#i would go into the finer details of discussion about the chapters but i want it to be spoiler free

[getosugar]

okay i got curious and checked out kagurabachi cuz of the memes and honestly??? the chapters (two of them so far) are actually pretty solid-- intriguing worldbuilding, a neat art style, the few characters introduced are pretty likable and has the basics of a good revenge story down to a T. im still not sure why it got the morbius treatment but from what i've seen so far, i'm definitely gonna be keeping up with the manga from now on

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 82)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (65) / Alexia Putellas x Character (38) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (19)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((4k))

Due to popular demand, I'm going to post a chapter bi-weekly, every Thursday and Sunday night until we hit Part 100!

JORDAN POV

“Ridley is back?!”

YFN nodded with her happy smile as she ate.

“Oh, come on chick, you have to give us more than that!”

Lucy staring like a lovesick puppy at YFN laughing did so did not go unnoticed by her. Or Leah it seemed, as she felt her leg gently moving under the table to touch her own.

“She came back yesterday. She was in the hospital yesterday evening with me getting my surgery to check in on me… and because she was getting work done too..”

Leah scoffed.

“Oh of course she did. Let me guess – she lifted a bus off of a group of school kids?”

“I know better than to ask by now,” she shrugged.

“Is she back for you or…?” Leah asked hesitantly. “Because Alexia left, didn’t she?”

YFN nodded. “Ale left yesterday afternoon but Ridley caught her on the plane. She’s with her right now, actually. Taking her away for some time together…”

“I’m surprised Alexia went, to be fair.”

“Riddles has a reason for everything she does. I’m sure Ale wouldn’t have accepted her back easily so I guarantee Riddles has been opening up to her at last.”

“She wasn’t gone for long,” Lucy noted aloud. “Thank god. I thought we’d never see her again.” She looked like she knew about the messages from Ridley – but they hadn’t quite been able to discuss the finer details of what was actually happening.

“Me too…” YFN replied with a shared expression. It made Jordan wonder how bad the leaving had been.

“Are they coming to the party on Friday?”

Lucy shot Jordan a look and her stomach dropped at the slip-up.

“The party?” YFN asked.

“The friends and family thing after the game,” Leah said, jumping in the save the day - sounding nonchalant about it all. “It’s a whole Lioness thing – it took a while to convince my folks to be fair..”

Jordan reached out under the table to give Leah’s thigh a thankful squeeze, though when she went to take her hand away, it was caught. She took a deep breath.

“Oh… I’m not sure. I don’t think they are?” Luckily – she didn’t seem to realise that the event on her birthday was in fact, for her birthday. Jordan hid a grin at how humble she was, and honestly, she was just so excited to share her birthday with her at the party. She’d not nearly spent enough time with her lately. “Friends and family? Christ, that’s a lot of people, no?”

“We won’t really get another chance until the season is over, little one.” Lucy explained. “Besides – we’ll need it after the game. We’re all so focussed on that at the moment. We need to win, and by as much as possible.”

Lucy seemed to know just how to shift her attention from thinking about the party to worrying out Lucy’s competitiveness. “You will win. And the game after that too, yes?”

She nodded. “We need to win both by a lot, and then we have a chance at the Olympics in Paris next year.”

Jordan realised then that it would most likely be Lucy’s last, and Leah’s if she started playing again soon.

There was no way that Lucy would let them lose, and that was written across her face.

“You’re going to smash it, Luce. You always do. 110%.”

She watched as Lucy softened and leant in so YFN could kiss her cheek.

“Are you sure you want to come?” Lucy murmured to her.

They all knew that she was embarrassed about the wheelchair, but she didn’t hesitate in her answer. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus, it’ll be easier to spot me, no?”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

Jordan loved to see them interact like this. To see them both so happy. She let herself entwine her fingers with Leah’s under the table and watched her shift and hide a smile.

“We’ll take you in,” Leah said and then gestured to the wheelchair. “To be fair – we’ll be more looked after than any celebrity going to watch with that.”

“Oh, so not quite out of the kindness of your heart then?” YFN accused with a chuckle. “Good as a battering ram too, I dare say.”

Lucy groaned. “So help me god, if you use my girl as a battering ram, I will murder you both.”

They all laughed.

“Speaking of murder…” Jordan started.

“I’m worried where this is going…”

“What’s the latest on Kristie?”

“Oh! Yes! I haven’t asked about that either – I’ve been so wrapped up in work and events and…” YFN looked down at her immobile body parts. “…this.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose and pushed her glasses back up. “I’ve been handling it. We’re going fully in. There’s a hearing next week to tie up the loose ends. Given all of the evidence, she can’t possibly contest it.” She kissed YFN’s shoulder. “I was going to talk to you about it after Friday night…”

There was a pause and a glance between them before YFN spoke.

“Thank you, love.” She said, smiling at her, seemably knowing why Lucy did the things that she did. Jordan wondered if she’d ever get to that point again with Leah as she turned to look at her. Her popular scowl wasn’t so much a scowl as Jordan held her hand. In fact, she looked almost at peace. Happier.

She turned – having been caught, and they shared a look that made the idea of going home together nerve-wracking in the best kind of way.

They spoke about the Lumos content released as they ate, all of the footballers present happy with the response so far, and eager to hear YFN’s upcoming plans for future content and/or releases. They finished their dinner and helped to tidy up – insisting when Lucy told them to leave it. She’d had a long day at training, and YFN wasn’t exactly in a position to help either.

Jordan gave her a cuddle with the promise to see them both tomorrow, while Leah collected a sleeping Blu from his spot cuddled next to Narla on the couch.

They drove home in silence with Leah’s hand held between her own in Jordan’s lap.

She watched, leant up against the door frame to the hall, as Leah gently put Blu to sleep in his bed.

They’d explored Birmingham. Driven three hours. Socialised with their friends. It was safe to say – their batteries were quite drained for anything except each other.

The entire day had been comfort and happiness. It felt like their relationship again – only better. Different. More appreciative and noticing. She watched Leah pull Blu’s little blanket up over him and kiss him goodnight like she used to, only this time with more emotion. You never love something more than when you thought you’d lost it.

It was the same for her as it was with Leah. She noticed more now. Like the strands of her blonde fringe falling across him as she leant down to kiss his head, and the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes as she leant back and smiled at him fast asleep.

Jordan stayed there as Leah pushed herself up, albeit wincing with her knee, and made her way over to her.

“Hi, you.” She murmured as she leant against the door frame with her. The height difference had her looking down as she brushed the back of her knuckles over Jordan’s cheek.

From her earlier private conversation with YFN, she found her confidence. “Lea?”

“Mmn?” She hummed, distracted by her skin under her hand.

Jordan took a breath. “I’m ready.”

ALEXIA POV

She wasn’t aware that she still had her phone to her ear until Ridley stepped forwards into her space and gently lowered her hand for her.

“You’re here,” she whispered.

“You invited me.”

At the sound of her voice, Chiquito sprinted outside and straight up her body, settling onto her shoulder and nuzzling at her face. It softened the footballer like nothing else.

Alexia was rarely caught by surprise, and yet Ridley seemed to be able to do that far too often. She managed to take away her attention from those warm, dark eyes with dancing gold flecks, to look her up and down. She was dressed in brown lace-less boots; tan, cuffed cargo parts; a white shirt and cream open button up. Her eyes moved up her neck to her lips which she’d been dreaming about just half an hour prior and then those playful, yet comforting eyes again.

“Your hand,” Alexia murmured, reaching out to rest her fingertips on it. “The cast is different.”

“You’re very observant. I had surgery again, yesterday in London.”

“Again?!” Alexia was surprised. Why would she need surgery again? “You didn’t get into another fight, did you?”

She watched her scar move as her lips twitched. “It was… an amalgamation of things. It’ll be fine.”

Alexia pocketed the phone she didn’t realise she was still holding and took her hand between her own, raising it between the two to inspect as she gently turned it over. “Just the same as before?” She asked as her thumb stroked over her two smaller fingers, taped together.

“More or less.” Alexia found her eyes again, knowing what that meant. It was worse. Before she could question it, Ridley spoke. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

“Yes… yes. Sorry. Come in.” She led the way inside, as Chiquito leapt from Ridley to Alexia as they entered her house.

She ushered the slightly taller woman to one of the high stools at the kitchen island and saw her looking around as if memorising the place.

“If I knew you were coming-”

“It’s perfect,” Ridley cut off. “Very… you.”

Was it? Alexia looked around herself. It wasn’t particularly large, but large enough to house all of her specific needs. A small pool out the back, two spare rooms, and a master ensuite separate from the other rooms for her own privacy. Alexia liked her space.

As Ridley stared around the room and reunited with Chiquito who was now on the stool opposite her, staring like he was in love, she finished cooking their breakfast, adding a little more into the pan for her unexpected guest. Due to the state of her hand, she chopped all of it up into bite size pieces before placing it down in front of her. Alexia had never cooked for Ridley before and found herself suddenly aware of that fact.

“Thank you,” she said in her perfect Spanish and looked down, her head tilting. “Are you under the impression that I’m a small child or a bird?”

She laughed. “I will not be responsible for you damaging your hand any more than it already is.”

Ridley caught her eye and gave her such a genuine smile that it melted her. “Thank you, Lex.”

Alexia merely nodded with a smile in return, though somewhat pleased with herself.

She made her way around the marble island to sit where Chiquito had vacated, leaping up onto the countertop. She was against the idea of animals on counters, though he was different. He wasn’t interested in their food, just to be around them and he sat perched there, his tail curled around his paws as his attention shifted from one to the other as they ate in a comfortable silence.

“Can I ask you something?” Alexia asked as she finished her plate.

“Yes, the food is delicious.” Ridley responded, licking the last bit of taste from her fork while maintaining eye contact.

Alexia rolled her eyes.

“Anything.”

“Where did you go?”

“Ah.” Ridley put her fork down on her plate and pushed it away. “Far enough away that I thought I’d stop thinking about you as much.”

Alexia softened at that, her heart skipping a beat. She loved when Ridley opened up and was honest with her feelings. It gave her the validation she needed. They were in this together.

“Is this the new Ridley now?” She asked, confidently. “Open and honest and her feelings?”

Ridley shared that eye contact with her – their favourite form of communication. She tilted her head slightly, as if choosing her words before she spoke.

“Is that what you’d like?”

“I’d like you to not answer my question with a question.”

The Australian smiled, her lips tilting upwards, moving that scar of hers again. Christ. Why was she so hyperaware of that?

“I believe it’s a good way to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere. So… yes.”

“Good, because it is what I’d like.”

They shared another smile as Ridley’s eyes hooded with whatever she had on her mind. It made Alexia want to shove away her pride and kiss her.

“What changed your mind? You were so against this from the beginning…” She asked before she realised she had. There was no more dancing around the subject for Alexia – she wanted all of the emotions. Anything to get out of this stale rut they had been in. God knows it had been so full of hurt.

Ridley took a deep breath, her movements slow and thought out. “I had a conversation with someone very important to me.”

Blau?

“He made me realise-”

Not Blau.

“-that what is happening between us is very special and rare, and that I owe it to a lot of important people in my life to see it through.”

That just opened up a whole other lot of questions for her. Who was he? Where did she go? Who were these important people in her life, and why had she never spoken about them until now?

She felt like Ridley could see the questions swimming around her eyes and knew from her expression that she was hesitant about sharing them. That didn’t bother her, though. Because the Australian had already come so far, and she was mindful about pushing her, like Blau had always suggested she not do.

So instead of asking – she merely stood up from her stool, took a small step forward and leant down to wrap her arms around her. Ridley’s surprise was obvious in her posture. The muscles of her shoulders and back tense under Alexia’s arms, though, she slowly softened into her.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” she said simply and honestly, letting herself enjoy the warmth, the smell and the feel of her.

Ridley’s arms came around her waist and hugged her back, both enjoying the feel of their hearts beating together, and the sides of their heads finding each other’s.

It was a while before Alexia pulled away, very aware that she was the first to break the hug, and she leant on her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze with a smile.

Ridley flinched and Alexia retracted her hand quickly, unsure if she’d over-stepped.

“No,” Ridley stressed, catching her wrist. “I just…”

Alexia’s eye was caught by the sight of blood seeping through her tanned cargo pants. That explained it.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine. It’s just a little blood.”

“That’s more than just a little bit. Let me see.”

“Alexia, it’s fine. It’s a few stitches, that’s all.”

“How did you…” Alexia frowned as she reached out to touch her thigh near the wound. She looked back up at her as she found a better question. “Where did you go, Lee?”

Ridley sighed, her jaw shifting. She opened her mouth to speak and her phone started buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and her face turned serious.

“I need to take this.”

And then she was up and walking out the sliding glass door of Alexia’s apartment. She watched her out there, talking while she strode back and forth, clearly about something serious. Was it work?

Alexia turned on the TV to give Ridley her privacy while she cleaned the dishes, though she couldn’t stop herself from looking out at her pacing near the pool.

Questions swam through her head until the cocktail party effect kicked in and her attention shot to the noise in her living room. She stared at it as she watched.

It was a murder just outside of Mogadishu.

‘Somalian Pirate King assassinated’ read across the bottom of the screen in bold letters.

Blurred video footage showed hundreds dead. Blood sprayed on walls of a building. A man declaring war into a camera. Politicians hiding their secrets. A rich Arabic looking man holding his son in front of him and taking full responsibility whilst thanking an unnamed group for their heroics.

The glass door wrenched open though she paid it no mind. “Alexia, turn it off.”

“…reporters told that of one the individuals were trapped in enemy territory and escaped just prior to sunrise in an aircr-…”

The TV went black.

Alexia’s eyes flickered back to Ridley who was now staring at her, waiting.

“Where did you go?” She asked again, their eyes piercing each other.

“Dubai...” Relief flooded her body at that. “…Kenya, and Somalia.”

Her eyes flicked to the TV and back to her. “That was you?”

“It’s a complicated story. Do you have a first aid kit?”

Alexia found her kit and brought it over to her. “I didn’t ask for the story. I asked if that was you.”

Ridley sighed and sat down, grudgingly. She pulled her pants down far enough to reveal the wound on her thigh. It was worse than Alexia could have imagined.

She pulled the bandage off to reveal a nasty looking stitched wound, surrounded by a bruise that took up most of her thigh. She couldn’t help but notice just how mechanically and efficiently Ridley cleaned up the blood and replaced the bandage. Like she’d done it a thousand times.

What wasn’t she saying? Her mind immediately went to the extreme. “Are… you’re a contract… killer?”

Ridley scoffed as she pulled her pants back up. “No, Lex. I have mentioned my training to you. This shouldn't be a surprise.”

“Military?”

She gave no response, which was enough of a yes to her.

“That-,” she pointed to the black TV screen. “-was the Australian military?”

She pursed her lips, and Alexia knew that it wasn’t because she didn’t want to respond. Rather - she wasn’t allowed to. But again, her lack of response answered the question.

“I didn’t realise you still did that…”

“Occasionally. And that’s the whole point.”

“They didn’t mention your names…” she said, trying to ease her frustration. Her ‘important friends’… were they military too? It made sense.

“That’s not the point, Lex. We don’t exist. This is a very dangerous issue.”

She was staring at the coffee table – and it was very clear that her mind was running a mile a minute.

Would Alexia be dragged into it all? How far would it go? The man yelling seemed very… vengeful.

Perhaps she should have been distraught. Scared away. Shocked to no end. But somewhere inside her – she already knew. She knew from the way she’d distanced herself and bore so much pain and burden. Alexia had seen that haunted shadow in her eyes before, and that could only come from something as morally objectionable as what she had seen and done.

But she knew her. Ridley wasn’t a killer, she was a protector. And although the images had been confronting, she knew it would have been justified. She’d just needed to give her time to open up this part of her life to her.

Alexia sat next to her and reached out to touch her hand with her fingertips. Ridley’s attention broke and she looked at her, a little surprised.

“Why are you not disgusted? Telling me to fuck off and never come back? You saw-” she ended her sentence abruptly.

“I know you,” she whispered, stroking the back of her hand. “You’re a good person.”

She felt like Ridley was falling into her eyes as the Australian trembled some emotions out in a deep exhale.

“Was that what your phone call was about?” Alexia murmured, enjoying that impressed look Ridley flashed.

“It was. I need to leave for a while.”

Her heart stopped. “Again?”

“Not for long. We think it’s best to avoid my usual spots for now while we… find… him.”

The man from the TV. Was he after her?

“Would you like to come with me?”

How could she ever say no to that face?

“I need to be around the team for support. I’m the Captain.”

“And the Spanish team don’t deserve you. The girls do, but management doesn’t. And I guarantee that the team wants you to take all of the time you need to rest, relax and rehab. There are other Captains for a reason.”

Was she running away from her responsibilities?

Ridley reached out and brushed her fingertips across her cheek. “You’ve given enough, la Reina. Let Alexia rest and come back stronger than ever.”

A shiver ran up her spine and she felt her pupils dilate. Honestly, she didn’t need any reason to run away with Ridley. She never had. She just needed to tell her pride to step away and realise that she would make the best decisions for her heart.

“When?”

“Hm. Well I was originally coming over to ask you to come somewhere with me tonight.. but I can call and extend our stay.”

Yes. Yes. “Where..?”

“Oh, just a little bit of a journey. Not too far. I’ll keep you entertained; I promise.”

Alexia smiled almost shyly as she leant into her fingertips. She’d never had anyone plan a holiday for her before.

Would she go? Could she go?

“Is that a yes? Use your words, la Reina.”

She didn’t give her the satisfaction of responding immediately. In fact, her pride crept back up as if remembering the hurt of the last few days. The uncertainty prior to that.

“I’m not sure,” she murmured as she moved away from her hand and took the first aid kit back to its home. She turned and almost bumped into Ridley; those dark eyes intense. She softened as she reached out and gently moved a piece of her blonde hair from her face, her fingertips gliding over her skin so softly that she could barely feel them if not for the tremble up her back.

“You’re not sure about me.” A question within a statement.

“I need to know you’re not going anywhere. And for that I need… time.”

“We don’t have time,” she replied softly, thinking hard. “I need to leave Spain tonight. Can I give you something other than time, Lex? The promise of a date. The planning of a holiday together. I could leave something here so you know I’ll always come back for it…”

“A date can be changed. A holiday can be missed. And you don’t care about possessions. Unless you have an alternative.”

“I care about you.”

“Are you calling me a possession?”

Ridley smirked. “Nobody could ever possess you, Alexia. You are not a possession. A prize, certainly.  Greater than any other. Lucky for anyone to be close enough to see, touch or hear you. Just to be in your vicinity…” She stopped herself as Alexia felt herself drowning in the beat of her own heart. “But no, not a possession.”

A pause as she took in those honest, loving words. Is that really how special she saw her?

“You won’t leave?”

“I won’t.”

“You’re here to stay?”

“For good.”

“You promise? No matter what happens?” She whispered, as if worried to scare this perfect scenario away.

“I promise. No matter what happens.”

There was nothing but pure honesty in those eyes she had to lean back to look into. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Mmn. I will always tell you the truth.”

“Oh really?” Alexia tilted her head. “Then tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m thinking that I have an alternative to time.”

And then before Alexia could respond, react or even breathe, Ridley kissed her.

[chasing-ghosts-silhalei]

Background Face: "The Goddess Artemis" by Linda Lhermite Double Exposure Photography

Chasing Ghosts - AO3

[ Only viewable by registered users due to AI theft and hate bots ] [ If you'd like an AO3 membership code, please ask - I got you ]

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

A life of freedom with her closest friends and the denizens of the wild on her side. What more could a girl want? Not a damn thing, except to be left alone.

When Mithra pledged to go to the Conclave, she thought it would be a quick job and she could get on with her life. Unfortunately, this tattooed, beat-up, foul-mouthed, prickly Ranger finds herself trapped in a…challenging situation. She'd be gone immediately if not for that hole in the sky. Until it's sealed, she must adapt and prevent them from finding out who she is and what she's done.

Thanks to fate's twisted sense of humor, and those fucking Fade rifts, Mithra can't keep shit hidden to save her life.

And for some bizarre reason, love's sneaking up on her as well. She doesn't have time for that shit… But-

[ This tale is a backstory & healing journey ]

[ Smut is separated into its own chapters + clearly indicated ]

[ Disturbing Content / Trigger Warnings are in the Chapter Summaries ]

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

This fic is a dark, gritty, tragic mystery with LOADS of fluff and humor to make it all better.

There are many layers to everything. When you think you know, you really don't. I love a long game.

My Ranger concept is based on the DA:O Specialization. I've turned it into a magic-based power because "summoning." The existence of Mabari war hounds, Avexis, and that conversation with Morrigan about understanding animals for shapeshifting have inspired the finer details.

SO! Dalish Rogue 'Apostate' Inky x Solas and/or Cullen

[ Jealousy and pining ] [ Complicated Love triangle ] [ Enemies to Friends to Lovers ] [ Long Fic - Slow Burn / Romance ]

And there may or may not be a dog in the story.

Other pairings: Sera x Dagna Dorian x Bull

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

Rated Explicit for violence, occasional gore, eventual sexual themes (separated from the meat of the story), and strong language.

Trigger Warnings, Links, and [ the first three ] Chapter Summaries are below the cut.

There's a second link at the bottom of this post.

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

Here's a Six-Song Soundtrack to give you the vibe. Picrew tag-game post - A really good commissioned piece by Jazzajazzjazz! - A hilarious scene with Sera

Fic Trigger Warnings Include:

Past rape attempts, past rape threats, death threats ( past and present ), self-harm attempts, character death ( past and present ), past torture, past family loss.

Extremely graphic violence, graphic animal attacks ( C'mon - Ranger ), descriptions of injury, descriptions of gore, broken bones.

🖤🤍💜🖤🤍💜

Chapter Summaries (just 1-3):

Chapter 1 - The Lone Survivor

Dressed in a Valo-Kas uniform, Mithra assaults the Breach She's badly injured. People scramble to save her. A few things about her are discovered and discussed.

Chapter 2 - Awake

There's a lot on Cullen's mind Mithra wakes up Cullen fetches Cassandra [ Poor everyone ]

Chapter 3 - The Herald

Leliana escorts Mithra into the dungeons. She's so amused. Petty pouting ensues. Mithra meets someone while in time-out.

There's much more, but I don't want to list every chapter or spoil things.

Fic Link: Let's fuckin' GOOOOOOOOOO!!

[caeli0306]

a lil blurb from chapter 2 of VSGTSAS :)

===

“Going somewhere, Sorrengail?” Xaden asks from where he’s leaning against the wall, his scarred eyebrow cocked at me questioningly. I freeze in my tracks, trying to decide if I want to tell him to fuck off or just ignore him, but Rhi mutters something about going somewhere else, leaving me alone with him. “What do you want?” My tone sounds way more exasperated than I meant it to be. Xaden smirks, and only an idiot would call it friendly. “We need to discuss this plan of yours.” “It’s already been discussed,” I volley back, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes.  “We need to discuss the finer details.”

[charmspoint]

🌿for the writers truth or dare!

Thank you for the ask!

Ask game

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Cradling your face in my hands

YOUR BODY IS NOT A MACHINE. NEITHER IS YOUR MIND.

Idk about you anon in particular, but I've found that I often have writers blocks the most when I push myself too much. I'm currently in a writing low, which is normal because I'm right off a really really big project and I need to replenish my energy. I also had a really big writing block when I came crashing down from 2021 when I wrote a truly dumb number of fics for me. This one happened because I got caught up in the fandom craze and tried to pump out a lot of high quality fics fast, because that is what fandom demands from writers and artists these days. Fast and quality. This of course wasted a lot of mental and emotional energy which couldn't be compensated by the at the time abysmal comment frequency (Recently I've been getting a lot more comments and I hope everyone else is too. It would feel nice to be out of this dark feedback era).

So to reiterate.

Your body is not a machine.

Think about what is happening around you in life. Are you stressed about school, college, work? Are you having social problems? Are you spending too much time online? Do you feel like you constantly have to be pumping out projects or people will stop paying attention?

From my experience, writing block is very rarely about the inability to write itself. Inability to write is a side effect of something else. A big project, complicated outside factors, external pressure, or just the fact that you got a new game and you are using all your time to play your game and not doing anything else (person who is not obsessed with BG3 atm). Usually when these are dealt with and you renew energy after them, writing will come back on its own.

You need to be kind to yourself.

I find this to be the best advice in many situations.

Pushing yourself to do what you can't do at the moment will only result in further frustration. Yes, it's good to have a writing habit, but I advocate for that to be a low goal one. My goal is 200 words a day. Sometimes I don't manage to do this because life is complicated but 6 days out of 7 I do. This keeps you on track, doesn't let your brain stale, but also isn't just torturing you.

If you are lacking in creativity you need to EXPERIENCE THINGS. Read that book you've been putting off, start a new manga, watch a movie, beyond that, take a daily walk, go to a museum, discuss ideas with your friends. I hate the phrase media consumption but I do like eating imagery and your brain NEEDS to eat. It needs to experience different art forms to be able to produce ideas of its own. Fanfiction is fine too, but unless you know a really amazing writer who brings a lot of new things into their work, I wouldn't recommend it, because in the end fanfiction is just exploration of a familiar thing. Thing you are stuck on. DON'T function only on fanfiction.

Let your material REST. If you are stuck on the fic, shove it in a folder and don't look at it for a week. Try not to think about it too much, do some of the things above and let your work rest. After a week you'll forget the finer details of it and will be able to look at it more objectively, which might help you resolve the thing you were stuck on. Also sometimes when you read your own fic a fresh you get those 'I´m a fucking genius' moments which is always great.

BE KIND TO YOURSELF.

Don't create on anyone's schedule but your own. I know how incredibly hard it is, I've felt it too, with fandom today which is overly picky, overly judgy and not very grateful. With a fandom that seems to more and more treat its creators as content machines instead of people sharing their passion projects. DON'T WRITE FOR THOSE PEOPLE. It's hard but don't write for the comments in your inbox. Don't set a schedule you can't meet. I've been writing a 17 chapter fic for almost 3 years now because I want a weekly release schedule but I don't want a weekly writing schedule. If your fic takes 6 months, a year or 10, let it take that times, don't shove it out before you feel ready.

BE KIND TO YOURSELF!!!!!!!

Realize that sometimes writing just won't go, no matter what you do. Realize that you aren't a failure or a fraud for this, that it means nothing when it comes to your skill and ability, that the greatest writers ever had struggled with the same thing. Some days you don't have time to write, some days you aren't in the mood to even do the bare minimum. These days will exist and be kind to yourself on them. Your writing won't escape anywhere. Come to terms with being human and come back to it tomorrow.

Hope any of that rant helps hzbjhvh!!!

[cottoncandy-cult]

Crush Crush Crush

Floyd Leech X OC Sereia

Part 1 because apparently this chapter exceeded the character limit

So this features my oc Sereia, she's one of a couple of my TW OCs but she isn't what I imagine my Yuu to be. I'll include a picture of her and her tail fin below because she like some Octavinelle students is a mermaid in the sense of the a female merfolk, the image I used for her tail is from a shop site called Nereid Studios that make and sale mermaid tails. So as you can guess I don't own the image of the tail fin, I used Charat Genesis this time to make my OC and she is in her "work clothes" for when she starts working at the lounge. I've also included an image I found on reddit by stellamarium for a female dorm uniform for Octavinelle that you'll see just bellow as well. Also I'm aware the NRC is supposed to be like a boys school but for the sake of sanity on this blog it's a unisex campus unless stated otherwise.

synopsis: Sereia approaches Azul about wanting to work at the lounge, when pressing her about her reasoning she reveals that while she does need the money she also needs something else...

Trigger Warnings: Mostly fluff though Sereia does display some low self-esteem later when Azul and Jade try to initially encourage her to approach Floyd about her feelings.

Sereia took a deep breath, brushing her hands over her the front portion of the skirt to her uniform dress. Classes had let out and she had made her way the monstro lounge as soon as they had, the short girl had spent weeks thinking about this choice and had finally got up the nerve to approach her dorm leader about a job. The silken silvery sash that draped over her forearms from behind her back was a bit comforting, the familiar touch reminding her that they were on school grounds so it isn't like things would go nuclear. The ombre haired girl had actually went to school with the trio for quite some time, even having been in their elementary school class. She had a crush on the wilder leech twin since the first day she walked into their very first shared class, he had run off some bullies that teased her for having hair similar to seaweed in color. They hadn't talked much through elementary school, the occasional smile and wave on the playground and in class, even that came to a stop when middle school came around. Still, she couldn't help but fawn over him, never quite being able to build up the nerve to approach him. What made it worse is this wasn't usually like her; she wasn't necessarily outgoing and friendly but when it came to most others it took a lot to get her flustered or emotional. But something about Floyd made her chest flutter and she swooned near uncontrollably.

"Now what do we have here?" The voice of the house warden made the young girl jump, turning to face the male, "House Warden, my apologies I thought you were already in the lounge." She spoke softly looking away as she stepped to the side so he could enter the lounge first, the taller male offering her a congenial smile. "I had to stay behind in class a moment to request Floyd and Jade go pick up some more ingredients. Did you need something of me?" The green haired girl followed the male inside, locking her fingers together in front of her. "I read in the school's newspaper you were looking for new servers, so I thought I'd come to inquire about the job." This made the male quirk an eyebrow, he was familiar with all of the upper ranking members of the dorm. Sereia often did well on her exams and in her classes overall, never causing trouble unlike some people. "I see, why don't we go to the VIP room to discuss the job offer." The girl nodding obediently as she followed after him, relaxing a little when they reached said room and he motioned her to sit down. She sat on the comfortable looking couch, crossing on leg over the other and placing her interlocked fingers around her knee. "So, before we start discussing the finer details let me ask you what's made you want this job, as your house warden I am aware of your financial situation to some degree and while I know you aren't overly rich, I am also aware that you aren't struggling to survive." That had the girl's purple eyes glancing around the room, a deep blush covering her cheeks. Azul waited patiently with that same smile he always wore; he was willing to be a bit more patient than usual since she was usually a very well-behaved student. "Well, as you said I'm not struggling to survive I would like to have a bit more spending money... but that isn't the whole reason."

The girl huffed with a pout, tapping her fingers on the exposed skin just below her knee. Now this had Azul interested, he wasn't sure what else the lounge would have to offer her or be of interest to her outside of a steady cash flow. "You see the other part is that... there is someone else who works at the lounge I've had an interest in getting to know for some time but... I'm not really able to approach him, I get really flustered just being in the same room as him sometimes. So, I thought since I wanted some spending money anyways, I'd apply here. That way I'd also have a reason to speak to him and I might be able to get adjusted to his presence enough that I could actually approach him about hanging out outside of her work." She tried to sum up her reasoning in a mature and well verbalized way, but the fact her cheeks were near glowing in embarrassment at the fact she just said 'I got a crush and I'm to shy to say hi' in the most overly advanced way. Azul chuckled a little, he supposed he could understand her anxiety about approaching the male to some degree. "I see, I suppose that won't be a problem as long as you can get your work done. You won't need to sign one of my contracts because you are wanting to work here voluntarily but you will have to fill out a application for formality, though you pretty much have the job as you're currently the only person who had applied so far." Azul stood and approached a filing cabinet in the corner, flipping through papers before pulling out a small packet and handing it to her along with a pen. "You can go ahead and fill that out here, I'll have someone bring you a drink. I need to check some stuff in my office, when you're done text the number at the top of the application, and I'll come get it from you." Once she had agreed the male left, leaving the girl to calm down and fill out the paperwork. She had finished the first page just before someone had brought her some water, it wasn't much longer before she finished the packet and texted the phone number.

Right after she sent the message Azul had returned to the room, picking up the packet to flip through it. He didn't get passed the first few pages when the door opened once more, the twins stepping inside and greeting the male. Sereia had tried not to look at them, knowing her eyes would wander and she desperately wanted to avoid outing who it was she wanted to get close to right in front her boss. "What's this? Another poor unfortunate soul come seeking your help?" Jade gave a light chuckle as Azul simply shook his head, continuing to scan through the packet. "Oh no, she got here even before I did in order to inquire about the job. I was just reviewing her application as a finality. Now Mrs. Sereia everything looks well, your first day will be tomorrow. Save that number you messaged when you finished filling this out, it's my work number. Also send me your measurements so that I can make sure your uniform will be here for you when you arrive." The short girl stood, brushing out her dress as she accepted the larger male's extended hand. "Yes Sir, I'll take my measurements when I get back to my room and I'll send them immediately." She attempted to keep her purple eyes from wandering to the twins as she released his hand, she was so close so making it out of here without embarrassing herself. "Oh, so little nori is gonna be working with us startin' tomorrow?" The excited question came from the one man that could make her melt, and like that her heart was pounding in her stomach. She tried to keep her breathing calm, but that did nothing to stop the pink that was starting to rise up to her cheeks. Her reaction making Azul's grin widen, quirking one eyebrow as he glanced at Floyd and back to her as she tried not to look at her boss. "Yep, Sereia will be starting her job as a server tomorrow, so I'll need you two to show her the ropes and help her get situated."

She decided to attempt to save some face, turning to face the two tall males she crossed her legs and did a light curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you two, I can't wait to work together." She glanced between the two before looking away, trying to keep her blush from becoming noticeably darker. Jade kept his usual smile, but Floyd stared at her a moment in thought, she seemed so familiar, yet he couldn't place it. He scratched the back of his head, shaking the thought away before letting his usual smile return. "Don't worry little nori, we'll make sure you're all taken care of by the end of the work week." Once this was said she excused herself so they could prepare for that night's shift, heading back to her room to get measurements and come to terms with the fact there was no going back for her. Little did she know Floyd was a little off the rest of the night, her face floating around in his head as he felt like he was forgetting something.

Pt 2 here

1.5k words

Lightly edited

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

I had a lot of trouble phrasing this, I’m very sorry if it comes off as overly critical of your rewrite or your plans for it. I’m just concerned about how this is being handled.

Is Nicole going to be condemned for what she does? I understand it’s the cycle of abuse and Nicole isn’t doing what she’s doing because she’s a bad person at heart or something like that, but that doesn’t really reduce the harm or fault in the situation even if it provides context for her actions.

That’s not even mentioning the balancing act that sounds like. I can’t think of a way that Dancole wouldn’t be uncomfortable because from what I gathered (please correct me if I’m wrong) Nicole tries to get with Dante when he’s a minor and then later actually gets with him when he’s an adult. I can’t see how Nicole could stay a ‘good guy’ character after trying to date him as a minor, let alone see how her dating him as an adult could be handled well.

Tw, grooming, pedophilia, the cycle of abuse and how the themes correlate to Amaranth

Dw about sounding critical! This is a sensitive topic so I completely understand any kind of critical tone that comes with discussing it. It’s part of the deal with writing this stuff that criticism is expected.

One of the reasons I didn’t want to discuss these events happening in Amaranth yet is because I haven’t fully figured it out yet and they are subject to change with ever piece of media I consume or conversation I have, or simply just if im left alone to think for too long. That’s why my most recent posts about Dante and Nicole’s relationship were from about a year ago.

Most things I’ve said about Dante and Nicole’s relationship pre-recent discussion don’t apply. Nicole and Dante never date as adults, and in fact Nicole never steps foot in Phoenix Drop between the last chapter of Amaranth season 2 and beyond, despite the 15 year gap and all the time after that. Their relationship, which is how I will be referring to it due to a lack of better terms coming to mind though it isn’t at all to be considered genuinely romantic, lasts for all about a week during the events of Amaranth s2, and despite its brevity, it was a very bad situation and Nicole does face repercussions. Those of which I am still trying to figure out, as it’s a difficult spot to try and navigate.

By the time Nicole would face the punishments for her actions, it’s is known she is the heiress of Scaleswind. It’s known that she has immense amounts of power of Ru’Aun and that no physical harm can come to her. They couldn’t even imprison her without inviting another war. So far, the list of punishments ends with permanent exile, and to cut off contact with Dante entirely. The only conversation she should ever have with him is regarding politics and nothing beyond that. Even Dmitri isn’t a topic she is allowed to bring up with him. But of course I am considering other punishments as well as to leave it at ‘oh you can’t be here anymore’ feels too little for what she did.

But aside from it being written that she is very clearly in the wrong despite her lack of understanding, and a conversation she has with Garroth, it’s hard to try and figure out how to make it clear her actions aren’t forgivable. That’s why I wanted to wait until I had done some research to really talk about it, alongside other things of course. Because I’m still figuring out the finer details.

But, to simplify, Nicole isn’t going to be treated like a good person afterwards. It’ll be clear that Nicole is someone who did good things, but they don’t negate the bad. She’s going to be punished for what she did, and it’ll never be stated that what she did was okay.

Talking about the cycle of abuse doesn’t mean that the people that are caught in it are innocent, it means they’re victims as well, and that the only way for the cycle to be broken and to make sure no one else is hurt, is to make sure that victims are given the proper means of healing and coming to terms with what happened to them. It’s why Zane is still considered a villain even though his actions are a result of the abuse he experienced. Because he was never given the chance to heal from his abuse, he abused other people. He is not a good person, his actions are his own, but there is a reason for them and if he had been able to properly heal, or if the reasons didn’t exist at all, he wouldn’t have done what he did. And the same goes for Nicole. Both characters will be treated the same way in this regard. Zane will be held accountable for what he has done, Nicole will be held accountable for what she has done, because even if there are reasons for what they have done, there are also victims.

If anything I said here isn’t clear or makes it seem like I’m justifying anything, please let me know. And if you have any questions or criticisms about how I’m handling it, I’m more than happy to receive them. I wouldn’t post this stuff if I wasn’t open to actually discussing it.

Also yes, this makes Dmitri 15 in season 3. Older than canon but I don’t want to have Dancole happen again so it’s a needed change.

[thenightcallsme]

The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 7

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Summary: In a small shop in Vesuvia lives Vivian Caelum, a student of the magical arts who works as a shopkeeper for her tutor, Asra Alnazar. Her name is not known in the streets as her master's is, nor does she have full control over her magic yet. But one night, there's a knock at her door; Vivian is needed at the palace to help Countess Nadia upon her personal wishes. Soon, what she thinks is a small task is something she would never have expected her magic to be used for: Vivian must find Count Lucio's murderer. Will she be able to track down the infamous murderer and finally put the Countess's years of restlessness to ease? Or will the killer captivate her in ways she can't explain? Is she even running after the right man? Something deeper than she thought is happening within her beloved city, and she's about to understand the vastness of the magical realms.

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: N/A

Word Count: 3,371

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"I would apologise for his cruelty," Nadia murmurs, eyes twinkling a little as they leave. "But I say you handled him splendidly."

I make a face. "I can't believe you have the patience for him."

Only Portia, Countess Nadia, and I are left in the lounge. Portia remains by the door where she saw the council out, Nadia standing behind me. I stay seated on the couch, shoulders relaxed and composed posture gone as I sink inelegantly into the plush velvet. While I drew the wine from the couch and my dress to give back to Consul Valerius in spite, a crimson stain still remains. 

Lines crease Nadia's forehead as she frowns. "Sometimes I can't believe it, either. But I will admit that I have never seen him put on such a show."

Portia shakes her head. "And that dress was so lovely. A shame there's still a stain."

“It was lovely," I sigh, giving Nadia an apologetic smile. 

"Sorry I couldn't save it. It was a lovely gift." 

"I'm glad you liked it while it lasted." Her own apologetic smile widens into something brighter. "If you like, I will happily rid you of that dress. Tell me what you would like in place of it, and please, do not be afraid to spare any expense."

Portia stands at the ready as the Countess folds her hands elegantly, waiting for a response. It seems as if Nadia wants me to ask for riches, despite how unnecessary it may be.

"You mean, silk, fur, gold and jewels? Finer than what you have been gracious enough to gift me?" I ask in wonder, enticing from her the joy of giving.

"Of course. I hope you expect no less from me," she teases.

I grin. "Then expenses it will be, my lady."

"Oh, how delightful!" She clasps her hands together with newfound excitement. "It seems you have begun to realise your worth to me. It pleases me, but you must tell me in detail. Silks in what colours? Furs, do you prefer them course or fine? Gold would certainly flatter you, but we both know silver was made for you. I’m envisioning diamonds, some opal, alexandrite, emeralds to match those pretty eyes…”

I listen to her in wonder. I have no idea what the difference in the look and feel course or fine fur could be. Silks, jewellery, the more she must want to discuss. It dizzies me with overwhelming excitement. I've never been spoilt before.

"Portia?" Nadia asks. "Send for an alexandrite from my personal jeweller. It must be set in white gold with a chain to match. Preferably something dainty. If our guest has taken an interest in luxuries, I imagine she will want to choose."

Portia bows her head. "Right away, milady."

"My bathing chambers are near," Nadia continues, extending an arm to mine in offering. "Come. I'm sure you would like a bath."

Golden rays of light dance within the blinding walls of Countess Nadia’s bathing chambers. Women bumble around the deep circular bath set in the middle of the tiled floor, carrying in their hands robes towels, soaps, and trays fruit. Two of the servants fix up a platter of fruits and wine at the waters edge. Another turns the giant gold faucet to let out steaming water. At the head of the bath stands a towering statue set in an alcove in the wall. The woman is depicted mid stride, reaching into a handful of marble flowers in preparation to scatter tham. A few servants mimic her stance, sprinkling real petals across the water.

To the far left, the towering wall has been reduced to grand pillars. A small veranda welcomes the evening air, and beyond that, the skyline of Vesuvia nestles into a haze of purple and orange light. Even from here, the faint buzz of citizens and the awakening of night life is audible. Thick canopies of ivy descend from the overhang.

Nadia bids me to undress behind a white screen, waiting patiently as I fumble with the corset.

"Would you like any help?" When she senses my pause, she gives a peel of sweet, musical laughter. She's only teasing me. "You would enjoy silks, would you not?"

"Oh, yes please."

"And furs? Oh, and what colours schemes? Any preferences?”

As I undo the corset, Nadia asks me question after question, building an idea of my taste for fashion. She's very thorough in her quizzing, making sure not to leave out the smallest details. Some things of her questions I would never have considered when buying clothes, some I have no experience to answer.

One piece of clothing alone would mean the world to me; what she’s already given me is baffling enough. But from the line of questions I know not to expect just one gift. Her ecstatic approach reminds me of a sisterly sort of love, where one dresses the other in her nicest garments. My sister and I used to do such, playing games of pretend where we were entering the world as young woman in search of our other half. This, however, isn’t a game of pretend. It is the Countess who dresses me up, her generosity exceeding any limits, disguising me as another noblewoman.

Her generosity is foreign to me. I’m not used to nice gift, let alone any gifts. 

 Finally, the corset gives way and I take the dressing robe Nadia slings over the screen. Embroidery of small purple flowers and dark green leaves follow the shape of the collar and sleeves. I slip it on the soft white robe, tying it at my waist and stepping around the screen. 

Footsteps echo down the bathroom hall. I've stepped out just in time; Portia appears, emerging through the huge double doors.

"I brought three—" She stops short when she sees me. "Oh, pardon me, I didn't realise we were in dressing robes."

Sharing an amused look with the Countess, Portia presents me with three glittering alexandrites in a small wooden box. I take it gingerly from her hands, inspecting the contents. The polished stones are unlike the last, absorbing and returning the light in different ways. The first one is a square, simple and unassuming. The second has more of a a tear-drop shape with blue undertone, accompanied by a small diamond. Each one is beautiful, and none can compare to the third. Shaped in an oval with a balanced mealy of purple, green and blue, the stone is set in a flowering white-gold pendent encrusted in diamonds.

"This one is beautiful," I breathe, taking it from the velvet lining of the box.

Nadia beams. "Ah, excellent choice. I have a particular fondness for that one. If you shall just turn around, we can see how it suits you."

I comply, pulling my braids and any flyaway hairs to the side as I face away from her. The Countess's delicate fingertips draw waves of shivers as she fastens the chain around my neck. She gently takes my shoulders and spins me around to play with the settlement of the pendant. The dainty chain is comfortably cool against my neck, the pendent nestling just below my collarbone. Nadia stands back, a pleased look in her reddish eyes.

"Lovely!" she quips. "It suits your complexion perfectly.”

Though I know its improper, I can’t help but lean forward and envelop Nadia in a tight embrace. She doesn’t hesitate to return the squeeze I give her. 

"Thank you, Nadia," I whisper. "You have been very kind to give me these things."

"Any time, especially for a friend." She leans back, squeezing my forearms. “I will leave you to your bath. Take as long as you wish. Portia?"

Portia snaps to attention. "Yes, milady!"

They move to the hallway, the rest of the servant retreating to offer me some privacy without being a call away. Alone, I drop the robe and undress from my undergarments. Nadia’s presence seems to remain, smelling strongly of jasmine with a penetrating and deeply contemplating gaze. As I slip into the hot waters, I mull over the fact that the Countess of Vesuvia wishes to be my friend.

I must talk to Asra, I think as I sink slowly into the water. The heat is pleasant against my skin. Somehow, even with him however far away, I must find a way. And I've never done it before, but...I have the perfect idea in mind.

⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The halls within the Palace have a chilling atmosphere beneath the dead of night. The chill rises gooseflesh across my bare arms and legs as I creep silently across the polished marble in only a black satin slip and the dressing robe Nadia gifted me. The veranda is easy enough to find without the help of servants. Tonight it is vacant, I notice with relief as I descend down the stairs. Not even the faintest whisper of life can be heard within the soft song of swaying trees and crickets. 

I take a seat on the edge of the stone fountain beneath the old willow tree. Gazing into the shimmering pool and the reflected image of the moon, I purse my lips hesitantly. Asra taught me this spell many moons ago, but the magic is hard to keep a hold of, and I never got around to actually trying the spell. Like any other, I know the spell off by heart. I just hope that's enough.

Something moving within the drooping willow branches catches my eye. The sight of pale lavender glistening beneath the silvery moon has my head tilted back to get a closer look. When I realise what it is, my eyes widen a fraction, a bewildered smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. There, hanging from a branch with her head turned curiously to the side...

"Faust!"

Faust, Asra's little lavender snake, slithers onto the closest branch and extends her sleek body out to me. She flickers her tongue affectionately against my cheek. I stare at her in wonder. Did Asra not take her? He can't have got back already, can he? I reach my arm out and she coils around it, her scaly skinn amiliar against mine.

She perches up on my shoulder, nuzzling my face with hers. Was she waiting for me? She flickers her tongue at the alexandrite resting against my chest in curiosity, taking an immediate interest in the stone in disregard to the rest of my adorned gifts. Strange.

Watching the water, I lean forward to hover my hand a hair's breadth from the surface. When still and untouched, water seems to solidify into an earthy mirror. Shimmering across the faint ripples is a crystal clear image of my face, the willow tree swaying gently, the stretching expanse of nothingness above, the moon and stars high and proud within. But a magician can use it as more. With a strong enough will, it can act as a window, a looking glass through space and time.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. In the darkness beyond my eyelids, I imagine Asra. I imagine his glittering eyes, his smokey scent, the way he laughs, how his voice sounds when he teases and then when he scolds me. I paint a picture as detailed as I can before he crumbles into an essence that lays over the pool's surface like fine grains of sand. The etched lines of ink imprinted on my skin start to feel hot and fresh. Opening my eyes, I plunge my hand into the water.

Ripples upset the image of the willow tree and the moon that shimmers on the surface. The faint colours mirrored in the image fade like an ageing painting, warping and blending into something new. Images blur and shift, shapes unfolding from what was there a moment ago. My reflection fades away and...

Disbelief fills me.

Asra's face takes my place. Hands covered in gold rings draw water from wherever I look from. He pours the water over his face and runs fingers through his stark white hair. Can he see me? My heart sinks a fraction. It can't have been that easy, could it? I must have made a mistake. But then his lavender eyes travel to mine, the wariness and deep frown chased away by bewilderment. Droplets fall from his fingertips, sending ripples through his image as it strikes the surface of the body of water he sits before. He blinks, dumbfound at the sight of me.

"...Vivian?" His voice is full of wonder, eyes wide. "Can you hear me?"

I nod, barely able to believe it myself as his voice sounds clearly from the fountain. I've never done this spell before, never seen it done before. And yet I've done it perfectly. He leans towards the water, close enough that I can see minuscule beads of water clinging to his light lashes and hair.

"Incredible. I've only mentioned this spell before, but never taught you. How on earth..." He shakes his head, laughing in delight. A surge of pride swells inside me.

Asra sits cross-legged on a grassy bank beside a pond or lake. At the top of the short hill, the grass grows tall and golden, shimmering beneath the moon. It's nice to know that, however many days worth of travel he is away, we always sit beneath the same sky, watching the same stars shimmer and dance around the silver centrepiece. I see no trees, no buildings, no signs of life, no nothing beyond the horizon of grass. What I do see is his large, furry white mount, the exact creature from those strange dreams, whose beady black eyes peek from behind a curtain of fur like fresh snowfall. It rests its large head on his knee, breathing softly.

"Ah. Looks like Faust found you after all," he notes.

I tilt my head to the side. "You sent her to find me?"

He nods. "I wasn't all that sure about coming here. But after that reading you gave me...I thought I'd trust my intuition."

"I'm glad that she's here," I say with a sigh. Faust looks very proud of herself. Now that I'm over the shock of finding her, I'm beyond relieved to have her near. Asra looks pretty pleased himself. "And I'm glad I could find you, Asra. I need to tell you everything."

He frowns, concerned and confused as he searches my face and the view beyond. "Is that a willow tree above you? There are no trees around the wells and canals in Centre City. ...Where are you? Is everything okay?"

"...Yes, sort of. I'm at the Palace."

And I let it all spill from me like a bursting damn. 

I tell him everything, aware of how his frown deepens and something unreadable flickers in his face. I tell him how Nadia found me, how there is to be another Masquerade, how I met with the courtiers and made friends with Portia. ...And then I tell him why I was ever here in the first place. That is what really settles his frown.

Asra is the one person I trust most. He knows every last detail of my origins, my life, my regrets and my dreams. Yet I am careful of the information I let go as I tell my story. One day soon I will let Asra know I have made a mistake. But when I nearly let slip that my tracking spell worked, the words felt suddenly wrong, like my tongue had turned to honey and my mouth had gone numb. 

"It didn't work. I've done successful tracking spells before," I say as I come to a close, "but there wasn't a strong enough tie to the Doctor."

The words come forth easily and sound like the truth. I don't think I've ever successfully lied to Asra before. I pray that this will be the first. When he speaks, he does not question my words, which sends a wave of relief that eases the upturned feeling in my stomach. Either he knows and decides against asking or he's too overwhelmed by my story to notice.

"Unbelievable," he murmurs, face falling slightly. "The day that I leave was the day you needed me most. And even then, you didn't really need me at all. I'm glad Faust is with you, at least."

"You look tired," I say softly. Indeed, Asra's expression is sleepy, but content. His secret escapades must have been fulfilling today.

Asra shrugs, gently petting the beasts head, "I don't feel tired. I was just about to get in the water, but you bet me to it."

I roll my eyes at the joke, failing to fight the smile that arises. Faust slides across my lap and licks at Asra's image as he chuckles. He watches with interest as she turns back, sliding up my torso and winding herself loosely around my neck. Her face nuzzles beneath my chin. Playfully, she flicks her tongue against my skin like a ghostly kiss.

"Faust seems to be opening up to you," he observes. Then, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It may be time for me to do the same."

I fold my arms. "It's taken you a few years. I have a feeling you want something in return."

"Ask me anything you want. All that I ask is that you are honest with me, too."

Maybe he did see through the lie.

His gaze is gentle as he looks me over, bringing a sense of calm. But I have a few burning questions. Nadia told me that Asra worked at the palace during the plague cure research, alongside Julian. I wouldn't have thought much if, when I asked how Julian got the key, a wave of unexplainable emotion didn't sing in his eyes.

"Who is Julian to you?"

"Julian?" Asra echoes. Loathing and hatred burn in his narrowed eyes. "Ah, yes, he goes by that name, too. I knew him by another. He was a friend once. Then more. And then something else... Something I had to get away from." He stops for a moment and sighs. "Who is Julian to me...who is he to anyone? Whoever he needs to be, to get what he wants. All I will leave it at is that he's a hack physician with a lot to learn. Until he does, nothing good will come of him. ...Is there something else on your mind?"

I purse my lips for a moment, thinking better of the questions that nearly come forth. Too many about Julian may bring on suspicion, and the only questions I have are about him. Maybe it's best to leave it at that anyway. I'm grateful just to get the smallest look into Asra's past and afraid I won't get a lot all in one go.

"No, not really," I say eventually. "I find it may be better to talk face to face without the spell. Maybe then I'll think of more. Besides, it's getting late."

"It is? Time is strange here." Asra smiles again, his heavy mood gone. "Go rest, Viv. I'll see you again soon. I know you'll find me if you need me."

I see Asra reaching towards me, towards the water. His touch scatters the image and suddenly he's gone. 

My mind is a dizzying flurry of thought as Asra's words repeat in my head. Who is Julian to anyone? Whoever he needs to be to get what he wants. He seemed so easygoing and willing to talk when I tracked him down and sat with him in that tavern, when I found him inside my shop. He even seemed empathetic. Caring. But Asra paints him so differently from how I have. Has his playfulness and flirty nature blindsided me without my notice?

If he has, I hate him for doing so. Hate how he's managed to manipulate his way out of eventual arrest just with a lazy smile and empty words. I think I hate Asra a little for not telling me about Julian in the first place, too. I hate how hard this job has proven to be... And worst of all, I hate that I've let it come to this.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[thepassionof-joanharrow]

This is How We Walk on the Moon ~Chapter 3:| Matt Murdock x OFC

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Summary: Sura Harmon works for a nonprofit foundation in NYC and goes to Nelson and Murdock to find some lawyers for the foundation’s clients. Upon meeting Matt, he seems strangely familiar. Matt instantly recognizes Sura as someone he attempted to help while in his Daredevil suit just a week ago. As they continue to work together, Sura and Matt are drawn to each other more and more.

But little does Matt Murdock know that his new colleague Sura Harmon has just as many secrets as he does.

Warnings: Eventual smut, (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), swearing, discussion of trauma, death and mental illness, emotional angst, discussion of the blip/snap.  

Word Count for Chapter 3: 3,302

A/N: This is an ongoing series and will have many chapters! Mostly Sura’s POV but will probably have some chapters be in Matt’s POV.

Also, aside from the prologue, each chapter will have a song to go with it. I highly encourage you to listen to the song to give you the vibe for some of the scenes in that chapter!

Song: Kate Bush – “Suspended in Gaffa”

 Suddenly my feet are feet of mud

It all goes slow-mo

I don’t know why I’m crying

Am I suspended in Gaffa?

Not until I’m ready for you

Not until I’m ready for you

Can I have it all?

 I try to get nearer, but as it gets clearer

There’s something appears in the way

It’s a plank in me eye

With a camel who’s trying to get through it

Am I doing it? Can I have it all now? (I want it, I want it all)

  I won’t open boxes that I am told not to

I’m not a Pandora, I’m much more like

That girl in the mirror between you and me

She don’t stand a chance of getting anywhere at all (I want it, I want it all)

Not anywhere at all (I want it, I want it all)

No, not a thing (I want it, I want it all)

She can’t have it all

 ~~~~~~~~ 

  “Is that a lob?”

 Sura nodded in response to Karen’s question. She raked a hand through her wavy black hair.  ”I used to have it a bit longer, past my shoulders. I was scared to get it cut this short, but I needed a change. And my sister is a hair stylist and convinced me it would look good.”

 Karen smiled wide. “Well she was right! It looks great on you! I don’t know if I cold ever get my hair cut short, I’m so emotionally attached to it.”

 “I’m sorry, but what’s a lob?” Matt turned to face them from where he had been standing by the coffee maker.

 The three of them had been waiting in the reception area for Foggy to finish a phone call in his office. It was the next week after their first meeting and today Sura was going to go into the finer details of what the foundation needed help with.

 Sura and Karen’s eyes met and they both let out a small laugh.

 “It’s a long bob. So long plus bob,…lob.” Karen explained, mirth in her voice.

 “Ah” Matt strode over with his steaming mug of fresh coffee. “That makes sense. I am obviously not up to date on women’s hair styles.”

 “Well if you need any more hairstyles explained, my sister tells me way more about what’s in fashion than I would ever need to know.” Sura replied.

 “Well maybe you could explain balayage to me one day because I still don’t think I understand that one.” Matt said, smiling.

  Sura laughed and smiled back but before she could respond, Foggy came out of his office and announced that they should start the meeting.

 Sura smiled to herself as they entered the room. She put effort into her appearance and had a very specific way that she wanted to look. So when someone complimented her, it meant a lot. Especially a stunning woman like Karen.

 She had always felt that her natural medium brown hair wasn’t enough of a contrast to her fair skin, and she wanted something bolder. So she had been dying it black for years.

  Sura began after they had all sat down. “I have to say again that I admire the work you all are doing. I’m excited for all the clients at the foundation that you will be able to help.  I was skeptical that we’d find some lawyers who seem to be….on our level. Ethically speaking. But I feel very confident about you two.”

 “It’s our pleasure to help Ms. Harmon.” Matt said, his smile beaming at her.

 “Please, call me Sura.” It came out before she could even think about it.

 For some reason, the thought of Matt calling her Ms. Harmon one more time made her skin crawl.

 She recuperated from the sudden blush that threated to color her cheeks and turned to Foggy. “You as well.  We’ll most likely be working together a lot so best to be on a first name basis.”

 Foggy smiled warmly at her. “Well in that case, please call me Foggy.”

 “Ditto for me. I mean, don’t call me Foggy though, call me Matt.” Matt smirked. Sura gave him a smirk back.

 I get such a good feeling from him. She thought.  She immediately felt like she could trust him, which of course was a feeling that in and of itself she didn’t trust. She’d been burned before by people who seemed trustworthy at first.

 Sura brought out her folder and went over the clients that the foundation was currently working with who needed lawyers. Matt and Foggy made copies and selected a few that they noted would most likely be good fits for them.  She then went over a brief overview of the foundation’s future needs and how often they might need Nelson and Murdock. Foggy pulled out some papers to discuss financials and by the time that was settled, the meeting was drawing to a close.

    Later that night, Sura was sitting on her couch with Luce. They had made tacos together and were now settling into some TV and snacks. They tried to have a girl’s night once a week, though to Luce’s dismay, Sura had been busy lately and they were weeks overdue for one.

 Sura dipped her hand into the bowl of kettle corn and brought a huge handful to her lap. As she ate, popping one into her mouth at a time, she mused aloud to Luce. “You know, there was something familiar about him.”

 “Who?” Luce turned to her, mouth full of popcorn.

 “Matt Murdock. The lawyer I was just telling you about.”

 “Oh right, the one at the firm you are gonna work with?”

 “Yup”

“The one you think is cuuuuuuuuute?” Luce drew out the last word as she broke into a stupid grin.

 “Okay no…..I said he was attractive. Not that I think he’s cute.” Sura realized how she sounded and couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just objective fact.” She winked.

 “Ok hold up.” Luce grabbed the remote and paused What We Do In The Shadows. “Saying that you think his ‘face being gorgeous is just objective fact’ means that you THINK that.”

 “Wait, now I said his face was gorgeous?” Sura objected.

 “I read between the lines”

 Sura laughed. This was why she loved Luce. Well, one of many reasons. Sura hardly ever exaggerated things, estimated or guessed. She felt uneasy saying anything that she didn’t think was really true. Luce however, loved to exaggerate and emphasize.  And so they would tease each other, Sura always insisting that Luce was a ridiculous liar and Luce exaggerating things on purpose to get a rile out of her. They complimented each other well.

 While making tacos, Sura had told Luce about the partnership with Nelson and Murdock and had confided that Matt was cute. 

 “I believe my exact words were: ‘He was actually pretty attractive. For a lawyer at least’.  You know how I feel about most lawyers.” Sura tilted her head at Luce, putting on an exaggerated face of disgust.

 Luce guffawed. “I know, that they either look like ‘a potato that melted in the sun’ or ‘a fencepost made sentient’.”

 Sura laughed. Luce was remembering correctly this time. “Yeah, they are never cute! I don’t know what it is. Something about being a New Yorker plus…law?”

 They fell into a fit of laughter.

 Luce put a hand on Sura’s knee to get serious “Wait, you said he was familiar? Do you know him?”

 Sura paused for a moment.  “I don’t…think I know him? I mean he seems so familiar but I would remember meeting him in the past. He’s pretty distinctive.”

 “Yeah being blind is pretty unique”

 “And he wears these glasses that aren’t just dark, they are like a dark red. Not grey or black. I’d remember that.”

 “Well, wait, he helped put away Fisk right? What if he was in the news? Or interviewed on a show or something?”

 “I don’t remember anything like that…but maybe? I dunno it’s a very weird feeling”

 “Well when are you meeting him next? You should try to flirt a little.”  Sura balked at this as Luce continued. “…or maybe even ask him out??!!”

 “That’s so not professional! I can’t risk the foundation like that. Plus, I barely know him at this point.”

 “So get to know him then!  You have to…”. Luce knew the reaction she would get from this but she just had to finish the sentence anyway “…get back out there. Sorry baby I know you don’t want to hear that again but…I just want you to be happy!”

 “Luce, I’m happy now. Or at least pretty happy. Things are still tough and I’m not going to pretend they aren’t but….I’m working through things. And I don’t think the answer to any of my issues is to start dating someone.”

 “I’m not saying that dating someone would solve all your issues, of course not. It just might give you some fulfillment in one area of your life. It’s been three years since Helen and…”

 “No, stop.” Sura was getting a little heated now. She couldn’t help it, hearing the name of her former fiancée still made her stomach plummet. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. Shouldn’t I let my next big….love…or relationship or whatever, happen naturally?” “How can it happen naturally if you push everyone away who shows interest in you? How can it happen if you never ask anyone out that you think is cute?” Luce’s big brown eyes looked sincerely into hers.

  She had a point.  Since Sura was snapped back into existence a little over three years ago, she hadn’t been a complete nun, but she hadn’t been very enthusiastic about dating. She’d gone on a couple dates, had a small number of very brief, casual flings. But nothing had really clicked with her and another person, and nothing had lasted over two months. She was always the one to break things off.  She would get asked out at bars or at occasional fundraising events, but she rarely said yes.

 Luce continued on. “Also, I’m sorry but ‘next big love’? Hun, I think you just hit the nail on the head! That’s what your heart is really longing for! A big love! Helen was your big love for a time.  Now you will have another one!”

 Sura gave her friend a sad smile “How do you know that? What if Helen was it? I had a big love. We were great. We would have lasted 50 years, I know it. And due to some sick twist of random bullshit, I was blipped and she wasn’t. And she moved on.”

 Even after 3 years, the tears came. Just a prickling, in the corners, but they were there.

 Luce reached over and pulled Sura into herself. Sura didn’t want to really cry, but she let the tears sit in her eyes as she pushed her face more into Luce’s long brown hair and fuzzy yellow sweater. She smelled like the vanilla orange shampoo that she always used. Sura smiled at that. Five years of being dead, and three years of being alive again and it was comforting that her best friend still used the same damn shampoo.

 Sura sniffed a bit. “And you know, I don’t blame her. I would have done the same thing. At least, well, probably. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. But I can’t blame her for moving on can I? So the only thing I have to be mad at is fate.”

 Luce smiled down at her and gently stroked her hair. “You can be mad at Helen. She can be allowed to move on and you can be allowed to be mad at her.”

 “But being mad isn’t productive. It doesn’t help anything.”

 “Not everything has to be productive. Especially not emotions.”

 Sura smiled wide at this. “What would I do without you, my free therapist?”

 “Hah! Look maybe I am pushing you too much,…my mom did the same to me when I started dating and during the blip…man, she tried to set me up with so many men!”

 Sura laughed at the thought. Mrs. Del Real was still living in Harlem where Luce grew up and was very passionate about her children’s future spouses. Luce laughed at the memory. “I swear she set me up with every last man living in New York! But I know that’s how she cares. But I don’t want to push you beyond what you want.”

 I know Helen had to move on but….a part of me still thinks she is an absolute fool. How could she not want all this in her life?” Luce continued to lighten the mood.

 Luce gestured up and down her friend, then widened her arm to encompass Luke napping in a box on the floor near the couch. “Who wouldn’t want a drop-dead gorgeous woman with a college degree, a job at a successful nonprofit, her own lovely apartment, the cutest black cat I have EVER seen and uh…a great relationship with her parents!”

 Sura laughed at the last addition and then added: “Oh, don’t forget the trauma and the Autism!”

 “Right, comes with several years of trauma and a lifetime of Autism! What a catch!”  Luce grinned.

 They both laughed into each other, and Luce interrupted it to add: “But really, your brain is in the pro column. I hope you know that. Even with the trauma.”

  “I know. I mean, I could do without the trauma. I’m okay with everything else. But I know I’m not the only one with trauma. Especially after the blip.”

 Sura sat back against the couch cushion and stared at the ceiling in thought.

 “I just…I thought I had hit the jackpot with Helen. For years I thought that the only person who I could ever be with, who could get me, was another autistic person. Now I just,…I worry I won’t get so lucky again.”

 Luce furrowed her brows and her smile dropped. “I get you Sura.  You got lucky with me.” Sura straightened up as she looked in her friend’s eyes, grabbing one of Luce’s hands to squeeze. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I did get so lucky with you. So lucky. But you know me, I’m…I’m fucking picky with who I let into my life!” 

 She raised her hands in exasperation around her head. “I’m picky with my friends. And I’m even more picky with who I want to be in a relationship with. So combine that with feeling like I need a certain neurotype to make a relationship work….it feels like I’m searching for a needle in a haystack!”

 Luce leaned her head onto the back of the couch and ran some fingers through her hair.

“I think maybe…maybe try not to feel like you are searching? Maybe let opportunities come to you and when they do….seize them.”

 “I mean, that’s what I’m trying to do with things in general.” Sura could have stopped there but she had already poured half her heart out, why not the rest?  

 “I’m trying to catch up on five years of missed work opportunities, missed love, missed…life. I’m trying to seize everything that comes my way. I had so many goals eight years ago you know? Get married, get farther ahead with work, be able to go back to school, finish that damn fine art degree.  Now I just feel like I’m treading water just to keep my head up. Just trying to get back to a place where I can even think about future stuff.”

 “I know. It’s been an overwhelming three years. I can’t imagine what you are going through. What all of you have had to go through.”  Luce’s face was sweet and sympathetic.

 Sura continued on. She hadn’t even realized she had been feeling this way. But talks with Luce often involved one or both of them going deep and getting real.

 “You know I had to spend that first year back just….adjusting to everything. The fact that I died and then came back five years later. The fact that half the world died and then came back. The anxiety, the pure terror of that realization…then the depression of what I had missed and losing Helen. Losing five years with the people I love. You were there. You saw me at some pretty bad moments. My family saw the worst of it though. They were with me almost 24/7 those first couple months.”

 Luce nodded silently.

 Sura sighed. “Then after that, crawling out of that hole and trying to patch my life back up to a sense of normalcy.  Not to mention the chaos of everyone around me going through the same thing. Everyone who comes through the foundation’s doors is full of so much pain and grief from the blip.  I have to carry that too. And I just haven’t gotten anywhere I want to go. ”

 Luce broke in. “You know what I told my mom the other day Su? I told her that you are one of the most incredible people I know. The fact that you went through everything you went through and then went back to a job where you try to help other people with their problems. You didn’t have to do that. You could have focused on yourself. And you would have been completely right to do so. But you care about others so much.”

 “Heh” Sura acknowledged the compliment with a sense of mild guilt.  “Honestly, I just…I don’t know if it’s that noble. It felt like my calling. At least at the time. Like, Colin offered me the job and what else was I gonna do? Plus I felt like I needed to get back into this work…like if I was helping others with their problems it would help me forget my own.”

 Luce shrugged. “Still, you are doing it.  Let good things come to you baby. They will. They are coming.” She finished with a smirk, mischievous and adorable, like she alone was going to convince the fates to bring good things to Sura’s life.

 Sura smiled back. “You know, you are such a hopeful person that sometimes its goddamn annoying.”

 While Sura wasn’t a pessimist and thought of herself more as a realist, she was a worrier. And Luce had always been an optimistic dreamer, chasing her fears away with soft hugs and steady words. In other people, this might have truly annoyed Sura. She had no energy for people who pushed positivity all the time.  But with Luce, Sura could tell that she wasn’t pushing anything. She truly felt the things that she said, she truly believed better things would happen to the people she loved. And when shit got real, she didn’t ignore the anger, grief, and terror of life.

 Luce laughed “Well when you lose your dad, brother and best friend all at once and then miraculously get them back 5 years later, you tend to believe in hope and shit!”

 Sura nodded. “Yeah but you were always a ray of sunshine.” 

 “True, but now…I don’t know. I just believe in the potential for amazing things more!  I lost almost everything and then got it all back.  How often can we say that in life?!”

 Sura breathed in deeply, then let it go as she slumped back against her friend. “You’re right. It was a miracle.” She squeezed Luce. “I’m glad I’m back.”

 “Me too Su.” Luce planted a kiss on her friend’s head, then grabbed the remote. “It okay if I turn this back on? You feel up to watching Matt Berry mispronounce things some more?”

 “I think some Matt Berry is exactly what I need right now.” Sura replied. 

[aellathedreamer]

in a world of boys, he’s a gentlemen “Got lovestruck, went straight to my head. Got lovesick, all over my bed”

A look through of Stacy and Edward’s relationship right after he proposed. The royal life, a whirlwind of emotions.

Chapter 20/40

Pairing: Stacy x Edward

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51843736/chapters/131078110

"No, there's too much going on at the bodice. It looks too delicate, a bit old fashioned." Amelie's voice drowned out Stacy's flurry of thoughts. The wedding dress, a vision of regal splendor, awaited its turn under the hands of skilled designers and seamstresses.

The designer, eyes gleaming with passion, began detailing the intricacies of the gown, describing the delicate lace, the cascading veil, and the timeless elegance woven into every stitch. Amelie, equally engrossed, discussed the finer points, ensuring the dress would be a perfect reflection of Belgravia's rich tradition but reflects modern elements.

As Stacy stood amidst the whirlwind of creativity, her thoughts took a detour into the depths of contemplation. The dress, a symbol of her imminent royal union, cast a looming shadow over her emotions. The weight of expectations, the complexities in her relationship with Edward, and the looming responsibilities merged into a poignant melody that resonated in her heart.

Amelie, attuned to Stacy's occasional lapses into silence, cast a concerned yet comforting glance. The designer, still entranced by the dress's beauty, couldn't help but express the joy of creating such a masterpiece. "Bellisima, you look enchanting, Your Ladyship." 

Stacy, caught between the threads of history and the uncertainties of her own destiny, replied with a soft smile, "Thank you. It truly is a work of art."

Amelie, sensing the weight of Stacy's emotions, gently inquired, "How are you feeling, Stacy? Is there anything specific you'd like to incorporate into the design? Or is the fit too tight? Do you feel comfortable in it?"

Stacy hesitated for a moment before expressing her thoughts. "I want it to be more than just tradition. I want it to reflect the essence of who I am and who we are as a couple."

The designer nodded in understanding, "Of course, Miss De Novo. Your vision will be woven into every detail, making this gown uniquely yours."

After the session, Amelie was well aware that Stacy's mood was not the best. She could not blame her at all, as the girl experienced a turbulent week of the tabloids, a strained relationship with Edward, and all the added pressures of being a member of the royal family. Amelie, perceptive to Stacy's emotional state, suggested with a warm smile, "Stacy, let's take a break from the whirlwind. How about a little baking session? It might be a delightful way to lift your spirits and create a moment of joy."

Stacy, appreciative of Amelie's thoughtfulness, nodded. "Baking sounds like a wonderful escape right now. Let's do it."

As they retreated to the palace kitchen, the aroma of ingredients and the act of measuring, mixing, and creating together worked like a comforting balm for Stacy's soul. The simple joy of baking became a shared refuge, allowing Stacy to temporarily set aside the pressures that surrounded her.

As the aroma of sweet delights enveloped the royal kitchen, Amelie and Stacy engaged in the art of baking, seeking a momentary escape from the grandeur of their impending responsibilities. Amelie suggested whipping up simple red velvet cupcakes, a delightful choice for a casual moment of baking.

While Amelie skillfully measured ingredients and shared anecdotes of past kitchen escapades, Stacy's mind lingered in the corridors of her thoughts. Lost in the labyrinth of her emotions, the joy of baking became a temporary sanctuary, a soothing rhythm against the backdrop of her complex reality.

Amidst the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of utensils, Stacy's wandering mind met an unexpected challenge. In an absentminded moment, she inadvertently touched the hot baking tray with her bare hands, a sudden jolt of pain breaking the spell of contemplation. "Shit!" she grumbled under her breath.

"Stacy! Are you alright?" Amelie's concern resonated as she rushed to Stacy's side.

Stacy winced, shaking off the heat from her hands. "I'm fine, just got a bit distracted. Maybe I needed a wake-up call from the cupcakes themselves."

As Amelie tended to Stacy's hands with gentle care, the unspoken understanding between them hung in the air. The kitchen, usually filled with the harmonious symphony of baking, became a haven for vulnerability. Softly, Amelie spoke, her words a subtle acknowledgment of the turmoil beneath the surface. "Stacy, you never burn anything when you bake. I know something's not okay. You can talk to me."

Stacy, her guard momentarily lowered by the intimate setting of the kitchen, sighed. "It's just... everything, Amelie. The expectations, the conflicts. I feel like I'm losing myself in this role. Sometimes, my mind wanders if I should just hop a plane back to Chicago."

"Stacy, it's natural to have doubts, especially in the face of such monumental decisions. Your feelings are valid," Amelie reassured, her gaze soft yet steady. "But before you board that plane, consider the love you and Edward share. It's a rare and precious thing. Its the most genuine form of love I've ever seen in my service here in the palace."

Stacy, torn between the familiarity of her past life and the uncertainty of the royal future, sighed. "Amelie, I never imagined it would be this complicated. I love Edward, but I can't help but wonder if love is enough to navigate the intricacies of this life."

Amelie, offering a cup of tea to soothe both body and soul, spoke with a wisdom honed by years of royal service. "Love is a powerful force, Stacy, but it's not the only ingredient in this intricate recipe. Communication, compromise, and understanding play their roles as well. You and Edward have a connection that could weather these challenges, but it requires both of you to be open and honest."

Stacy, cradling the warm cup in her hands, contemplated the crossroads she found herself facing. The royal kitchen, once a haven for shared moments, now held the weight of decisions that could reshape destinies. As the fragrance of tea and unresolved dilemmas lingered, Stacy knew that the choice she made would echo beyond the confines of the palace walls.

—

With the grace only found in innocence, the young prince stumbled, his tiny hands reaching out for the support and reassurance a parent typically provides. King George, however, met this vulnerability with a cold detachment that belied the warmth inherent in familial bonds.

The young prince, on the verge of tears, held out a hand towards his father. King George, unyielding in his approach to royal discipline, uttered words that resonated with a harsh reality.

"Stand yourself up, Edward," the king declared, his gaze unwavering. "A future king doesn't dilly-dally on the floor."

In the courtly dance of royalty, the young prince was left to fend for himself, a poignant tableau of a childhood marked by the absence of paternal warmth. The attendants, ever dutiful to the king's commands, hurried to the young prince's aid, their hands reaching out where a father's touch was absent.

Edward closes his eyes again, the scene then changes.

In the vast halls of the palace, a young Edward often found himself standing alone, gazing at the ornate decorations that adorned the regal walls. The distant echoes of royal court discussions reached his ears, but the figure of King George remained elusive, a shadow casting a long and cold absence.*

Queen Caroline, his mother, would delicately explain, "Edward, your father is burdened with the weight of the kingdom. His duties demand much of his time."

Amelie, the loyal confidante, would offer comfort, "You have the love of your mother, and I'll be here for you as well."

As Edward grew, the void left by his father's absence became a defining aspect of his life. He sought solace in the company of those who stayed by his side, creating a haven within the palace's walls where love and understanding served as the pillars of his existence.

In the hallowed halls where the memories of a distant father lingered, Edward grappled with the complex dance between duty and familial connection. The paternal void that shaped his early years left its mark, shaping his approach to love, relationships, and the delicate balance of royal responsibilities.

As Edward navigated the intricate threads of his present, the echoes of an absent father whispered, influencing his choices and interactions. The tension with King George, his distant and disapproving father, reverberated through the palace, casting a shadow on the path to love and acceptance.

The grand council chamber was adorned with tapestries depicting the storied history of Belgravia. Edward, a younger prince then, stood in stark contrast to the imposing figure of King George. The atmosphere crackled with tension.

"Edward, you must understand the legacy you're set to inherit. Our kingdom thrives on the foundation of tradition." His father, the King tells him.

"But Father, the world is changing. We must adapt, embrace new perspectives." Edward implores.

King George sighs deeply. "Tradition is the bedrock of our stability, to deviate from it risks the very essence of Belgravia."

As Edward approached marriage with Stacy, the memories of those clashes lingered. The council meetings, where differing visions clashed like swords, haunted him. The desire for his father's acceptance and the acknowledgment of his chosen path weighed heavily on his heart. Edward navigated the delicate intricacies of impending marriage, the specter of his father's disapproval cast a long shadow. The weight of the crown was not just a symbol of authority; it carried the burdens of an unresolved father-son dynamic.

Being a ruler meant the king were to spend less time with his son.

Amidst the opulence of the palace, where every corridor whispered secrets of royal lineage, Edward grappled with his desire for a harmonious familial connection. The ghosts of the past lingered, shaping the contours of his leadership, love, and the quest to bridge the gap between tradition and progress. The weight of his father's expectations, the echoes of countless disagreements, and the yearning for approval became threads entwined in the fabric of his soul.

Amidst the splendor of the royal gardens, where blooming roses mirrored the fragility of familial bonds, a poignant conversation unfolded. The king had summoned his son after the fiasco at Wembley Studio. He was livid over his son proposing over a live and televised event. "Edward, you are the heir to the throne. Your actions reflect not just on you, but on the entire kingdom. Proposing in front of the camera, that was uncalled for."

King George's voice, a haunting refrain in his mind, urged him to ponder the very foundations of his choices. The disapproval etched in his father's gaze during heated discussions resurfaced, and Edward faced an internal struggle—how to reconcile duty with personal convictions.

"Father, love knows no boundaries. Stacy makes me happy, and together, we can forge a future that harmonizes tradition and modernity. I simply do not want her to leave my side, and I proposed because I was already sure of her." He counters, defending his actions.

"Edward, happiness is a fleeting emotion. The stability of the kingdom rests on foundations that cannot be compromised. You are a prince, not a lovesick puppy!"

—

It was a bright sunny afternoon when Stacy held the phone to her ear, the subtle hum of a transatlantic connection carrying Margaret's voice. The unexpected call piqued her interest, and she listened attentively as Margaret's words filled the air. It was quite unusual of Margaret to call as the duchess was usually preoccupied with her own responsibilities.

"Stacy, darling, surprise!" Margaret's voice, laced with excitement, greeted her.

"Margaret? What's going on?" Stacy asked, a hint of confusion coloring her tone.

Just then, another voice chimed in, and Stacy's eyes widened in recognition. "Is that... Kevin?"

"Guilty as charged!" Kevin's cheerful response echoed through the phone.

Stacy's shock turned into a mixture of surprise and joy. "What are you doing in Chicago, Margaret?"

Margaret's laughter bubbled through the phone. "Well, I thought I'd make a little detour before heading to Belgravia. Kevin and I are here, and we wanted to spend some quality time before we fly there for the wedding."

Stacy, caught off guard but genuinely touched, couldn't help but smile. "You both flew are flying early here for me?"

"Absolutely! It's not every day your best friend becomes a princess. We couldn't miss the chance to share in the joy. Is Edward treating you well?," Kevin asks, his enthusiasm palpable even through the phone.

Margaret added, "And it's been ages since I've been to Chicago. Thought it would be the perfect opportunity for a little adventure."

"Hey, let her answer my question, Mugs." Kevin complains, and Stacy could hear shuffling as Kevin took over the phone. She chuckled at her friend's choice of nickname for his beloved. "Is Edward treating you well, Stace?" He asks.

Stacy, appreciating the sincerity of the gesture, felt warmth spreading within her. "Yeah... Hmm he does. Edward is currently in parliament. I can’t wait to see you.” She lies smoothly.

"Well, get ready for a fabulous time, my dear. Can't wait to see you!" Margaret exclaimed, the excitement in her voice mirroring the anticipation building in Stacy's heart.

As the conversation unfolded, Margaret, perceptive as ever, picked up on nuances in Stacy's voice. "Stacy, darling, you can't fool me. How are you really doing?"

Stacy hesitated for a moment, realizing her attempt to mask her emotions had been transparent to her discerning friend. "I'm... I'm doing great, Margaret. Just caught up in the whirlwind of wedding preparations, you know."

Margaret's response was a knowing chuckle and she lowered her voice a bit so Kevin would not hear their conversation. "Nice try, but I know you too well. We'll talk more about it once I'm there in Belgravia. No secrets between us, okay?"

Stacy, grateful for Margaret's understanding, nodded even though the distance couldn't be seen through the phone. "Deal. Can't wait to see you and catch up properly."

The assurance of Margaret's imminent arrival brought a sense of comfort to Stacy, a reminder that amidst the grandeur and formality of royal life, there were friendships that transcended the barriers of titles and obligations. Two more weeks felt like an eternity.

—

Queen Caroline, concerned about the well-being of her soon-to-be daughter-in-law, summoned Amelie for an update. As Amelie entered the queen's presence, she could feel the weight of responsibility and scrutiny.

"Amelie, please have a seat," Queen Caroline gestured gracefully, her eyes revealing a mix of concern and expectation.

Amelie took a seat, her posture poised but with a hint of weariness. "Your Majesty," she greeted respectfully.

"Tell me, Amelie, how is Stacy holding up? I've heard whispers of rumors, and I worry about her," Queen Caroline inquired, her maternal instincts taking precedence.

Amelie chose her words carefully, aware of the delicate nature of the situation. "Your Majesty, Stacy has been going through a challenging time. The rumors in the press have taken a toll on her emotionally. We're working on a plan to address the situation and provide a more accurate narrative, but Stacy needs some time to navigate through her feelings."

Queen Caroline nodded thoughtfully. "It's crucial that Stacy feels supported and understood. I trust you to guide her with compassion, Amelie. Remember, the strength of our monarchy lies not just in tradition but in the well-being of our family members."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Amelie replied with a determined expression. "I will do my utmost to support Stacy and ensure that the image portrayed in the media aligns with the truth."

Queen Caroline offered a reassuring smile. "Very well, Amelie. Keep me informed, and don't hesitate to seek counsel if needed. We're a family, and we face these challenges together."

Amelie, standing before Queen Caroline, felt compelled to convey the delicate truth about Stacy's emotional state. With measured words, she spoke, "Your Majesty, Stacy's emotional well-being is intricately tied to her support system, particularly her connection with Prince Edward. In recent times, as they face challenges and rumors, Stacy has found solace and strength in their bond."

She continued, choosing her words carefully, "The strain on their relationship, and the rumors circulating in the press, have shaken Stacy. It's evident that her sense of security relies heavily on the support and understanding she receives from Prince Edward. Without that anchor, she seems to falter, and navigating the complexities of her new role becomes even more challenging."

Amelie's gaze remained steady, respectful yet sincere, as she awaited Queen Caroline's response. The queen absorbed the information, recognizing the fragility of the situation and the importance of preserving the foundation upon which Stacy's resilience rested.

Amelie took a breath before continuing, her commitment to transparency evident in her words. "Your Majesty, the strain in Stacy's relationship with Prince Edward is compounded by his absence during these challenging times. While I understand the demands of his duties, Stacy's emotional well-being is delicate, and the support she needs from him is crucial."

Queen Caroline's brow furrowed in concern. "Why isn't Edward by Stacy's side? In times of hardship, they should face these challenges together."

Amelie explained, "Your Majesty, Prince Edward has been occupied with parliamentary responsibilities and official matters. It appears that the demands on his time have left Stacy feeling isolated. I believe their connection is vital, and if not nurtured in these trying times, there's a risk that the strain might lead to more severe consequences, possibly even reconsidering the engagement."

Queen Caroline's expression shifted, a mix of worry and determination. "We cannot allow this situation to escalate further. Edward needs to prioritize his responsibilities, but he must also prioritize his relationship with Stacy. We must find a way to ensure that they face these challenges as a united front. I'll see what i can do, George is keeping Edward on his toes in parliament. That boy never seemed to catch a break."

[threewaysdivided]

So, in YJDW, Danny is still very much a solo-hero type. I imagine that's going to potentially cause some issues down the road, both with learning how to work as an equal with other supers and bonding with them since his own hero development is so different from the Team's. No mentor, the discomfort that the nature of his powers can cause, the mixed history he DOES have that's public knowledge, and the lack of real exposure to the rest of the superhero sphere of influence.

(Young Justice: Deathly Weapons)

So this is interesting because you're completely right; those are things that should complicate Danny's interactions (and potential integration) with established heroes and hero teams.

However, the specifics of Danny's circumstances and road to joining the Team in Deathly Weapons kind of alleviate or sidestep a lot of those potential issues. At cost of giving him a new catalogue of complexes to deal with but beggars can't be choosers.

I think we discussed a few of the particulars a while ago in this post thread with @doodly-doop, so I might gloss over some of those finer points here.

Suffice to say that, if it was a immediately-post-series Phantom, there's a lot of potential stumbling blocks to do with him already having ingrained instincts/ strategic impulses/ reflexes/ fighting styles that are specifically geared towards him being the lone powerhouse/ point guard/ tank in a group of otherwise Badass Normal support members. (Compare Superboy, who might be best suited to the specific role of tank/ threat management but who knows most of his teammates can take hits that would incapacitate regular humans). There's also potential for personality clashes given that Phantom is somewhat used to being the de facto leader in his own environment, and also the possibility for him to be carrying some resentment over being left un-mentored or having to deal with ghost problems entirely by himself if it becomes clear that the others knew something was happening in Amity but chose not to intervene.

If you want fic recs, Communication Issues (DP x YJ) by @nerdofspades is specifically about the resentment thing, and the solo-act-joins-team-operation issue is something that comes up in MirrorandImage's DP x TT fic Ghost of A Chance.

When it comes to Deathly Weapons, the details of the setup have kind of brushed aside some of those issues or reduced their severity. Danny's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad nine months of being a fugitive in between leaving Amity and finding Batman (which we will learn more about in coming chapters) has made him a lot more amenable to feedback and groupwork.

Rather than being fresh from overt frontline heroing he's spent almost a year in hiding; a time where he and the rest of Team Phantom had to work a lot more collaboratively, in situations where Danny was very conscious that the others' skills and connections were just as, if not more important than his powers (which at times were even a liability since they could potentially be tracked). Trying to pull a solo-act or otherwise splitting up the group is a really risky move when you're being hunted, and it curbed a lot of the impulses that might have led him to break ranks or otherwise deviate from a team plan without checking in first.

It's also worn down a lot of his pride in a few ways. First, simply traveling around America has made him much more conscious of how small scale he and Amity Park are, both geographically and in the grand scheme of heroism. It's something he thinks about in Chapter 15:

Everything here was too big for him - the manor, Gotham City, Batman and Robin, top-tier heroes... Sure, maybe back in Amity he'd been something special. Or at least, half of him might have been. But if months on the road had shown him anything it was that, in the eyes of the world, Amity Park was just another small, no-name town. Just like he was. Small-town. -Roads to Safe Places (Chapter 15)

There's also the fact that he's just... extremely tired. Being the de facto head of a group in a time of crisis is an exhausting level of responsibility, especially when you have no reliable fallbacks and prohibitively huge consequences for failure. In Chapter 8, Danny is very resistant to cooperating with Batman and Robin, but that's not pride that's survival mode: Danny and Co. endured the last nine months primarily by being aggressively self-reliant and not trusting other people. (There's also a little bit of grief and survivor's guilt in the mix: a sense that this is his torch to bear alone, and that it wouldn't be fair to pass the burden.)

Part of him desperately wanted somebody to step in, to take the load. But that wasn't how it worked. This was his mess. He couldn't just shove it off onto someone else because he wasn't up to the challenge. - Interference (Chapter 9)

Not only that but Team Phantom did not do well during their time on the run - they sacrificed a lot just to get out of Amity Park and were mostly met with more losses as they went - which Danny feels responsible for as the one who was supposed to be leading them. In some ways Phantom and his team went through their own nine-month equivalent to the Failsafe training exercise, and Danny walked away from it with a similar mindset:

I was desperate to be in charge. Not anymore. - Robin, YJS1 E17 Disordered

Once he accepts that he can safely take the help, the suggestion of being on a Team where Batman, Aqualad (and sometimes Robin) are ultimately the ones responsible for calling the shots is less likely to be met with a how dare you as much as an oh thank god.

On top of that, the Danny of Deathly Weapons has a touch of literal hero-worship going on. This Danny grew up with the cultural presence of heroes on Earth-16; from the history of the Justice Society, to living through the formation of the Justice League. By the time he had the accident that turned him into Phantom, Robin, Aqualad, Kid Flash and Speedy would all have been publicly active as proteges for at least 6 months. And in the absence of a mentor of his own, well... I'm going to share a sneak-peak snippet from the CH21 draft:

Maybe it hit harder coming from other heroes.  From the kinds of people whose stories he’d looked to when he was first starting out - that some young, secret part of himself had fantasised might meet and understand him some day. - Equilibrium DRAFT (Chapter 21)

In combination, you might be able to see how the Danny of Deathly Weapons has been shifted just enough to the left of canon!Danny to play better with others. If anything, he's uncharacteristically passive and submissive in their first standalone mission due both to his unfamiliarity with the situation and stakes, and to all that baggage squashing him down. This is a Danny who has new raw patches exposed, but whose experiences have sanded away some of the edges that would otherwise have clashed with a teamwork setting.

It also helps that he's being placed on The Team specifically. Unlike say, the Teen Titans or Justice League, this is a covert squad that's doubling as a proving ground for starting proteges. Between Superboy, M'gann, Artemis and Zatanna they're pretty used to assimilating a mixed bag of powers and skills from members who don't have a lot of direct exposure to the rest of the superhero sphere. And because they're a covert squad whose main advantage lies in being unexpected and underestimated despite how often their plans seem to end in arson, they have their own motivation to stay as publicly invisible as they can manage, which not only lets Phantom operate with lower risk of being personally discovered, but also helps limit them and the League's potential exposure to ectophobic public sentiment.

That isn't to say that this Danny doesn't still carry some resentment or bitter feelings about how he's perceived and what he's been through (especially if someone whose name may or may not start with Kid and rhyme with Dash was to specifically antagonise him about it) but he comes to it with an additional nine months of perspective that make him more likely to respond to collaboration with a quiet sense of relief. At least once you can get past the defensive prickle and general awkwardness about accepting help.

This is all stuff I'm looking forward to elaborating on across the story and especially in the upcoming Flashpoints/ Combustion/ Equilibrium chapter set (CH19-21). It'll make more sense after those releases but hopefully this explains well enough for now.

Thanks for stopping by! 💜

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰ ▱▰

1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

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

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law

[dornish-queen]

GQ MEXICO - PEDRO PASCAL 2021

It seems that Pedro Pascal is in all possible universes. Here and there. In the past, in the present, and in galaxies far, far away. Today, the actor is considered the great entertainment reference and one of those in charge of saving a franchise that seemed lost. Enough reasons to talk exclusively about discipline, gastronomy, creeds and how he traumatized his father in 30 seconds.

The RAE defines 'creed' as the set of ideas, principles or convictions of a person or a group. For example, by creed, one can leave his country and be in exile. It happens that one can leave the loved one behind. Or simply live in another reality. And also one can put on a helmet to pretend never to take it off again. If that is the path to follow, the creed says that it must be done with the profession of faith and without stopping to look. Turning the pages of the script for The Mandalorian , the Disney + series that revived passion and nostalgia for the Star Wars franchise , Pedro Pascal came across this definition in every dialogue and moment, and reflection carved his way.

More than two decades have passed since the Chilean-American, Pedro Pascal, began his acting career and today, named as the great reference of 2020 , he misses the theater and it still hurts him not to have the discipline to exercise and maintain a diet sana while acknowledging the irony of having the best year of her career in the midst of one of the worst in recent history. But even in physical solitude, the man who carried the best-selling Christmas baby rescues many positive things and shares his vision of the universes he has traveled through, his passion for distant galaxies and how to traumatize your family with a simple scene of TV. In an interview, the Mandalorian of Latinamerica.

IMDB named you the 2020 benchmark in entertainment, a year in which the world took refuge in fiction. How was living your best time locked up and what do you rescue on a human level from it?

The strength of family relationships and friendship. For them, we endure this physical loneliness. I do find it ironic that in 2020 I received projects so well received by the public, although they were carried out before the pandemic and their impact was during it, and that year I was isolated and alone. But I must emphasize that this loneliness is a privilege when many people had to continue working, surviving and maintaining the functioning of the world. We only had to be alone, but they more than that and you must value it too.

Among the activities you have missed, how much do you miss the theater?

Much indeed. It's something that I miss the most and being with people without being afraid. See a play and return to those experiences of being with people doing and living things in common. That is what I need most, in addition to my loved ones.

Disney fully entered streaming and its strong letter has your face, what do you think of the discussion of platforms against movie theaters?

There are incredible things in streaming and many people develop great projects that they did not have access to before. The diversity of voices is gaining ground and it is important to recognize that opportunities grow exponentially and boundaries change. It is incredible the availability that we have to very well made content and how creative people can share their work in different ways. But I also want to be honest: limiting the experience of watching content only on our gadgets or at home is a mistake that affects the stories we can tell. You have to achieve a mix of opportunities and challenges.

You jump between the fictional universes that mark the last decades until you reach the universe of universes. What is your first Star Wars memory and how do you summarize the essence of this legendary story?

For me, Star Wars is nostalgia itself. It is one of the primary things in my memory, of my childhood. I came to the United States with my Chilean family when I was less than two years old and one of my first memories is going to the movies with my dad to see the saga ; it becomes one of those romantic childhood things that opens your mind, so imagine how special it is to participate in this project. I think the creators of The Mandalorian perfectly understand this nostalgia and that power, and they managed to count on that element as a great ally for the world of Star Wars and I couldn't be happier to be part of it. (From which we expect the third season The Mandalorian)

The Mandalorian exploits the power and nuances of your voice, did you have that letter on your resume?

I didn't know I could do it, but I resorted to my theater preparation, which was very physical on all levels and feelings. There are elements that have to do with and that are essential to create a role, and they teach you that the voice is something primary, something you have to start with and you cannot hide. Now I have learned much more about the importance of that, and how to use it economically. The body also has to do with that, because something very subtle communicates something. In The Mandalorian , I had a great time figuring out how to do it, they gave me the opportunity to develop it in different ways. The opportunity to be very intense at it.

What happens to the ego when someone works under a suit and a mask?

In the conversations about the project, before doing it, we were communicated the idea and the concept of the entire season , so I clearly understood what it was. I wanted it to be the most powerful version of what they were trying to accomplish, so there was no point in involving my ego, you know? It was already very clear what the project meant, so I knew about the character , the piece that it represented for him and the opportunity that it was for me, so I was only focused on executing in a better way the part that touched me in everything this. In the theater, I worked several times under a mask and it helped me develop the experience.

It seems that The Mandalorian has a very theatrical base ...

Exactly, and thanks to the physical experience of working in theater, doing a play a few times a week, discovering how your body and your voice communicate , being part of a whole image, and how you will tell that story visually, I achieved this character. I never imagined that it would be something I would have to use on such an important Star Wars project .

On the list of entertainment greats, there are names like Steven Spielberg and George Lucas, do you think John Favreau should be added to the list?

I think your name is already included. Without a doubt, it is in that category and it is incredible. His vision fascinates me. I remember an episode in the second season , and I had some boots and I walked so much in the snow, it stuck to them. He figured it out, so he talked to the art department about the kind of boots you need when you're out in the snow. They approached me and gave me new ones that fulfilled the idea I was looking for. He noticed it in an instant. It is such a wonderful detail and it is repeated to scale in every session with him. He thinks of absolutely everything and his vision of the use of technology is admirable. He is someone who makes you feel motivated and always sees how to achieve the goal.

One of the reflections in the series is on how and under what circumstances a man can break his creed and way of life. What makes you break with your beliefs?

I think that you must follow your heart so as not to regret anything; Although sometimes it brings pain or conflict, deep down when you look back, everything is worth it because it was what you heard in your heart. I am very afraid to deny that feeling or not to attend to it. I am 45 years old now and I cannot believe I have a finer philosophy. Make it more disciplined. It's ridiculous, but I'm trying to accept that I am and it's all I can say, "follow your heart." Although, you know, I'm not on a good diet yet, I still have trouble sleeping or exercising.

Still good at Chilean empanadas?

Yes, I couldn't stop. And also how good that I do not live in Mexico City because I would only spend it eating. I could move my whole life to defe just to eat.

I want to deviate and ask you, with whom did you see the chapter of your death in Game of Thrones and what traumas did you cause in your family?

For me, no trauma. I separate myself well from the characters , although I fully understand that if I were a Game of Thrones audience and loved that character, it would make an incredible impression on me. Thank you that it was not. I had to interpret it and there was a model of my head to be crushed that way with the tubes and the fake blood, you know? Me lying there, with pieces of my meat, it was funny in the end. But not for my family. For them there is nothing funny but traumatic. My dad's voice changed completely when we saw the episode, he turned around and said: “I didn't like it, Pedro . No, Pedro , not this ”.

The media found similarities between your villain in Wonder Woman: 1984 and Donald Trump. When playing a character with characteristics like this, do you humanize him or do you understand him?

The project had nothing to do with the former president. They always told me that my character in Wonder Woman: 1984 was emotionally messy, and I took that and took that as far as possible. Instead of creating it with images or certain inspirations from life, it was more to work with what was on the page. Personally, what made sense to me is the size of the story that is being told and there is always more, and we all want more. Creatively, if this makes sense, that meant "blowing her out of the park." Connect a hit with the character and be committed to telling his story faithfully, in a way that was true to me. So all the exterior elements found their way.

What a way to start 2021 with the theme of the Capitol ... How do you perceive that moment?

I am not a politician and it is not that I do not have an opinion about this type of event; however, it is not necessary to state the obvious. My opinion would be very simple compared to that of a person who studied this, who knows how to act in these kinds of scenarios; I believe that I am next to the majority who experienced this, which is the logical result of what we have experienced during these years and we are all horrified . It was distressing to see this violence.

If you had the monolith in your hands, what would your wish be?

My wish would be… it's impossible, really (laughs). I think it is to be together again, with less fear and that people have the opportunity to connect.

What is your position on the reality that Chile has experienced in recent years and how has the relationship with your country been since exile?

It is something that I am developing and I continue to do in my life, trying to understand that it is my home. To be in Chile is to be at home, but my life has been very nomadic, living different things and having many influences; so it is strange, I do not feel with the title of a complete Chilean identity nor with an American one.

Neither here nor there?

In a sense, but I'm also completely both. My parents are Chilean , my brothers were born there before my parents traveled, and I came back sometimes because my family is very large; in fact, my parents came back. It has always been there, it continues to develop, and it will be a part of me. I don't know if it answers your question, but it has a lot to do with who I am.

What is your relationship with Latin American cinema? Are you interested?

Much, it has invaded me in life like American cinema. The movies that I carry in my heart, seeing something like Y tu mama was also something that changed me; I also love the work that comes out of Chile , and the only thing I can say is that it is a cinema that needs more access and projects.

Today you have a comedy with Nicolas Cage on the door, can you tell us something?

It's my first shot at comedy , as a complete story within the genre. Speaking of American influences , in the 80s I saw all the films where Nicolas Cage appeared , he came into my life and it's great to be his partner after seeing all his performances.

How is the relationship you have with the comedy genre?

I love it, I have done a lot of comedy in the theater, what happens is that in film and television issues , I was always part of drama castings . And in the cinema, you go where the doors open; Although I identify with one or the other, I think that being an actor , one goes and does what one has to do. Comedy is something unique, it is very challenging because it must be very real to be funny, you cannot hide or use normal tricks. I was very excited to have this challenge in front of a camera.

Finally, Pedro, after going through so many fictional worlds, literally, what do you dream about when you sleep?

I dream that my bathroom is dirty, that I haven't done my math homework, that the oven is on and all that stuff. Sure, there are times when I close my eyes and see myself in all these projects , although my conscience is with the anxieties of the day that you can imagine.

Without a doubt, Pedro Pascal is a particular type .

English Tranlation: Google Translate

SOURCE:  GQ MEXICO

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 41

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: graphic depictions of violence (updated)

read on ao3

1915

 and i’ll see you in the high and low

 in the high and low i’ll find you

“Are you ready?”

“Hm?” Roy’s head turned towards her. She’d broken him out of his thoughts. His expression had been miles away as he sat on the edge of his hospital bed in quiet contemplation. Riza was curious about what had taken up so much of his attention but didn’t enquire. If he wanted to share, he would.

“I asked if you were ready to go,” she explained softly.

“Oh, yes.” Roy straightened his spine and placed both hands flat on his thighs. “I’m ready.”

Riza took his hand in hers and angled her body so they were walking side by side. Her other hand rose to grasp his elbow, cradling it within her palm.

“Thank you,” Roy smiled. He gave her hand a tiny nudge with his elbow.

“It’s no problem, Roy. You know that.”

“I know, but you’ve helped me so much and without complaint.”

Riza laughed to herself. “I’m happy to help.”

“How is your neck? And your shoulder? Let me know if you need to stop or sit down.”

“They’re fine, Roy. There’s no pain. And I will, don’t worry.”

Yesterday while they’d been on their first walk out of their room Riza had a sudden bout of light-headedness. They’d been on their way to a payphone to finally call Chris, after a few days of no contact. Breda had appointed himself their liaison and provided her with an update on their current situation, as both Roy and Riza had been on bedrest since their arrival. They were itching to speak to her, and possibly speak to Mia, but it hadn’t come to pass. On their way there Riza had clumsily fallen into a chair as her vision blurred into a solid grey colour, letting go of Roy and frightening him with her abrupt silence. The feeling had passed over her in a slow wave as she clutched at her forehead. It was painless but disorientating. While Roy had frantically called her name, a nurse found them and recognised Riza’s signs. She placated Roy with a quick explanation as Riza was unable to do it herself. All of her focus was on breathing and not passing out, so was unable to formulate any kind of sentence. They both were promptly whisked back to their room after that and it seemed Roy wouldn’t be quick to forget about that incident.

She’d lost a lot of blood, so her body was still trying to recover it, the doctor had explained. Riza started to worry she may be kept in longer than Roy. Of course, she was concerned for herself and her own wellbeing. The sooner she recovered, the sooner her children could come home to her. But, if Roy was discharged by himself… Their home wasn’t equipped for housing someone who was blind. She had to get things organised, rearrange rooms, create paths for him…

And then there was their children to think about as well. She couldn’t take care of them while being so weak. Thankfully, they were still in Xing with Chris and the girls. Riza would love for them to come home, but it wasn’t feasible or practical. If they did they’d have to stay with Chris and both parents knew Mia would be wondering where they were. She’d be constantly asking after them. To save her any worry and stress, they agreed, if it was all right with Chris, to keep them both in Xing until they left the hospital. It saved them giving an explanation to a child who was too young to understand properly what had happened to them.

Breda confirmed Chris had agreed to that plan. She’d been thinking the same thing too. Riza was grateful to have one weight lifted off her mind, but all those thoughts and worries were still threatening to give her a headache.

“What are you thinking about?” Roy’s expression was one of concentration, as if he were listening to something intently. However, she hadn’t said a word or uttered a sound.

One thing that did strike Riza was he could still pick up on a shift in her mood. It may not be the same as before, but it made her smile to know there was still some sort of connection between them.

But that smile quickly fell.

“The future,” Riza replied.

Roy patted her arm in sympathy and understanding. He kept it there too, which was a comfort. He was supporting her, as she was doing the same to him.

“I was thinking about when we’ll be discharged,” she elaborated further. “About whether or not we’ll leave at the same time, or if one of us will go first.”

“I was wondering that too,” Roy admitted. “The doctors are pleased with your progress, but you lost a lot of blood and –” He cut himself off for a moment, swallowing thickly as he stumbled over the memory of their time in the tunnels. “And you need time to recover. It’s a large wound, they tell me.” The pressure on her forearm increased. “They need to keep you in for further observation to ensure it doesn’t get infected.”

Riza knew all of this already but reasoned if it helped Roy to find some semblance of peace to go through everything aloud then she wouldn’t take that away from him.

“My hands are still pretty bad too,” he added. “The surgery went well but there was a lot of damage. I need to be kept in for them, not to mention for rehabilitation as well.”

“I just don’t want you to be sent home without me,” she admitted quietly.

“I know. I don’t particularly want to go home by myself either.” He chuckled to himself, “I would be a walking hazard without you.”

She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood, however, the worry still weighed heavily on her mind.

“I don’t think they would let me leave without some kind of system of care in place though,” Roy mused.

“Once your hands are better you’ll need to start practicing with your cane.”

He pouted playfully. “But you’re a much preferable guide.”

Riza smirked. “Unfortunately, I can’t be with you every minute of every day.”

Roy hummed. “I don’t know, that does sound pretty wonderful to me.”

“You know what I mean,” she scolded lightly, but let out a light laugh.

“I know, love,” he reassured with a smile. “How do you feel about us potentially training Hayate to help me out around the house?”

Riza bit her lip. “That’s a lot to put on him.”

“I don’t mean full-time. It was mostly for helping me move around.”

“He’s not trained for that though,” she argued.

“It was just a thought.” He lifted a hand in surrender. “Obviously if you’re not happy with it then we won’t. My only thought was he’s such a good dog already and can listen very well. He’s so attentive. He’d probably work very well as a service dog.”

“With the correct training from the correct people, he probably would, yes.”

“I don’t think it would work out anyway,” Roy sighed heavily.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” She was confused.

“Can you imagine me trying to take Mia’s best friend away from her?”

Riza snorted lightly. “They are inseparable,” she agreed.

“No, I couldn’t tear those two apart. That wouldn’t be fair. Who knows,” Roy shrugged, “it may come naturally to us. Anyway, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I can ask for an update and a time estimate from the doctors this afternoon. That may put our minds at rest a little?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Riza nodded. “It would be nice to know some kind of timeframe, if possible, and find out what we have to work with.”

“And we won’t be without help. The team has already discussed this scenario too, apparently.”

Riza cocked her head towards him in surprise.

“If I was to be discharged first, they offered their assistance at home. Rebecca did too. Although,” Roy smirked, “I think she only wants to make sure I don’t destroy the place on your behalf,” he quipped.

“They really offered?”

Roy nodded. “They’re happy to help out.”

Riza was touched. A fond smile spread across her face as she thought of the men who’d devoted their lives to her husband. She knew they were close but hadn’t realised that would extend to outside their work lives as well. Riza didn’t know why though, she suddenly thought. They already thought of themselves as unofficial uncles to Mia, and now to Maes as well. They’d also already offered such assistance to her when Roy was in the hospital last year. After that realisation, Riza supposed it would be a natural progression. Her smile grew wider.

“They’re a good group of people.”

Roy hummed in agreement. “The best group of people.”

They continued on their walk and reached their destination, a payphone.

“We’re here.”

“Trip number two was a success,” he beamed.

“It was, thankfully,” Riza chuckled. She guided Roy over to a chair beside the phone and sat him down. Rebecca had brought her purse in from home, so Riza rummaged around within for the spare change she needed to make the call.

The phone rang four times before someone answered.

“Hello?” The gruff voice on the other side of the line made Riza smile immediately. It was a welcome sound and a voice she’d missed hearing.

“Chris? It’s Riza.”

She didn’t speak until after a short pause. “Riza?” Before she could open her mouth to confirm, Chris called Vanessa’s name, Riza assumed over her shoulder, holding the receiver away. “Good to finally hear from you, Riza.

“I know. Sorry it’s been a while.”

Chris scoffed. “No need to apologise for that. Breda has kept me up to date. How are you doing?”

We’re okay.” She glanced over at Roy who was trying to listen in to their conversation. “A little beat up, but all right.”

“Beat up?” Her question was short and sharp.

Perhaps Breda hadn’t shared some of the finer details with Chris.

“Yes. I sustained some injuries, but they’re being treated. We’re calling from the hospital.”

“And Roy? How’s he?”

Breda definitely hadn’t shared all of the details.

“Lieutenant Breda only really told me you were alive and would be all right,” Chris continued.

Riza could appreciate that. How does one stranger tell another that their son was now blind and their daughter-in-law suffered life threatening injuries?

She glanced over at Roy, noticing how his lips were pressed into a thin line. He gestured for the phone. It was time for him to break the news of his new condition.

“He wants to tell you himself,” she replied carefully.

Chris was quiet for a second. “All right.” Her words were sombre as she spoke.

“Hi, Chris,” Roy greeted.

Riza silently remained by his side. She placed a hand atop his head as he informed his mother that he was now blind and what had happened to his hands. Her fingers ran through his hair, playing with his dark tresses to try comfort and soothe him.

“Yeah… We won.”

A proud smile spread across Riza’s face as Roy broke their other news.

A chuckle left him as Chris spoke again. “I know, I know,” Roy relented. “There’s a long way to go yet, but yes, we did it. The plan succeeded.”

They spoke back and forth for a few more moments before Roy paused.

“Mia?” Roy’s head turned towards Riza’s body, facing into her stomach. Her fingers froze in his hair as she spotted his expectant look. Riza’s heart leapt into her throat. “Yes, please. If you could put her on.”

There was a sudden movement that disrupted Riza from her thoughts. Roy had felt out the chair next to him and slid over. The one he’d vacated was offered to Riza, and she took it immediately. The cord of the phone was long enough so they could sit with their heads together and place the phone in between them, letting both parents speak to their daughter.

The other line was quiet. Riza held her breath and waited. There was some shuffling then they heard Mia speak in a quiet voice, sounding far away.

“Mia?” Riza’s voice caught in her throat as she spoke her daughter’s name with so much hope and excitement. She was almost overwhelmed with how much she missed her children and couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.

“Mummy?”

Relief like no other flowed through Riza’s veins. She relaxed completely into her chair with her elation. “Mia, hi. It’s Mum. Dad’s here too.”

“Hey, Mia,” he greeted. Roy’s voice sounded thick as he spoke but there was the widest grin on his face.

“Hi!” Her reply was bright and excited, nothing like the shy, tentative tone she’d used to first greet them. “I miss you!”

“I know, sweetie. I know, we miss you too. So much.”

“It’s been a long time since we talked, but Grandma said that’s okay because it means I would have a lot more to tell you when you phoned, and we could talk for longer!”

Both parents laughed together. Riza’s eyes closed as she leaned her head against Roy’s. His arm wrapped around her shoulders tightly.

“We could talk to you forever, Mia,” Roy replied, “and we’d be more than happy to do it. How are you?”

“I’m okay! I’ve been having lots of fun.”

“That’s great,” Roy exclaimed. “I’m so happy that you have.”

“We’ve done loads since we last spoke! We’ve been to the park near the hotel almost every day. We’ve been to Xingese temples too which were so pretty! I want to go back but Grandma says we’ve got lots of other things to visit first before we can –”

Mia went on and on, regaling them of things she’d done since they last spoke. Both parents relaxed against one another, content and happy to let her speak and listen to all of her adventures. Riza had missed hearing about them.

“When will we get to come home?”

“We don’t know yet, Mia,” Riza answered after a brief pause. “You sound like you’re having too much fun to come home,” she quipped.

“I am, but I miss you! Maes does too. And I miss Hayate.”

Riza felt a pang in her chest. “I know you do. We miss you both terribly as well. But, if you hand the phone back to Grandma we can talk about when you might be able to?”

“Okay! She’s right here.”

“Goodbye, Mia Bear. I love you,” Riza added.

“Love you,” Roy chimed in, eager to say it himself.

“Love you too. Bye!”

Riza exhaled and tipped her head back. Roy gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, understanding every emotion she was currently going through, as he was experiencing the same. It was such a relief to hear Mia’s voice again after so long and to know she was happy, healthy, and okay.

“She’s a little whirlwind,” Chris remarked with a chuckle.

“Thank you for giving her the phone,” Roy replied.

“Of course, Roy Boy,” she dismissed, as if it were obvious she was going to do it in the first place. “Plus, she’s been pestering me non-stop for another chance to speak to you both,” Chris chuckled. “She’s taken it well though. There’s not been too many complaints.”

“What do you mean?” Roy was instantly alert. Riza shot him a worried look. He looked similar to how she felt. Was Mia doing okay?

“Relax,” Chris soothed in her gravelly voice. “She’s been fine. She’s a good and patient kid. Very understanding too. She’s missed you, that’s all. A typical kid thing.”

Roy exhaled in relief.

“When do you think you’ll be out of there?”

“We don’t know. I’m going to ask for an estimate this afternoon on when they think we’ll be discharged. Obviously with my blindness we’ll need to figure out the house first and then come up with some kind of plan to tell Mia…” Roy trailed off, realising that it may be even longer before they see their children.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Chris announced firmly. “We’ve got more than enough to do over here to keep the kids occupied. You two focus on making yourselves better, all right? The more you do, the sooner they can come home. Let me know what the doctors say though, then we can take it from there.”

“Okay,” Roy exhaled. His shoulders settled and Roy nodded like all his fears had been alleviated somewhat. Chris’ support was extremely helpful and meant a lot as they tried to adjust to their lives now. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. We’ll get everything figured out and I’ll bring them back to you as soon as I can. Take care of yourselves.” The last part was almost a warning.

“We will. You too. And thank you, Chris.”

They shared a quick goodbye and hung up. Their walk back to the hospital room was quiet as they contemplated their conversation with Chris and Mia. It had been so lovely to hear their voices again. It had been too long, but there wasn’t much they could do about that. The important thing was it had happened, and they’d been able to speak with their daughter.

Once back in the room, Riza had finished helping Roy get settled when there was a knock at the door.

“Sir?”

“Come in, Fuery,” Roy beckoned.

His head popped around the door. He held onto it as he looked inside the room but didn’t take a step further inside. “Sir… Doctor Marcoh has just contacted us.” Fuery shifted and his expression turned hopeful for a second. “He has… a proposition for you. Regarding your eyes.”

Riza’s eyebrows lifted towards her hairline but Fuery didn’t let on anything further. Roy went still as he processed what Fuery had said.

“The stone?” His voice was low, almost reverent. Riza wasn’t sure what they were referring to, however from the way Roy spoke she could discern there was some gravity behind his words.

Fuery nodded. “Yes. He’s on his way in just now and wishes to speak to you, if that’s all right?”

“Yes, of course. Bring him in once he’s arrived.”

“Of course, sir.” Fuery left them in silence, closing the door quietly behind him.

“The stone,” Riza echoed, looking for further clarification.

Roy paused but then nodded. “Yes. It’s… Well, it may be a way for me to get my sight back.”

*      *      *      *      *      *      *       *      *      *      *

“Colonel? Riza?”

Riza looked up from the book on her lap as Breda’s head poked through the door.

“Oh.” Breda lowered his voice suddenly. “I didn’t realise he was asleep. Sorry,” he cringed.

She shot him a smile to placate any worry. “It’s okay,” Riza replied softly. She marked her place in the book with a finger so as not to lose it. “What’s up Breda?”

“Doctor Marcoh has arrived.”

Riza inhaled and nodded, understanding what that announcement meant. Roy would be getting his eyesight back today.

They’d spoken with Doctor Marcoh last week about using the stone. It was decided Havoc would be healed first, then Roy. They had to wait for him to arrive in Central, but Havoc’s procedure to return his ability to walk had been a success a few days ago. He was currently being monitored a few rooms down from them. Now, the Philosopher’s Stone would be used to give Roy his eyesight back.

“I understand,” she replied to Breda. “Thank you for letting us know.”

“There’s also someone else,” he interjected. “General Grumman has come for a visit. He’d like to visit as soon as possible if that’s all right with you both.”

That surprised Riza, however, it made sense if Grumman had been a mentor to Roy for years prior to their move to Central.

“Thank you, Breda. Can you give us ten minutes then send General Grumman in?”

“Will do.”

The door closed quietly behind him and Riza sighed as she stared down at her husband’s sleeping face.

In hospital Riza hadn’t needed to worry too much about Roy’s movements around the room without aid. It was mostly bare, aside from a chair and two beds, so the space was large enough to manoeuvre himself around safely. Regardless of that fact, Riza was always by his side to assist when needed. With the injuries on his hands, he’d been unable to hold a walking cane, but he was improving every day. However, she couldn’t help but run through plans in her mind for what would happen when they returned home. She’d need to reorganise and repurpose rooms. There would need to be clear pathways throughout their home which Roy could use and not hurt himself. Mia and Maes’ toys would need to be moved and placed in designated areas. They didn’t need him tripping over a stray soft bear or sliding on a forgotten pencil. Riza hadn’t had a chance to think about how they’d even begin to tell Mia that their father was blind. Now… She may not have to.

It was a bizarre concept, being able to cure the incurable so easily. She’d been made aware of what went into the Philosopher Stone and it set her on edge. It wasn’t right and Riza could never look at the stone for too long as it made her uncomfortable. However, it was Roy’s decision to use it. He didn’t like the thought of using the stone any more than she did, but it would restart him on a path they thought was lost to him. He’d still be able to remain in the military and work towards what he’d always wanted to do. And Roy was determined;. mMore than determined. As soon as the possibility had been planted inside his mind Riza could see him seriously considering it. Not much would turn him away from the prospect.

Ultimately, using the stone was on his conscience, not hers. But Roy’s was bearing the weight of so much already… However, it was his choice. He had plans, goals, ambitions… All to better this country and stop history from repeating itself. The stone would help, but was the moral cost worth it for him?

“Whatever it takes,” he’d informed her. His tone was determined, but there was a glimmer of grim acceptance in there too.

Riza reached over to gently place her hand on top of Roy’s in the bed. Her thumb swiped over the back of it as she tried to coax him awake. She’d decided sitting by Roy’s bedside in a chair rather than remaining in her own bed was easier to talk to the room and to him. In her own bed she was constantly twisting and turning her head and that was not the best course of action currently.

“Roy?”

He grunted softly in reply, stirring from his slumber.

“Roy, time to wake up.”

A feeble moan left him. His eyes opened briefly but fluttered closed as he quietly sighed and gave into the hold sleep still had on him.

“Roy.” Riza laughed quietly at his sleepy expression. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Doctor Marcoh is here to see you.”

She let that news sink in slowly and eventually he sighed. His eyes batted open groggily. “Okay, I’m up,” he grumbled.

“Did you sleep well?”

His head turned in her direction and he smiled. “I did. I didn’t even realise that I had.”

“You were pretty out of it,” Riza added.

“Your voice is so soothing and comforting to listen to, that’s why,” he grinned as Riza’s cheeks heated up slightly. “Did you keep reading ahead?”

“After you fell asleep I stopped reading aloud and continued on. It’s a good story. I like it.”

“I like it too. I like hearing you read it to me.”

“I can go back,” Riza revealed. “I marked where we finished together. I wouldn’t want you to miss the rest of the story.”

“You’re too good to me.”

Riza stood from her chair and slowly approached him. She placed a hand on his forearm, her touch feather light before increasing the pressure. A finger tapped his skin three times. Recognising her signal Roy inhaled in anticipation. Ever so softly she pressed her lips against his.

She hadn’t wanted to potentially frighten him with sudden touches after the Promised Day. Not while he was blind and not after the beating he’d received at the hands of Father while blind either. Riza had picked up on the fact he jumped whenever someone placed a hand on him without announcing themselves, so she’d come up with a code. With coded messages, they used two taps. With three taps, she announced she would be coming in for a kiss. All of her touches were soft, and she always made sure to announce herself with her voice before initiating contact.

“I love you, Roy.”

He stole another kiss with a grin. “Love you too.”

“Not only is Doctor Marcoh here, but General Grumman is as well. I’ve asked Breda to send him in shortly.”

Roy’s body stilled. “General Grumman?”

“I don’t know why,” Riza shook her head. “Breda only told me he was here to see you.”

With a sigh Roy sat up on his bed. He groaned and grimaced as the movement hit some of his aches and pains. Enough time had passed that their muscles had recovered, but there were still some bruises and stiffness.

Riza’s hand never moved from Roy’s forearm and she slid it slowly up his arm to give him some comfort. Her own injuries were much better. The strength of her painkillers had been reduced dramatically and the injuries were healing nicely. The skin around the one on her neck was pink and healthy, while the one on her shoulder was starting to heal over.

“I suppose I better make myself presentable for the General,” Roy grumbled.

Riza nodded and her hand slid away from his body.

While Roy rubbed his eyes tiredly Riza was struck with how similar he looked to Mia when she awoke in the morning. After their conversation on the phone Riza had made a point to call Chris every day. She couldn’t go that long again without speaking to Mia again. They’d even heard Maes gurgle happily through the receiver. Roy had gently but clumsily wiped away her tears after it. He’d accidentally poked her in the eye, which earned a giggle from them both, cheering Riza up a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Colonel,” General Grumman greeted warmly as he entered the room. “Mrs. Mustang.” He bowed his head respectfully towards her.

“General, sir,” Roy welcomed.

“Good day, General,” Riza nodded.

“At ease, Mustang,” Grumman replied, waving Roy off as his hand lifted to salute while sitting up straighter in his bed.

“Understood.”

Riza watched on with interest. It was intriguing to note how much Roy’s voice changed whenever he was talking to a colleague or a superior. It was funny to think about, remembering just how goofy and dorky he could be with her and their family. It was not a bad thing he was acting differently. It was another part of him, and that part had always intrigued and fascinated Riza. She sat back in her chair to observe their conversation quietly.

“How are you doing, Mustang?”

“Well, sir. Just a few aches and pains but nothing major.”

The General lifted an eyebrow in doubt, making Riza wonder if he was already aware of his lost eyesight. She figured that at this point in time it would be common knowledge. Especially to the likes of General Grumman.

“Losing one’s eyesight would be considered major, Colonel.”

“I’m alive,” Roy replied with determination. “That’s enough for me for the moment.”

Riza kept her mouth shut about Doctor Marcoh’s visit. She already felt like she was privy to a conversation she shouldn’t be a part of so let them converse in peace.

“Mrs. Mustang?”

Her head lifted, surprised that the General had anything to say to her.

“If you wouldn’t mind, could I borrow you for a moment?”

Out the corner of her eye, Riza noted how Roy’s brow furrowed in confusion slightly at the request.

“There’s something I wish to discuss with you in private, if that’s all right?”

“Anything you have to say can be said in front of my husband, General,” Riza replied evenly.

In all honesty… She didn’t really want to be left alone with her grandfather. After her sudden phone call and his reaction to it, Riza thought he knew who she was but couldn’t be sure. The question was, did she have the energy to have that family discussion with him? Probably not. Regardless, it was true. She had no secrets to hide from Roy.

Grumman looked stumped for a second before he recovered. “Yes, of course. It’s regarding us.”

Roy tried to hide it but Riza could tell he was becoming even more confused.

“Yes?”

“Our paths have unfortunately never crossed in the past. There were various reasons for that, mostly tied with your parents.”

Roy’s head cocked to the side ever so subtly as he tried to put two and two together.

“I apologise for not coming forward to you sooner. I have my own reasons for that too, but wanted to apologise for not contacting you when I should have.” He looked and sounded sincere enough as he spoke.

“And when would that have been?” Riza was curious as to when he felt he “should” have reached out to her.

“News of your father’s passing reached me months afterwards. I thought that would’ve left you with no one, but I had no way of finding out where you were. Then Mustang breezed in and wouldn’t shut up about his wife and kid,” Grumman chuckled, gesturing towards Roy, who’d gone incredibly still. “And I overheard Lieutenant Catalina on the phone to you and say your name. I caught Mustang showing off a picture of his wife one time and finally recognised you.” He took a deep breath, meeting her gaze. “You look exactly like your mother.”

A lump suddenly formed inside Riza’s throat.

“So, I’ve been aware of you and your tie to Mustang for some time. And I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her reply was even and polite. She held no grudge against this man, but she couldn’t trust him so easily. If he wanted to be a part of her life then he’d have to earn a place in it.

“I hear you have some wonderful children.” He shot her a toothy grin. “Congratulations, Riza. I’m extremely happy for you.”

At the mention of them, Riza’s stomach tightened but slowly loosened. Her expression softened and she nodded. “They are wonderful,” she agreed.

“I expect nothing in return,” Grumman reassured, lifting his hands as if surrendering. “Too much time may have passed, which I completely understand. But since I had the chance, I wanted to see you and speak to you at least once – and properly this time.”

“Thank you for that favour on the Promised Day,” Riza replied. “I really appreciated you trying to get through to Roy.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It was the least I could do for my granddaughter.”

Finally, Roy clicked. His head had bowed to face the bed in silence but Riza knew his mind was moving a mile a minute, overflowing with questions. He wasn’t the only one, however, Riza had already dwelled on her musings about her grandfather years ago. It brought the questions back up to the surface, but she didn’t have the energy to be angry or upset at him for not contacting her. Like Grumman said, too much time had passed anyway. It was all in the past now.

“I hear Doctor Marcoh is here to see you,” Grumman announced, clearing his throat. “I’ll get going and let him get to work.”

Riza stood and approached her bed without a word. On the table beside it was her purse, which she reached for. Two pictures of their children were extracted from within and Riza turned to face her grandfather.

“Would you like to see your great grandchildren before you leave?”

He looked incredibly surprised by her offer. Riza may not have been able to trust him so easily but he’d reached out to her. He’d made an effort at least. Yes, it was late, and he may have some motive behind this meeting, but Riza would extend him the same courtesy he’d given her. She didn’t entirely trust his motives, but he’d acknowledged they were family and seemed genuine enough while discussing it. The least she could do in return was show him his great grandchildren.

Grumman nodded and Riza walked over to him. She handed the pictures over and heard him gasp. In the corner of his eyes there were tears, but they never fell.

“Mia and Maes,” Riza stated, pointing to each of them.

“They look like wonderful children,” he replied. His tone was respectful but held a hint of awe within it.

“They are,” Riza smiled fondly, gazing down at them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mustang.” Grumman cleared his throat as he handed the pictures back to her. “I don’t expect anything in return, like I said, but I appreciate you showing these to me.”

Riza nodded and took them back from his outstretched hand.

“If you ever need anything,” he stressed, his sharp eyes meeting hers directly, “anything at all, you can give me a call. All right?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Grumman,” he insisted.

“Thank you, Grumman,” Riza nodded.

“I’ll be on my way. I’ll send Doctor Marcoh in. Take care of yourself, Mustang,” he called over Riza’s shoulder. Then, in a surprising move, he took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You too, dear.”

Once he’d left, Riza returned to the chair by Roy’s bedside.

“He’s your grandfather?”

She wondered what Roy’s reaction would be. It seemed he had no clue about it either. His exclamation was incredulous.

“Yes,” Riza confirmed.

“But… How…” Roy floundered as he tried to find the words he needed. “When did you know?”

“I didn’t know for sure. When we were in Central on our little holiday after Mia was born and the staff announced there was a General Grumman on the phone waiting to speak to you, I made the connection with his name then. I’d never seen him before though. Seeing him now, he’s still the spitting image of the picture I glanced at once when I was a child.”

“…And he never contacted you before now?” Roy’s question had an edge to it. He was mildly affronted on her behalf.

Riza shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

“He knew your name,” Roy muttered quietly to himself. “I told him. Not your last name, admittedly, but he’d heard your first name and seen your picture. He even pestered me to marry his granddaughter before he knew I was married to you.” His brow furrowed deeper, his expression darkening. “And he still did nothing?”

Riza shrugged. She didn’t know what to say to him. “He said he had his reasons for that. I don’t know what they could possibly be, nor am I interested to find out.”

Roy fell silent for a few moments. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

“I don’t know him, so no. I wish I could, given he’s my last remaining older family member, but I can’t. I don’t trust his motives either. Not after his actions. Despite his genuine tone, there’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on.”

His head bobbed a few times as he absorbed her statement. “I can’t believe he never contacted you.”

Riza grimaced. “My family history is… tricky. From what I remember of it, anyway. It could be to do with that, however, I never held any grudge towards him. I never really knew him and was too young. My parents cut ties when I was a baby.”

There was a sudden pressure on her hand. Roy had placed his atop hers, covering it with his warmth and comfort.

“If he’s holding onto that feud, or whatever it was, after all this time, then I’m not sure I want to waste my time trying with him. If not…” she trailed off, still unsure. “Anyway,” Riza announced, steering the conversation away from her thoughts. “Sorry to burst your bubble about him.”

Roy snorted and scoffed. “He was the one who taught and encouraged me to always work to serve my own agenda. It doesn’t surprise me he was doing it for himself. I’m more concerned about you, though.” His expression looked slightly anxious. “Are you okay about all of this?”

“Grumman acknowledging my existence doesn’t take away anything from my life, nor does it add to it. I don’t know what I will do, or what I want, regarding a relationship with my grandfather. Quite frankly I don’t really want to consider it right now either. There’s more important things due to happen,” she smiled, “like you getting your eyesight back.”

“I know, but… Well, whatever you decide, I will support you. No matter what.”

Riza smiled at him. She tapped the back of his hand with her finger three times and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Roy.”

“Of course,” he replied simply. “You’re welcome, Riza.”

Their conversation ended there as someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Riza called.

Doctor Marcoh poked his head around the door and looked at them expectantly. “Are you ready to begin the procedure, Colonel?”

[crystalas]

It’s only a matter of time part 3

wherein MK and Redson are still trapped training under Macaque and are given a chance to send a message home

Chapter 3: Training daze

Supper time came around after what felt like an eternity of silence between the two, Red Son would not move from his corner despite MK’s many attempts to get him to at least turn around and talk to him. The only way he knew Red Son was even alive was the fact that his tail would swish the floor occasionally. The shadow clone brought in the food bowls and place them on the floor taking away the empty ones. Only then did Red Son move and without looking at MK or even acknowledge him even being there and went to grab his bowl and dragged it back into his corner with his back to MK and began to eat quietly.

MK looked down at his food bowl and began to nibble at his meal, the silence felt horrible he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. What the hell do you say to someone being forced to eat well…people? Where was Macaque even finding all these bodies? Was he raiding a morgue? Killing people in the street? Did he have a farm or knew someone with a human farm? Red Son had said that demons eat people quite regularly and he was considered the ‘weird one’ for not wanting to.

All these thoughts rattled in MK’s head he desperately wanted to talk to Red Son to fill the silence, to get these horrid thoughts out into the air so they wouldn’t be piling up in his head and snow balling into worse ones.

What does human even taste like? Do they range in flavour? Are they like bananas where the flavour and texture changes as they get older?

NO! the thought train has to stop there before he feels compelled to try a bit for his curiosity especially when he had nothing to distract himself from it.

MK realised he had eaten through his entire bowl except for his bugs. He glanced back at Red Son and noticed that his hair was slowly returning back to its former colour instead of dark ash grey it was now dark red at the roots, but his demonic appearance was yet unchanged.

“Your hair is changing back” MK said softly, Red Son’s ears flicked a bit.

“Soooo… this is what you really look like?” he continued as he tried to get anything out of the demon prince, this merely received a tail twitch.

“Looks cool I mean I always thought it was weird that you didn’t look anything like your dad, but I guess it makes sense now.”

Another flicking of the ears and a swish from the tail.

“But why hide it? I mean if you were trying to blend into human society you wouldn’t throw your fire around like you do so…”

“Noodle boy?”

“Yes?” MK chirped elated he finally got something out of his cell mate.

“Please shut up, as it has obviously escaped your notice, I find these topics of discussion… annoying.” Red Son hissed, “I understand that we need to work together and keep each other alive and while I appreciate your attempts of…” he stopped for a minute as if he struggled to find the right words but gave up trying. “I would prefer if we…we…didn’t talk about it.”

MK looked down at his bowl and saw the revolting grubs that laid there, he gave a determined sigh and got up to plop himself down next to Red Son who just glared at him. MK looked him in the eyes grabbed the bugs and shoved them in his mouth, gagging slightly as the grubs crunched and popped in his mouth before swallowing them. It took him a whole two minutes not to gag but he kept them down none the less.

“What is your point exactly Noodle boy?” Red Son growled.

“We are stuck in this hell hole together, if you have to eat revolting stuff then so do I…”

“There’s a huge difference between you eating insects and me eating your kind!”

MK opened his mouth to say something but nothing came to mind to counter that point, his attempt of supporting Red Son seemly going down in metaphoric flames…

“However, if our sadistic master has plans of strengthen our bodies, we need all the food and protein we can get. When we get out, I will make that shadow bastard eat a fistful of dirt for every lump of this filth he has forced me to consume!” Red Son declared boldly and turned around to sit next to MK his food bowl already empty.

“Totally and when we get out, I will get Pigsy to make you the biggest bowl of noodles ever!” MK exclaimed “Actually make that two cos I want one as well! Cos man, do I miss carbs!”

That actually got a chuckle out of the two.

“I will hold you to that noodle boy!” Red Son said leaning back against the wall, “So who do think will get here first?”

“Huh?”

“No doubt my father has noticed my absence and is looking for me, I bet your friends and mentor are looking as well. So, who do you think will find us first?”

“Monkey King hands down, the dude has a decent track record of rescuing people from demons.” MK said confidently.

“Ah yes but can your Sun Wukong punch his way through rock and steel like it was nothing? My father will be the one to break down those cell walls and smash that monkey into paste! I’ll wager an entire tray of melon bread on it.”

“Cakes? Really? we’re betting our freedom on cakes?”

“I’m not talking about any melon bread; I’m talking about the deluxe cream melon bread from that uptown bakery that stuff is divine!” Red Son explained with a sigh, “Also food is all I can think about right now so yes…” he admitted with a grumble.

MK leaned up against Red Son who stiffen up for a brief minute before relaxing, they both knew that they were trying to put on a brave face on a horrid situation but for now at least they had each other to distract them from the nightmare.

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

The days seem to blend into a long stream of body punishing strength building excerise, combat training and magic techniques. Red Son’s strength and familiar appearance slowly returning with his new reluctant diet.

MK begrudgingly learned how to use his powers better, wherein Monkey King just gave him the idea and let him figure out the rest, Macaque actually gave him instructions and critique on what to do to make use his powers more efficiently.

“The reason why your clones went wild was because you saw them as yourself! You gave them too much autonomy” Macaque said as they went through his clone making skills. “Those clones are an extension of you nothing more and nothing less. When creating them make sure to only give them a simple command.”

“Red Son focus on the intensity of your fire!” Macaque would bark as Red Son would set fire to several wooden dolls to practise on his aim and control. “I don’t want those targets singed I want them torched!”

Combat training consists of the two sparring against shadow clones, Macaque stopping them occasionally to correct them on their stature and technique before making them continue.

“Put more power into that attack kid, remember your first strike should be your last!”

“Red! Stay light on your feet and watch those flames, you’re supposed to be a fire prodigy act like it! Don’t hold back!”

“MK is the shield and Red is the spear!” was one of the things that Macaque would repeat during training. Neither boy had any clue as to what that meant and now knew better than to try and question their master unless specifically asked to.

MK and Red Son quickly conformed to Macaque’s rule despite them wanting nothing more than to smack or burn their gruelling task monkey, however with the bands in place they knew it was wiser to just try and do as they were commanded.

Escape was also impossible for the first few days MK had scanned the entire dojo with his golden eyes of truth and came to the conclusion that Macaque wasn’t lying about him being the only way in and out of this dojo. They found that getting out of their cell which was insultingly easy, it was as if Macaque was mocking them with the fact that they were still stuck without his assistance. Even so the threat of the bands kept them inside the cell at night and MK hated how quickly they had become like trained dogs.

Some afternoons Macaque would lead them into the shrine room where he would teach them medicine and body anatomy. Which to MK seemed a suddenly off track from what they had been doing but when allowed to ask [and these lessons were the rare occasion where they were allowed to ask questions without consequences, within reason of course] Macaque just gave a small smile.

“You may be the Monkey King’s successor but you are still human, same with Red there will be times you will get injured in battle. Wouldn’t it be good to know how to heal yourself?” he had answered as he pulled out the next scroll. To which once again MK and Red Son had to agree, numerous times they were go to their cell with blisters, burns, aches and pains and all sort of small injuries from their brutal training regime which is probably what inspired Macaque to do this in the first place.

“Or perhaps you wish for us to learn the finer details of the living body so that we can damage it better?” Red Son asked while jotting down the details that Macaque had shown them on chi pressure points and their properties. Macaque gave a soft laugh at that.

“Meh I guess it’s a little of both”

“Care to explain why you are doing all of this?” Red Son inquired “You’ve never actually told us…”

“I did tell you Red, I’ve been commissioned to train you guys. You don’t need to know any more than that.” Macaque exclaimed; Red Son gave a growl of frustration but kept it low in his throat.

“What Red Son is trying to say is, perhaps if we knew what we were training to fight we might be able to prepare ourselves better?” MK tried hoping to get some answers, Macaque’s medical lessons ranged from first aid to skeletal structure of several different creatures, to herbal properties and poisons. If they were being trained to attack someone or something in particular these lessons weren’t giving them any context clues.

Then again nothing Macaque did in their lessons gave them any clue as to what they were training for, it was like Macaque delighted in keeping the two in the dark about everything. They had lost all sense of time in the shadowy dojo; time had no meaning when there was no sun or moon to mark the days or months. They had tried scratching out marks on the wall to count days but were warned not to. When they tried to keep track in their minds, they kept losing count because when you are worked to your last aching breath on a daily basis it made remembering what day it is a challenge.

Time must be passing because they were getting stronger, Red Son and MK would have rather chewed rocks than admit it to Macaque but they had noticed that they were getting faster and enduring the morning excerise regime better. Their movements in combat were more precise and fluid, less energy wasted in their attack and this got them praised by their master. Red Son fire powers were more in control, he could now control what he did or did not burn with his flames and MK could now create clones that didn’t go rouge and his skill with the magic staff was better.

One of the things that kept them sane was their nightly talks, where they would just lie in the cell too drain to do anything but chat and try to keep the despair at bay. They would talk about anything that came to mind no matter how small and stupid because when they grew too tired to talk it would mean they were be left alone with their thoughts and sometimes that scared them more than the idea of what would be coming tomorrow and why no one had saved them yet.

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

“I want to go home” MK said one day during their mid-day break, Red Son flinched and looked at MK was standing there defiantly with weapon in hand before glancing at Macaque who stood there watching them with that same irritating condescending casualness. Was he insane? He thought there was no way he was just going to agree!

“Seriously kid?” his master asked. MK could feel his resolve weaken under that stern gaze.

“Can’t we at least visit or call? I mean my friends must be going out of their minds, I don’t even know how long we’ve been down here…I just…I just want to let them know I’m alive at least.”

Macaque gave a thoughtful hum and both boys braced themselves for the agonizing punishment only for him to click his heels together and take out his staff.

“Alright”

“Wait really??!” the boys spluttered.

“But only if you can pin me for longer that five seconds, I’ll even let you attack together!”

Red Son and MK grinned at each other, at last a chance to properly fight back and Macaque in his over confidence was letting them attack without the worry of repercussions from the bands. They both got into attack stances the hope of escape or at least contact with the outside world filling them with renewed energy.

“You get rid of the shadows I’ll focus on getting him pinned” MK said to which Red Son nodded.

MK launched himself at Macaque who dodged his attacks with effortless ease, Mk pushed forward with more aggressive blows with his staff to which Macaque blocked them with his own. Red Son lit up his fists and threw a barrage of fire balls which flew around MK keeping clear of him and heading to their intended target. Macaque smacked the fire balls away with a swing of his staff causing fire to ignite along the training ground, he looked around and noticed he no longer could see MK until he heard a rip of hair and the sound of clones being created. He glanced up at MK who at first looked like he was going to rain clones down on him but realised they all had their staffs primed and ready. With the heavy melodious ringing clangs Macaque was suddenly fenced in by a barrage of cloned staffs to which he glanced around and saw flames suddenly erupts around them causing him to blink back from the brightness. MK leapt over the clone fence to look at Macaque.

“No shadows for you to escape to and nowhere for you to run!”

“You still haven’t pinned me yet kid” Macaque said with his hands folded behind his back, MK growled and leapt down knocking Macaque to the floor and holding him there with his staff letting it go knowing full well that Macaque couldn’t lift it.

“How about now?” he demanded. Macaque smirked again and looked down MK followed his gaze and saw that by jumping in and pushing him to the floor his body now created a small shadow to which he melted away into. MK looked around realising he had trapped himself in a fire pit. Red Son watched from outside and gave a yelp when Macaque appeared behind him grabbed him and threw him at the staff fence causing them to explode into gold smoke and the fire to pitter out. MK didn’t even have time to react when Red Son came flying through the fence, smacking him right in the chest causing them both to hit the ground.

They both laid sprawled on the floor as Macaque walked up to them, clapping softly.

“I’m not going to say you did well but I can see where you were going with it, good idea about blocking me from my escape routes. However, when you got cocky you messed up.” He explained as they got themselves up, MK gave a snarl of frustration and Red Son hair flared up angrily as he punched a nearby pillar.

“However, you did pin me for five seconds…” Macaque mused.

“So, we can go home?!” MK yelped.

“No, that attack was appalling” Macaque laughed, “I’m going to need to drill in better team work into of you two. No, I agreed that if you pinned me for five seconds, I’d let you make a phone call.”

The boys looked at Macaque as he pulled out a cell phone from his cloak.

“Wait how does that even get cell coverage in here?” Red Son blurted out.

“You’re the one who likes to mix tech with magic, you tell me” Macaque answered before tossing the phone to Red Son. “You get two minutes each, I don’t think I have to tell you not to do anything dumb like tell them who I am or where you are…”

“But we don’t know where we are!” MK cried.

“Exactly!” was the cheerful reply.

Red Son was first he took the phone and held it in his hands like he was holding a piece of fragile bone porcelain before swallowing hard and then handing it to MK.

“If I give Noodle boy my two minutes, will he get four instead?” he asked, the monkey gave a shrug as if to say ‘hell why not?’ MK blinked back tears.

“You’d do that? But what about your parents?”

“My parents aren’t exactly tech savvy, hell my father can’t even use a cell phone, and besides this is our one shot for someone to track the call and I know dragon horse girl is more knowledgeable in that.” He explained, he glanced at Macaque who was still watching them keenly. That is if our ‘master’ didn’t have some way of blocking it but he didn’t want to smash MK’s hope.

“Thanks…” MK breathed and dialled in Mei’s number, for a brief horrible moment he thought what if it was the early hours of the morning and she was asleep? What if she didn’t pick up? What if during the time they had been gone Mei changed her number? He had desperately wanted to call Pigsy and Tang but he agreed with Red Son, Mei was the one most likely to pick up and be able to use this call to find them.

“Hello?” Mei answered.

“Mei! Oh, thank god!”

“MK??!! Holy shit is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me!”

“Where the hell are you? Everyone is going insane! Monkey King is on the verge of going Kaiju trying to find you!”

MK looked at Macaque and he took in a deep steadying breath before trying again.

“I…I’m not allowed to say.”

“What?! Have you been kidnapped?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay? Jeez that is a dumb question of course you’re not! you’ve been fucking kidnapped!”

“No…No we’re ok for the most part.”

“Hold on… ‘we’?” Mei asked.

“Red Son is here with me”

“Red Son got kidnapped too??!!”

“Yeah, we’re kind of stuck here getting trained…for something…” MK looked at Macaque and could see he was pushing his luck so stopped himself from going into further details.

“Man, that sinks my theory that Red Son kidnapped you in some stupid demon betrothal or something!”

“As if I would do that!” Red Son shouted.

“Wait was that Red Son? Is he there?”

“Yes…”

“Who did this? Tell me who so I can sic Monkey King and Pigsy on them, they are really wanting to punch someone”

“I’m…not allowed to say…” he whimpered. “Mei, you need to talk to DBK, Red Son said his mom can use wind magic to find stuff that might give you guys a lead.”

“Great!”

MK took another deep breath, he didn’t want to worry Mei even more by breaking down into tears over the phone, he wanted so badly to talk to her longer but knew his time was limited.

“Mei…I’m nearly out of time for my call could you please tell Pigsy and Tang that I love them and I’m really sorry for making them worry.”

“Sure thing” she whimpered he could hear her sniffing back tears. “Don’t you worry we’re coming to save you!”

“Could you tell Monkey King that I’m not giving up…and…and…I’m…” he could feel his voice cracking, tears trickling down his face.

“Tell my father to hurry up and rescue us! I have a whole tray of melon bread riding on a wager that’ll he finds us first!” Red Son declared loudly, “Please inform my parents that I, Red Son will not break so easily and neither will Noodle boy!”

“Times up” Macaque muttered holding out his hand.

“We have to go now Mei…I’m really sorry…I…”

“Dude don’t worry I’ll tell them, I hit record as soon as you mentioned being kidnapped…” he could hear her sniffle before returning to the phone in her strained cheerful voice that MK knew she had when she wanted to put on a brave face. “Tell Red Son he’s gonna loose that wager! Monkey King is so gonna get you guys out first!”

“Thanks…” he whispered as Macaque took the phone away and hung up. MK hugged himself as he fought back the urge to cry, he never thought how painful it was going to be telling his friends and family what could be his last goodbye. Red Son tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

“Right now, that is out of the way, let us continue with your lessons…” Macaque declared.

[elmidol]

Rogue Order - Chapter 2 (of 4)

Summary:  You are a barista in the coffee shop that Armitage Hux goes to every morning. He’s polite, however has never cracked a smile. One day, you decide to try to change that by giving him a little treat. Things wind up going much better than planned.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Pairing: Armitage Hux/Reader

Rating: M; This chapter contains nsfw content (masturbation)

for @terry2227​

notes: Modern Day/Coffee Shop AU; outline for fic was written by terry2227

Chapter Two

 Taking multiple orders and enjoying the sight of freshly fallen snow the previous day had indeed aided you in selecting which flavor of coffee you would serve Armitage when he arrived in the morning. The discussion of hot chocolate had not faded into the background as expected. Instead it had inserted itself repeatedly, encouraging you towards a semi-sweet flavor. You readied the ingredients before Armitage was set to arrive meanwhile your co-worker, Remi, took care of other matters in First Rogue.

 You opted to grab a sugar substitute to help prevent a sugar rush then subsequent crash while he worked; from there you ground up a semi-sweet dark chocolate into a finer composition along with some ginger and cinnamon. The cardamom and cloves were pre-ground, and the salt and white pepper were also easy to secure. Mixing the ingredients together did not take very long. You put them all into an airtight container, shook it, and then set aside the container until Armitage was visible through the large window.

 Armitage Hux was running behind schedule by four minutes when he entered the coffee shop. It was time that he hoped to make up during the drive into the city. Thus he did not spent much time speaking with you as he otherwise might have. He walked up to the counter and opened his mouth to state the usual when you spoke first instead, informing him that you had already selected the flavor, if he did not mind. Armitage closed his mouth, pausing. He had forgotten that this had been prearranged the previous day. Clearing his throat, he nodded and asked the price of the drink. You stated the amount that he paid for his usual. Aware that it would be rude to press the issue--and not having the time to do so--he withdrew his wallet from his pocket, took out the cash, and handed the bills to you.

 His eyes tracked your every move as you turned your back, changing places with your coworker in order to prepare his drink. Armitage considered the fine powder that had been premixed. This you measured out into roughly three tablespoons that you deposited into his cup before pouring in some of the shop’s freshly brewed coffee. You poured in a minimal amount of dairy-free creamer, mixed the drink again, put on the lid, and brought the cup over to him. “The flavor?” he asked whilst sliding one foot backwards in retreat.

 “Chocolate chai. It shouldn’t be too sweet,” you responded, earning a nod of acknowledgment from Armitage. You found yourself holding your breath, wondering if he planned on tasting the coffee in front of you. He was late, which you knew. It was little surprise when he offered a small wave with two fingers then headed for the door. Your mood threatened to devolve into a semi-melancholy state, however he called over his shoulder that he would tell you his opinion the next morning. That set your heart fluttering like he often did merely by walking into First Rogue. You rocked forward on your feet, drawing up on your tiptoes then rolled back into a proper standing position.

 Remi was not oblivious to these actions, and she shot you a knowing look when the door to the coffee shop closed behind Armitage’s retreating form. Unlike another of the baristas that you worked with, Remi was not one to push boundaries or make public the fact that you were obviously smitten with a patron of First Rogue. You liked that about her, appreciated it more in that moment than you ever had before. Once the shop emptied, the pair of you could gush about things, could giggle like school girls or whatever might come to pass. In the meanwhile, she was satisfied to offer that look then return to her work as you did the same, a smile spreading widely across your face.

 On the other side of town, at the turnoff to exit and head for the city, Armitage glanced at the chocolate chai coffee with interest. He had not yet taken a sip despite finding that, in the closed quarters of his vehicle, he quite enjoyed its scent. Armitage considered the fact that he should try at least a sip before the beverage chilled. He waited until he approached the next red light then cradled his hand around the cup, tugging it upwards and out of the holder towards his mouth. Its scent was more appealing as he brought it closer. Saliva gathered, forced him to swallow before he took that first drink.

 The warm liquid pooled over his tongue, toying with his taste buds. There were layers of flavor. Hints of sweetness coupled with spice along with the more familiar taste of First Rogue’s coffee blend. The chocolate portion, which he had initially believed would be sickeningly sweet, had a light bitterness to it that he found to be palatable. Armitage took a second sip within seconds of the first then a third. He replaced the drink into the holder due to the light changing from red to green. Though he had recovered only two of the four minutes thus far of time, he decided that he would make the most of the day. This drink in particular soothed his mood. He would have to remember that. Perhaps keep a series of notes for the various flavors that you experimentally handed to him—if, of course, you were interested in continuing this trend.

 Armitage glanced again at the clock on his car’s dashboard. It struck him that you had been attentive to his interests alongside his usual order. He, on the other hand, knew your name and profession. Your schedule, although that fell under profession in his opinion. He did not know much else about you, which he had never much given thought to. When you had questioned him regarding hot chocolate, he had failed to inquire about the same. This was the first time he felt that perhaps he had been rude to you. Were his manners always so lax when he was not at work?

 He could recall your face, the general shape of it and the color of your hair, however if he tried to place color to your irises, he was left second-guessing himself. This was not a desirable position. Reliance upon a faulty memory could doom a business deal; Armitage prided himself on memorizing each detail of a transaction along with the faces, names, and basic information of those involved. He did admittedly take for granted such items when it came to his personal life—was that what you were, a part of his personal life? It was more intimate in nature than simply to say that you worked at a coffee shop that he frequented. You were no colleague of his, yet before this moment he had not considered you as an individual that would potentially reach the role of casual acquaintance. To refer to you as a friend or companion would be premature and far too intimate given the limited amount of information he held.

 This would be remedied the following morning, during which time he could deliver his impression of the chocolate chai coffee. Depending on how much work he finished over the day and what arrangements he completed in the evening once he was home, Armitage would decide if he would return to his regular drink or not for a stretch of days. His usual order assisted in preventing headaches, of which he frequently suffered due to stress that was work related though equal parts because of Brendol’s interference with his life. He grabbed hold of the coffee at the thought, drank a more generous amount than previous, and noisily swallowed the liquid, not enjoying it quite as much as mere moments ago. He ran his tongue across his lips then sucked on his tongue as though that would resummon the flavor that had barely had time to caress his taste buds.

  ---------

When midafternoon rolled around and your shift came to an end, you did not leave First Rogue as you might otherwise have. Instead you grabbed one of the smaller tablets of paper that was available to you along with a pen then moved to a table near the window. The light was not too glaring despite the way it reflected off gathered snow. Judging from how Armitage had requested his usual the previous day, you were aware that there would likely be mornings where this would be repeated. In the meanwhile, composing a list of the coffees you wished to present to him—for as long as he would allow—would offer you things to look forward to. You could have more flavors prepared or else ensure that you had all ingredients. This way you could select one of the flavors based on Armitage’s disposition when he walked into First Rogue.

 Should he state that he enjoyed the chocolate chai coffee, you would have to introduce him to a cafe mocha. You would make more fresh chocolate powder and make whipped cream. Due to this, it would have to wait until you knew his opinion—and you would have to ensure that he was interested in having more flavors ahead of time. Not that whipped cream would not be used if he decided that he was not.

 If he was inclined to sample a more sweet drink, you were excited to serve him a caramel macchiato. It was a more basic flavor, true, however that simply made it more readily available on days when you were not forewarned what mood he would be in. Vanilla syrup—sugar free and non—as well as caramel sauce were in large supply in First Rogue. As was gingerbread coffee, you reminded yourself. With a hum, you scrawled that onto your list.

 Ristretto would be closer to his usual drink. You flipped the sheet of paper over to start a page of more ‘basic’ drinks that you could give him when he did not want to stray too far from his norm. Espresso Romano if you could confirm that he enjoyed the taste of lemon.

 “I wonder if he would ever want any food.” You tapped the end of the pen against your mouth while furrowing your brow in thought. Where you had suggested food pairings to other customers, you had never broached the subject with Armitage. Would he be put off by the idea?

 As you considered this, you found yourself curious as to what topics in general would be open for conversation. This man may not spare you a second glance in a romantic view, however he was clearly comfortable for casual conversations. Though perhaps that was generous? You had spoken more than he had on each of the occasions. That might be his personality, you reminded yourself, not to be easily dissuaded. You would begin with something more light, albeit branching away from First Rogue related content.

 “Not work either.” This you stated under your breath. There were no customers that would eavesdrop. The only patron inside First Rogue was one of the regulars, an older woman who dropped by to have time for herself before she was set to pick up her grandchildren from school. You rested your elbows on the table, cupped your chin, and glanced at the woman. With this you were reminded just how simple it was to socialize. Armitage Hux made your heart race in your chest, however you spoke to him regarding his coffee order. Just the same as you spoke to this woman, whom you had also conversed with about her family and hobbies. She enjoyed sewing, reading books, and had three drama series that she loyally kept up with.

 Armitage kept to a tight schedule, which meant that he might, too, watch a regular program. The news perhaps. It was a good starting point. You would watch the nightly news and select a topic to speak with him about when he arrived at the coffee shop the next day.

  ------------

Unsurprisingly, Brendol had indeed soured Armitage’s mood by the day’s end. He lowered himself onto the couch in his home. The television droned on, some news report that he was hardly paying attention to. Instead he worked to think of something else—someone else—to assist in improving his demeanor. Within his mind he began to map out the contours of your face. Each angle carefully studied until his crude rendition was as close an approximation as he could make it. The next morning he would take an extra moment to improve the accuracy of future recollections.

 Armitage conjured up the flavor of the chocolate chai coffee, the slight spice that had rolled over his tongue. In the past he had thought little of you beyond your occupation. With the peppermint coffee and the discussion of hot chocolate, his view had shifted to a certain sweetness. Now there was spice, which caused him pause. Did that spice translate into your personality?

 Throbbing in his head jerked Armitage back into reality. The newscast reported the weather for the week. The morning would see roughly an inch worth of snow. It was the weekend that would be more quarrelsome with temperatures rising a fraction only to plummet, the likelihood of ice high. His original plan for the weekend had been to go into the office for additional progress on a new project that he would be undertaking the following month. This had been one of the issues that Brendol had harassed him over—not that he worked more than necessary, however that he should have done more and been more innovative in his career. Nothing ever pleased the man, not truly.

 With the weather report, it was clear that his plans would have to be altered. Armitage started to compose a list of what materials he would be required to bring to his home over the next two days. Only when Millicent, a small tabby cat two years of age, slunk out from the covered bed in the corner for attention was he properly drawn out of thoughts from work, not visiting them again until the next day.

 In the morning, Armitage was more preoccupied with his visit to First Rogue after readying for work to think of business or Brendol. He patted Millicent on the head on his way out the front door, locked up, and began to rehearse what he might say if you should ask him why he stared at your eyes; he would note their color this time. Tiny flakes of snow descended from the sky at random intervals. They wet his eyelashes so that he was forced to swipe a hand along his face when he entered the coffee shop. As he lowered his arm back to his side, he scanned the counter. One of the other baristas was taking an order from the man in front of him.

 He wondered if you had scheduled to take a day off; he was relatively certain he knew your schedule—it struck Armitage that this might be strange, however he ignored the notion.

 Entering First Rogue behind a familiar redhead, you felt your smile growing despite being four minutes late for your shift. You had sent Remi a fast text, and she was covering for you. The owner would not mind much; there were more times that you remained in the store extra than you arriving late or leaving early. This was, for you, a nice thing about the town. Its community was one you had grown fond of over the years; a portion was transient due to the local and city schools, while the more steady populace were supportive of one another in good times and bad. Due to this, you were already in a good mood. Seeing that he had stalled, observing his head turn in search of someone—in search of you—was pleasantly surprising.

 “Good morning,” you chimed, earning the privilege of watching Armitage jump in startlement. He twisted around, drawing backwards a step and tightening the muscles in his face in an obvious attempt to conceal his emotions. Not for the first time, you wondered about his personal life and what had led him to be like this. Then paused, realizing that he was doing something he had not in all the time you had been in contact with him. Armitage Hux was staring into your eyes. Heat seeped into your cheeks, spread throughout your body. “Are you in the mood for a new flavor?”

 “Hmm.” Though he hummed out that sound, feigning consideration, there was a sense that he had already made up his mind on the matter before he had walked into the shop. “For today and tomorrow, yes.”

 You nodded then walked around him. Armitage turned to follow you with his gaze, walking forward as the other male patron of the establishment grabbed his drink and headed for the door. Remi shifted back to the register to assist Armitage in paying for the coffee--she knew to ring him up for his regular beverage, as you covered any difference with the tip he so often left otherwise would pay it on your own—which allowed you to walk towards the ingredients that you had readied. Two days in a row, you mused, which meant that you wanted to leave a good impression so as to not dissuade him from continuing this pattern.

 “Did you see—” you began in unison with him saying: “The weather this...weekend...” You had stopped abruptly, whereas he trailed off. You looked over your shoulder at him, nodding encouragingly so that he would resume where he had left off. “Does it prevent many of your regulars from coming into the shop?”

 “Err, I suppose it depends on how bad it gets.” Your hands were in constant motion, readying and preparing all that you needed to put his drink together. “I live close enough that I can come into work even if it’s for a shorter shift. We’ll close only if it’s too hazardous, which I don’t think will be the case here. How about you? Do you have work?”

 Vertigo was not an immediate threat, although you did notice that you felt slightly lightheaded over the fact that Armitage had been the one to strike up a conversation, even if it did have to do with First Rogue. It was the sort of topic you had been intending to bring up. The pair of you were on the same page with that, and you each, as far as you could tell, enjoyed conversing with the other. Remi, meanwhile, had busied herself with tending to two other customers that had entered the shop; one was another regular and the other a new face.

 Armitage slipped one foot in front of the other, keeping pace with you as you darted about behind the counter while carrying out the final steps of making the beverage, whatever flavor it happened to be. Coming from others, he might not have welcomed the question or else been indifferent to it. From you, on the other hand, he found that he was pleased you had asked. “In a way. I am not on the schedule, however I do plan to bring a few items home with me. I may spend the morning here, if that is alright.” He gestured towards the corner by the window and hoped that you noticed he was indicating two tables rather than one. They were smaller, square, and allowed only for two chairs each.

 You looked in that direction whilst walking towards him with the coffee, which you handed to him. “That shouldn’t be a problem at all.” It suddenly struck Armitage that he had not checked his watch the entire time since your arrival. He did not know if he was running late or not, and was not stressed about the matter—perhaps that would sink in later, after he moved into his car. For the meanwhile, he inquired as to what flavor you had given him today. “You should try it and guess.”

 A snort escaped him, and Armitage felt his mouth shifting into a smile that he more often than not concealed from the world. Genuine. Amused. He lifted the coffee to his mouth to hide the expression, felt his face heating a little and knew that it was covered in a slight rosy flush. Your cheekiness had been unexpected. There was such a contrast with your attitude compared with Brendol’s. Where Brendol made Armitage want to hide away, you were a breath of fresh air. Brendol was vexing. You were…

 Armitage took a sip as you had suggested, his eyes locking onto yours. You did not glance away; in that moment, he realized that you had for so long. You had been more shy with him. Not timid, however less bold. He had offered no reason for you to be kind to him, yet there it was. Your eyes wide and your lips parted. Your breathing was not as level as it had been before he had smiled. Your chest rose and fell, your breasts--Good lord, he nearly choked on the hot coffee.

 “Gingerbread,” he said, his voice low, his mouth still warm from the drink.

 You were trying to recover from the shock of seeing his smile, which had been far better than you had imagined it would be. His reaction to the coffee flavor was not negative. Nothing was ruining the moment. Except when he stated that he had to get going to work and would see you in the morning. There was little to say to that. Not that you trusted yourself to speak. Surely your voice would crack. You gave a wave of your hand, staring after him and not caring that Remi and even some of the customers were watching you.

 For Armitage Hux, the incident remained with him for the entire day. He found himself distracted on more than one occasion. The taste of gingerbread coffee--not his favorite of the ones he had been given—and the sight of you staring. The image of your breasts. The end of the work day did not arrive fast enough. He greeted Millicent, set down the items he had brought home in preparation for the weekend, and headed for the bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door to prevent his cat from interrupting.

 His hand went to the front of his pants. Armitage closed his eyes, conjuring your face in his mind’s eye. Now he knew it better. The various angles, the different expressions. The way your pupils had dilated as you watched him smile. He thought again of your breasts. His cock throbbed, hardening and making his breath catch. He worked open his pants, slipping one hand inside and withdrawing his erection. He stroked himself, twisting his wrist as he moved at a languid pace.

 What did you taste like? The question was posed as he jerked his cock, as he thought again of your smile, of your desire to please him and offer him new flavors of coffee. He wanted to spread your legs open and fuck you. To watch you squirm as he worked his fingers into you, opening your wet cunt so that he could fuck you.

 Armitage’s breathing grew even louder. He growled, the sound rumbling through him. He moved his hand even faster, flicking his wrist, thrusting his hips forward and fucking his hand though he wished it was you. The image in his mind changed in scenery. You on his bed instead of the coffee shop—though, he had to admit, bending you over the counter and risking being seen through that large window was suddenly an exhilarating prospect. Yet on his bed, screaming his name as he made you cum.

 “Fuck!” His entire body trembled. Armitage let his head fall back, felt it hitting the door, which gave a light thunk at the impact. He teased his slit, toyed with the sensitive flesh at the head of his cock with the pads of his fingers, and then resumed fucking his hand in earnest. The sounds of him masturbating echoed in the bathroom. Yet what he heard was the moans—your moans—in his head. What did they sound like?

 You should try it.

 Your voice, a teasing lilt. “Fuck,” he growled again, shuddering as he came, his cum spilling over his hand. He opened his eyes and stared at his reflection in the mirror. At the flush in his cheeks, which was darker than what he had worn as a result of your reaction to his smile.

 He wanted to see that reaction once more. Wanted to take you out of First Rogue so that his fantasies could include other locations more naturally. Or perhaps to alter them from fantasy into reality. It was not merely sex that he craved from you either. In truth, you were the highlight of his day the majority of the time. He looked forward to seeing you each morning. Armitage thought of sharing coffee with you after the pair of you fucked. Hot chocolate was another option—that would entice you, would bring a smile to your lips, wouldn’t it?

 Running a hand along the length of his face, Armitage decided that, come the weekend, he would pursue this, would pursue you in earnest. The poor weather was proving to be a sort of blessing in disguise.