go to. Are you coming?”

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 8-Mori/Reader with prompts Fingering and Doctor Kink

Notes: Mori was getting dangerously attractive in that Yosano flashback…and obviously your ob-gyn should absolutely never do anything our doctor Mori is gonna do, this is a fanfiction, so, fiction. Anyway, enjoy(also im totally glossing over some of the less sexy bits of a normal appointment lol)

The familiar tickle of the bell welcomes you as you enter the familiar lobby of your Gynecologists. You check your watch, noting that you're a little early, so you set your purse on the coffee table and scroll through your phone absentmindedly. The office is surprisingly empty, only one other person sits in the lobby, a middle aged woman who smiles kindly in your direction, before Anne, the receptionist, calls her over with a wave. She’s definitely not new, you’ve known Anne since she started working here, and she’s still as pretty as ever, with long red hair and green eyes. She sends you a wink and a smile, and you smile back. 

You fiddle a bit with your necklace, bored. It's a new one, a classy thin gold chain with a single, red ruby. It winks prettily between your collarbones, drawing all eyes. You paired it with a white blouse, and a dark red skirt, as flashy as you could get away with at work, anyway. Your boss liked it when her employees quote unquote, ‘expressed themselves’, although you still got written up occasionally. Although it was probably Brad, your boyfriend, still salty about the shopping spree you had gone on when you found he cheated on you.

You're so bored you find yourself staring around at the familiar decorations for the thousandth time. The familiar fake flowers on the table, the tabloid and other magazines, the chairs around the front office, the pictures on all the walls. Your favorite one is a watercolor painting, naked fairies and female elves dancing around an enchanted forest. It was just so whimsical and pretty it had always fascinated you. 

“Miss Name Last-Name?” The receptionist smiles when you look up, gesturing at a pretty blond Nurse with a clipboard. She’s also young, maybe early thirties and she smiles as she leads you back into the room. Janet, the Nurse’s name she had informed you, quickly and efficiently takes care of the weight and height measurements, before she gives you a small smile and nod, and leaves the room. It's the same room you’ve been to before, ever since you were sixteen.

It's embarrassing but you've lived in the same town for most of your life. Your parents had moved you and your siblings here when you were seven years old, because your mom wanted to be by the sea and your father loved your mother a bit too much perhaps. But they were your parents and you loved them, no matter how embarrassingly lovey dovey they insisted on being. 

But anyway, this was your hometown. You had gone to school here, made lifelong friends here, and all of your doctors appointments had been in this town, including the Gynecologists. Your ob-gyn, Maya, had known you since you were young, and was a kindly middle aged woman, an old friend of your moms. It would be nice to see her again. You're sitting on the chair, legs not hooked but swinging in front of you when a knock on the door sounds and Nurse Janet peaks her head in. 

“I'm sorry miss Name, but Maya, your usual isn't available.” You frown in concern. “Is she ok?” The nurse steps in completely, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “Yes, she just has a cold. I can either reschedule your appointment or assign you another doctor temporarily. What would you prefer?” The way the nurse speaks is a little peculiar, but you just brush it off. A new doctor, temporarily at least. You're tempted, just out of comfort to reschedule, but , and you've already driven here and gas prices are so high nowadays, it just feels like such a waste. You nod, coming to your decision. “I'll proceed with the appointment.” Janet nods, checking her clipboard. “Alright then, Doctor Mori will see you in about ten minutes.” The door closes and she’s gone.

Doctor Mori. You’ve heard the name, Maya has mentioned him in passing. And if Maya recommends him he has to be good, you have a lot of faith in your old friend. Your phone rings, loudly and with tha familiar ringtone that signifies your sister's calling. You check the clock on the wall, you have about even minutes, and quickly answer the phone. 

“Leila, i'm in the doctor's office.”

Your sister giggles. “I know.” She says, yelling over the chaos you can hear faintly in the background. “I'm calling because mom told me to tell you that Maya is out with a cold. So you should reschedule your appointment for next week or something.”

You sigh, as usual your mothers a little too late. “Um, it's too late for that. Couldn't you have told me like yesterday or something?” 

 “It's not my fault, blame mom.” Your sister scoffs.“So did you reschedule?”

“No, I decided to see another doctor, at least temporarily.” You pick your nails, checking the clock. Five minutes. “The new nurse called her Doctor Mori? You know, the other doctor that shares the building with Maya.”

“Oh yeah, I always remember Maya talking about him.” You can faintly hear your mother yelling in the background, and then your sister yells back, pulling the phone from her ear. “What mom? He? What? Just come here and tell her yourself!”

“Honey? That you?” Your mom’s voice interrupts your sister. “How are you honey?”

“I'm great mom.” You sigh. “Why didn't you tell me about Maya earlier.”

“Oh you know, i forgot.” Your mom giggles, shouting over the Bob Marley playing in the background. “Anyway honey, your sister told me you decided to see Doctor Mori?”

You check the clock. “Yeah, it seemed like a waste to just leave. And you gotta hurry mom, I'm almost out of time.”

“I see, I see.” Your mother makes no attempt to hurry, but then again she never does. “Well, Maya introduced me to Doctor Mori one time, and honey, he’s very handsome!”

“Yeah, yeah ok.” You check the clock one more time, you need to go. “Well I gotta go mom, i'll see you later then.” 

“Yeah, see you later Honey. Say hi to Anne for me. Oh, and tell her congratulations on her marriage.” And with a click, she’s gone. You sink back into your seat with a sigh, and then, something your mother said finally clicks. He. you shoot up in your seat, just as the door creaks open, and sure enough and man makes his way into the room. 

Your mother was right, he is handsome. His hair is slightly long and slightly messy with loose strands falling around his face. The dark strands tickle his neck, just barely brushing his shoulders. He’s clothed in a lab coat for some reason, underneath which is a gray purple button down and a slightly loose black tie. His eyes are dark, and slight wrinkles at the corner betray his age. He has a pair of small, rimless glasses hooked on his collar. 

“Miss Name? I'm Dr. Mori, I'll be filling in for Dr. Henderson today.” He blinks at you with a slightly absent smile. It feels unreal honestly, of course your replacement is a handsome older man who, in a few minutes, is going to have his hands all over your pussy. You curse every evil god who put you in this situation. And you hope, pray or anything else you can do that you won’t get wet. You sigh.

“It’s nice to meet you Dr, Ma-er, Dr Henderson has mentioned you before.” You smile, wishing that you weren’t currently at a gynecologist appointment with a man who was probably married who you were definitely thirsting over. “Although I thought…never mind.”

“You thought I was a woman?” You nod and the doctor laughs a little. “Yes, I’m not surprised. I’m actually partially retired, I just do Maya the occasional favor now and then.” Mori puts on his glasses, squinting at a clipboard. You try to subtly look at his hands, checking for a wedding ring.

“It looks like Maya took care of most of your checkups a few weeks ago?” He says. You nod. “Yes, we just ran out of time for the last few. She was going to do them today but…” The doctor nods, confirming your thought. He flips through the papers on the clipboard, before setting it down on the small desk next to a picture of a pretty blond girl with blue eyes, the doctor next to her in the picture. “Dr. Henderson already did most of the necessary tests. Looks like you guys didn't quite get around to the physical?” You give him a nod in responds and he smiles. “Alright, well I'll step out for a moment, can you please take off your underwear and hook your legs up in those—well you know what to do. I'll be back in a few minutes.” You give him a nervous little nod and laugh combo, and he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sigh, standing and rolling up your tight office skirt, and ridding yourself of your boring white panties. This is going to be so embarrassing, because you just know you're going to get at least a little damp. It's very different to have a fifty ish woman who you’ve known for years poking around your vagina, versus a finely aged dilf, with no wedding ring to speak of. You sigh again, climbing up into the strange reclining chair and hooking your knees in the stirrups. With your skirt rolled up like this, you can feel the cool air brushing your bare pussy, and you shiver a little. 

The door opens and Mori steps back in, noting your position on the chair with a nod. “I see you're ready to begin?” The doctor has a pair of plastic gloves on and he’s hooked his reading glasses back on his collar, the tie somehow slipping even more. You give him an affirmative, doing your best to nip any problems in the bud by focussing your thoughts squarely on your pet Cat. And it works too, as the doctor's gloved hands begin to feel surely on your pelvic bone, dancing around the lips of your pussy. Then, he starts to talk, distracting you from the cat.

“So, Miss Name, seems like you’ve known Maya for a while, huh.” He says. “Yep,” You reply, still trying to think of your cat. “I've had her since I was about seventeen. I assume you guys are old friends as well?”  

“Yes, we used to work together.” The doctores sure fingers pull at the lips of your pussy, and he squints. “That was until my ex-wife decided she didn't want me touching other women all day long, even if it was my job.” Your ears catch on ‘ex-wife’ and all thoughts of your cute pet cat fly from your mind. Your thighs twitch slightly, and you change the subject quickly. “That must be your daughter then, in the picture? Sorry if I snooped.” You bite your lip and avoid eye contact, it makes it all worse when you watch him prod at your pussy. Thankfully, for now at least, his fingers have left the more sensitive areas and are now poking at your pelvic bone again. 

“Yes, my little girl Elise. She’s pretty isn't she?” You nod, and he continues. “What about you? Any kids?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. “No, not quite yet anyway. I just broke up with my boyfriend actually.” Your tone turns a little resentful, you can't help yourself. “He cheated on me.” Mori makes a noise of surprise, cocking his head up to meet your eyes. “He cheated on a girl as pretty as you, huh. Spread your legs a bit for me darlin.” You almost choke, ninety nine percent sure you misheard. That damn pet name, Darlin’, and the complement? God you're doomed. The doctor chuckles at your silence, his dark eyes leaving your own as they dart back to your pussy. One hand spread your pussy lips apart, and two gloved fingers poke at your hole, pushing in slowly. You bit your lip, hard. You can hear the slight squelching his fingers make, and you literally want to die. Maybe if you pretend nothing is wrong, he will spare you the humiliation. 

“So, do you miss your job?” You clear your throat as his fingers reach deeper, pressing around looking for something. 

“Oh, a little.” The doctor's other hand goes higher, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach, feeling around. “Although, I usually don't get such pretty patients to work with. You're making this old man blush.” Oh, he knows, he’s definitely noticed how wet you are and he’s teasing you. You still can't quite tell if he’s flirting or not. He can't be, right? He’s a really handsome man, he must have a girlfriend or something. 

He withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you sigh with relief. But all your embarrassment comes rushing back as he reaches for the familiar speculum, slowly inserting it into your pussy with a squelch. You blush at the sound, but the doctor doesn't bat an eye as he ever so slowly opens it, peering inside for a few long, agonizing seconds. And then, he’s pulling it out with an embarrassing sound and placing it on a tray beside him. 

“Well, looks like we have no problems.” He takes off his gloves, balling them together and placing them on the tray beside the Speculum. “Everything looks good and you're plenty…” He pauses. “…Sensitive.” You blush, way too embarrassed to even complain. He clears his throat a little, dark eyes still darting back and forth between your pussy and your face. His eyes are dark, and they have a strange shine as they meet your own again. With a leap of faith, you decide to throw caution to the winds.

“I don't know doctor, you might need to check a little more thoroughly.” He eyes you for a moment, and an embarrassing silence fills the room for a moment. And just as you're about to backpedal, Mori stands, and with a click, locks the door. “You know…” He says, a new kind of gleam in his eye. “Maybe I should. Do you have any particular concerns?” This is absolutely crazy, and you love every minute of it. 

“Oh, I don't know, Doctor.” You shoot him a flirty little wink. “Maybe you should feel around in there some more, check for any irregularities?” 

“That's a good idea Darlin.” He pulls a stool over, and hangs his coat over a nearby chair, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Well, I'll start with an oral check up, then maybe use something a little longer to really check you out, that sound good?” You nod, your reply dissolving into a moan as he leans closer, the flattened length of his tongue coming in contact with your clit. He starts out slow, flattening his tongue against your clit, dancing around the edges of your hole, teasing you with his little smirks. He looks way too hot like that, face buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair. 

“You know Doctor,” You choke out, as the naughty slurping sounds fill the room. “My insides feel a little tight, maybe you should check those out.” Mori pulls away from your pussy, shooting you a spit slicked feral grin. “I was just thinking the same thing.” And then, he slips two fingers inside. Your head falls back against the chair, as his head disappears again, tongue licking your clit. He had his fingers inside you before, but it feels different now that he’s really trying to make you lose it. He scissors his fingers open, prying your hole open for future activities and your going to lose it. You need him inside you, right now.

“Doctor.” He looks up at you, fingers pausing inside of you. “I need you inside of me. Now.” 

Mori chuckles at your enthusiasm, withdrawing his fingers from inside you with a squelch, and moving to the cabinet. He pulls a foiled package out, and waves it in your direction. You giggle, playing with your tits through your shirt. “My my doctor, do you always fuck your patients?” 

“Nope, you're this old man’s first in a while.” He offers as a reply, unbuckling his pants. “We give free condoms to teens, to encourage safe sex.” He doesn't even pull down his pants, just pulls his erect cock out and strokes it a few times. You watch, licking your lips as he slides the condom down it. It's big, and you know he’ll stretch you out nicely. Maybe another time you would like to have it down your throat. But for today, you need him inside you.

Mori seems to share your enthusiasm, as he hurriedly lines his dick up with your hole, and with one last look of assurance, starts to slowly push in. The stretch is a lot, but with all that preparation it just barely stings. It also helps that he goes slowly, allowing for you to fully adjust to his hardness. He grips your thighs with his big hands as he fully shields himself inside of you, pulling out and using your thighs to pull you right back onto his dick. Your voice comes out in little pants and moans, joined by his grunts. 

“So doctor, everything alright?” Your voice is far from steady, but you can't really bring yourself to care. “How does it feel?” 

“Heavenly darling.” Mori’s mouth crashes onto yours, practically inhaling your face. He kisses with a wild kind of desperation, so different from the unhurried tone of voice he had taken up before. It's hot, the juxtaposition. And you can feel the coil of an orgasm curling in your stomach. “I'm close.” You pant out, as Mori nuzzles your jaw, his hair tangling with your own. “Same.” The doctor pants out, his steady rhythm speeding up a little, and you moan out especially loud as his calloused thumb works at your clit, rubbing little circles into it. 

The tangle of orgasm is building now, and then, the tip of his dick hits that spot, the spot that makes pleasure explode though your body. You shudder, and cum around his dick, gripping his shoulders and moaning out a garbled mix of his name and some moans. He continues thrusting, working you through your orgasm and just as you're about to come down he thrusts one more time, and with a small little moan in your ear, he withdraws. 

“So doctor.” You pant, leaning back against the chair. “Everything healthy?” 

“Very.” Mori says, disposing of the condom in the garbage and doing up his clothes. He scratches his neck awkwardly, watching you put on your underwear and roll down your skirt. “So, Miss Name? Do you maybe want to get coffee together or something?” 

You grab your purse, and turn, planting a bold little kiss on his lips, and pressing your business card into his hands. “I’d love to.” And with a ‘call me’ you close the door behind you.

End Notes: It's been a long time since i had an appointment lol, the details are hazy at best. Also barely got this one done in time

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

[nats-bottom]

SJ - Doctor's Office

Summary: Reader has anxiety about going to the doctor's office and Scarlett calms her down and distracts her.

Pairings: Scarlett Johansson and Reader

Warnings: Doctor's office, almost-panic attack, swearing, anxiety and depression mentions, medication mentions.

Notes:

I also have accounts on Wattpad and AO3! The users there are @ paige_vers

Please give me requests! You can submit them here or on my insta, @ scarlettsoutset

ᨖᨖೱᨖ⧗ᨖⴵᨖ🕷️ᨖⴵᨖ⧗ᨖೱᨖᨖ

I dreaded these days. They didn't happen often, but when they did, they always sucked. As soon as I was 16, my mom made me go to all my doctor's appointments by myself. And this year is no different. Even though it's just my yearly check-up, I still get very nervous. What if they find something wrong? What if I'm really sick? I just get all these worries in my head that don't seem to go away. 

My appointment isn't until three in the afternoon, but that's all I can think about. It's currently ten AM, but I'm just pacing around the living room of the house that me and my girlfriend, Scarlett shared. Scarlett was out getting groceries, but she should be back any minute. Then as if on queue, I hear the front door open. Unable to stop my pacing, I keep up my pacing while I hear Scarlett put away the frozens and drop the rest of the bags of groceries on the ground. I feel hands on my shoulders and look up to see Scarlett in front of me. I stop pacing and look into her beautiful, forest green eyes.

"Breathe with me" She says, taking deep breaths in and out. I didn't even realize that I was hyperventilating, but I started to follow her breathing pattern after a few breaths. Once I've calmed down enough, Scarlett takes my hands and sits us down on a couch. "Is it the doctor's appointment?" She asks, almost as if she already knows.

I nod my head, still too shaken up to speak. Her thumbs rub patterns on the back of my hands. I look down at my lap, feeling ashamed for getting all worked up over a simple appointment. 

"Hey, look at me." Scarlett says. I look up at her, worry still written all over my face. "It'll be ok. You'll be perfectly fine and healthy. You eat well, you take care of your skin, you exercise, you have no symptoms. You have nothing to be worried about." 

She lets go of one of my hands and cups my cheek. "Do you want me to go with you?" I nod, still nervous to speak, of fear that my voice might crack. This means a lot to me, as I've been going to these appointments alone for years. This will be the first time I will have gone with someone else besides my mother, and I'm glad it's Scarlett. Even though we have only been together for a year now, I'm glad she cares enough about me to go with me. For my last appointment, Scarlett was away filming. If she was here, I know that she would've come. 

"I've got to go put away the rest of the groceries. Do you want to come help me? It might take your mind off of the appointment." I nod in agreement. Scarlett gets up and gives me a hand of hers to help me get up. I take her hand and walk with her to the kitchen. I start to put away the groceries, and she walks over toward the speaker system. She looks through her phone for a minute, and grins. She turns on the speaker system, and connects her phone, playing my favorite music. Music that she knows I can't resist not dancing and singing to. She walks back over, swaying her hips to the beat, and I watch her, biting my lip. I switch my focus back to the groceries, oblivious to the fact that Scar has now abandoned her task of putting away the groceries and now is dancing along to the music. 

As I put the last few things away, I hum a bit to the music. When I put the last thing away, I actually sing a little bit. Once I am all done, I turn around, and see Scarlett dancing to the music. 

"So that's why I had to put away everything by myself. You-" I boop her nose "Were busy dancing, you cutie."

"Care to join me?" Scarlett says as she outstretches her hand to me. I gladly take it. She twirls me around, and then puts one hand on my hip. She keeps a hold of my other hand, and I put my free hand on her shoulder. We sway to the music as we both sing-shout along to the music.

The next song to come on is a slower song, so we don't shout to the music as much, but instead just sing at a normal volume. She leans in closer to me, nuzzling her head in my neck. Her arm snakes around my back, and mine around her neck. We just sway to the music, holding each other tight and close. 

Once the slow song is over, we let go of each other and start to dance our asses off to the next few songs. That's when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I check to see what it says, and it's a reminder that my appointment is in one hour. 

I start to panic again, and Scarlett notices. She takes a quick glance at the clock first, realizing the time, and envelopes me in a hug. I hug Scar back, taking in her scent. Her hugs always help me calm down. She pulls back peppers my face in kisses. Once my face has been fully appreciated, she rests her forehead on mine, looking into my eyes. I look back into her sparkling eyes, and let out a sigh. She always knows how to calm me down. 

"Let's go darling." Scarlett says. She knows that if she were to mention the doctor's, that might've made me panic again. She grabs her phone and her keys in one hand, and takes my hand in the other. We walk in silence to the car, where Scarlett opens the door for me and helps me get in. She gets in on her side, and after she starts the car, she connects her phone and continues the same playlist from before.

We both sing along the whole ride there. Once we get there, I'm hesitant to get out, so Scarlett comes over to help me out. She opens my door and undoes my seatbelt for me. She takes my hand, and just stands there, holding it.

"Come on, my love. We can't avoid this forever. You got this. I believe in you. Now let's get this over with." She says lovingly. She takes my hand up to her mouth and kisses my knuckles. 

I eventually get out of the car, and we walk hand in hand to the building and through the doors. I check in at the front desk, and we sit down together. We keep holding hands, and at one point she brings them up to her mouth, kissing the whole back of my hand. She knows this will keep my calm and keep my mind occupied. Before I know it, the door opens and they call out my name.

"y/n?" The nurse said. I get up and look at Scarlett. She is still sitting down, probably expecting to stay out here the entire time.

Still holding her hand, I say "You're coming with me, silly." She shoots me a playful grin, one that always gives me butterflies, and gets up, walking with me to the exam room. 

The nurse ushers me to sit on the exam bed, while he suggests Scarlett sit on one of the chairs that's in the room. "I think I'll stand," Scarlett says, still not letting go of my hand. She helps me get up on the exam bed, and stands next to me, holding my hand with her hand furthest away from me and rubbing my back with her other hand. The nurse takes my vitals, then walks out of the room. We wait a few minutes for the doctor, who eventually comes in.

The doctor comes in and tells me that everything looks normal, and the only thing that needs to be changed are my head meds. These are what me and Scar call my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds. She gives me a new prescription and tells me to come back next year. 

She leads us to the front desk, where I schedule an appointment for next year. We walk out the car, and as soon as we're both inside, I let out a huge sigh of relief. 

"You did great, sweetie. I'm so very proud of you." Scarlett says, looking at me and resting a hand on my thigh. I put a hand of mine of top of hers, where it stays for the drive home.

[scottishcommune]

Toby Shone is an anarchist who was imprisoned in Wandsworth, Bristol and G4S Prison Parc for nearly two years, accused of being the administrator of counter-information project 325.nostate.net. After the political prosecution failed and the cops had to drop the case 5 days before trial in October 2021, Toby received a sentence of 3 years 9 months for possession of psychedelic medicines. He was released on 28 December 2022 under heavy restrictions (license conditions), oversight by a multi-agency team (MAPPA) including the National Security Division (counter-terror) and forced to live in a filthy bail hostel in Gloucester for 9 months. He had just moved back into a flat in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire 9 days ago. On the morning of 19 September 2023, he was driving to an appointment with his probation officer when he was pulled over and arrested by an armed police unit between the Forest of Dean and Gloucester. He was taken to HMP Bristol. He is awaiting more detailed information, but his legal team say that the allegations are that he breached two of his license conditions: being in possession of an [unauthorised] phone and attending a meeting in Bristol in August. Toby is in great spirits as ever and requests letters and books. ■ Please write to him at: Toby Shone A7645EP HMP Bristol 19 Cambridge Road Bishopston Bristol BS7 8PS