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avengerofiron · 4 years ago

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calls of guilty || self para

summary: there’s been a lot of times in tony’s life when he’s been advised to stop talking. these are two of those times. trigger warnings: child abuse, homophobia/biphobia, drugs, alcoholism, manipulative family relationships everywhere, cancer, death, grief

December 16, 1987

Edwin and Ana Jarvis were in the Maldives this Christmas. It was the first year in Tony’s considerable memory that they wouldn’t be there for the roast dinner — the year before Tony was born, three months before Maria said she was pregnant, was the last time they found themselves on a beach sipping margaritas as the world celebrated. That was eighteen years ago.

They deserved a holiday, Maria said. They deserved a break, deserved to go to a place with only the two of them, no responsibilities (her eyes flickered to Tony on the other side of the dining room table), no headaches (she didn’t dare to look at Howard, instead focused on the half eaten steak on her plate).

Jarvis gave Tony his present early. There was another one coming on Christmas Day, he said, because Howard wouldn’t have allowed Tony to open the gifts before the 25th of the month, and even at that only with his express permission. The butler wanted to see the look on Tony’s face, though, when he opened something. He said that was the best part of Christmas. Tony held himself back from asking why he would leave, if Tony was the glittering star on top of the tree.

He wasn’t a child anymore. He was seventeen, and expected to act like it.

The gift was brought out of the leather carry case as Tony rolled up to the Stark mansion, back from boarding school on holiday leave. He would’ve preferred to stay on campus — Tiberius was, along with some of the other boys that Tony didn’t find entirely grim to listen to, but Howard wanted them to have family time. Wife’s orders, he joked to the headmaster over the phone. Tony knew it before Mr. Barker told him. Howard made the same joke all the time.

It was a notebook. Leather bound, a buckle on the front like a belt. The pages were thick, yellowing around the corners. It was, for all intents and purposes, meant to look extremely old, even if Tony had been handed it with the barcode label still attached to the back. This was the kind of book we used in the war, Jarvis said, and Tony looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Your father always liked to write his ideas.

If Howard liked to write, it stood to reason Tony would too. Tony thanked Jarvis for the gift, held onto the older man so tightly he must’ve bruised a few ribs, and made the resolution never to look at the notebook again.

It was a good distraction tonight, though. As he picked through his food, appetite rarely there when he was away from the hustle and bustle of the school dining hall, Tony was sketching down schematics, eraser shavings from his pencil leaving a light dusting over the dark mahogany. His parents were talking at opposite ends of the table long enough for entertaining, that rarely saw parties when Tony was home.

Home.

“Howard, please.”

His mother’s voice was far away, light and lilting in the conscious way she performed as she swept through galas and charity balls. Tony erased the last formula, eyebrows furrowing as he tried out another.

“No, Maria, it’s ridiculous. All this money spent on sending him to that school, and it turns him into a goddamn mute.”

“Howard.”

“It’s true. Am I not allowed to say the truth now? Come on, speak.”

A few moments passed before Tony realised the underwater conversation halted. He looked up from his notebook and half eaten dinner to find two pairs of brown eyes looking back at him. No one could ever decide who Tony’s came from. Obie maintained it depended on the light.

He wished Obie was here now. His godfather had a unique way of diffusing the tension, of following Tony out after all was said and done and reassuring him that no matter how dramatically he left, someone would always come out after.

“He’ll speak when he wants to,” Maria said, as Tony met Howard’s hard gaze. “Won’t you, Anthony?”

His focus flickered back to his mother. “It’s Tony.”

Howard’s fork clattered off the plate. Tony didn’t startle, though he wanted to. Howard’s voice was still perfectly clear, his expression impassive. If he thought Tony was jumpy, he would get offended. Tony wasn’t trying to offend.

He still managed to regardless.

“Your mother gave you life,” Howard said. “She can call you whatever she damn well pleases.”

“He’s fine,” Maria interjected. “He doesn’t like the formality of Anthony, do you-”

“You coddle him.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is his problem. At that school, everyone bends over backwards, don’t they?”

Tony didn’t reply. Sometimes, Howard asked questions he didn’t want answers to. Maria never quite got that memo.

“I wouldn’t say they-”

“He’s never needed to work for anything in his life. He’s soft. I told you military school would turn him into something.”

“He already is something. He’s a Stark.”

“Banking off my good name, you mean.”

“Our good name.”

“Did you build the company, Maria? Stick to your pet projects, would you, and let me raise our son to be-”

Tony went back to his notebook. The dorm room he shared with Rhodes was too hot in summer, too cold in winter. They’d tried calling estates, to no avail. Even the Stark name his parents were bragging about didn’t swing for much, not when it was a seventeen year old kid and his slightly older roommate putting in the complaint, having no idea how exactly to complain. Tony had taken to pulling apart the air con and heating units himself. He fixed the issue, but now he wanted to make it better. He wanted their room to be the best. He wanted to leave his initials etched into the side of the radiator, so whoever occupied the dorm when he graduated would say boy, this T.S. guy really is something, look at what he left us, look at how he planned …

“For God’s sake!” The words came suddenly, and Howard’s fist was against the table. The maids glanced at each other on the other side of the room, and made the executive decision to duck out of the room. Maria was staring at him, wide eyed.

Tony jumped.

Howard’s attention was solely on him. “Will you speak?”

Tony set his pencil down, slowly. He looked down at the eraser shavings over the wood, and slowly began brushing it off onto the ground. He didn’t need to see Howard’s jaw clenching. “What would you like me to discuss, Howard?”

The plate rattled on the table. The cutlery dropped to the ground, and Maria’s hand went to Howard’s arm. He was up out of his seat now, and Tony’s heart picked up speed in his chest.

Tony lifted his own fork, stabbing a piece of the steak. “A little overdone,” Tony commented, chewing slowly, “don’t you think?”

“You little shit.”

“Howard.”

“This is what that Stone boy is putting in your head, isn’t it? Attitude.”

“He’s putting plenty in me,” Tony replied, evenly, “but the attitude is all my own.”

Maria’s head whipped around to look at her son, then. “Anthony.”

“Tony,” he corrected.

“Don’t talk back to your mother,” Howard said, and he was seething now. This was a new record. “And keep your perversions from the table.”

“You jealous?”

Howard actually spluttered at that. He wasn’t sitting down, but he wasn’t moving, either. Tony would have to push a little harder. “I have everything I need.”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” Tony replied, leaning over the table to take the glass of wine from its place beside Howard’s plate. It was overfilled, but it was never the flavor Howard drank for. He kicked back in his chair, taking a long gulp before adding, “With the maid.”

“Tony.”

“You are an ungrateful, spiteful-”

“And the nanny,” Tony mused, swirling the wine around the glass. It was a wonder, what with the slight tremor in his hands, the red liquid didn’t spill over and splash onto his new jeans. “That one from Brazil, Mom, you remember her? You used to go to yoga together. Then you went to the showers, and Dad decided to give her the good old Stark welcome-”

Maria opened her mouth, and closed it again. Howard was grinding his teeth so hard now that Tony could feel the shudder up his back.

“Oh! My therapist, back in the day. I always wondered, you know, what happened to her. Then I found out Dad fucked-”

That was it. That was enough, the moment of impact. Within an instant, the glass in Tony’s hand crashed to the ground, his shoes stained in red. He was pulled from his chair, and Howard’s arm was pressed against his chest, Tony’s back against the wall.

He could see everything, here. The vein popping out on the side of his father’s head, the sweat appearing on his upper lip just at the sides of his moustache, the clench in his jaw, the high color creeping up his neck. Tony’s feet were on the ground but only barely, his heart was flying so fast in his chest that he knew Howard had to be able to feel it against his strong arm, and all he could think was keep going. Keep going, let it happen, let it be over.

It always ended with a bang. It always ended with a crack, or a sudden moment of impact, a second of splintering pain and then the room would be empty and it would be over. The build up was always the worst. He expected this, coming home. He expected it every single time, and he was right. There wasn’t an equation out there with the reliability Howard Stark showed in his reactions.

Maria was crying, now. Tony can hear her screaming, vacantly, in the same distant way as he always heard his mother yelling. Howard. Howard, please. Put him down. He didn’t mean it, he’s just a-

The phone rang in the kitchen. Immediately, air rushed into Tony’s lungs again, and he was dropped to the ground. Howard cast one more sharp glance in his direction before making his way towards the other room.

“Carter,” his voice echoed through, jovial and friendly. “You’re interrupting our family dinner.”

The rest of the conversation was blocked out as Howard hooked his foot around the door, pulling it closed behind him.

With that barrier in place, Maria crossed the dining room, by Tony’s side in an instant. He was shaking. He noticed that, first. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t stop, and his teeth were chattering, and all he wanted was that brief, sharp moment. He was still waiting for it, even now. He didn’t know what it would be, and it was easier to deal with a bruise he could see. It was the waiting, the anticipation, that was the worst.

He was on the ground. His mother’s hands were in his hair, on the side of his face, running down as she pressed kisses that would leave lipstick stains over his cheeks and forehead. “Oh bambino,” she whispered, her voice desperate and thready, a shadow of her former mask. “Tua mamma ha te. Your mom has you, you’re okay.”

He’s crying. He doesn’t feel it, but he is. There is salt on his lips, and he can feel his mother’s hands getting wet.

“You used to be best friends, il mio cuore,” Maria whispered, her mouth going to the top of Tony’s head, her words muffled by his thick curls — those, at least, he inherited from her. All the good parts of him, all the parts that were worth it, came from her. “What happened, my darling?”

“He got to know me?” Tony offered, and Maria huffed a laugh, wet and thick and nothing like her normal. “Hey, Mom. It’s okay.”

She shifted, and instinctively, Tony moved until they were both leaning against the wall, his mother curling into his shoulder, head on his chest, his hands going to stroke through her hair, instead. “I’m okay. Nothing happened,” Tony said.

“He misses you when you’re gone, you know. He misses you more than you could ever know.”

Tony didn’t doubt that. He knew what went through Howard’s mind at that moment, in that second before the impact hit, before the meteor tore apart what they’d built. He knew how that power sat on his shoulders.

“You can be so difficult, Tony.”

A wave of something foreign goes through him. “I wasn’t-”

“He’s just trying to relate to you, to talk to you. Why don’t you try?”

He did try. He tried all the time. He came to his office with toy planes when he was six years old, and had them thrown onto the ground because they’d been invented before. He came to him in the kitchen and told him he kissed a boy, and spent the week in gym class trying to hide the hand shaped bruise on his wrist.

“He is so busy, and he’s so tired, Anthony. He misses you when you’re gone.”

You said that. She kept saying that. Tony’s hand didn’t still in her hair.

“I can’t stay here, Mom,” Tony whispered.

She moved, then, pushed herself up and looked him in the eye with sudden, devastating clarity. “You can’t leave me,” she said. Her hands went to his face, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as she turned his head to face her properly. “Please. Just … just apologise, and it’ll be alright. He’s a reasonable man.”

Reasonable.

“You have no idea how much he does for you, Anthony. How much he protects you.”

“I know he does,” Tony said, because he was still shaking, now, and the last thing he wanted was for his mother to pull back from him, to be left sitting on the hardwood floor alone until Jarvis came to scrape him up — it would be three weeks of waiting for that, this time. “I’ll apologise, okay? I shouldn’t have … I was a dick.”

“Language,” Maria said, and there was a hint of teasing to her voice that made Tony huff a humorless laugh. “You’re my amazing boy, you know that?” She leaned in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to his cheek. Tony’s hand went to settle over hers as she did. “You are so good, Anthony. You are the best boy I’ve ever met.”

They lapsed into a moment of silence, and then Tony disentangled himself from his mother, feeling like he was coming off a high and living in anticipation of one all at the same time. This wasn’t the end. It wouldn’t be, ever. He moved over to the table, picking up his notebook that had splatters of wine across the pages.

“Do you want to show me what you’re working on?” Maria asked. Tony didn’t turn to the sound of her voice. He shook his head.

“Not tonight,” he replied. He knew she wouldn’t ask again. She was always so busy.

Maria moved up beside him, her hand going to squeeze his shoulder. He flinched, but she didn’t notice. She never did. “Just …” She took a long, deep breath. “Just promise me you’ll learn when to say quiet, Anthony.”

Tony looked down at the schematics, then up at his mother. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Staying quiet meant living in the in between. Speaking up, speaking out … that meant having one hand on the wheel of a car destined to go over the edge of the cliff.

His mother was better at silence. She didn’t talk to him for the three weeks he spent in the mansion, not after that night.

(The next morning, he called Ty and cancelled their plans to meet for coffee. He had the flu, he said — and Ty said he didn’t care, that he’d look just as good as he always did, frustrating bastard that you are. Tony laughed, then, but he remained firm. Apologies weren’t meant to end with purple splotches Ray Bans couldn’t cover. Tony figured he must be really bad at them, because this happened every time.)

April 4, 2020

Ultron hadn’t murdered him. Small blessings Tony supposed as he glanced down at the interface of his smart watch, the floors of Stark Tower (Avengers Tower, legally speaking, even if the ‘A’ was more of a kick in the teeth than a comfort at this point) whirring past as the elevator moved. The good Secretary had been avoiding his calls. Tony expected it was down to the little show he put on for Christine Everhart, a woman who always knew just how to get under his skin and make him say what he was really thinking. It was an uncanny ability, endlessly irritating, but he had to admit that something in his chest had lifted the second those words left his lips on the air.

After all, it was one thing to say the truth when it was just Steve standing in front of him, or when he was divulging his movements and intelligence shifting to Sharon or Jessica. It was another to bring the world in on those secrets, the things that Tony managed to hide with a sarcastic disposition and a cavalier demeanour. Oh, what the world didn’t know about him.

They knew a lot more now.

It was better, he mused to himself as he stepped out of the elevator, the heels of his leather shoes clacking on the polished concrete as he walked towards the conference hall. It was better to get it all out in the open like that, better to poke the bear and let the battle commence. It was better to burn his company to the ground in 2009 and rebuild from the ashes than try to cling to what had always been his father’s legacy and not his own, allowing the blood to continue to run. Really, Tony was doing what he always did. Mass impact, minimal casualties (or at least, minimal timespan for the casualties. The greatest damage was done immediately after the fact, and from what he could see, as had been the truth when he was a child, the only damage done was to his own fine self).

“General,” Tony said, breezing into the conference room with his hands neatly tucked into the pockets of his open suit jacket. The General was alone. Usually he came accompanied by several lackeys, even if one of them seemed to do nothing but pass over pages and keep his pencil sharpened. “Oh,” he commented, eyes drifting over the table before returning to the rapidly ageing man before him, “I guess I’m getting a real dressing down today. Should I prepare a nice hot bubble bath to salve the wounds of my fractured ego?”

The moustache became even straighter as the lips underneath it tightened. A miniscule twitch, barely enough for poker players to pick up on, but Tony knew how to get under people’s skin. It was why he and Christine got on so swimmingly.

“Sit down, Stark.”

Tony sniffed. “I’ve sat all day,” he replied. “Board meetings are killer for the old knees. I’d prefer to stand.”

“Just because you prefer something,” Ross began, reaching for the cup of coffee sitting on the table, “doesn’t mean that’s what has to happen, Stark.”

“Really? See, I grew up an only child, and private school didn’t exactly get me in the habit of not getting what-”

“The interview was sloppy.”

Tony looked back out at the skyline. “I don’t think it was my worst.”

“It was far from your best. You’re not just representing your own interests now. You’re representing ours.”

“Funny,” Tony commented, shifting his weight. “You say ‘ours’ like that’s supposed to endear me to this little teamworking endeavour. It doesn’t really.”

“Fury was of the opinion that you’d changed, that the Avengers made you a team player,” Ross continued. “I told him old dogs couldn’t learn new tricks.”

“Hm,” Tony murmured. “Harsh. I thought the dye was working wonders on the grey. You see, the Avengers taught me a little something about teamwork, i.e. you can’t be in a team if you don’t tell that team what’s going down.”

Ross didn’t speak for a long moment. Tony didn’t take his eyes off the cityscape in front of him. There was a vigilante - someone in black, perhaps with hints of green - fighting a ninja on a rooftop. Good for him.

“Ultron came to visit,” Tony said. “You can imagine my surprise when my lunch plans were interrupted by a genocidal robot I had a personal hand in killing.”

“And creating.”

“Because all of my creations are something I am proud of, undoubtedly.”

“You still put him in the universe, Stark.”

“Not alone.”

“Is this accountability?”

“I think you’ll find it’s the very definition,” Tony replied. “Ultron was my idea. I didn’t execute him alone. His programming was altered by something that we can’t hope to understand, and that’s why he belonged buried under the rubble of the country he dropped from the sky.”

“Everything has a purpose,” Ross continued, “and he wasn’t my idea.”

Tony turned, then, to meet Ross’s eye. The man didn’t squirm in his seat, but he never had before. Iron will, that’s what they said. Starks were made of iron too. Tony could rise to the challenge.

“Sorry if I doubt that.”

Ross shrugged, then. An honest to God, hand on heart, shrug. Interesting. “Believe what you want,” he said, “but Ultron’s presence doesn’t follow through on my views for the Accords.”

“Because you want your finger in every pie?” Tony offered, and Ross’s eyes moved up to meet his gaze.

Slowly, the older man stood up from his seat. Tony didn’t falter, didn’t move from the spot he was standing. Suddenly, he wished he’d brought a drink, just to hold in his hand. Things always went better when he had some whiskey and ice rocking around in glass, when the sound could soothe him, when he could appear entirely at ease, when he had something in his hand that could get him there.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” Ross said, voice low. “I’m in charge here, Stark. You’re the face of this thing because while you were flying around in a flashy metal suit, I was serving in the military. I was changing this country before you were born. If you ever put the reputation of this Panel in jeopardy again, there will be consequences.”

Tony tilted his head, pretending to ponder this over. “Huh,” he said, before inclining his head towards Ross. “I thought I was the one dealing out the consequences, hm? Or do my figures not match up?”

“They match up to the letter, which you know. Barely enough won’t be good enough, soon. Not to mention your other … indiscretions.”

Indiscretions was hardly a word that shocked Tony at this point, but he stopped then. There was something in Ross’s gaze that made his blood go cold, and suddenly he thought of blond hair and bright blue eyes that were nothing like the steel going through him now, and a shield and information passed regularly with a kiss pressed to his forehead.

“You operate that armor under the influence,” Ross continued, barely loud enough to be heard, “whether that’s an undisclosed medical condition or you taking matters into your own hands-” Ross’s attention flickered over Tony’s shoulder to the empty whiskey cabinet. “And you’re not only endangering yourself. You’re endangering the lives of civilians, of fellow enforcers, of United States soldiers. I won’t stand for that.”

Ross’s hand came down on Tony’s shoulder. He didn’t jump. He knew better than to give a reaction, even if he could feel his heart in his throat, growing larger.

“Keep yourself useful, Stark,” Ross whispered, “or you can find yourself on the other side very quickly. Your choice.”

Of course, choices were so rarely as simple as they sounded. Choices were so rarely choices, even to someone like Tony.

Perhaps especially to someone like Tony.

#solo

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msbeccieboo · 6 years ago

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Arrow 7x21 Brain Dump

Late, late review…oops! This episode was SO GOOOOOD!!!! I’ve seen a real mix of reactions for 7x21, but personally I LOVED IT!! TOMMY MERLYN guys…nuff said!! Obviously, it was painfully Olicity-light, which is criminal given our time restrictions, but when an episode was this good, I can overlook some things haha! I’m going to take it as an episode in its own right, even if we should have had it earlier in the season, again. I actually thought that this would be a short review this week as, being a bottle episode, not a lot really happens. But with Tommy back in play, a whole boatload of emotions, and my flash-forward Olicity babies being back in play, it got long as usual. Sorrynotsorry.

Oliver and TOMMY!!!!

Oh Oliver. Poor Oliver went through it this week. The episode picks up where we left off last week with Oliver in a concrete sandwich (luckily dodging all the rebar), after sister-dearest dropped a building on him. Coming to, he calls for Overwatch and John (he knows who’s important) he looks up and we hear:

“Need some help?”

*Roll titles* Da da da da da da dah-da!!🏹

More beneath the cut

TOMMYTOMMYTOMMYTOMMYTOMMYTOMMY!!!!! Once more for the haters….TOMMY MERLYN!!!! YAAAAASSSSS!!!! In case it isn’t clear, I love me some Tommy Merlyn 😍😍 I will gladly accept any and every version of him that they can give us. Rat Poison Hallucination Tommy? Yup. Flashback Tommy? Sure. Earth 27.3 Evil Clown Tommy? Bring it! Any version, any time, anywhere, I’m there! So that is where I stand on the Tommy Merlyn debate haha! I loved how he was used in this episode. For me it didn’t feel like it had been overdone before, as I’ve seen some people say. We have actually had very little Tommy since he died. We have only had him as a ghost/hallucination for one tiny scene in 2x09 (I’m not counting the Alien dream as he didn’t even speak, and was just a really bad CGI job), since then he’s been back either in flashback, Earth X, or Human Target form, so the opportunity for a prolonged vision-Tommy, as the voice of Oliver’s morality?? Sign me the hell up!!

Colin still knows, and plays Tommy so damn well. He slips straight back into the character, and he is so like the character we knew from S1 conversationally, and in his mannerisms. How he has differentiated between the various versions we have seen over the seasons is just testament to Colin’s acting ability. Ugh, he’s fabulous.

So Oliver escapes from the rubble with help from Tommy and a trick arrow, and then a whole emotional rollercoaster ensues for a decent portion of the episode. I liked that straight off the bat, Oliver notes that he must have a concussion, he knows he’s dreaming, and he doesn’t care, he just goes along with it for the opportunity to ‘speak’ to his oldest friend again. I was living for the easy nostalgic conversations they had. They joked about the whole secret half-sister thing they now shared, with a cute little nod to Thea, Tommy’s beard 😂and a story of ‘Ollie’ hotwiring Malcolm’s car and getting grounded. This was so cute and light, given the dire circumstances.

Source: smoakmonster

The conversation eventually turns round to Serious Things, and a hashing out of Oliver’s duelling feelings on Emiko, on redemption, on killing for the right or wrong reasons. Oliver’s Daddy issues manifest, and it was emotional to see just how fucked up Oliver still is by the actions of Robert and Malcolm.

Tommy warns him that he needs to break free of his and Robert’s cycle of lies and hate that he is trapped in. He has a chance of a clean slate, to keep his past from hurting his kids, but Oliver won’t listen, convinced that he must kill Emiko to keep his family safe. He eventually breaks out of the room and joins the team. Not heeding Tommy or Dig’s words of caution, he leaves the team and pursues Emiko, intent on killing her. She tells him she knows about the baby, and the rage we saw on Oliver’s face was epic!

Despite Dig catching up with him and telling him not to, Oliver takes aim and shoots Emiko in the chest, killing her. However, when Oliver turns around he sees that Diggle has an arrow in his chest, and he falls down to his death, where we see the rest of the team, also all arrowed!! Then snap!! Back to Tommy…it was all a dream.

Source: arrowdaily

WRITERS, NEVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!!! I NEVER WANT TO SEE JOHN THOMAS DIGGLE DIE!! 😭😭😭

We get back to Oliver with Tommy, with Oliver crying over Dig’s ‘death’ 😭 no baby nooo!!! Tommy tells him his vision was a “reminder of what it feels like”. Oliver replies "Of seeing my loved ones die? Of seeing my family be threatened?" His voice breaking on the family part ended me 😭😭😭

Source: olivergifs

Tommy likens these feelings to how Robert must have felt; that fear leads to vengeance then to cruelty and abandonment. And that as long as Oliver keeps giving in to his worst impulses, he will never be free of Robert’s cycle. He advises him on what he needs to do regarding Emiko.

A lot of Tommy’s words to Oliver here and throughout the episode sounded more like Felicity in their nature, from the lighter parts:

Source: ebett

To the more supportive words he had for Oliver:

“Lean in to the best parts of yourself; your loyalty, your selflessness, your courage, your compassion, and show that side to Emiko. You are living proof that people can change, and you’ve got to find a way to see that in her too.” 😍

I can almost hear Felicity telling him ‘Tommy’s’ words. And this makes sense, with being a dream/hallucination and all. These are all voices in Oliver’s head; a mix of his own thoughts and the words of the two people who knew him best before (Tommy) and after (Felicity) the island. So, once more for the Tommy haters in the back…this wasn’t a conversation between ‘Tommy’ and Oliver, Oliver wasn’t asking for Tommy’s opinion; it was an internal dialogue between two conflicting desires within Oliver; it was Oliver’s conscience having a little tête-à-tête.

Oliver hears the team coming for him, and realises his time with Tommy is up. He says goodbye to his friend by telling him:

Source: misomeru

DEADED! Sobbing.like.a.baby. This felt like a true, final goodbye. Oliver took his realisation from ‘Tommy’. He knows what he has to do to stop Emiko and keep his soul and his family safe.

Anyway the team rescue Oliver and take him back to the lair, where they learn that Emiko and co. have stolen back the bioweapon from last week and are in the middle of slaughtering the SCPD, with Emiko dressed as Oliver *le sigh*. Oliver confronts her on the roof of the SCPD (ah, the memories…), has the opportunity to kill her, but doesn’t. He tries to reach her, offers her a chance at redemption once more “help me end our family’s cycle of violence”. Instead, half-sister-supervillain tells him she is going to kill him, his family and his city, then dares him to kill her. Oliver tells her no, and she actually looks��disappointed?? Then just zooms away on a zipwire arrow…see you next week Emiko!! The team arrive on the roof, just as an SCPD helicopter arrives to apprehend them….the end!

With regards to Oliver’s stance on not killing Emiko…I am totally ok with it. I don’t think its’s character regression on his part, it’s his choice to end a cycle of violence and guilt. I wrote a little more on redemption here, but my personal take is that redemption isn’t necessary for Emiko, just the opportunity of it. Oliver could easily detain her indefinitely and help her to redeem herself, or not, that is her choice. But it is important to Oliver that he tries his hardest to give that chance to her. I hope that he sees her choice in the matter by the end, and doesn’t continue beating the proverbial dead horse. (Or, you know, that someone else just kills her, or she falls off a cliff or something 😂)

Olicity

Ok, yes, I was hoping for more this week…a hug at least! We got the concern and the love, both separately and very briefly face-to-face 😡. Much as in my perfect world all episodes would be full of Olicity moments, this week, taken as a standalone, didn’t need a lot of Olicity in order to be a good episode. It was a great episode…on it’s own, in a vacuum. But it’s the penultimate Olicity episode ever. I would have liked more focus, that’s all.

Anyway, here’s the pretty:

Source: olicitygifs

Bonus: Cheeky bum grab 👀😏

Source: lucyyh 💗

Felicity

Felicity wasn’t the primary focus of the episode, this was definitely an Oliver episode, but given her dual storylines in the present and the FFs, we still got a lot of her on our screens. My gripe is that this would have been fine in any other episode, but this was her penultimate show!! But it is what it is…onwards and upwards and all that!

We first see her, back at Smoak Tech HQ, where Alena tells her that the SCPD are there with a warrant. All Felicity wants is some tech to help her locate Oliver (said tech is being manhandled by ‘Lieutenant Butterfingers’ LOVE HER 😂😂), but Sergeant Bingsley (ugh) has other ideas. Emiko has sent them the footage of Roy killing the guards, and they also linked the Ninth Circle bomb to Archer, and Archer back to Smoak Tech, and he is there to arrest Felicity…RUDE!!! Felicity and Alena escape, by taking out all the officers with a supercharged Canary Cry-esque burst from Felicity’s security system. YAAAASSSS GIRL!! 👑👑👑

I liked the focus on Alena and Felicity’s friendship in this episode; meant to mirror the ‘reveal’ in the FFs, and set up Felicity’s leaving, no doubt. Alena tells her that of course she will help her “I’m not letting you do this alone”, and they head to the bunker to find Oliver and the team. (Side thought: if the team are now working for the SCPD, why don’t they SCPD know where the lair is? Why don’t they go there to arrest Felicity/Roy/anyone else? Huh.) Felicity gets in touch with the team, but not Oliver, and helps to guide them through the building. Classic Overwatch. I loved how Alena was all of us when she asks Felicity how she breathes when she does this!

Then we see Emiko show up at the lair. Change. the. locks. people!

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

NOOOOOOO!!!! Save baby Mia!! But now Emiko knows agggghhhhhh!!!!! I loved Felicity’s attempt at reasoning with her; her baby is innocent, just as Emiko was, and it seemed to work, as Emiko left them unharmed. This was really a reality check moment for Felicity, of the direct danger that her baby would/could be put in if they continue this lifestyle as it is for much longer. I think Felicity is just so naturally positive, and has such faith in her own abilities, and in Oliver, that she had honestly believed that they would all be ok up until now.

Source: feilcityqueen

Felicity’s reality, her feelings, (and her hormones) all come crashing upon her at once, as she compares her situation to her own childhood experiences. And where she had always hoped that things would be different when she had her own children. Her whole speech about her comparing her childhood with her dreams for her own children, and her doubting her parenting ability was just heart-breaking:

“Growing up my parents made my life miserable, and I promised myself I would do better when I became a parent...I imagined this life and this is not it. Somehow I have done something worse...I can’t even keep my children safe.” 😭😭😭

NOOO!!! I just wanted to give her a hug! This leads into Alena suggesting that there’s ‘another way’ for Felicity. She tells Felicity that she can go off the grid, run the company remotely, but raise her family with Oliver in private, away from the SCPD and all the ungrateful fucks in Star City (I may have paraphrased slightly there!). This seed planted here is likely going to be how we see Felicity written out in the finale next week 😭

Source: ebett

Team Arrow

Roy Freaking Harper. The man. The legend. Love him. He’s the hero Team Arrow has deserved, and has been missing. NTA could never. And it was never more apparent than in this episode. After the blast, Felicity gets in touch with them and updates them with the SCPD developments.

As the generator kicks back in, they realise that the blast bringing the building down blew out a gas line and the whole of the lower level is filled with a toxic and flammable gas. Gas + generator = BOOM (hmmm this plot sound very familiar). Unfortunately the generator is on that same lower level, and needs turning off in order to save them all from going up in flames. So on one side we have Rene crying over his rep, Dinah bitching about losing her job and saying that Roy should give himself up to save the rest of the team. Then we have Roy, who just parkours straight into the toxic gas, sacrificing himself to turn off the generator and save the team. Eat it NTA. And they did! The overreaction by Rene, and especially Dinah, who sinks to the ground like the love of her life has just been killed (again 😬) is just ridiculous! Roy, being the badass parkour ninja bunny that he is, manages to jump back up and out of the gas. Yay Roy! Next thing, Dinah’s guilt clearly kicks in and she’s giving a still remorseful Roy a pep talk, telling him how the world and the team needs a hero like him. What the actual fuck Dinah? MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND! This woman could win the world yo-yo championships. Her weekly, or hourly, flip-flopping from one completely different viewpoint to another is tedious, exhausting and whiplash inducing. Go away. I beg of you. This pep-talk should have come from Dig. He’s Uncle Dig, pep-talks are his jam. And he would actually believe and stand by his words. Instead, Dig was sidelined again for more ridiculous bird action, because comics.

Roy’s guilt and apparent suicidal tendencies over the pit-rage-fuelled killings last week, combined with Dinah’s “dying is the coward’s way out, every day that you stay alive you try to redeem yourself” can only be leading to his exile on Lian Yu, surely? That will be where he seeks his redemption. But 20 years?? Man, I think he might have some more pit-mishaps coming up first!

FFs

My boy William is back!!! YAY!!! We got some overdue future family Clayton-Smoak-Queen feels this week. First off, just look at these little Olicity babies…those expressions!!!! 😍

Felicity says that in order to stop the Archer-powered Army, they need to take Archer down for good. William tries to help, with a ‘quick and dirty virus’, but Felicity denies him, insisting that he keeps safe. He rebuts with another plan to take Archer down by hacking Slimy Galaxy One Dude in proximity, employing a little flirty-flirt…Season 1 Felicity reference FTW!!!! Felicity again tells him no, that she wants him safe. This leads to him blowing up at being excluded, just like when he was a kid, and his anger at being left behind come up. Felicity apologises for not coming back for him, and tells him they just wanted him safe, and to have a normal life, but she is interrupted by a hacking emergency and Will walks off. This leads to him opening up to Mia about his feelings of abandonment, and this was another chance for us to see Mia’s softer, empathetic side, especially in her defence of Felicity. She reminds him that Felicity was still watching over him, that she backed his company and helped him to succeed, to which William replies “I didn’t need her money, Mia, I needed a mother” 😭😭 I just want to hug him!! Mia tells him that the only way to come to terms with it, and to find out their real reasons for ‘abandoning’ him is to confront her head on. This never gets to happen in the episode, but this conversation must surely mean that this will happen next week? And I’m guessing her answer will come with a surprise of some sort (hopefully of the Oliver-variety!!).

Will decides to ignore Felicity, and goes to hack Archer directly from Slimy Guy, who is still as cringe-inducing as ever. Not nearly as cringeworthy, however, as Rene’s terrible hair, as he is brought out as the man who ‘inspired’ the Zeta project?? Ugh, ratty rats must be killed. Squeak squeak Rene! Slimeball gets an alert and leaves them, only to return moments later with a gaggle of Zeta soldiers. They have detected William’s DNA, and Slimer announces that he knows who William really is, with “Such a pleasure to finally meet the son of Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak”!!!!! I adore hearing him be called both of theirs son soooo much!!

Meanwhile, back in the lair, we meet the “mad scientist that converted Archer into Frankenstein’s monster” (Felicity’s words haha), who turns out to be non-other than…Alena! Ok, so not the biggest reveal ever, but I still loved the scene. Felicity summoned her to help destroy Archer by freezing her bank accounts and passport (still got it!), and we get to see angry protective Mia confronting her, while Alena looks at her, rather softly, and laments:

Source: eloquence-of-felicities

She then goes on to apologise to Dinah for what happened to her Canaries. And she means it. She explains how she came to releasing Archer to Galaxy One. I liked here how they didn’t go with her being an outright evil mastermind...she tried to license out the program, then was subject to a hostile takeover, and had her loved ones threatened by Slimey Dude Kevin Dale. A shared look between them implied that maybe her 'loved ones' possibly included Felicity? Or maybe just that she was hoping Felicity would empathise with that choice? We never get to know, because the lair is suddenly swarmed with Zetas, as the remaining team (minus Connor and Zoe) are apprehended by Galaxy One.

To be continued…

Bonus:

William: *hacks*, Felicity: *that’s mine*, Mia: *who can I punch?*

So yes, exciting times in both timelines!! ONE EPISODE LEFT GUYS!!! HOW ARE WE GOING TO MAKE IT?!?! 😬😬😬

Thank you as always to the fabulous gif makers, you beautiful people! 😍😍 (The uncredited, poor quality gifs are mine haha!)

#Arrow #Arrow 7x21 #Arrow Season 7 #Oliver Queen #Olicity #beccie's brain

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etaeternum · 6 years ago

Text

Tempest

Bond of the Grey Ch 9 Tempest This is honestly one of my favorite chapters. Hale meets with her cousin, the Inquisitor, Alanna. Nathaniel Howe follows Hale from Skyhold. Trigger warning: childhood trauma, violence. Death of a parent. Slavery. (Also I do my best with the elven language, but I know it’s not perfect.)

Grey Warden tents sat snug in tight sections through the valley outside of Skyhold. The vacant Commander’s tent erected in the center marked the start of a makeshift training yard. Sun peaked over the mountain range, dawn welcoming the bustle of the camp’s start to the day. Still recuperating from the march from the Arbor Wilds, most Wardens were slow to start. Enervated soldiers dragged their feet to make breakfast.

“Shite, Val,” Hale grumbled through a yawn. Emerging from her tent, she stretched one arm and scratched her disheveled hair with the other. Tunic loose, breeches tucked into unlaced boots, Hale stumbled to sit around the small campfire for the scouts’ section of the camp. “You think you could snore any fucking louder?”

Valum, a dwarven warrior known for his finesse as a tracker, chuckled to himself. Unconcerned with her grievance, he shrugged. “I could try.”

Hale rolled her eyes to Isenam on the other side of the campfire. Often appointed leader when Nathaniel was unavailable, the tall, elven man watched Hale with expectation for a complaint. He spoke in the native tongue of the Dalish. “Nuven’in gonun ebalasha era vis esay thanal ma’haman ga’era’vun.” (“If you desire the privilege to complain about the conditions of sleep, try using your bed every night.") Hale scowled at him, suspecting his statement hinted knowledge of her whereabouts with Nathaniel. Isenam glared back, but before Hale could reply, Damia emerged from Hale’s tent and ambled the short distance to sit next to her friend.

Isenam shook his head and continued to lecture Hale in elvhen. “Mar lanalin elitha del’melin, Hale. As’sulevem del’dirth sal’melin Oin?” (“Your mother chose the wrong given name, Fox. Or did she mispronounce Rabbit?”)

“Fuck’s sake, bloke,” Hale's cheeks reddened. Annoyance echoed through her guffaw. “Use the bloody common tongue… and don't talk ‘bout my mother.”

A plate of food in hand, Lisbeth grimaced at Damia and Hale. “How the fuck could you hear Val snoring when you're at it all night?”

Surprised faces of the circle of scouts turned to the woman known to be of few words, adding to the case against Hale. It only added to the shared humor found in teasing.

“Yeah! Our whole row could hear you.” Another scout joined in. Sitting next to Lisbeth, Gunnar, a Honnleath born human, imitated Damia. His eyes rolled back, and he faked a moan. “Oh! Hale. Hale! Andraste’s tits! Maker! Yes! Hale!”

Damia turned bright red and groaned, burying her face into Hale's shoulder. Unable to discern if Damia trembled from giggles or because she was crying, Hale yelled at the circle.

“Oi! We got it.” She glowered at each of them, but her sour tone didn’t match the grin she wore. “All you can sod off. Bunch of arseholes.”

A hush fell upon them, not because of Hale’s scolding. Wide awake and fully groomed, Nathaniel entered their small camp. One eyebrow cocked, he scanned the group with curiosity and walked to stand next to Isenam.

The Lieutenants’ tents surrounded the Warden Commander’s. The band of scouts knew Nathaniel had no reason to be in their camp so early unless to mingle. Notorious to most for his poor sense of humor, none wished to discover what the Lieutenant would make of their jabs at their brethren. Hale, proud of her unique understanding of the Lieutenant’s sense of humor, preferred he didn’t overhear the joking for other reasons. Awkward glances passed around the group, waiting for the reason for his presence to be made clear.

Hale's concern he visited to check on her found relief when Nate’s gravelly voice started a low conversation with Isenam. Quiet voices and incomprehensible mumbling suggested Nathaniel did not wish to be overheard.

Gunnar’s sudden unrestrained laughter, amused by their shared discomfort, preceded Lisbeth checking him with her shoulder. A loud, breathless bray escaped him, and the group resumed laughter now at Gunnar’s expense. But the fun did not last. An unfamiliar messenger meandered between tents and the group grew silent again.

The messenger’s quizzical gaze studied each of the faces in the circle, spending more time on the elves in the group. “Is Hale of the Lavellan clan here?”

The gaping mouths of the circle met the question with silence. The team gawked, making the connection between the Inquisitor and the woman who had been the butt of their jokes a few moments ago. Hale, the youngest of the scouting team, had been adopted into their band of Wardens. She acclimated to their teasing and held her own as the newest member.

“Lavellan?” Isenam stopped his conversation with Nathaniel and sent a piercing stare to Hale.

“Shite.” Hale scowled. Ignoring Isenam, she patted Damia’s leg, stood up, then walked to the messenger. “Yeah?”

“The Inquisitor would like to see you.” The messenger wrung her hands and shifted her weight on her feet. Uncomfortable amidst the group of soldiers, she stammered over the last of her message. “N-now, Lady Lavellan.”

Some chuckled at the messenger’s strange delivery. Hale’s frown deepened. “Just Hale. Fine. I’ll be on my way.” The messenger turned a poignant shade of pink and sped back to the stronghold.

“What do you think she wants?” Nathaniel questioned Hale as she walked toward her tent.

The nonchalant shirk of Hale’s shoulders matched the smug frown pulling her lips. “Wants to box my ears for something, I’m sure.” She stepped into her tent and a few minutes later returned wearing her armor; her messy hair was pulled back by a string. Winking at Damia, Hale placed her foot on the seat next to her and tied the laces of her boots. “She’ll try to talk me into going back to the Lavellan clan. Always says ‘You’re safer in the Marches.’” Her finger wagged as she imitated her cousin, replacing her city accent with an overdone feminine tone.

She’s right. Stomach twisting, Nathaniel avoided looking at Hale. Though confident she would prefer danger to safety, Hale receiving an offer to go elsewhere troubled him. If a more advantageous opportunity for her to leave presented itself, would she take it? The thought roused an unpleasant emotion.

Gunnar chuckled. “Don’t listen to her, Lady Lavellan. We’ll have to go back to teasing Lisbeth if you leave, and she’s not as much fun.” Only a faint twitch of her eyes suggested Lisbeth heard him. Gunnar braced himself for the potential impact of her shoulder again.

“Yeah, yeah. You won’t be having fun if you call me Lady Lavellan again.” Hale chuckled, long strides taking her from the camp. She turned to walk backward. “I ain’t leaving you lot of whoresons.” She pointed at the small group watching her leave. Her eyes skimmed those in the circle, held with Nathaniel longer than the rest. “This is where I belong.” Hale turned on her heels and yelled as she walked away, “And some of you owe me coin!”

'Being a Grey Warden can change your life if you let it.'

Nathaniel had been right. Reminiscent thoughts along the way into Skyhold recalled joking and banter with her comrades. Years spent with a sole focus of self-preservation did not allow room for such niceties as ‘family.’ The meaning of the word something she had forgotten since her father died. But needs met by all aspects of this fellowship, she had no reason to pickpocket, scavenge, or starve. The respect she had for her fellow Wardens had grown to outweigh any urge to steal from them.

Hale learned of the Grey Warden sacrifice, the Calling, prior to the battle in the Arbor Wilds. Her gratitude for the order, not dissuaded by an early death, balanced her acceptance of the obligation. Indulgence in an early death did not seem a disadvantage to Hale as it would for most.

The insatiable appetite, on the other hand, created unusual circumstances when it arose in ways other than physical hunger. Heightened libido driven by the Grey Warden bond and complicated by the fondness for her peers wrought confusion. Loyalty, a concept foreign for Hale, found with both Damia and Nathaniel joined with feelings of attachment Hale didn’t understand. Damia, a companion, and partner in crime, gave unconditional friendship and trust. But what drew her to Nathaniel ran even deeper. Compatible personalities didn't explain the connection- the way her bond strengthened when he neared. Arguments fueled chemistry, she desired him more as their fights escalated. And the way she could tell when his eyes were on her, Hale's stomach fluttered as she thought of the sensation. She put it out of her mind as she strolled into the War Room.

“Asa'var'lin,” Alanna sighed, stepping from her place behind the War Table toward Hale as she shut the door behind her. “Ma eth itha revas em on'alas telsila.” (“Cousin, your safe return frees me of great worry.”)

Hale’s scoff responded to the Inquisitor’s kind welcome. She held up her hands to keep Alanna from reaching to hug her. “You know I won’t answer if you speak elvhen.”

“Hale,” Alanna lowered her arms. Pleading eyes asked for her cousin's compliance. “Sathan. Please, just talk to me.”

Heartbeat quickened, a wave of anger made Hale dizzy for a fleeting moment. Face hot, her voice rose with her reply. “What’s there to talk about? You’re gonna tell me to go home and I’m gonna say I'll go back when I'm ready.”

“But you never stay, Hale. Our clan misses you.” Alanna’s palms opened to Hale. Commitment to kin inclined Alanna’s maternal-like worry for her younger, orphaned cousin.

“Like shite they do,” Hale blurted. She turned on her heels to leave and took two large steps. But anger caught up with her, she swung back around. Arm bent, Hale’s finger pointed between them, making their significant height difference prominent. Hale, tan and tall for an elf towered over her petite, pale cousin. “It’s a lie and you bloody well know it. No one there misses me but you.”

“Asa'var'lin, they care about you. But when you steal it's hard for them to show it.” Alanna’s reply tried to reason with Hale. Explaining away years of miscommunication between her cousin and the Lavellan clan. “I don’t trust the order you’re involved with.” Her final statement delivered a new concern.

“Don’t fucking start.” Hale groaned, rolling her eyes. Her weight shifted, shoulders slouched; she made a lazy turn to the door.

Hale’s dismissive attitude did not stop Alanna. “They lie and the Warden Commander is false. The Inquisition is ending its alliance with Ferelden and the Wardens. The Grey Wardens are not-”

“I’mma Grey Warden, Alanna!” Hale yelled, her voice echoing through the room. Her finger pointed from Alanna out the window at the field of tents beyond Skyhold’s gates. “That’s my family now! Fuck yer shite alliance.” Her arm dropped. Teeth bared, nostrils flaring, Hale glared at the Inquisitor.

Alanna stared through a pregnant pause. Her sorrowful expression helpless in communication. “Samahl would never-”

“Stop!” An aggressive snarl, Hale’s lip curled. Emotions riled, shiny eyes joined the heaving of Hale’s chest, she barked her reply. “You think ‘cause you’re the sodding Inquisitor, you know what he would’ve wanted? Don’t fucking speak for my father.”

Taking a deep breath Alanna stared at the ground. She backed away from Hale and returned to the War Table, sifting through papers. Hale’s eyes narrowed, suspicious of Alanna’s intention.

“You'll tire of them,” Alanna stated, glancing up to from her stack of papers, her tone serious and professional. “Serving the Wardens won't suit you for long. You know you'll grow restless.” Livid, but without defense to Alanna’s accurate description of her past, Hale’s brow twitched as she stared at her cousin. “Please, Hale. Stay here if you don’t wish to return to the Marches. You can hunt, and drink, and gamble for all I care. If you want a position in the Inquisition, I’ll find one for you. You’ll have more freedom. You know that’s what Sam would’ve wanted.”

Alanna knew what would take precedence for Hale. Her freedom- the thing her father gave his life for when he fought Tevinter slavers in Denerim. Hale stopped and her fury faltered as an image of Alanna's proposition formed in her mind. Statements true of Hale’s history reverberated, habits of tiring of any place she got too comfortable. Any place she felt unwelcome. Will this Warden shite get old? This new alternative sounded appealing: coming and going as she pleased, fun, taking responsibilities as Hale saw fit. Toying with the idea made for fleeting temptation.

But more pleasant thoughts replaced it. Thoughts of those to whom she promised she wouldn’t leave- Damia and her friends. Commitment, brethren, fulfillment of needs embodied in the order.

Nathaniel. Pain erupted in her chest picturing him leaving without her. Pox on me, she cursed herself. He ain't just a good fuck.

She cleared the thoughts from her mind, her vitriol returning. “I fucking told you not to speak for him,” she growled. “You got no right. Plough yourself, Alanna.” Hale turned and neared the door again, it creaked as she pushed it open. But before Hale could step into the hallway, Alanna’s voice rang from behind her.

“Think about it, Asa'var'lin.” Insightful to a fault, Alanna detected her cousin’s wavering obstinacy. A seed planted with Alanna’s invitation, and now Hale needed space to determine the path in her best interest.

Stalled in the doorway, Hale didn’t bother turning around with her reply, “Sod off.” The ambivalent mumble resounded indecision.

“Sulrahn bre sou vegaral ma esh'ala.” (“A deeper force pulls you back to them.”) Alanna spoke with confidence to Hale's back, perceiving the root of Hale’s hesitation. “Ehn emen mar vhenan? Mah alin assan’panelan. Te’din sael’rajelan?” ("Who has your heart? It’s that other archer. The first to the commander, isn’t it?”) Certain Hale had been enticed by the offer, Alanna’s questions challenged Hale’s pattern. Uncommitted to anyone but herself, a relationship would oppose Hale’s notion of independence.

The Inquisitor had threatened Nathaniel when she met him. A brief meeting informed his small team of scouts their mission into Orlais. It was at this meeting the Inquisitor learned her cousin had been conscripted as a Grey Warden. Without the opportunity for vetting Nathaniel before he took Hale into another country, she trusted her role as the Inquisitor would suffice to intimidate. Alanna witnessed Nathaniel and Hale’s magnetism and predicted it would grow.

Hale spun to face Alanna. Walking backward through the doorway, Hale gave an audacious shrug. “Nadas’ea,” (”Must be,”) she sneered, then turned and strode away.

“Sil’o mar revis, Hale!” (“Think about your freedom.”) Alanna yelled as the door swung shut, slamming behind Hale’s exit.

9:31 Dragon

She had been here with her father once before. A room within a rickety building composed of crooked hallways and uneven floors. Her father traded goods from the Lavellan clan with a merchant in the Denerim Alienage. But this visit was different. The Blight sparked fear and rumors of a slave trade compounded worry. Familiar merchants along the Waking Sea, usually amicable and welcoming, now delayed orders. Many declined to answer their doors or left their homes vacant. In the Denerim Alienage, streets traditionally occupied by bustling activity were found empty.

The nervous meeting with the merchant in the worn-down apartment was cut short. Rustling and yells from downstairs suggested intruders. “Vena’elu athe, da’ghi’myelan,” (Hide, little huntress,) her father whispered. Hale did as he ordered, finding a spot in a large trunk occupied only by some loose herbs.

Hale pushed up the lid of the chest to peek into the room. Humans, warriors equipped with various weapons backed the city elves into a corner, her father and the merchant among them. Frantic, worried faces paired with trembling hands tried to keep the men away. The cornered elves flinched each time the humans barked at them. Apart from Hale’s father, who watched the activity with a critical eye, surveying the situation, searching for an alternative.

Last to enter the room, an armored elven woman spoke to the quivering group. “You have no reason to fear. Keep your voices down.” The authority in her tone echoed through the elves’ fearful whimpers. Despite her professionalism, Hale did not believe the woman’s suggestion. And judging by the scared faces staring back, neither did the cowering elves.

“Devera, we need to hurry. Caladrius didn’t expect us to take this long.” One slaver near the doorway addressed the armored elf.

Devera rolled her eyes to the source of the voice before returning to the group of elves. The warrior's eyes widened, his posture straightened. “You are all needed in the Tevinter Imperium. Please, trust me. We are here to protect you,” Devera’s empty words did little to soothe.

The shrill cry of one of the trapped elves responded, followed by her quaking incoherent pleas. “Children… Husband… Family… My home.” Hale made out a few of the words through the woman’s wailing. Panic showed. The frightened woman’s eyes darted to the doorway and back to Devera. Hale felt her heart beating in her ears as she watched the woman calculate her escape. Then the nameless woman bolted; her attempt to flee ended abruptly. The thunk of a crossbow reverberated, shooting a bolt through her chest before she could take two steps.

Hale squeezed her lips together to keep from yelling. The woman’s blood pooled under her body. Hale’s eyes grew larger, tears burned making her vision foggy. Blinking, alarmed, she studied her father, his fortitude, and resolve. His face stern, unmoved by the slavers’ violence.

“How can you do this to your own people?”

Hale blinked, stomach turning, knuckles white, she clenched her fists against the lid. Her lips formed ‘no’ in repetition as her head shook in disbelief of what she saw.

“They aren’t property,” Samahl stepped forward from the group of elves. Hot tears streamed down Hale’s cheeks as she witnessed her father’s bravery.

Devera shrugged, her lips peeled back to a sneer. “Really, it’s nothing personal. I’ve simply come to discover it’s more profitable for me to cooperate than oppose. I’d recommend you do the same, lest you find a similar fate as this woman.” A hand gestured to the dead woman on the floor.

Samahl’s eyes narrowed, but he smirked. Hale recognized his expression when he thought. The man she adored, who taught her how to drum, to shoot a bow, to hunt. He took this moment to devise a plan.

Samahl muttered words in elvhen without breaking eye contact with Devera. “Melena sul eth i josa. Ga’sahl vena revis, ara da’ghi’myelan. Ar lath ma.” (“Wait for safety then run. Always find freedom, my little huntress. I love you.”) Devera’s face contorted in confusion as he spoke, along with the rest of the room. Only Hale understood. Samahl took advantage of their befuddled stares. Drawing an arrow and loosing it, he shot the slaver carrying the crossbow before the others realized what happened. “Never,” Hale’s father declared, responding to Devera’s threat before the other armed men surrounded him.

During the commotion, Hale dropped the lid of the trunk, unable to watch as her father fought the five men that encircled him. It took them all to bring Sam down. The sounds of the struggle, grunts and groans, pained noises and thumps of bodies reverberated. Hale put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the clamor until there was none.

Steaming, Hale stormed back into the Grey Warden camp. Still morning, more of the soldiers had bathed and dressed, dividing chores through the camp. By the time Hale reached her band of scouts, the camp had already been cleaned from breakfast.

Encouraging recuperation from the journey, the Warden Commander had yet to give training orders. Hale now understood the Commander intended for them to rest before they resumed marching, this time back to Ferelden.

Lisbeth and Gunnar teamed with the Dalish twins, Ashiwyn and Saeris, practicing light combat with their downtime. Hale charged by them emitting fiery energy unwelcome to questions. Averting the eyes of Nathaniel, still engaged in a quiet discussion with Isenam, Hale made her way to her tent. She emerged a moment later with her bow and quiver strapped to her back, then proceeded from the camp.

Ruminating Alanna's questions blurred with memories of her father, a determined march took the young Warden away from Skyhold and the camps outside it. Quiet valleys stretched in all directions, green grasses pale from sunlight spread over the mountainous curves. Rocks emerged from the earth, hinting at the craggy bases on which she stood. Ages of history, nature nearly untouched by time expanding as far as she could see.

The inactivity of animals made for feeble hunting. Perked senses sought tracks, droppings, or sounds of creatures scurrying to no avail. On any other day, Hale would find a spot to settle in and wait, regardless. But now, hunting didn’t satisfy to reprieve swelling emotions. Suspended in the hushed expanse, lifeless aside from the animated wind beating against her ears. Arm slack, bow in hand, the weapon rest against her legs. A habit that often brought patience now brought awareness of her anger. Frustration formed over sadness weaved with turbulent confusion. Hale stood staring into nothing.

A deep ache, long-standing sorrow rushed to the surface. Abiding grief most often denied by bullheaded obstinacy manifested as a dull twinge boring through her chest. Wonted longing, the hole created by the absence of her father intensified from Alanna’s attention. The elvhen language triggered memories of his last words. Reminded of all her father embodied- laughter, safety, and adventure- and found wanting, the sound of his name nulled the capacity to overlook the emptiness to which she had grown accustomed. Neglected feelings, the need to mourn the deepest loss she could fathom couldn’t be ignored. And above it, wrath. Rage at the world for allowing it to happen. He was a good man.

The tie in Hale’s hair came loose in the wind. Unmoved, she watched it float away, carried by gusts so strong preventing it from landing. Tendrils of hair whipped around her face, matted by the windy tempest; Hale took a deep inhale, dropped her bow to the ground, and bared her teeth. Erupting from deep within her belly, energy building, boiling, traveling up and out, she screamed. The wordless roar rattled her lungs expelling every last bit of air. Drowned out by the wind, certain no one could hear her, she heaved and yelled again, doubling over. Tumult built within freed as the storming emotions spewed from her vocalization. She continued to yell until there was nothing left. Until screaming turned to a furious howl, her body quaked from profound sadness beneath her ferocity.

Her arm wrapped around her stomach. Grief-stricken cries ebbed to whimpers. Still standing, she wiped her tears from her face with her free hand.

“Huntress?” A familiar, gruff voice called from behind her. Forced to raise his volume due to the wind, Nate's concern for Hale fueled initiative.

I shouldn't care, he reminded with each step he took in pursuit of the huntress. Assumptions of the worst forced him to follow. She's going back to the Free Marches, his worry concluded from her sadness. He had kept distance, leaving space as he watched her scream and cry. Observing the lovely creature’s rabid rage roaring into the mountains and melting to tears moved him. Something outside of her control prompted this.

He called again, “Hale?”

A voice louder than she thought possible for the Lieutenant brought another onslaught against her spirit. Questions about her commitment to the Grey Wardens and the depth of her attraction to Nathaniel provoked another wave of tears. Her shoulders slouched, her head fell forward, and she groaned.

Nathaniel stepped closer. Standing behind her, their bodies almost touched. It would be easy to wrap his arms around her and provide comfort, Nathaniel stayed the urge out of respect for her anger. He recognized her fire only because a similar flame burned within himself. And it often demanded room to swell and wane without the coercion of bodily contact. But he cared for her and offered the support he could.

“Huntress,” he stated, close enough he no longer had to yell. Wind blew around Nathaniel and Hale; the space between them so insignificant the gusts couldn’t part them. Neutral curiosity did not pass judgment, his tone remained even. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything.”

Her guard racked by complex emotions, unsure how much Nathaniel saw of her tantrum Hale let out a defeated sigh. Her body wilted, embarrassed, avoiding his attention. “I’m fine,” she replied, dismissing him.

“You don’t have to lie either,” he grumbled, glad she couldn’t see his smirk. Hale’s pitiful posture rejected her claim. “What do you need?”

Without a word, Hale turned. A brief tremble and she gathered herself and glared up at him. Auburn tresses knotted, disheveled by billowing air obscuring her face in the random intervals of windy blasts. Land stretched around the pair, facing each other on the empty mountainside. The ends of Nate’s hair, tied back by braids, danced on his shoulders. He waited.

Rebounded ire now directed at Nathaniel’s amity made her forehead crease. With her palms clenched, Hale lifted an arm and beat her fist on Nathaniel’s chest. He took the brunt of her impact, a minor sway from her force. Stern, composed, he didn’t respond. She did it again. And again, in repetition, the back of her balled hands landing on his chest. Pent frustration, fury found release on his body. Certain Hale didn’t use her full strength, he permitted the expression of her discontent.

Her cry joined the pounding motion. “Fuck you! Fuck this. Fuck the Inquisition. Fuck everything!”

Nathaniel’s nearly successful efforts to keep from laughing resulted in a small smirk. Eventually, his hands found her shoulders. Beating fists slowed to a stop, Hale gasped to catch air.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” His disinterested question asked with tamed concern.

“No! I don’t want to tell you nothing,” she yelled through her panting. Her hostile response met the wall of his unyielding consistency.

“Fine.” Nathaniel’s answer paired with his release of her shoulders.

Unreciprocated vitriol forced her to examine her reaction, aware of the soothing effect of Nathaniel’s touch only after it was removed. Her gaze traveled to her shoulder where the warming sensation of his hand lingered. Resentful of his impact, she interrogated, “Why’d you follow me?” She looked around their setting, valleys spreading out from all sides. The Inquisition’s stronghold a blurred building in the distance.

Nathaniel frowned, glancing around the expanse. The complicated answer to her irritated question required him to confess the unknown. Instead, he replied with a fact, “I care about you, Hale.”

Her lips parted, gaping for a moment before she pursed; her brow furrowed. “But why, Nate? Why do you care?” Her inquiries addressed the unusual circumstances of their friendship, demanding an explanation for the dynamic growing between them.

Facing her misplaced contempt with an intense stare, Nathaniel didn’t respond; he didn’t have answers to the questions she asked.

“I’m fucking broken,” she added. “A broken piece of shite with no,” she gasped, voice tremored, tears pooled, “no fucking parents. I’m no good. You got no reason to care ‘bout me.” The familiar sting of emptiness sparked in her chest.

“I could say the same about myself.” Nathaniel’s own feelings of inadequacy arose, relating to her assertion. Brokenness, a defect of self far beyond remedy. His hands found her hips this time. Hale’s eyes closed, appreciating the warmth, the bonded connection surging through her; she gave a thwarted sigh and Nate mumbled, “Is that enough of a reason?”

Her eyes opened to glower at him. Teary green eyes framed by a messy mane of red hair, her head turned. A question answered with another. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” She needed to understand the blustering feelings he elicited and the hold they had over her.

“I should ask you the same.” He quipped, forehead wrinkling with exasperation. Nathaniel and Hale stared at one another; their conversation maintained what little semblance of stealth to avoid the subject they now bordered. The violent gale whipped around the pair, whispering threats of its strength. It caused them to stumble.

Regaining her stance, Hale’s chin lifted in defense to Nathaniel; her lip curled as she gave her reply. “Well don’t worry, mate. I always leave. Ain’t good at commitments, remember? Shite will get old and I’ll run.” He let her ramble, her exhaustion gave momentum to her embittered response. “I’ll sod off somewhere else, stay ‘til I ain’t...” Her voice shook as sorrow reemerged from anger. The light shining off her pool of tears twinkled. “Ain’t bloody wanted then I leave.”

“I want you to stay,” Nathaniel’s gruff and even tone resounded with an airy billow.

Bottom lip protruded, Hale made a vexed pout. Hot tears lent to shallow streams and tracked down her cheeks, cooled by the howling wind. An awkward moment passed. Out of character for the unlikely duo, meeting in a private location without a mundane guise and with no intent to relieve tension by way of sexual endeavors. Nathaniel’s hand traveled to her chin, the affectionate placement unfamiliar to either person.

“I’ve no room to judge your past.” Nate extended his explanation, studying the fiery young elf’s wordless shifts from comfort to subtle hostility. “And you don’t owe details to me or anyone else. You can tell me what you need. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Animus provoked by his tempered invitation, Hale growled and pushed away from Nathaniel. Her arms waved with agitation as she took a few steps from him; she pointed toward Skyhold. “Alanna’s fucking ending it with Ferelden and the Grey Wardens!” She stopped and swiveled to scowl at Nate, indignant tears welled. Another breath and she resumed her impassioned pacing. The distance between them required her to elevate her voice into the beating wind. “She wants me to stay here... Said it’s what my da would’ve wanted… But fuck her! I’m a Warden now. A load of shite, guilting me into staying.” A few teardrops fell and Hale looked up. Scattered clouds drifted through the sky, azure reaching the earthy horizon. She groaned, the sound morphing to another roar. Nathaniel tried to keep from smirking at the young woman’s shameless display of her age through free-flowing defiance. “I miss him a lot, Nate, and she’s probly right. But I ain’t some sodding child! l fucking love-” she sucked in air, open palms circled in front of her as she struggled to find words. Nathaniel held his breath waiting for Hale to continue. Her final proclamation fumed with ardent will. “... Love being a Grey Warden!”

Her paces ceased, and she stood breathless watching Nathaniel with a teary glare from a few steps away.

Nathaniel’s balance, composed in the face of turbulence offered resolve. Vulnerability consented a new dynamic with no motive apart from solidarity. His voice raised in the space separating them. Their eyes locked. “It’s your decision, Hale.” He looked toward Skyhold and back to her. “Not Alanna’s or your father’s... or even the Commander's. This decision is yours and yours alone.”

The tempest eased to a quiet zephyr.

Hale let out a wry laugh. “Fuck’s sake, Nate. I wanna be near you.”

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 225: Foolish Games

"And Good Morning United Realms!" Le Fou said.

"For some, but once again, the United Realms had a bit of a snafu last night with a nice little blackout," Goldilocks replied.

"Oh now, Goldie...you know those pesky villains," Le Fou joked.

"Yep...those pesky villains that are always attacking us, because of everyone's favorite royals," she complained. Le Fou let out a fake laugh.

"Yeah...it's never a dull moment with those Charmings, for sure. But they saved the day again and all is well," he said.

"Until the next villain rampage. But until then, we'll head over to Scuttle for the weather. But don't forget to join us later today when we cover today's Royal Tribunal," she replied.

"That's right...we are having our first Royal Tribunal, as the Blue Fairy faces capital offenses. I'd say her goose is cooked for sure," he said.

"I don't know, Le Fou...if there's one thing that the famous Snow White and Prince Charming aren't known for...it's seeing that justice is actually served," Goldie said snidely. They continued to drone on, but David shut it off and put his arms around her from behind.

"Don't listen to that trash," he chided gently.

"She's not exactly wrong…" Snow mentioned.

"Yes, she is," he insisted.

"Charming...I have not been strong on justice. I have forgiven our enemies and let them come back to hurt us later," she said.

"You were merciful when it came to Regina...and we know now that was not a mistake," he reminded her.

"But she's the only one. We didn't go far enough with Jekyll and now he's back. You were right about not contacting him in the netherworld...and I insisted. Now he's back," she said.

"No...we got the reversal of the serum made, because of that and reunited with our darker halves. Besides, we don't know that Mephisto wouldn't have found him in the netherworld anyway," he replied.

"Maybe...but I let Blue run free and the moment she felt threatened by the truth coming out, an innocent fairy died for it," she said, as the guilt ate at her. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"That's not your fault…" he insisted.

"Even if it isn't...Drizella is free, Jekyll is free, and Mephisto, just to name a few," she said.

"And none of that is your fault either. Drizella and her mother would have never been released if we hadn't been gone during the time of their parole. And Mephisto...we will deal with him too. We didn't show his minions mercy and the only reason he survived is that he fled before we could destroy him too," he replied.

"You have nothing to prove to anyone, least of all those media talking heads. You are an amazing leader and very few question that," he assured her.

"Then you think we're doing the right thing here? I mean...if I was confident that she could never get out of prison, then I wouldn't consider the death penalty, but how many times have our enemies escaped whatever prison we have put them in?" she asked.

"We are most definitely doing the right thing. She is a danger to every realm and if I thought life in prison was without the possibility of escape for her, then I wouldn't consider capital punishment either. But with her...we just can't. She's too dangerous to be kept alive," David said. She nodded.

"Then we better get ready…" Snow said, as she started toward her closet, but not before he pulled her back and kissed her passionately. His kiss was soul searing and made her knees weak, as usual. When their lips parted, she gave him a dreamy smile.

"Never doubt how amazing you are," he said.

"With you...how can I? You make me feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in all the realms and that I can do anything," she replied. He smiled.

"That's because you are and you can, because you're an incredible person," he said, as she took his hand and they proceeded to get ready for royal duties that they were not looking forward to, but that were very necessary.

~*~

Rose was deeply involved in a book that morning when one of her handmaidens came into the library.

"My Queen...you have a visitor," she said, as she bowed curtly.

"Thank you Bianca," Rose said, as she put her book down and Eva entered the library.

"Oh Eva...it's good to see you," Rose said, as she stood up.

"It's good to see you too...and I have those test results. I didn't have many other patients today, so I thought I would come deliver the news in person," she replied.

"Well...don't keep me in suspense," Rose said. Eva beamed a bright smile.

"It's positive...you're pregnant. Almost nine weeks along, so I want to see you soon for an exam," she said excitedly, as Rose's smile soon matched hers and they shared a hug.

"Thank you...oh I cannot wait to tell Fandral," she gushed.

"Tell me what, my angel?" he asked, as he entered the library, having returned from his morning rounds with the Zorro. Eva smiled and hugged her quickly again.

"It's good to see you, Fandral. I'll give you both some time," Eva said, as she left. Fandra watched her go curiously, as he approached his wife.

"What…" he said, but she cut him off by kissing him passionately. He was momentarily surprised, but then melted into her kiss, as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Wow…" he said, as their lips parted briefly and then he initiated another kiss, which continued with him trailing kisses down her neck.

"I thought you wanted to know what I needed to tell you?" she asked, though she was quickly losing her own focus at his amorous ministrations.

"I do...but you're very distracting," he said in a husky tone.

"Now...tell me," he requested and she smiled.

"Eva came by with my test results...I didn't want to say anything until I was sure," she replied. His brow furrowed in concern.

"Test results? Are you ill, my love?" he asked, as trepidation crept into his voice.

"No...not all, actually. I'm...pregnant," she revealed and a smile eclipsed his face.

"You're sure?" he asked and she nodded. He picked her up and spun her around, before kissing her again.

"How far along?" he asked.

"Nine weeks…" she replied.

"Let's go tell the children," he suggested, as they shared another kiss and went to deliver the news.

~*~

Jekyll and Grimm watched the replay of the events that occurred the night before on a laptop.

"Well...considering our limited amount of ink, that went fairly well," Grimm said, as he watched Jekyll get stabbed by the Prince.

"Easy for you to say...you didn't have a sword passing through you," Jekyll snapped.

"Your mistake is thinking that, even with your powers, you can take on someone like the infamous Prince Charming," Elias pointed out. Jekyll slammed his fist on the table.

"I can take him on! I am more powerful...and I will burn him to ash!" Jekyll promised.

"He has love on his side...a love that none have been able to defeat, at least in the long run," Grimm warned.

"Then I will find a way…" Jekyll said with determination.

"We need more of their mixed blood to make the magical ink or nothing we want will be realized," Grimm replied.

"Then our goal right now is to find another way to obtain more blood, without their knowledge, of course," Jekyll said, as Drizella entered his lab and their eyes widened.

"What in the world…" Jekyll uttered.

"That woman is batshit," Grimm deadpanned. Drizella floated toward them, dressed in a wedding gown and her usual overdone makeup.

"I would ask if you have lost your mind, woman...but then we all know the answer to that," Jekyll said. She smirked.

"Oh no...because I will be marrying Charming and soon," she replied.

"And how do you plan to accomplish that? Nevermind that he's already married and is repulsed by you," Grimm said.

"He will be mine!" she snapped, as she looked at him on her phone and then stormed out.

"Wow...teaming up with her was a mistake. She's a loose canon," Grimm mentioned.

"Let her enact whatever lunacy she has planned. She will be a nice distraction for them while we work in the background. In the meantime, I hope you have been working on some better minions than last night's wraiths," Jekyll mentioned.

"With the limited ink I had...they were all I could come up with on the fly," Grimm said, with a glare.

"But since then...I think I've come up with a few inspired characters to bring to life when we have more blood ink," he added, as he showed the doctor some of his latest illustrations.

~*~

The atrium of their castle this morning was in full military fanfare, as soldiers from their army, as well as many of Fandral's men lined the atrium. Their closest friends and family were gathered as well. They weren't sure about allowing Summer and Bobby to attend, but they decided it would be okay since the actual execution would not be done publicly. Snow and David descended the stairs arm in arm, him in his formal red coat and her in a gold gown, complete with her tiara.

"Good afternoon, United Realms. Le Fou here, along with my co-star, Goldilocks," Le Fou said, as the camera started rolling for the reporters.

"As you can see, we're here at the castle of Queen Snow White and King David for the royal tribunal of the Blue Fairy. Queen Snow has promised to finally deliver justice, though I don't think anyone is holding their breath on that," Goldilocks said snidely. That was the moment that the camera mysteriously broke and the microphone in Goldie's hand sparked.

"Which one of you retch's did that?!" she accused, as the Charming children stood nearby, all with glares.

"That would be me…" Bobby confessed.

"Talking about our Mom like that is going to get that kind of response," Leo warned.

"Yeah...so see yourselves out or we'll help you with that too," Emma threatened, as the two reporters scurried out. They would surely do some sort of hit piece on their family later on their trashy show, but none of them could be bothered to care.

The castle doors swung open as they left and Blue was led in by Zorro and James, in cuffs, and she came to stand before the Throne. James joined Aphrodite, while Zorro stood to the side with the other Knights.

"Finally...justice," Rumple hissed. She heard him and they shared a glare.

"Reul Ghorm…" David stated sternly.

"You're charged with murder and crimes against the crown. How do you plead?" he asked. She gave him a smug glower.

"Not guilty...but that doesn't matter. I know my fate and my only regret is that I did not inflict more pain and succeed in destroying the bimbo Goddess," Blue said, as she glared at Aphrodite.

"And Rumpelstiltskin," she added.

"In fact...I am also sorry that I didn't manage to rip the two of you apart when I had the chance!" she hissed.

"I can't believe I ever trusted you," Snow said.

"Oh poor Princess...you were always an easy mark. Sweet, but so naïve and full of useless hope," Blue spat.

"And even now...you're questioning whether you should have my sentence carried out. You're wondering if I can be redeemed, but rest assured, I wouldn't hesitate to destroy you both given one last chance," she continued.

"Then you've sealed your fate," Snow said, as she swallowed thickly.

"Reul Ghorm...you are guilty of the crimes stated and will face the death penalty, via lethal injection to be carried out immediately," David ordered, as he motioned to his Knights. As they came forward though, her eyes flashed in one last ditch effort to escape. One of the Knights proceeded to unlock her cuffs, having been put momentarily under her control.

"She's free…" Rumple warned, as he hurled a fireball at her and she batted it away.

"Not today...Dark One," she hissed, as she used her wings to fly into the air.

"Don't let her escape!" Rumple called, as Leo shot a bolt of lightning at her, one that she avoided, as she did with the other blasts of magic hurled her way. But Rumple managed to hit her just right, obliterating her wings and she fell hard to the floor.

"She's too dangerous...even to just execute," Aphrodite said, as they watched the disgraced Blue Fairy get to her feet. She was stopped though when she was suddenly holding her head in pain. She managed to open her eyes and saw Bobby using his immense powers to cripple her and keep her from escaping.

"Then what do you suggest?" David asked.

"The Chalice...it absorbed the Olympian crystal. It can erase her from existence," Aphrodite replied.

"Do it," Rumple urged. Snow and David raised the Chalice between them and willed its power. Blue screamed, as she was hit with a blast of white light. The look on her stunned face was her final expression, as she evaporated into nothingness. They all breathed a sigh of relief. She was gone and they knew they would all be safer for it.

"Well...that went about like anything else around here," Regina deadpanned and they all managed to let out a slight chuckle as she was not wrong. They never had taken a life lightly, but Blue's elimination ensured that the people of the United Realms would be safe.

~*~

"Lucifer!" Drizella called, as she stormed into her mother's apartment. It was truly an utter disgrace that they had been reduced to living in the squalor of this paltry two bedroom apartment. And it was all thanks to Snow White. She had taken away all their money, forcibly donated it to some stupid charities, including her son's critter farm, and then turned the rest of their assets, including the Tremaine mansion to dust. And she had yet to pay for it, but that was about to change.

"Lucifer!" she shouted again, as her mother came out of the kitchen.

"Drizella...what are you bellowing about now?" she snapped and then caught sight of her daughter.

"Oh dear…" she uttered, seeing that she was dressed in a wedding gown.

"Isn't it beautiful, mother?" she asked, as she twirled in her dress.

"Of course dear...but what are you doing in a wedding dress?" Rodmilla questioned. Like a petulant child, she stamped her foot.

"It's my wedding day, mother! I am marrying my Prince Charming, of course!" she cried, as Lucifer arrived at the apartment.

"There you are, you little twit," she snapped.

"Oh crap…" the former cat groaned.

"You're coming with me to the diner. That new cook they have made a gorgeous cake for Snow White's idiot son and the ice queen and he's going to now make me one for my dream wedding to Prince Charming," she said.

"Drizella...he's already married to Snow White," Lucifer replied.

"No!" she hissed.

"That little bitch is just keeping him away from me! We belong together and he will see that in time!" she insisted.

"Drizella…" Rodmilla interjected.

"Later mother...we need to meet with the caterer," Drizella said, as she grabbed Lucifer by the arm and dragged him along.

~*~

Tears of happiness streamed down Snow's cheeks, as David held her in his arms. Since Joe and Frankie had come to them, they had promised them an opportunity to adopt a child. An opportunity that had been denied to them in Seattle due to some trouble Frankie had gotten into in his younger days. The curse had delayed this a bit, but today it was finally becoming official. A young woman just out of college had decided that she wasn't ready to have a baby and chose to put it up for adoption. The moment Snow heard about it, she helped them start the adoption process once the mother agreed.

And today, they had the pleasure of attending a small party at the diner to celebrate with them.

"Oh man...look at her. She's beautiful," Frankie said, with tears in his eyes, as he held their new daughter.

"How...how can we ever repay you?" Joe asked, as he was also in tears.

"Oh, be happy...that's all the thanks we need," Snow gushed, as David kissed her hair.

"Congratulations," he said with a beaming smile. The diner bell rang and some heads turned to see who was joining them, but none of them were prepared for the site before them.

"What the hell…" Emma uttered.

"Whoa...she's really lost it this time…" Leo said.

"That's saying something with her," Eva agreed.

"Oh my God...she's insane…" Summer said in disbelief.

"What the Fu…" Bobby cursed.

"Bobby!" Snow scolded, as her son dropped a cuss word that she did not want him using.

"There you are, Charming!" Drizella called, as she floated into the diner, dressed in a wedding gown, complete with gaudy costume jewelry and grossly overdone makeup.

"Oh my God...what a whack job," Regina said with a chuckle. The deranged woman reached for him, but Snow stood in the way and smacked her hand away.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you crazy bitch?" Snow demanded to know.

"I am going to marry my Prince Charming! That's what I'm doing and I'm here to ask him to bake us a wedding cake!" Drizella responded, as she pointed at Frankie.

"Yeah...that's not happening," Frankie said.

"Why not?" Drizella asked, as she sounded wounded by his refusal.

"Because I'm already married to Snow, you lunatic!" David cried in exasperation. At that, Drizella burst into tears and fell to her knees, before crawling over to him and wrapping her arms around his legs.

"Why won't you love me!?" she sobbed uncontrollably.

"Because he's my husband and he's in love with me!" Snow exclaimed, as she pried the woman off her husband. By now, Drizella was in a fit of ugly crying and streaks of black mascara and green eyeshadow stained her face.

"You're always in the way! You are always keeping us apart!" she cried.

"No...she's not, because I love her and never you!" David said, as Xander and James stepped in to pull her away.

"Okay...time to go back to the asylum. Hopefully this time, they won't let you out," he said. She growled.

"This isn't over!" she promised, as she was dragged away.

"I will get out again and then you will be mine, Charming!" she promised, as she was forcibly removed.

"Holy crap on a cracker…" Emma deadpanned, releasing some of their tension. David sighed and Snow put her arms around his waist.

"Never a dull moment around here," Joe said and that dissolved the rest of the tension, as they all shared a chuckle.

"Okay...well, let's have that cake. And I promise it's not a crazy sham wedding cake that I'll never bake and a happy celebration cake," he said, as he handed his new daughter off to his husband and they went back to their celebration that had been so rudely interrupted.

~*~

"Thanks Scuttle...looks like we're going to enjoy some mild weather for November in Maine," Le Fou said, as the camera panned back to them.

"Yes...unfortunately, the only cold front seen today was our rebuke at the history making tribunal that took place at Queen Snow and King David's castle this afternoon," Goldie said bitterly.

"Yes...and according to other sources, the Blue Fairy didn't even make it to her own execution. In a final attempt to regain her freedom, she attacked and was destroyed by Snow and Charming's mystical chalice," Le Fou said.

"But don't worry, they'll be getting a bill from our studio for the camera and equipment their brat broke," she added. Le Fou chuckled nervously, as the broadcast ended and Goldilocks stormed away from the anchor desk and toward her dressing room.

"Ah Goldie...he's just a kid," Le Fou called.

"Oh, it's not just that! Half the United Realms thinks our show is a joke, thanks to the Charmings!" she seethed.

"Well...we do gossip about them a lot," he admitted.

"Oh, I'm done gossiping about them. It's time for the hit pieces and those two have plenty of dirt for material," she said, as she went to her dressing room, only to find a tall man waiting there.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked.

"The name is Grimm...and sounds like you'd like a little revenge on the Charmings," he replied.

"Well, not everyone fawns all over them and worships them," she said.

"Oh I know...they've made it impossible for my writing to garner any attention. All anyone wants to read is their grandson's version of the stories," he mentioned, which peaked her interest.

"You're a writer?" she asked curiously.

"Yes...and together, we can write one hell of a story that no one will be able to ignore. But I need help to make it happen," he replied. She thought for a moment.

"What do I need to do?" she asked and he smirked.

~*~

After the celebration at Granny's, David parted ways from Snow for a few hours to go to the station with Emma. As Supreme Sheriff, there was some paperwork he had to attend to, regarding their first tribunal. That left Snow to her own devices for a couple hours and he found her in their chambers, sitting on the sofa, with an album in her lap.

"Hey…" he said, as she smiled up at him and tugged him down by his collar so she could kiss him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as he sat down beside her and she cuddled against him.

"Getting lost down memory lane…" she said, as she flipped through the album that detailed the lives of their babies. Snow had a ton of albums and this one appeared to be one made just after the twins had been born.

"I guess today made me nostalgic," she said.

"I know...sometimes I can't believe our oldest four are grown and Bobby's a teenager," he mentioned, as he kissed her hair.

"Mmm…I know. At least we have grandbabies and great grandbabies though. And I'm sure there will be more to come," she said. He smiled.

"There will...so I picked up a pint from Dopey at the ice cream store," he mentioned, as she saw the paper sack on the table.

"Ooohh…I love you," she gushed, as she got the ice cream out and they started eating out of it together.

"Cookie dough is the best…" she muttered, as they ate and made him chuckle.

"I figured we could use something to wind down since we're leaving for Sleepy Hollow in the morning," he said. She nodded.

"I'll be glad when this is over, but we're doing the right thing," she replied. He nodded and they enjoyed their ice cream together, before soon retiring for the evening. There was no doubt that tomorrow would be another big day.

~*~

As per usual, Rumple was up very early and after preparing coffee, he went into his potions lab to get ready for their trip. He had no idea what they were going to encounter in Sleepy Hollow, so he was packing with anticipation for anything. In respect to potions anyway. He soon heard soft footfalls on the stairs and saw Belle coming down with a book in hand. She had been scouring through all versions of Ichabod Crane's story, hunting for any clues as to how someone in his bloodline may have strayed.

"You're up early too," he mentioned.

"Well...you know how much I love reading," she replied, as she kissed him on the cheek.

"I think I found something," she mentioned.

"Do tell," he replied.

"It would seem that one of Elias Grimm's family members wrote his own version of Sleepy Hollow. Based on the publishing date, it was probably his grandfather," she said.

"Sleepy Hollow and the Sacrifice to Moloch?" he asked.

"I know...a ridiculous title, but it might explain this version of the Crane family," she replied.

"How so?" he asked.

"Well...in this version, Ichabod's wife, Katrina, was a witch that sacrificed their own son to the God, Moloch," she explained.

"Moloch...a God known to be associated with child sacrifice in exchange for power," he said. She nodded.

"With the sacrifice, the headless horseman returned and was cursed by the witch to return every ten years. If a child was not sacrificed to Moloch, before the horseman could find his head, then it would allow the spirit of Moloch to pass into this world, possess the horseman, and then the world would be at his mercy," she continued.

"Does it say what happened to this version of Ichabod Crane?" he asked.

"He pushed Katrina off a balcony in rage...and then escaped Sleepy Hollow. No one ever saw him again," Belle replied.

"Then is it possible that descendants of Crane decided to follow the path of the witch, rather than the hero's path of Ichabod Crane?" he asked. She nodded.

"I think that's exactly what happened, though we won't know for sure until we investigate for ourselves. But if this Crane thinks he can somehow control the horseman when he returns, then theoretically, he could pave the way for Moloch to return and decimate all of humanity," she replied.

"Child sacrifice...there is nothing darker than that," he said. She nodded.

"We are truly dealing with the worst evil imaginable," she replied.

"Then Snow and David were right...we must stop Crane. The loss of one child's life is too much," he said. She nodded in agreement and they continued to prepare for their trip. They would soon be meeting everyone at Granny's and fill them in on what they had discovered and just what they might be facing.

~*~

"But...that piece was gold. I'm here observing this place first hand. You should be scrambling to publish this kind of dirt!" Nora exclaimed into her phone, as she sat at a corner table in the diner.

"It's juicy for sure, but Henry Nolan has already published the latest events. Yours is just a reiteration of his Uncle's wedding that reads like a hit piece. It's good enough for a gossip column, but that's not what we're looking for," the voice on the other end said.

"Why? Because I didn't worship the ground the Charmings walk on?" she hissed.

"Sorry...but they are the new heroes to most people. There are many out there that feel about them the way you do too, of course...but that material just isn't selling like the true love and heroics stuff," the person replied.

"Fine," Nora said in frustration, as she hung up the phone.

"Mind if I read your piece?" a blonde woman asked.

"Uh...you want to read my story?" Nora asked.

"Of course...I am a reporter too, after all," she replied, as she sat down.

"I'm Goldie...head co-anchor on Good Morning United Realms," she said.

"Oh yeah...now I recognize you," Nora replied, as the woman read her piece.

"It's good...it seems you're not enamored by the Charmings like most are. Much like me," she replied.

"You think they're ridiculous too?" Nora asked. The woman scoffed.

"I hate that family with a burning passion...and I'm working on something big to bring their image burning to the ground. Are you interested?" she asked.

"Yes…" Nora answered.

"Good...I'll meet you tonight in your room to discuss more," Goldie said, as she got up and left with a smirk on her face. This girl would make the perfect pawn for what she and Grimm had in store to craft the story of the century.

~*~

"You cannot do this!" Rodmilla screamed and Archie flinched.

"I'm sorry, Lady Tremaine, but your daughter is very disturbed," he said.

"It's not her fault! It's Snow White...she has driven my poor Drizella to madness!" Rodmilla claimed.

"No...it's her obsession that has driven her to this and she met all the requirements for a forced commitment," he replied.

"We are still evaluating her and once she is responding to medication, we can discuss the possibility of release. But she has a long road ahead," he said.

"This isn't over! I am going to get an attorney and force you to release her!" Rodmilla hissed, as she stormed out of the facility. As she arrived at her car around the corner, she found a man waiting for her.

"You…" she uttered.

"My, my...it would seem that my accomplice has been committed," Jekyll said.

"What do you care? You might have contributed to Drizella's relapse by exposing her to faulty magic," she accused.

"Perhaps...but you may be a far more useful ally to me than your unpredictable daughter," he said. Her gaze narrowed.

"You want to work with me?" she asked. He smirked.

"Think about it...we manage to tear Snow and Charming apart, then it will be your ultimate revenge. Your daughter can have the Prince, while I get Snow White," he offered. She thought for a moment.

"Tell me more...because many have tried to separate them and have failed," she said.

"Yes...but none have come as close as me. But this is not a discussion for her. Are you interested or not?" he asked.

"If it involves bringing pain to Snow White...then I am most certainly interested," she replied.

"Good...then drive us back to the harbor. This discussion should take place back at my laboratory on Pleasure Island," he said, as they got into her car and drove away.

~*~

They managed to locate a spot with little traffic outside the town and came through with a portal.

"I can't believe it...sacrificing your own child? How could someone do something so evil?" Snow asked, as she read the passages that Belle had found.

"I know...it is the most disturbing version of just about anything I've ever read," Belle agreed. Snow shook her head in dismay.

"Any child would be horrific...but your own? What kind of evil are we dealing with here?" she asked and though it was mostly rhetorical, Rumple answered her.

"The worst...possibly like nothing we have yet faced and that is saying something for us," he said.

"Agreed. If you can harm a child...then there's nothing this person won't do," David said.

"We better get some fancier clothes though. This looks like a Class A event," Natalie mentioned. Rumple waved his hand, thankful to still have magic since he was in the vicinity of the Chalice, and dressed himself in a tux, while Belle was now wearing a glittering gold dress, though more of a modernized version of her classic one, with butterfly sleeves, a straight collar, slim bodice and long skirt, with slits up the sides.

"Do I have to wear a tux too?" Bobby asked, as his mother used the chalice to put him in exactly that.

"Great…" he muttered.

"Why can't any of these events be at an amusement park or something?" he joked, making his father chuckle.

"Because villains are never known for being accommodating to the heroes," David joked back, as he looked at his wife, who was now wearing a sleeveless, satin white dress that had silver glittering outlining the straps and v neck collar that dipped low, much to his liking. The bodice hugged her curves and the satin skirt was full with a lacy glittering overlay.

"Wow…" he mentioned and she used their power to put him in a tux as well.

"Wow yourself," she said, as she turned to her sister-in-law.

"I prefer black," Natalie mentioned, as Snow used their power to give her a short, black satin party dress, which still worked since she was not showing yet.

"You have good taste," Natalie said.

"I'm not a dress kind of woman," Patricia warned, as she was the final person so Snow gave her a black pantsuit, with a sea green satin shirt inside the jacket.

"I think we're ready," Snow said, as she hooked her hand on David's elbow, while Belle hooked hers on Rumple's and they made their way into the sea of people that were entering the museum.

~*~

Elsa stood on the balcony, overlooking the Fjord of Arendelle from their chambers with a book in hand.

"Hey…" Leo said, as he came up behind her and put his arms around her, before kissing her cheek. She smiled and looked at him.

"Hi…" she said, as she flipped a page.

"What's this?" he asked.

"An Arendelle history book," she replied.

"Wow...is that your father when he was a kid?" Leo asked. She nodded.

"Yes...that is him when he was still Prince Agnarr and next to him is my grandfather, King Runeard. Father never talked about him much. He was lost on some sort of expedition," she replied.

"Hmm...that's sad. Was he looking for something?" he asked.

"I don't know...the history books just mention an expedition and father never elaborated much. I always wished that I could find out more," she replied.

"Maybe Rose can find a book that tells about it," he suggested.

"You're right...if the story exists, then it would be in her library," she realized.

"We can make a visit to her in the morning. For now...let's go to bed," he said. She smiled and closed the book, before following him inside.

~*~

Summer and JJ came out of the diner and strolled along toward the Inn.

"Thanks for hanging out again...and talking me down. I guess I'm more nervous than I thought about starting my new job," he mentioned. She smiled.

"You're going to be great…" Summer assured, as she followed him up to his door.

"So…I was wondering if you want to do this again?" he asked.

"You mean another date?" she asked excitedly and he smiled shyly.

"Yeah...another date, because I really like you," he admitted.

"I kind of guessed. I mean...not many guys would move to a crazy place like this, just out of curiosity," she teased and he chuckled.

"Guess I'm not very subtle," he said.

"It's okay...subtly is not the Charming way, so I appreciate when someone is up front," she replied. He chuckled.

"Duly noted," he said, as he slowly leaned in and her heart quickened, as he gently pressed his lips to hers. As their lips parted, they shared a smile and heard the room door next to JJ's open.

"Good...you're home. I need to read my story to you before I turn it into my new editor," Nora said.

"Your new editor?" Summer asked.

"That's right, sweet cheeks. JJ isn't the only one starting a new job tomorrow. You're looking at the newest field reporters for Good Morning United Realms," Nora replied.

"That show is nothing but gossip trash. All they do is write hit pieces about my family," Summer said. Nora rolled her eyes.

"Well...your family loves being the center of attention, so what are they supposed to do? Most of the chaos in this stupid place is caused by your parents," she argued.

"Shut up," Summer snapped.

"Ohhh…looks like you're just like your mother. You act all sweet and prissy on the surface, but the minute you're challenged even just a little, the claws come out," Nora goaded.

"Stop it, Nora," JJ protested.

"Sorry cuz, but your little girlfriend's family aren't really the heroes they are portrayed to be. I spent the whole day with my new boss learning everything there is to know about her parents and the chaos that surrounds them," Nora said.

"Your new boss?" Summer asked.

"Goldilocks...as ridiculous as it is," Nora replied.

"She hates my family...she's so jealous of my mother that it's not even funny. If you were a real reporter, then you'd want nothing to do with an activist hack like her," Summer shot back.

"I am a real reporter, you prissy bitch," Nora hissed.

"Enough!" JJ snapped. Nora smirked.

"The true Evil Queen: Snow White and her endless body count. By Nora Bradley," Nora read from her tablet and Summer launched at her, but he held her back.

"Delete the story, Nora," he insisted.

"Not a chance in hell," she replied.

"No one has destroyed more lives than the subject of this expose. She has left a trail of bodies in her wake for years and yet wears the crown of Queen. Many of you may think I am talking about Queen Regina, but not in the slightest. I am talking about Snow White herself, who chose to preserve the pureness of her heart over saving her own mother at the tender age of ten and her body count only builds from there," Nora read and then gasped, as Summer slapped her.

"You know nothing about my mother!" she hissed.

"I know enough. She's the reason your precious nana lost her first true love. The reason everyone is here in the first place, ripped away from their homeland and loved ones," Nora replied.

"That was all fixed when the curse broke!" Summer claimed.

"And there has been nothing but chaos since, because of your parent's precious true love. And their insanity has spilled into my world one too many times. People need to know the truth. Your Nana was right long ago when she said Snow White was the true monster," Nora said. Summer tried to launch herself at her again, but JJ held her back.

"And just today...another life was ruined when Drizella Tremaine was hauled off to the rubber room," Nora said.

"That woman is insane! That's not my mother's fault!" Summer replied. Nora shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. But your mother is the reason for her torment and probably the reason she will never get better," she replied.

"Okay...let me walk you home. There's no reasoning with her," JJ suggested. Summer glared at the other woman, but then allowed him to lead her out. Nora smirked and went back into her room, finding Goldilocks standing there with a drink in hand.

"You did well...better than expected. That was very entertaining," Goldilocks said, as she sipped at her martini.

"It was a lot of fun, actually. Seeing Miss Innocence get so bothered by someone attacking her parents was definitely a great show," Nora agreed.

"So why do you hate Snow White so much?" she asked curiously.

"My mother was once her nanny...she probably doesn't even remember. But then she was fired after the little princess told her mother that mine was mean to her," Goldie replied.

"Was she?" Nora asked.

"Of course...my mother was mean to me, but her little tattling ways led to my mother losing her job and us becoming homeless," Goldie replied.

"Is that why you tried to sleep in a bear's house?" Nora asked in amusement.

"That's just the stupid nursery rhyme. We slept where we could and got kicked out of a lot of places, while Princess Snow slept in her four poster bed," Goldie replied.

"And even when she lost her home, she didn't fall to the things I had to do to survive. Instead, she became a hero. An outlaw, but a hero and the people's Princess, nonetheless," Goldie said.

"I had to do things for food that no person should have to do and even when I did pick myself up out of the gutter, I married a man that could care less about me. Meanwhile, Show White got everything. Prince Charming, true love, beautiful children, and the perfect life," she complained.

"I get a stupid, drunk, cheating husband, while she gets a man that treats her like she's the only woman in existence. Like the Queen she is," she continued.

"She definitely has more good fortune than most," Nora agreed.

"So...what's the next step?" she asked. Goldie smirked.

"A few hit pieces on her is nothing. Sure...it will get the husband and kids riled up, but the true way to go after Snow White is go after her precious babies," she replied.

"How do we do that? Even with her parents out of town, she has her Nana that would literally kill for her," Nora said.

"True...but I think I know exactly what we need to do," Goldie replied mysteriously, as she finished her drink.

"Are you in?" she asked. Nora nodded.

"I'm in," she agreed.

~*~

An hour later

The quietness in the late hours in Storybrooke were suddenly shattered, as a deafening scream broke the silence. Glass shattered, as a woman went crashing through a window from the upstairs floor of the Inn and landed on the cold concrete below. Blood leaked from the woman's broken body, as Nora struggled to breathe and her life slipped away...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #original season 9 storyline #The United Realms #Fandral the Dashing #Rose Red #Dashing Rose #Rumbelle #Regina Mills #romance #adventure #family #drama #Finding You Always #the epic continues

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singingpeople · 8 years ago

Text

Paying the price

Chapter 17

@pathybo @tigpooh67 @jojuarez26 @beautifulramblingbrains @jaiboomer11 @feminamortem @carefultheyspit @love17mwh @lets-play-truth-or-dare @deepfrz @bookwarm85 @iammarylastar

The sound of my impatient knocking resonated through the hallway as I tensely bobbed on my feet, the anticipation rising high as I waited. It didn’t take long for someone to open the door and when he did, I pushed passed him, storming into the flat without regarding the man in front of me.

“Hello, Lexi. Why don´t you come in, Lexi?”

George raised one eyebrow at me, still holding the door open, before gingerly closing it. But he wasn't really mad. After all, he was used to my antics. Swaying my gaze through the room, I threw him a slightly impatient, slightly angered look that made him roll his eyes.

“He´s changing right now, should be out any minu… And there he is.”

Whirling around, I almost flew through the room and into his arms, before he heaved me up, whirling me around. Coming to a stop after I was dizzy enough, Amar laughed loudly, pressing a kiss to my head, before holding me away from him to muster me from head to toe.

“God, I missed you.” Smiling warmly, he suddenly narrowed his eyes a little, his fingers poking my belly. “But is that a little pouch you got there?”

Pulling back, I laid my hands on what I thought to be a flat stomach, shocked and a little bit offended by his remark. I had always been skinny but now I was worried.

Thinking about eating, it was true that Dante had stuffed me the last week, obviously wanting to make up for the pounds I lost while not getting enough nutrition as he called it. I called it being fucked up. But despite that involuntary fast maybe I had overdone it a little with the cake…

The sound of throaty laughter pulled me out of my reverie and I realized Amar had played me like he always did. Glaring at him, I crossed my arms.

“Well, I didn’t miss you or your jokes!”

Like in slow motion, both of their faces froze and they stared at me, the mug in George’s hand slowly slipping from his grip. The sound of porcelain shattering against the tiles brought them back to the present and without missing another beat, Amar pulled me back into him, almost crushing me with his tight grip, while George shrieked and jumped away from the hot water that was splashing all over his feet.

“I knew you´d get back to me, I just knew it.”

"Yeah, yeah." Struggling to breathe, I tried pushing his arms away. "But if you choke me to death all that suffering will have been for nothing.”

But instead of releasing me like I prayed he would, Amar held me close for another few moments, before stepping finally back. I grimaced, my whole body feeling like I had been put through the ringer. And that´s what he called a hug.

Despite being three years older than my father, Amar still was one of our best fighters and something akin to my mentor. He had been close to my uncle, while he went through initiation and even though I had already been pretty good at fighting, he had been the one to perfect my routines with countless hours of torture. All the `Jedi-move´s´ like Theo called them, had helped me win more than one fight and I learned them all from him. With his warm smile and the Zen-like attitude, you would never think Amar could sweep through an army of enemy’s like a tornado, bodies littering the path he took like I had seen it more than once. Of course, these had been mock fights but I held no doubt in mind that it would be the same in a real one.

This mixture of thoughtful, balanced and deadly was, what made him one of dauntless´ best men and the leading officer when dad once again sent them to scoop an unknown or dangerous territory out. Amar had been away these last few weeks on one of those missions and I was impatiently waiting to hear where they had gone.

This had soon become a routine and I was sure, missing training would be worth it.

Sitting on the bench with knees drawn close to my chest, I tightly clutched the hot cup of tea, waiting for Amar to start speaking. He was sitting on the opposite side of the table, one hand intertwined with George´s, who was looking at him adoringly. After 20 years of marriage, those two were still sickeningly sweet and I tried hiding my grimace behind the cup, as they started kissing. But of course, being the ninja he is, Amar caught up on it.

“Pull that face on more time, young lady, and I´m going to whoop your ass to the moon and back when you finally show me what that instructor of yours taught in the last few weeks.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as I remembered what exactly that instructor of mine taught me last night but before I could start pondering about that, I set down my mug on the table. If I didn’t want to start drooling, I had to think about something else fast.

"Well, then maybe you should start telling me what I want to hear, instead of making out in front of me.”

Raising one eyebrow, Amar leaned back in his chair, feet crossed beneath the table. “And what is so wrong about making out, my dear? From what I heard you quite like to do that, too, so what´s the difference?”

“Nothing, but you´re so…” Shaking my head, I tried to find a non-insulting reply but when I came up with nothing, I just raised my hands in an exaggerate manner, praying for him to let it go. But of course, they didn't.

“We´re what, Lexi?” George tried to suppress a smile, but I could see the twinkle in his gentle eyes, that were surrounded by laughter lines, as he thrived on my misery.

“You´re so… old!” Instead of being insulted by my remark, they both just started laughing while I blushed deep red, embarrassed once again. Huffing, I picked the mug back up, taking a huge gulp to overplay it and instantly burned my tongue on the hot water. It just reminded me why I hate tea.

“My sweet little summer child, love has no expiration date.” Amar lectured, while watching me with a soft expression on his face, their hands still intertwined on the table, the tattoos on their ring fingers already a little faded by the time.

“I know.” Grumbling, I played with the mug handle. “But it´s like walking in on my parents screwing.” Shuddering, I thought about the frosting incident that took place a few years ago and scarred me for life. “It´s nothing any child would want to see.”

Laughing, Amar pressed a kiss to George´s hand, as he stood up to fetch more things to eat. As if the two different type´s of cookies, the bread rolls, and the nachos weren´t enough already. I swear, if dauntless wouldn’t work out so much you could roll them through the compound.

“So…” Amar started, mischief twinkling behind the serious mask he wore. “Do you want to know what struggles I faced on my adventures, or do you want to talk how Eric licked chocolate frosting out of Amy´s navel?”

I glared at Amar, who did his best to suppress his laughter, thinking himself to be extraordinarily funny. Well, he wasn't the one who had to see this. I was supposed to sleep at Sam´s but forgot my favorite plush toy, so when I came back storming into our apartment, there they were in the kitchen with a full bowl of frosting. With eleven, you very much know what you´re parents were doing behind closed doors especially in dauntless but it didn’t mean, I want to witness it. I don´t think I ever left a room that fast.

“Go to hell.”

“Lexi.” Amar´s tone was warning and as I looked up, I was met with a stern gaze. Not wanting to anger him, I quickly bit my lip, mumbling a quiet ´Sorry´, once again stunned how fast he could go from joking godfather to intimidating instructor.

Amar was pretty big on respect, having his knowledge about meditation and ancient fighting techniques from old books he had read still being in erudite. After transferring to dauntless he had deepened his research and developed his own values by adapting the ones from old fighting masters, whose students called them sensei and fought with special swords I would like to try myself, and people called Buddhists, who valued every single living being and thought people of different upbringing to be worth the same.

By being aware of himself and everything around him, Amar was able to stay calm and collected in every situation, which I envied him immensely for. He had tried to teach me meditation countless times but I was just too fidgety and my mind too full of shit, as that I was able to shut down completely.

So while he sat beside me like a statue, I always had one eye cracked open, inconspicuously watching the people around me until a smack to the back of my head reminded me why I was here and I scurried to close them again. This complete self-control, paired with his unique fighting style made Amar pretty much deadly.

“Would you please tell me?” Trying to make my voice sound meek I pouted at him, knowing his compassion was his weak spot. Sighing deeply, Amar braced his elbows on the table, rubbing over the stubble on his face.

“We, my men and me, were sent to skirt out the surroundings of the city. We went into the X-zone.”

Placing my feet on the floor so fast, I almost fell off the bench, I stared at Amar with wide eyes. The X-zone lay behind the fence and way behind the amity farms. It was a half-a-day drive away and the last time, anyone from the city went there was, when my father escorted the factionless rebels there, to let them rot in the wilderness.

“You did what?!”

“We went into the X-zone.” Nodding deep in thought, Amar pressed his fingertips against one another, his face thoughtful. “Your father thought it would be good to know what´s out there in case of an emergency. He wanted to know if someone would have been able to get in or out of the city unnoticed and we indeed found something interesting…”

As he trailed off, the tension inside me rose and I looked at him with big eyes, my voice quiet, almost breathless as I asked.

“What? What did you find?”

“An old camp, but it must have been abandoned years ago.” He trailed one finger over the desk, eyes glued to my face.

“Oh, alright.” Shifting on my spot, I asked myself if it was where Edgar and his men had been residing before they came back into the city all these years ago.

"Yeah, but something was strange about it." Seeing my questioning gaze, Amar went on, tracing his bottom lip with his thumb. "Even though we knew it was the camp of the factionless we banned from the city, there were no signs of living and the graves we found there was only a fraction of the rebels we send out there.”

“Is that so?” I trailed off, not meeting his inquisitor gaze. I knew exactly where they went, but had no desire to tell him that. Not now and not anytime soon. When I looked up, Amar was leaning back in his chair, observing me quietly. I felt his dark eyes bore into me, but even though he was much gentler than my father, I still felt the need to run, to hide from his ability to read me so easily.

“Yes, it is. So either they moved further away from the city… Or they found a way back in.”

We sat there in silence, me pondering about what Amar knew or thought to knew, while he himself observed my body language, most likely getting a better idea of what I was thinking or fearing with each passing second. The tension steadily rose between us and I shifted on my spot, wanting the awkwardness to pass.

Amar just opened his mouth, when George came back, wearing an apron as he placed plates full of steaming soup in front of us, before leaving again to fetch a bowl of bread singing like he planned to perform at the opera. His ridiculous performance effectively let every trace of the uncomfortableness vanish and I knew this hadn’t been involuntary. Grabbing the spoon, my mentor threw me a wink, laughing silently at his husband’s antics as he brought it to his lips, blowing at the fluid to cool it down.

“Enjoy your meal, that was made with nothing but love.”

Stepping into the training room where my fellow initiates were pummeling the punching bags, I was greeted by an angry Dante that came striding over as soon as he saw me. Stopping only inches away from my face he crossed his arms, glaring at me.

“You missed almost the whole day of training! Where the fuck have you been?” Lowering his voice, he added, his voice forceful. “I mean after you left the flat you just vanished into thin air! That´s not okay…!”

Dante trailed off, his gaze aimed at something behind me and when two heavy hands landed on my shoulders, pulling back into a sturdy chest I knew he had spotted Amar. Pulling me into his side, the older man shook me a little before addressing Dante. “Don´t worry, she was with me the whole time. We had to catch up a little, my flower and I.”

When Dante threw me an inquisitive look I just smiled apologetically. I didn’t want to anger or worry him but when I had heard at breakfast that Amar was back, I just had to go search for him.

“Well, Sir.” Dante started slightly irritated. “I mean no disrespect but Lexi is still my initiate and training is mandatory.” As my ´instructor´ turned towards me, I realized this wasn’t the end of it and that I would hear a lot more of this later one. Maybe a little hand action could pacify him… “Go to the bags, you already missed enough as it is.” Or not.

I complied and tried to walk away, but Amar pulled me back into his side, turning towards Dante. “I´ve been training initiates long before you were born, son. And Lexi here already knows everything you could know about punching a lifeless object. After all her father is quite known for punching holes into walls.” He threw me a wink. “As do many of these other idiots you have there. Round them up, we´re going to meditate a little. It´s good for those hotheads. Maybe followed by a little Yoga. You´d be surprised what that can do for you.” With that Amar left us standing there as he walked to the middle of the room, unbothered by Dante´s unbelieving stare that followed him all the way.

“Meditation? Yoga?!” Seeing his flabbergasted face, I couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “This isn’t fucking amity.”

“Just do as you´re told, son. It´s not that bad.” I had turned my back to the others, while I mocked him to not let them see me talking. It was still strange seeing all their reactions and I wasn’t ready being swamped. Seeing the glare Dante threw me as a response, I pouted and mouthed a quiet “Sorry” before going to join Amar, who was already sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room.

Flogging down, I mirrored his stance and was soon joined by Avery, Ivy, and Owen who were laughing about something stupid once again. Nodding along to their stories, I impatiently waited for our lesson to start because I knew afterward every single muscle in my body would hurt and I couldn’t wait to see Dante trying out a few of those yoga stances. After all, poses that included dogs weren’t that foreign to him.

When Amar sensed the impatience radiating off me, he only shook his head, knowing that I wanted to see them all humiliated. “Patience, young grasshopper. Your time will come.”

The stupid nickname earned him a glare. I had always detested that one and to my chagrin, Dante had just arrived beside him, his lips curling up into a sinister smirk as he saw my expression.

Speaking up, Amar started the lesson he had prepared for the today (or not), while I couldn’t help but staring at Dante who was sitting exact on the opposite side of me. Thinking about all those half suggestive yoga poses, I couldn’t help but smirk.

This was going to be a long session for him.

Coming out of a gruesome workout that accompanied by a lot of swearing, a few overstretched muscles and one or two bulges to hide, I got up, enjoying the delicious stretch of my muscles. I had almost forgotten how far Amar was always taking his training and had to snicker over the endurance of mostly the male initiates that were now limping out of the room.

I stayed back with Dante who came to a halt besides me, while Amar was talking to one of the members that came in after training to welcome him back home. My lovely instructor was now facing me, almost glaring as he once again adjusted himself like he had done several times throughout the hour.

“You did that on purpose!”

“Did what?” Furrowing my brow, I tried to appear innocent but I knew he wasn’t buying any of it so I took it a step further. “I was just participating like the good little student I am. I actually had no idea I could move my leg so far upwards, did you see that?”

“Fuck, Lexi!” Dante groaned, pulling his hair. “Can´t you see you´re killing me here?”

Biting my lip, I tilted my head, raking my gaze all over his body. “I can´t see how.”

Exhaling deeply, Dante suddenly pulled himself together and took a step forward, his eyes sparkling dangerously, his voice low. “If I´d known you´re that flexible there would have been some things I had tried ages ago!”

“Oh really? And what did you had in mind?” Leaning forwards, I almost missed the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he gulped heavily and I moistened my lips, my throat suddenly dry. I didn't realize how close we were standing or that our breathing sped up until Amar suddenly appeared by my side, bumping into my shoulder.

His presence acted like a bucket of ice water and I immediately drew back, feeling how my cheeks heated up, the naughty thoughts still ghosting around in my head.

To not embarrass myself any further and tone the awkwardness down a little, I turned to introduce Amar to Dante because even though he certainly had heard of him, he surely had never talked to him.

“That´s Amar.” Gesturing towards him, I knew I had to elaborate a little. “He´s like my godfather. Or if you take his gayness into account you could also say fairy godmother.” My smart remark only earned me a smack to the back of my head and a mumbled ´careful´ before Amar turned to the man who was now holding the same position he had so many years ago.

“So you´re Lexi´s instructor?” When Dante answered him with a ´Yes, Sir´, Amar nodded, observing him from head to toe. “And are there things you teach her outside that bedroom of yours?”

“Amar!” My exclamation turned onto deaf ears as he just shrugged his shoulders and took a step forward. Straightening up he rose to his whole weight in front of Dante, his stance supposed to be intimidating. For me, it worked.

“Listen here, young friend. I assume you´re part of the reason she talks again so I´m not going to hurt you now. But if I find out you broke her heart, I will break both of your legs. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Sir.” Dante was looking him square in the eye, not the least bothered by his threat. But suddenly, as if this didn’t faze him at all his lips quirked and he started to smirk. “But if I may say this: It´s not her heart you should worry about.”

“Well…” Letting his gaze flick from me to Dante, Amar scrunched his face up. “I guess you´re right. Little Lexi here has always been a little spitfire. I think I may like you. Well at least more than that little scumbag of patrol officer she used to go home with every other night.”

Chuckling, Dante nodded his head. “Yeah, he was awful. Lex here just had to develop some taste, you know.”

“Hey! I´m still here, you know!” Instead of listening to my outraged complaint, they just laughed on, Amar even patting his shoulder. Annoyed by their behavior, I pushed Dante away before crossing my arms. He just laughed and came back, slinging one arm around my waist but not before flicking my nose. I swatted his hands away but didn’t object when he pulled me closer and buried his nose in my hair.

Amar was watching our small display of affection with an ever-growing smile and he winked at me as he retreated, walking towards the exit.

But before leaving, he turned around one last time.

"You know what I´m going to do now, Lexi?" When I shrugged my shoulders he laughed loudly. "I´m going to screw my husband because I´m not too OLD to do it!"

Seeing my grimace and Dante´s shocked face, he laughed even louder. “Paybacks a bitch, dear!” With that he was out the door, the sound of it slamming shut behind him resonating through the room.

Groaning, I buried my head in Dante´s chest, trying to get that image out of my head. Yuck!

“Oh my god, the pictures don´t stop! That was like the biggest turn off ever!” When Dante didn´t reply for a while, I drew back, observing his face worriedly. He seemed devastated and my stomach turned into a knot because I had no idea what was wrong or what could have gone wrong in such a short time.

“Dante?! What is it?!”

His lips curled down and he pouted sadly as he placed his hands on either side of my waist. “So you´re telling me that we now can´t try how far I can pin your leg against the wall while fucking you into eternity?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I screeched, pushing him away from me. “I thought someone fucking died!”

“Well, someone…” He gestured towards his crotch where a very visible bulge sat. “will die soon. Death caused by a serious case of blue balls. Come on, Lexi. Not even you can be that cruel!”

“Go screw yourself.” Trying to suppress a smile because even though he was ridiculous, his argumentation was still so convincing as if he´d presented a slide show in erudite, I just turned and walked away because I was tempted to give in to his ridiculous advances.

But the first rule of combat is to never turn your back towards your opponent, so less than three seconds later two arms made of steel slung themselves around me and I was unceremoniously heaved onto a shoulder before Dante walked straight towards the backroom. My wriggling on his shoulder, which was more playful than serious, only earned me a powerful spank. I froze on his shoulders and squeaked, not believing he really just did that. I still wasn’t moving, when he pulled me off, immediately pushing me up against the wall. Growling lowly, I felt Dante fingers digging into my waist as he pressed his lips against mine with bruising force. He grabbed the hem of my shirt and before I could protest it was already off me and Dante was devouring me all over again. Nibbling along my neck, he suddenly bit in my earlobe before peppering small kisses along my jaw. He only pulled back for a moment, his breathing hard against my lips, his words sending shivers down my spine.

“You´re going to regret ever wearing those spandex shorts.”

And when he buried his fingers in my hair and harshly tugged my head back, his tongue invading my mouth I believed every word he said.

I spent the whole next morning in Dante´s flat lounging on the couch and munching all his sweets while he was administering another round of simulations. Mine was, as usual, the last one and I asked myself when it would change from Sam´s death that I had lived through the last two times onto something new. Even though I wasn't really looking forward to it, I had learned to just shut the whole scene out and concentrate on my breathing. That's how I was able to get in and out in less than two minutes, so off to the next!

I was glad for my sim to be once again the last one because of two reasons:

First, I had no desire to sit in the corridor and wait with the other dauntless born the whole morning because I surely couldn’t have kept my mouth shut when Cat was talking bullshit about things she had no idea of.

And secondly, Dante had destroyed my vagina.

The normally so gentle lover was nowhere to be seen as he pressed my leg up against the wall almost into a split, the different angle making everything so much more intense. As it must have been for him since he rutted away like there was no tomorrow, his pelvis slamming almost painfully against mine.

Just thinking about it, I had no idea if I should wince because of the pain or get aroused because that was one of the best times I ever had.

That guy was making me crazy.

I was using the day to relax all my strained muscles and go easy on my sore body, so zapping through the TV and binge watching some sort of ridiculous musical show it was. With sorrow, I realized it would be the last time I would get to go last. Dante had made it very clear that this was some sort of advantage and told me the next time I would have to wait with the others. But despite his demands for me to suck it up, when I started whining about sitting on the floor, I was thankful for the period of grace he offered me.

When it was time to get going, I only brushed the crumbles from my clothes and slipped into my boots, redoing my bun on the way to the sim room. I arrived just in time to see two members carrying Josh out of the room, who looked like he´d puke any minute. And as if I had jinxed it, he simply leaned into the guy on his left and spit all over his shirt. Grimacing I hurried past the heavy cursing guy and almost ran into Dante while avoiding the puke on the floor.

He caught me and led me into the room, closing the door but not before telling the guys to clean up, which was followed by more curses.

Like usual I took a seat on the dentist chair while Dante busied himself on the machine, typing in different codes while I watched the muscles in his back contract, wishing his shirt away.

After everything was to his liking and ready to go, Dante came over and stood between my legs, one hand caressing my cheek, the other holding the syringe.

“How are you, Lex?”

“Don´t pretend you don´t know it.” I narrowed my eyes at him but simultaneously leaned into his touch. “And don´t even think you´ll get some anytime soon. I don´t think I have ever been that sore.”

His bright smile almost made me forget that I was supposed to be mad at him. Dante leaned down, pressing a light kiss to my lips and like the insatiable girl I am, my lips followed his as he pulled back as if they were glued to them. But instead of engaging in a make-out session like I had wanted to, he just stuck the needle into my neck, taking me by surprise before pressing another kiss to my lips.

“Be brave, Lexi.”

I woke up with the feeling that something was majorly wrong. Trying to turn around, I found myself inside a room with white walls, the bed I was in having rails, my hands fastened in padded cuffs, rendering me immobile which I only realized when I tried to get up.

What the fuck?

Rattling on the rails, I tried to pull my hands free but only winced when I managed to tug on my IV, the needle painfully piercing my skin. I had no idea what was going on and being restrained, basically tied to this bed only made my anxiety skyrocket.

This was an infirmary room, that much I knew but I had no idea what happened and how I ended up here. Thinking about the countless possibilities, my stomach turned into knots and the machine that monitored my heartbeat started to beep faster as my breathing got heavier, the panic closing up my throat.

But just as I thought I´d go crazy if they wouldn’t let me out soon, the door opened and my aunt stepped in. Tris wore a solemn expression, clutching a piece of paper in her hand. Seeing that I was awake, she hurried over and gave me a strained smile, running a hand down my cheek. “Lexi, dear. You´re awake.”

I only nodded in confusing, eyeing the piece of paper in concern. After all, everything that happened in here somehow being related to what was printed on there. Following my gaze, Tris raised her hand and straightened it out, her face falling. She gulped heavily, her gaze glued to something written onto it and after watching her for a few moments I couldn’t endure the crushing tension in the room any longer.

“Tris?”

Looking up, she tried to hide behind a fake smile but the tear rolling down her cheek told me everything I had to know even though she hurriedly brushed it away. Grabbing my bound hand she squeezed reassuringly. “You were right.”

Feeling my stomach drop, my breathing hitched as I realized the real extent of her words and what they meant for me and everyone around me. “Lexi, you know I have to tell your parents, right?”

Shaking my head wildly, I stared at her pleadingly, the thought of my father finding out almost sending me into a panic attack. “Sweetie, that´s not something you can keep a secret. We have to.”

There were other ways, surely? This couldn’t be my only option. In fact, there was another one… But could I do that?

Looking up, I stared at Tris with pleading eyes and she sighed, rubbing her forehead, trying to massage the tension away. Taking a seat on the bed where no railing was, she placed a hand on my leg, rubbing up and down.

“We could make it all go away right now, Lexi. But if you decide you don´t want the procedure, I have to tell your parents. Everything is going to be alright, I promise.”

Looking down at my legs whose outlines were just visible under the infirmary blanket, I blinked slowly, knowing I had to decide now. It took me a moment, but then I shook my head. I could never forgive myself if I did this, there was already enough decay in this world.

Tris' hand tensed on my leg for a second before she let go and stood up, her face apologetic.

“I´m going to get Amy now, Lexi.”

“Tris! Don´t, please!” I suddenly found my voice again, that had been absent and started to beg, the desperation seeping into every fiber of my being as I did so, pleading with my aunt to help me. But when she turned around again, I lost every ounce of hope I had, so I croaked out. “Please, you can´t tell them! Dad… he would never allow it… Tris!”

But my aunt only shook her head, one hand on the doorknob. “You made your decision Lexi and I made mine. I´m sorry.”

With that she opened the door and left, leaving me behind to suffer the consequences for my decision. One I had to make all on my own.

Closing my eyes, I let myself fall back against the chair, my hands gripping the rail until my knuckles turned white.

He wouldn’t allow it… He just wouldn’t…

I came back to reality and threw my eyes open, the relief that my worst nightmare had been just a sim flooding my body as I leaned back into the chair. Letting out a deep breath, I turned my head, surprised that Dante wasn’t by my side like he usually was every time I came out of a sim. Something about encouraging or shit like that.

When I searched for him, I found him still standing in front of the machine, motionless except for the tenseness of his back, he didn’t even look like he was breathing.

“Dante?” My voice was quiet and as he didn’t reply, I got up, moving over where he was standing. When his face came into view, I saw that it was frozen in a state of shock, his gaze glued to the screen where a still of my sim was and I, too, froze. He had zoomed in on the piece of paper Tris had left on the bed, the result of the test being there in black on white.

Letting out a shaky breath, I took a step backward as I felt everything crashing in over my head, diverting Dante´s focus on me as I made a whistling sound while trying to breathe. Meeting his eyes and seeing the confusion in there, I knew he had just discovered my best-kept secret and he had questions. I just hoped he wouldn’t abandon me after finding out. I don’t think I would survive that.

I already knew what he was asking before he even opened his mouth.

“You were pregnant?!”

Not being able to stand being locked at like that, I diverted my gaze to the floor before nodding jerky, his sharp intake of breath cutting through me like a knife. I closed my eyes, a single tear running down my cheek and I did nothing to brush it away.

“What happened to the child?”

“Dante…” But he ignored my pleading tone, running his hand through his hair, he seemed lost in thought almost as if…

“Oh my god! Sammy…” Dante snapped his head back to me, his eyes searching for the truth in my face and when he spoke his next sentence I wished to be as far away as possible because it wasn´t even a question.

“She´s your daughter.”

I would love to know how many of you did see that coming.. How they were able to make it look like Sam was Tris´ daughter will be in the next chapter.

And also sorry to all those British people I insulted with the tea remark… :D

Thank you for reading & reviewing! :)

#eric coulter #divergent #eric divergent #paying the price #dauntless #lexi coulter #dante #amar #erudite

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rhiannon-a-christy · 8 years ago

Text

Like Velvet and Leather

Molly hiked the strap of her bag up higher on her shoulder. The contemptible thing had been nothing but annoying since she left the hospital. She should have just taken a taxi, but then again she hadn’t known her favorite café would be closed. Koffee With A K had been her place of choice since she had been in uni. It had been one of those kitschy shops that tried too hard to be ironic. They hosted poetry readings filled with the worst writers in England. Offered coffee with names like Winter Lodge White Chocolate Mocha Snowstorm. And played the latest in new age music. It was overdone and over the top, and she loved it. Unfortunately when she had gone to get her customary cup of Alpine Ginger Mountain, she had found the doors locked. She was presented with a problem. She was, in no small way, addicted to caffeine. She had just pulled a double shift at the hospital, and needed a cup of coffee about as much as she needed air. She had stood in front of the shop for several minutes trying to figure out what she would do. There were of course several popular franchises stuck on every corner, but the last time she visited one she cringed at the price and taste. She was close to despair when she remembered seeing a little café tucked away some blocks down. She had taken off without delay, ending up at the heavy old door panting and wishing that she actually drove. Regulating her breath, she looked up before her. The door was painted black with a simple sign of gold numbers. It looked for all the world like someone’s home, but the sandwich board on the sidewalk said otherwise. Slowly she entered the shop. 221 was the sort of place that movie hipsters spent their day. Inside was dark, the walls covered in Victorian patterned paper. Shadowboxes hung throughout the place, displaying various insects as well as old medical instruments. Bookshelves towered over the patrons, filled to the brim with worn, heavy volumes. What couldn’t fit on the overfilled shelves were stacked up in precarious piles, some on tables and others on the floor. Soft jazz played throughout the café, but was only loud enough to hear without straining. Molly quickly made her way to one of the corners, settling herself down into the black leather chair. She blinked when she noticed the pictures on the wall beside her. Diagrams of old medical practices were placed besides framed sketches of Victorian medical tools. Scattered about these were several Victorian post-mortem photos. The one closest to her of a husband with his dear wife. The café was far from the sort of place she normally went. The entire theme seemed to be Victorian Macabre, and she loved it. She was sure if any of her friends were with her they would be bolting for the doors. None of them had ever understood her interest in death and the seemingly morbid. And this place fit the bill perfectly. She was just pulling off her scarf when a cup of coffee was set down on the table before her. “Oh, um I haven’t ordered yet.” Molly looked up from the fine boned hands placing the cup and into the eyes of the man beside her. He was tall, thin, and had a head full of curly hair. She swallowed hard, the man was the definition of male beauty. “You don’t order here.” The man gave a swift nod of his head. Molly just blinked at him. She was about to reply when she finally noticed that nowhere in the café was there a board or menu. She looked down at the steaming coffee and back at the man. “I assure you, you will enjoy it. Take a drink.” The man’s lips curved into a slow, sinful smile. She picked up the cup, brought it to her lips, and slowly took a drink. The liquid was hot, dark, and filled with spices. There was a thickness to it, but she was sure the coffee contained no cream. Instead it had been brewed until velvety smooth. She could make out hints of cinnamon and cloves, but many of the others alluded her. There was a heat that curled over her tongue, leaving it tingling as she swallowed. She closed her eyes and let out a low moan. “What is this?” Another drink slipped into her mouth, trickling slowly past her tongue. “It’s our Belstaff brew.” The man sat himself down into the other chair. “And I take it you like it?” “It’s like sex.” Molly’s eyes flew open when she realized what she said. She had not meant to say that, not at all. Of course it was true. It was like the best sex she had ever had. Each sip was like velvet, leather, and silk. Like being tangled and tied. It was exhilarating and titillating. Her cheeks began to grow red as she imagined such things with the man in front of her. “Ahem, I mean, it is really good. Thank you.” “Next time you’ll try the Belgravia brew. I believe you may find it… just as exciting.” The man’s eyes shot straight towards her lips, his tongue peeking out to sweep across his own. Molly felt a knot clench tightly low in her belly and she thought quickly on something to dispel the tension currently growing between them. “Not that the company isn’t nice, but won’t you get in trouble for sitting down on the job?” “That is the great thing about being the owner, I rarely scold myself.” Molly swallowed another drink of the coffee, keeping her eyes on anything but the man. All she had wanted was a cup of coffee before going home, she had not planned on sexy flirting men. It probably wouldn’t bother her so much, but she wasn’t exactly dressed for this. Her old khakis, pink blouse, and cherry cardigan were not what one would call seductive. Plus, she was sure the smell of death still lingered around her. “I’m uh, I’m Molly by the way. Molly Hooper.” She gave a nod towards him, refusing to lend her hand for a shake. If he touched her when she felt as she did she was sure she would blow. “Sherlock Holmes.” The man, Sherlock leaned forward in his chair. “It is nice to meet you, Molly Hooper.” Molly just kept herself from choking when he spoke her name. If she thought the coffee was like velvet, well his voice surpassed that by a thousand. The door to the café opened, admitting a smiling middle-aged couple. Sherlock stood, gave a quick nod to the new customers and turned back to Molly. “I’ll have a slice of devil’s food prepared for you tomorrow.” Sherlock, wicked smile still in place, headed towards the counter. “Why are you so sure I will be back?” Molly set her cup down, turning to look directly at the suit clad man. He looked down at her, hair falling over one half of his face. “Because you want to know.” “Know what?” She squirmed in her seat. “How I did it. Now, drink up, Molly Hooper.” He winked at her, turned, and without another word headed back to the counter. Damn. Molly ran her fingers over the handle of her cup. She was in so much trouble. She looked back to the man. Though, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. ------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note: Prompt from @all-oftimenspace who asked for Coffeeshop AU. Hope ya like it Sugar, it kind of went a bit more sensual than I had planned. Also, Koffee With a K, is actually this fake coffeshop I created for my business class. I had to come up with a commercial and promotion campaign for it. (thankfully only written out) I also had to create an entire budget for opening it. The full name of the shop is actually: Koffee with a K, the Pretentious Coffee. It was a joke between my Da and me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

#sherlolly #mollock #sherlock x molly #prompt fill #coffeeshop au #oneshot #all-oftimenspace

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atomic-r0x · 8 years ago

Text

Florencia attends Maite’s birthday party

The headboard was hitting the wall like a metronome, keeping count of the things happening between its silk sheets, while the rest of the mansion was in complete, unperturbed silence, an innocent witness to the dirty things behind the bedroom’s closed doors. Good thing Oscar was out for his weekly golf round with his business partners, and the maids were all coming in little before noon, because there really was no way you could muffle the sounds Florencia and Julio were making, regardless of the closed doors and shut windows.

She was gripping at the edge of the bed for dear life, her back arched like a feline, body shivering with sensation. Did Florencia ever feel bad about using Julio as his boy toy? Never. Besides, poor soul was so innocent he could have sworn they were having a cliché, Romeo and Juliet sort of affair, because she couldn’t elope without staining her reputation. Her fame was his fame, that’s what he kept repeating, as a sign of reassurance their romance would never surface, though they were almost never seen together in the same place.

She was convinced any other with a husband like Oscar would have done the same, find herself a man ready to adore and fuck the sense out of her, to compensate for the sickening dullness of a marriage she never desired. He might have been a good man to her, treating her like the queen she was, making her lavish in expensive gifts and plane tickets, but this was far from love, and every once in a while, she even wondered why they were still playing pretend. Despite Oscar’s deep, honest feelings, she could have divorced him anytime, filing up some scandalous papers that would affect little but his image as the trophy husband.

They came loudly, like they always did. Fumbling between the sheets with Julio often felt like war, but then again, it was part of the agreement, Florencia’s conditions for the affair – she had enough tender, supposedly romantic intercourse with her husband, she didn’t need any of that outside her marriage too. Like he always did, Julio finished by placing hot kisses on her chest and stomach, before rolling over to the side, his chest rapidly raising up and down. Flo didn’t wait a second longer before rolling out of bed to pull on the thin silk garment she wore in bed and head straight to the shower.

“What are you doing?” she startled at the sight of Julio stepping inside the spacious bathroom with that doltish look on his face she thought so characteristic of him.

“I just… Thought I’d keep you company” he replied, almost unsure whether he should dare to in the first place. “While you’re showering, I mean.”

Florencia turned her back at him and carried on washing herself the white foam covering her body like a shield. “Well I really don’t have that much time left, and the maids are coming soon, so you’d better be going” she spoke without hesitation, like he’d asked to be filled in on her schedule that day. She turned to look over her shoulder in his direction only when he straightened his back and headed back to the door, lingering in front of it a bit. “I’ll call you tonight, Oscar’s leaving tomorrow for a few days…” Her words had an unbelievable effect on Julio, his face brightening up like a child’s. She was fueling him with hope and Florencia knew that all too well – this was, after all, her first weapon of choice.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting” he replied cheerfully, before placing his hand on the door knob. “Have fun tonight, you’re going to be the most beautiful of all women there” he added before leaving, and Florencia couldn’t help but smile at herself in satisfaction. ‘I know’ she thought, her petty heart fluttering at the mere thought of Maite seeing her dress.

. . .

Even Florencia’s driver couldn’t believe that he was actually taking them to Maite’s birthday party, but her husband had asked him not to comment on the matter, so they drove in complete silence, with the radio turned off, the sound of traffic being the only thing filling the air. Between checking emails, Oscar kept stealing glances at Florencia, whose jaw was clenched as she looked out the window, mouth shut and hands in her lap, a position so tense he wondered if they were going to survive the night in El Sol.

“Flo…” he began, but just as the last vowel escaped his lips, she pierced him with her ice-cold eyes, as if threatening him not to say anything, if he didn’t want to be a dead man walking. “Just, go easy on her, okay? It’s not her fault.”

Florencia let out a loud groan and further clenched her jaw, so tight her teeth might have broken. She took a deep breath and was about to give a comeback when the driver stopped the car. “We’re here” he spoke shyly, afraid he might have been caught in the middle of one of their fights again. Poor him, the things he’d heard in that car between Florencia and Oscar could badly stain their power-couple reputation, but he knew better than to spill the beans.

Oscar nodded and thanked him, then got out of the car to open Florencia’s door, helping her step out of the car. After checking herself out in the reflection of the immaculate black car, Florencia turned to face her husband, sighing only barely before she placed her hand in the hook of his arm, proceeding to head towards the club’s entrance.

There weren’t many people there yet, but then again, they were only thirty minutes left, so she couldn’t really rejoice at the idea of people boycotting Maite’s birthday. She did a quick scan of the people who had arrived, and was unimpressed by the majority of them, apart from a very special couple she’d had her eyes on for quite a bit: Marco and Lisa.

“Florencia, Oscar!” Maite’s fake I’m-playing-the-good-girl-now voice rang over the music, and Flo was brought back to reality. She hugged her step-sister only because the photographer had suddenly popped up, quick to shoot a candid with the two Alvarez daughters, a half-hearted hug that could have won a record for the world’s quickest embrace, but it seemed to have been good enough for the guy with the camera, since he left immediately after the blitz lit the entry hall for a second. Too bad he left exactly when Florencia wanted him so badly to be there, to capture the look on her step-sister’s face when she saw her outfit, how obviously underdressed she was compared to Flo. “I’m so glad you’ve made it” Maite finally added, her hand in Oscar’s as he bowed a little to kiss it, his chivalry something that had won Francisco Alvarez’s heart from day one.

“Of course, we couldn’t miss this” Oscar spoke and took the other handle of the giftbag in his hand, so that both Florencia and himself would have the huge ‘honor’ of handing her the present. A collective ‘happy birthday followed’, and then they separated, as if relieved they’d done their part and could now carry on with whatever it was the preferred doing. “Don’t you think, maybe this one time, you’ve sort of overdone it with the outfit?” Oscar asked hesitantly, almost afraid of what this reaction might cause in his wife, but Florencia didn’t bother replying, settling for another death stare before heading off to the bar, on her own.

“Well, well, well, are you ever anything else than a prom queen?” she hear a familiar voice coming from behind her, and Flo could have sworn her heart stopped once she turned around to see who it was.

“Marco, you’ve known me for quite a bit, you shouldn’t be expecting anything else” she replied with the most satisfied of smiles, placing her hand on the crook of her waist as if posing, before letting out a small smile.

“Let me order your drink, what do you say?” he spoke, his characteristic left corner of his mouth smile steady on his perfectly neat five o’clock shadow. Leaning over the bar counter on his right elbow, her ordered in the easiest, calmest way possible a classic Martini for her, and a glass of whiskey on the rocks for himself, before turning his eyes back to her. They stood like that for a while, and if time stopped right then and there, Florencia would have never regretted being frozen in this position, endlessly staring into the beautiful orbs of a man she had loved so dearly as a teenager.

“It’s good to see you back” she finally spoke, a soft smile settled on her lips as she continued looking at him, though he was now preoccupied by taking the two glasses from the counter and handing her the Martini.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty good to be back. America tends to get boring at times, but San Cristobal? Never” he joked, of course letting out that majestic laugh of his, that glorious string of sounds that complimented his hoarse voice more than anything else. “You have met Lisa, haven’t you?” Marco asked after they clicked their drinks and took a sip, nodding his head in his wife’s direction.

It took real strength for Florencia to keep a casual, bright face at the sound of that… woman. Lisa was one of the worst news she’d ever received in her life, after finding out that she was pregnant and hearing about Marco being forced by his parents to leave for America. She gulped really hard, all the while displaying a characteristic smiled, the type Lupe could have called bullshit from miles away. “Yeah, I actually did meet Lisa at my birthday party!” she spoke matter-of-factly, nursing the tall stem in her hand.

And then, Florencia thought she might just die. They were about to head in Lisa’s direction when a much younger voice called from behind. “Oh my God, that is the most beautiful dress in the entire world!” It was Alejandra. Out of all people on the whole invitations list, she out of any other citizen in San Cristobal had to compliment Florencia’s dress exactly when she was talking to Marco, the man of her dreams and the father of her daughter. Alejandra had just walked in on one of the few moments of privacy Marco and Florencia, her unbeknownst parents, had managed to squeeze in ever since his return in Spain. Karma, what a bitch.

“Oh, you’re so sweet. I’m glad you like it” Florencia finally turned around to reply, doing a little twirl to show the dress’s movement, to her delight Marco clapping his hands at the small show she was putting up. “You’re not looking bad yourself either” she spoke, although really, it was hard to imagine Alejandra had not inherited even the tiniest bit of wardrobe extravaganza from her mother, being dressed up in a nice but tame outfit, something that she probably thought wouldn’t outshine the birthday girl. Such a polite kid, ugh.

“I… I don’t think we’ve met before?” Marco spoke, his smiling confused face making Florencia’s knees melt, but at the same time wonder when, in her thirty-one years, had she ever signed up for this masquerade. For fuck sake, he was Alejandra’s father. Of course, they hadn’t met before, but this was just too ridiculous to bear. “I am Marco Delgado” he then added, extending his hand to shake hers. “So, how did you two meet?” He asked after Alejandra introduced herself, and Florencia wanted to puke or to burst into hysteric laughter.

“I’m actually an intern at Mrs. Alvarez’s design studio” Alejandra spoke with pride, flashing a big smile at Marco, but especially at Florencia.

“Oh, I’ve told you to call me Flo” she spoke with an amused smile on her face, although she really hadn’t told that, she was Florencia, or Mrs. Florencia to the newer staff members, but never in her life had she allowed Alejandra to call her Flo, which only made her cringe now internally, thinking of all the wrong situations where her daughter might be calling her that.

Maybe someone out there really did love and care for her, because just as Marco showed interest in the internship, asking further questions about the job and such, Florencia caught sight of Lupe. This was her salvation, and god only knows she was in urgent need of it. She excused herself and left with a small pat on Marco’s shoulder, involuntarily making him watch her go for a few more moments before turning back to the conversation, and made her way straight to her best friend. The grateful grin on her face slowly faded once she got up close to Lupe, seeing her actual outfit. “I thought we agreed on outshining Maite, why the hell are you wearing… this?” she asked, analyzing her best friend for head to toe before crossing her arms, sighing a little in disagreement.

“Babe, you are literally wearing a dress that could as well as be a wedding gown. I think you’re doing a good enough job for the both of us.” Lupe replied, and Florencia just couldn’t help but smile at her words – this woman knew her all too well, had a vocabulary specifically designed for Flo. It was a matter of seconds before her attention moved from the disappointing yet undeniably pretty dress to the bag Lupe was holding, shamelessly shoving her fingers inside it to see what was inside.

“What’s that?” she asked, a curiosity mixed with extreme pettiness flooding her all of a sudden.

“It’s my gift for Maite” the woman before her replied, but to the insistencies of her best friend’s unsatisfied frown, she carried on. “I didn’t have time to buy her one so I just took some of the products from our up-coming collection.”

“The ones that haven't been tested yet!?” Florencia’s eyes began to shine pettily before adding enthusiastically, “Will it leave a big rash on her face and destroy it completely so she will be forced to live a life in seclusion away from the public eye and not bother me or my family ever again!?”

“Sadly… no.” Lupe replied, causing the large smile on Florencia’s face to suddenly disappear and be replaced by a childlike pout. “But, it might leave her an allergic reaction.”

“Well, I guess that’s fine too” Flo simply shrugged, and was about to take her best friend towards the bar when Ana Vega approached them, though she seemed to be literally ignoring Lupe, and focus on Florencia instead.

“What is your problem? Like… What’s your problem?” she tried to speak fluently but boy, was she tipsy from her drink, the way her mouth and hands moved spoiling her alcohol resistance. Too perplexed to speak, she just frowned at Ana in disgust and shock until she walked away, as if filled up with her shit, and Florence would have died to pull her by the hair and make her understand – once and for all, that she was the head bitch in charge, and that she was going to be the one laughing when Maite fucks everyone up with her demented vengeful game.

“Oh. My. God” was the only thing Lupe could say, both still stunned by the disrespectful approach. “Well, that was something” she shrugged, chuckling lightly as if announcing that she was going to change the subject, or do something to life Florencia’s mood, but to be honest, it was far too late for that.

“I need to make a phone call” she spoke and stormed outside, not without passing by the cloakroom to get her coat, leaving the party without even bothering to give Oscar a head’s up, simply texting him ‘I am out of here’ as soon as she got inside the car and told the driver where she was going.

“Hello?” Antonia finally picked up the phone, and Florencia could hear the reality show she was watching at one of the full HD televisions in the house.

“Mom, you’re not going to believe what just happened. I’m on my way, get a bottle of whiskey and some ice, the most impossible thing happened to me just now and I might kill someone” Florencia spoke, her voice angry and seriously raging, her pride itching her skin in the need for revenge.

“Is it that little bitch Maite and her clan?” Antonia replied, muting the television, her attention suddenly caught by her daughter’s words.

“Yes, and it’s insane, mom. I don’t know how these people can even stand themselves, it’s ridiculous” Flo replied, her other hand forming a tight fist that she gently hit the car seat beside her with.

“Poor thing. Okay, I got you, let me go get the ice” Antonia spoke and hung up, leaving Florencia to spend the rest of her car ride biting at her lips furiously, keeping herself really hard from not crying in anger and frustration. Oh, Ana, what a fool you were to ally with Maite. Just wait and see.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years ago

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IT'S HARD TO CONVINCE INVESTORS THE FIRST TIME IT RAISED MONEY

The DoD likes it. How do you find surprises? How do you learn it? The real problem is the way they're paid. So here we had two levels of interpretation, one of our greatest inventions. Their culture is the opposite of clumsy. I preserve of that age than I could see at the time. So I bet it would help them forget their problems. Semantically, strings are more or less a subset of hash tables where the keys are vectors of integers.

I'm just tired. I have finally solved the problem. Why don't smart kids make themselves popular? But I realize now that they're not intrinsically jerks. The professors who taught history could be required to write scholarly articles about history, but what about the professors who taught history could be required to do original math, the professors who taught history could be required to do original math, the professors who taught history could be required to write scholarly articles about history, but what they got was fixed according to their rank. We tend to write the libretto and another to write the software controlling those flying cars?1 Three year olds aren't smart. Revenues of $3000 a month consulting; in fact, it wasn't just out of politeness that I asked what they saw.

The reason I want to know what they are so that I, at least at first, you can avoid being discontented about being discontented. Blasphemy, sacrilege, and heresy were such labels for a good part of western history, as in more recent times indecent, improper, and unamerican have been. And yet some applications will still demand speed.2 A lot of investors are entering this territory, there is still room for more. Not likely. General Motors. One helpful trick here is to use the length of the program as an approximation for how much work it is to get.3 And if they balk at this surreal cocktail, they're called misfits. And yet Miller's metaphor stuck so well that to this day the activities of the committee are often described as a witch-hunt. The desire for speed is so deeply engrained in us, with our puny computers, that it will be more and more true as computers get faster. This is now starting to happen, and I predict it will become increasingly clear that the way to get an accurate drawing is not to say?

They know, in the sense of investors who take the lead in the old sense of managing the round. The most obvious difference between real essays and the things one has to write in school is to be able to do is address the symptoms of fragmentation. Newspapers and magazines are just as screwed, but they weren't crazy. But I have no trouble with the small trips outside the box that people call innovative. In fact, our ideas about what's possible tend to be so cruel to one another. How do you find surprises? You'd think it would be a better place if people only wrote books because they had something to say about programming languages. I'm right. The problem with these old traditions is that they're to the advantage of investors. They wanted yellow. It would work on a project, divide it into components and give each to one person and pleasant to another, but know that they keep hearing about Java in the press; programmers at big companies, who are amazed to find that Americans like to begin a conversation by asking what do you wish someone would make for you? An undergrad who gets something published feels like a body cavity search.

Ok, it may be more likely to succeed than not. And of course you can't safely reject an offer from B when it's still uncertain what A will decide. Like steroids, these sudden huge investments can do more harm than good. These two senses of knowing what to do in the mid 20th century gave their employees was job security, and this helped to make the region a center of scholarship and industry which have been closely tied for longer than most people realize. How could things be any other way. I preserve of that age than I could see at the time, instead of dying. There is usually so much demand for custom work will always be pushing you toward the bottom. I can think of one more way to figure out for yourself what's good.4 Fundamentally an essay is a train of thought—but social and economic cohesion. Using that heuristic, I'll predict a couple more things. Like many nerds, probably, it was interesting how important color was to the horizontal axis, Henry Ford was to the customers.

Making money right away was not only unnecessary for them, but probably would have been regarded as a harmless eccentric. If you work this way, and I suspect the best we'll do is some kind of innate quality, like being tall.5 Now survival is the default, instead of paying attention to things you're not supposed to, either because they're inappropriate, or not important, or not important, or not what you're trying to save your company from death here, so make customers pay a lot for? On the other hand, the money is there, waiting to be invested. But when they did, the founders didn't seem like us. Just to be clear about this, I'm not proposing that all numerical calculations would actually be carried out using lists. If you're curious about something, trust your instincts.6 Not everyone who gets rich now does it by creating wealth, you're always going to be necessary to some class of users other than you. Everyone in the school knew exactly how popular everyone else was, including us. This has always been a fussy place, a town of i dotters and t crossers, where you're liable to get both your grammar and your ideas corrected in the process is option pools. It happened to one industry after another.

The same is true in the arts, but I had till then managed to avoid facing it. And if they balk at this surreal cocktail, they're called misfits. But it's harder, because now you're working against social customs instead of with them. Like the managers of mutual funds or hedge funds, VCs get paid a percentage of the money. But remember that ramen profitability is that it doesn't matter at all where a startup is what makes it hard. If, like other eras, we believe things that will later seem ridiculous, I want to find surprises you should do the opposite. But I realize now that they're not intrinsically jerks. They can't reply in kind to jokes. Tranched deals are an abuse.

Notes

Moving large amounts of other people in the next stage tend to damp this effect, at least one beneficial feature: it has to be on the person who has them manages to find may be some part you can control. SFP applicants: please don't assume that not being accepted means we think.

I've said into something that was killed partly by its overdone launch. Joe thinks one of his professors did in salary.

Investors are one step upstream from economic power, so much better to read a draft of this policy may be a predictor of high school as a rule, if we just implemented it ourselves, so the best intentions. There can be explained by math. In effect they were connected to the World Bank, Doing Business in 2006, http://paulgraham. This just seems to be good employees either.

But politicians know the inventor of something or the power that individual customers have over established companies can't compete on price, they may then, depending on their companies took off? Is what we do. Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson.

But on the Internet, like the Segway and Google Wave.

Do not finance your startup with a clear upward trend. Because we want to get something for free. If you're a big VC firm or they see you at a time machine, how could I get attacked a lot of successful startups have exits at all. His theory was that it also worked for a sufficiently long time.

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datingadviceonreddit · 6 years ago

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First dates can be awkward, tough, and complicated... but they really don’t have to be. In my experience, here are some ways to make your first date as awesome as possible. Choosing a great location, a perfect time of day, and interesting questions to ask will allow you to turn that awkward small talk into real, fun conversation.The end goal of the date should not be to achieve a second date. Your only goal should be to create a positive outcome and enjoy yourself. Positive outcome is for both parties to ultimately feel as though the date was worthwhile, whether that leads to a second date or not. (Even if you don’t click, a positive outcome could result in her saying, “Hey, I have a friend who you would be perfect with!” and achieving a second date that way. You never know.)That being said, a few tips/ideas! Hopefully some of these are new and you haven’t heard them all before – this subreddit helped me when I was beginning to date, so I figured I could return the favor after gaining some experience :)PICK YOUR LOCATIONCoffee Shops are clutch for first dates. Try to avoid Starbucks, as they tend to be noisy and seating is very exposed. Instead, opt for a local café with a more intimate, cozy atmosphere. Coffee dates can be as brief or as long as you want, and they’re not a big investment.Bowling adds a fun activity to the mix and isn’t a huge investment either. Most everyone has been bowling a few times in their life, and few people dislike it. Light competition makes for good flirting and laughs.Mini golf is similar to bowling, see above.Arcades are similar in the realm of activity/competition, but with a slightly geeky touch.Ice cream dates, like coffee dates, are best as a late evening activity and can be as short/long as you would like.Drinks at the bar as a late evening activity if you’re old enough and more interested in a spicy/flirty atmosphere. Just remember, this can get expensive quickly and it may be better to reserve alcohol for a later date.All of these things can be done inside if the weather is sour. If the date is going well, you could always combine two options, i.e. grabbing ice cream after bowling. If the weather is nice, combine one of the above options with a walk or something else outdoors! Low-key touching (like hand holding) is absolutely acceptable.PICK YOUR TIMETry to avoid scheduling a first date around a big meal like dinner/lunch. Meals are expensive and you’re taking a bigger gamble with that if you don’t end up with a positive outcome. Morning/early afternoon dates always appear more casual and less sexual than late evening dates, so that’s something to consider, depending on what you want.WHAT TO WEARYour three goals should be to...wear something flatteringappear weather/season appropriatefeel comfy and confident for the date activityOn that note, avoid wearing orange or brown, as those are not flattering colors on most people. Black, red, and blue are solid colors. Business casual is fine, a tailored T-shirt/blouse and jeans could be fine too, it just depends on the activity. Make sure you smell nice and have good hygiene.INITIATE CONVERSATIONWhen you first see your date (whether you’re picking them up, they’re picking you up, or you’re meeting at a location) put on a smile and offer a greeting. “Hey (their name), I’m (your name), nice to meet you!” or “Hey (their name), great to see you again!” depending on circumstances. A brief hug would be appropriate here. Handshake would be somewhat appropriate, but a little professional for the scene. Read their movements/expressions and choose your action based on that.MAKE CONVERSATIONAs you proceed throughout your date, stay far away from certain topics, like...Family dramaPolitical dramaYour sexual preferences/historyYour ex or lack of exesHow much money you have/makeUnless these topics are extremely important to you and your date can only proceed if you are on the exact same page, also try to avoid topics like...Your political affiliationYour religious affiliationYour health, including disabilities, physical illnesses, mental illnesses, etcYour needs for future (like kids or marriage)Keep conversation positive. No self deprecation if you can help it. It’s fine to throw in a joke about how you can’t cook to save your life, or you have a massive fear of heights, but only if they’re humorous and you can provide a funny, confident story about it too.Afterward, your date should have a pretty good idea of:Your hobbies/passions/interests, what you do for funYour job, what you do for work (without directly discussing money) and possibly what your most simple career goal for the future isYour education path, if you’re still in schoolWhere you’re fromYou should also have a pretty good idea of your date in these respects. When asking questions, try to avoid flat questions like “What are your hobbies? What is your job?” Instead, pose questions in a different way, like “So if you weren’t on this date right now, what would you be doing instead?” or “I read on your profile that you love traveling! That’s awesome, where have you been?” or “You said you like skating, that’s really cool. How did you get started with that?”If your date asks you a flat question, you can still respond in a way that creates deeper conversation. For example sake, let’s say your date opens up with “How are you?”Instead of “Great, how are you?” let’s reply with something interesting. “I’m great, thanks for asking! I just started a new Netflix series and it has me hooked, so life is good right now. How are you?” (That would allow him/her to pose more questions, like inquiring on the Netflix series or whatever)As you dive deeper into conversation, you might be inclined to tell a scary/funny/crazy story. Go for it, as long as the story has a happy ending! For example, you can tell the story about how you got bitten by a shark and your friends hauled you out/saved you, but if one of your friends drowned in the process, that’s not first date material, that’s nightmare material. “First time” stories (first time doing a hobby like skiing/surfing, for example) can also be funny as long as they aren’t sexual in nature.If conversation gets dry, comment on the atmosphere. “Wow, the bowling alley is pretty busy today. Have you ever been here before?” or “Dairy Queen ice cream never gets old. Do you have a favorite flavor?”GIVE COMPLIMENTSFlatter your partner, but be cautious. Don’t compliment physical features aside from a “You look great/beautiful!” Eyes/hair are okay to compliment but still, be cautious. Instead, try to compliment them on stuff they talk about.Let’s say your date just brought up her hobby of writing books. “Wow, I really admire that! That must take a lot of dedication and talent.” Or, painting. “That’s so awesome! Do you have any pictures of your work that you could show me?” Or he offhandedly mentioned the recent death of a loved one. “I’m sorry, that must have been hard. You seem like a very strong person.”AVOID, at all costs, sexual compliments. She doesn’t need to hear about her boobs and he doesn’t need to have someone doting on his muscles. Discussing his weight lifting hobby and doting on his muscles are very different things.WHO PAYS?Regardless of societal gender customs, you should always walk into a date expecting to either pay for both parties or split the bill. If you’re the one initiating the date, lean toward paying for both; if your date made the first move or if it was mutual (such as on a dating website), lean toward splitting. To be polite, always offer to pay your share, even if the other party has chosen to pay for you. If the date has gone well, you may offer to pay for your date, especially if you initiated the date to begin with.HOW TO REJECT A SECOND DATESo, the date is over. Conversation was good and you’re now at home, but you didn’t feel the spark. Several hours or a day after you leave, you receive a text thanking you for the great time, but you aren’t interested in a second date. How do you reject in a nice way?“Thank you for tonight! I’m not interested in a second date right now but I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”“You seem like a great guy, but we’re just not quite right for each other! Have a good weekend.”If your date gets pushy and insistent, a “no” will suffice. You don’t need to JADE (justify, argue, defend, explain) after showing kindness once.HOW TO SUGGEST A SECOND DATESo, the date went well! After the successful time, give your date and yourself some time to process it. Waiting until the day afterward is perfect, although it’s also polite to give a little “Text me when you’re home safe!” if the date ends late at night.After time has passed, shoot them an upfront message.“Hey, I really enjoyed last night and I would love to have a second date. Are you free to (do X activity) on (X date) at (X time)?”I know that sounds pretty specific, but that’s the best way to gauge interest. If they respond with a yes, then you’ve got this! If they respond with another date/time, awesome!If they simply reply that they’re busy, then either they would prefer another day/time and haven’t articulated it properly, or they just aren’t interested. Assume the latter. When your date is busy, leave the ball in their court.“No problem. If your schedule clears up and you’re interested in seeing each other again, just let me know. :)”Bam. Done. Not complicated and you handled possible rejection like a confident pro. In this way, you don’t shut down future opportunities but appear understanding and non pushy.I hope these tips are helpful and not overdone! I know some of these seem obvious, but I’ve noticed a lot of friends struggle in these categories. Let me know if you have any suggestions or feedback :) via /r/dating_advice

#dating #dating advice #reddit

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